The kids’ goal for today was to go through everything in their rooms and toss out whatever was beyond its useful life and then box up whatever they wanted to donate. We shared in the misery and tackled out closets, but two hours later Char and I came to realization that we’ve done a reasonable job over the years of not accumulating too much crap. The kids had little to throw out and only a few things to donate; Char weeds out the clothes they’ve outgrown yearly, and whatever doesn’t fit someone else goes to Goodwill. Old toys in good shape have gone to cousins and friends, some to a church charity. The upside is that the house is ready to pack up when we’re ready to have it done (there will be no doing it ourselves; I know Char, if the kids and I went at it, she’d be trying to help, and that’s just not happening.)

I need to go through the garage and hire someone who specializes in estate sales to handle the things in my Dad’s house, because I honestly don’t want to try to do anything with what’s left of his things. TK has removed everything from his house; it only needs a good cleaning (not that he didn’t clean; it’s just been sitting there and smells a bit stale.)

The seller of the house we’re buying has a few small things he wants to address before we bring in a house inspector (getting the fireplace cleaned, replacing cracked outlet covers and two shower heads. Small things we could easily do but he doesn’t want risking any hiccups.) We have a pool inspector who will check the pool, as well as a pest inspector, this week. I want a separate HVAC inspection, but it’s not a deal breaker; I just want to know if I need to replace the AC or furnace before we move in.

Char wants to know what we’ll do if the sale on this property falls through at the last minute; it’s a hypothetical because we both know it won’t, but a general what will we do? I don’t think we’d do anything different. The kids are all excited about moving, she’s excited; I’m ambivalent but I see the merits of getting the kids closer to civilization. So we’ll move either way.

On the dojang side, TK is looking for smaller space for the dojang, and if he finds it, he’ll move the school. More transitioning; right now Char and I own 75% of the school, having bought out Dack years ago, but I want to remove myself from anything involving its management. When we opened the school it was supposed to be TK’s baby, but along the way shit happened and he needed breathing room, then Dack wrecked my car and damn near died and never got back to the shape he’d been in. It didn’t seem like a big deal as long as Char was teaching and handling what TK couldn’t, but now we’re ready to back off and hand the reigns over to him completely.

I’ll still teach, but only a few classes a week. The kids will still train (Alex is determined to get to 2nd degree and Rachel is ready to test for first; Kevin is close but as things stand now our criteria for testing for black includes being 12 years old…something I suspect TK will change because he never agreed with me about it.) Once Char is cleared to go back she’ll train, but I’m not sure if she’ll teach again, or if she just wants to do something else or nothing at all.

I don’t know how we’ll handle the official ownership of the dojang; it’s not a monetary thing, but right now everything is tied up under my name, and I’m not sure if we’ll “sell” to TK or just keep the status quo. It’s up to him.

What seems to be more pressing for us is finding out how we operate as a normal family; dinner as a family every night, the kids having time for activities other than TKD. For the kids it’s always been getting picked up at school and taken to the dojang where they do their homework and choke back a snack before their classes, wait around for each other, wait for Mom or Dad to teach, go home, shower, go to bed. Weekends have been the closest thing to normal they’ve had, but being so far from their friends, it’s only almost normal.

Alex wants to play basketball and swim on the school teams. Rachel wants to run track. Kevin just wants time. Up until now they’ve kept that mostly to themselves because they didn’t see any way to get those things (we would have found a way; it would have been a PITA but we would have tried) but now that they see the direction we’re headed they’re bubbling over with the things they want to try. For this, I will be a SAHD as long as I can.

Oddly, none of this would likely be happening if Char hadn’t nearly died on July first.

Char’s PT routine is not limited to work with her physical therapist and walking in the pool; she does a considerable amount of stretching at home, usually in the evening after the kids have gone to bed or are engrossed in homework or something on TV downstairs. The stretching is not comfortable by any means and is wrought with frustration and frequently tears because it still fucking hurts. It hurts enough that she says most of the time she’d rather give birth to a fifteen pound kid every night than go through it, but she sucks it up and does it anyway.

Some of the stretches require help, but for the most part the help is verbal; after a few minutes she wants to quit, and I have to sit on the floor with her and talk her through it, and sometimes I have to be the bad guy and get pushy about it. For fifteen minutes a day she hates me, but I can live with that.

Yesterday I took Rachel and a couple of her friends shopping, several hours of wandering the mall while they shrieked and giggled and pointed at boys they knew and boys they wanted to know. I followed a reasonable distance behind them, close enough to be right there but far enough back they were able to talk without me listening in and far enough that those boys wouldn’t necessarily guess they had a chaperone. I think Rachel’s friends had expected I would drop them off and pick them up later, but they’re twelve. I don’t care what their parents do, my daughter does not wander around the mall without adult supervision. I trust her; I don’t trust other people. When she hits fourteen, maybe then, but for now she’s stuck, even if she hates it.

Half an hour into their marathon shopping the friends realized having Rachel’s dad hanging back wasn’t such a bad thing, because he was willing to carry all the bags of crap they were accumulating. I didn’t mind, but by the time we got home I was exhausted; physically from carrying all their things for several hours, and mentally from all the gossip, giggling and shrieking.

I admit, I wasn’t in the mood to push Char into stretching beyond what she felt comfortable doing; I knew that a few minutes into it she would want to stop, and I also knew that I’d have to bite my tongue until it bled to keep from snapping at her. I think she knew I didn’t feel like sitting there cheering and jeering her on and she tried to opt out for the night, but not doing it isn’t an option, not now.

We both sucked it up, and we were both glaring at each other. Five minutes into it, right about the point of pain and resistance on her part, and right when I could already feel my temper notch up, we heard the boys in the hallway, and heard Alex say Don’t knock on that door, Kevin. Not right now.

I have to ask Mom something

Not now. If you need something I can get it or Rachel can get it.

I need to talk to Mom!

Char started to get up but I shook my head and peeled myself off the floor.

Later.

But why?

My hand was on the doorknob when I heard Alex saying, through gritted teeth, They’re. Probably. Naked.

Oh. He paused and then asked, Well, how long does that usually take?

I pulled to door open and Alex was standing there holding Kevin up, his hands under his little brother’s armpits, so that they were face level. Kevin looked at me, head to toe and determined I was shirtless but not pants less, and he looked back and Alex and said I guess it doesn’t take very long at all.

Alex shrugged, and he didn’t put Kevin down. My temper waned with the absurdity of Kevin’s size 5 feet dangling at least two feet off the floor, and I had to grit my teeth together to keep from laughing.

Char wasn’t as successful and was lying on the floor snickering, but managed to ask Kevin what he wanted.

I forget now.

Alex turned around, still dangling Kevin from his hands, and walked down the hall into his bedroom. Char was on her back on the floor, grinning, and willing to finish stretching. No complaints from either of us. When she was done I helped her up and she arched an eyebrow suggestively and asked Want to find out how long it takes?

Then Kevin remembered what he wanted.

Busy day. Buyer accepted our conditions for the sale of our property and we made an offer on the house we all liked (yes it has a pool but it’s not that house; we found another one that fit us a little better and is a little bigger) and while we gave him until Monday to accept, we had his answer (an enthusiastic yes) by the time we went to get the kids from school.

He wants a closing date “as soon as possible” but didn’t press for specifics, and I’m guessing that’s because he doesn’t want to screw this up. If inspections can be arranged soon, we can definitely close in under 30. The kids have been told this weekend their butts are mine; they’re going to help to go through things and toss out the crap no one uses or wants anymore.

Tonight, though, I played chauffeur for Alex and Char went along for the ride. I have to give Alex credit; the girl is friendly and didn’t seem embarrassed to be hauled around by his parents. He didn’t seem embarrassed, either, and didn’t shut us out of their conversation on the ride to the theater (I probably did at his age.) Char and I went out to dinner while they were at the movie and we spent a little time wandering around a furniture store but she hit her physical limit early so we waited in the car until Alex called to be picked up.

There’s another benefit to moving. In the future I can drop him off and go home instead of having to find things to do.

He had a good time, I think she did too, and I have to give the kid props for not being shy when he walked her to the front door. I’m not sure I give Char props, because when she thought he was a little too not-shy, she honked the horn.

This, though, this is why we started letting kids drive at 16. Having to haul their asses around any longer would just be a pain in ours.

Swimming in inevitability, I formally accepted the offer on our property today, contingent upon us finding another home, as well as reasonable time to move. The person who wants the property has been after it for years, so I doubt he’ll suddenly say no, you have to sell and move right now. Char and I saw several more houses today and took the kids to see two more, and we all agree that the one that sits with all of us is one we took the kids to see yesterday.

Before making an offer I wanted a little more information; the house is listed as a short sale and carries with it the potential to be a protracted sale process. But our Realtor pulled up the records on it, and the seller is only asking 10 grand less than what he owes. It appears that it was originally listed high enough for payoff, but the only offer received was well below asking. What’s owed is directly in line with other homes in the area that have sold; I’m of a mind to make an offer that would bypass the annoyance of waiting months for an answer from his lender that might be no.

Char and I will probably decide tomorrow; the kids were clamoring for me to pick up the phone and call the Realtor before close of business today, but I doubt someone else will buy it before we finalize a decision.

Once we’ve moved, I hope that’s the last big thing that will happen this year. We seem to go in cycles, years without incident, and then months crammed with unwanted drama. I’m ready for quiet.

Thirteen seems like the age for a practice-teenager. Fourteen seems like the real deal. At 10:14 this morning, Alex became the real deal (while he was suffering through PE, running tag lines in the gym, a torture Char found suitable all things considered.) We picked the kids up from school this afternoon and took them to see the two houses we wanted them to see, and then two more that the Realtor had lined up (Alex did have veto rights, because I wasn't making him suffer on his birthday) The kids all wanted to see more, but I finally put my foot down because like it nor not, Alex was not going to spend what was left of his birthday measuring potential bedrooms. We gave him the decision of where to go for dinner (Red Lobster, that's my boy) and then sat back and watched in amazement at the sheer volume this kid can eat.

Birthdays mean no limits; a kid wants to order a second meal he can. He did, and polished it off and was looking for more, but decided to leave room for the nearly half a birthday cake he intended to wolf down.

We were honestly surprised that he didn't seem to mind being dragged to look at houses today; even though he's on board with the idea of moving, who wants to spend their birthday looking at real estate?

We learned why later.

After we got home he opened birthday gifts; a loaded Amazon gift card from Rachel (Alex reads like we're going to run out of words sooner rather than later) and an MP3 player from Kevin. Char and I debated over what we wanted to give him; we're fairly anal about the amount of time the kids spend online and we keep an eye on where they're going online (and I shut the router off at night to remove temptation; we trust them but we were kids once, too.) Alex has never abused his online privileges and he has to spend time online for school projects now, tying up the only computer the kids are allowed to use.

We got him a laptop. He's earned the right to be trusted about his judgment (but, he also knows I have ways of tracking him. And randomly, I might.)

He'd opened his gifts and we were all sitting at the table watching him inhale cake, when he came out with it.

He asked someone out for Friday night, and she said yes. Just a movie, and perhaps a burger after. She has a curfew, it will be an early movie, and her father is only going to say yes if he gets to meet both Alex and his chauffeur. She's a freshman and only 14, in case we worried about a repeat of the 16 year old. And if we want, Char and I can tag along as long as we're in a different theater.

We did say he could date.

I agreed, but we're not tagging along because I doubt he meant that.

I think he had a decent birthday, but now the countdown to 16 begins. He's already thinking about the car he's going to buy.

We told the kids today that an offer was made on the property and that we're seriously house hunting. While they've grumbled about living so far from their friends, I expected there to be a goodly amount of complaining about the actuality of moving; they surprised me. The first thing they all wanted to know was where we were looking and if they would be closer to friends/Grandpa/Erin & Miko/TK/Dack & Theresa. When we said yes, that it made no sense to move and still have them so far removed from the people they want to be near, there were smiled and Alex declared that we couldn't have given him a better birthday present.

I halfheartedly pointed out that meant I didn't have to give him an actual present and expected him to back peddle, but he shrugged. He wants to move. And while he wants to move to be close to all those people, he also wants to move into a single story house because Stoner can barely make it up the stairs anymore, to the point that Alex often sleeps in my dad's downstairs room so that Stoner doesn't try to climb them.

Stoner is an old, old dog, and I doubt he has another year left in him, and when he's gone Alex will be crushed.

But, I'm not bringing that up with him now. The kids are happy, and today Char and I saw two houses we want to take the kids to see after school tomorrow. I'm 90% sure I know which one they'll prefer; it has a huge back yard, with a pool, and they'll still each be able to have their own bedrooms. Best yet, there are two bathrooms besides the master, so they won't have to share all the time. I suspect Rachel will lay claim to one, and I don't think the boys will mind.

Tomorrow is Alex's 14th birthday. In some ways it doesn't seem possible that he's been alive this long, but in most ways it's hard to believe that he's only 14. Aside from a few new-teenager hiccups, he's turned out to be fairly mature and responsible, and I can only guess that he gets that from his mother because he sure as hell didn't get it from me.

It takes a whole lot longer to look at eight houses than I would have guessed. I was grumpy after four; I hope that Char walks into one that just says this is it sooner rather than later, because I don't think I'll be enjoying this at all.