jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

I am bone tired. We spent another eight days in Knoxville. It was a productive and pleasant trip, but it is wearing on me to keep bouncing back and forth with the baby (and bringing along my mom as well).

We did bookend the trip with celebrities, which was fun. Freddy Prinze Jr. was on our flight out of LaGuardia. He flirted with Alden on the shuttle and then helped Damon take the stroller down the stairs. Very kind. Near the end of our stay at our bed and breakfast (booked by a sweet assistant who was trying to make the trip nice by sending us there instead of a sterile hotel) we were joined by Patricia Neal. She lived in Knoxville for a time and there is a hospital wing there in her name. She was in town for some kind of event. So we all got to have breakfast together. She was every inch the grande dame movie star. She seemed to truly enjoy talking with us and we passed a very pleasant hour together. Now I admit that I know at some point in the last 10 days I had another celebrity contact, but I can’t remember who or how. But I’m positive that I was saying “three celebrities” just a few days ago.

PS — I know I’m rambling.

We leave New York in 11 days. Or 10, I guess, since it’s after midnight. We took Tennessee real estate by storm last week and found a few contenders. Two are tied for first right now. One is old and beautiful, full of charm but with a super-high-end brand-new kitchen. The cabinets alone look like something we could not normally hope to have. But no master bath. And did I mention it’s 70 years old? The neighborhood is gorgeous. Old houses on hilly lots, crazy foliage everywhere. Tall trees, vines, ground cover. The second house is relatively new and pretty modern. It’s a bit smaller. The neighborhood is nice, but can’t begin to compare with the first. The back yard is perfect for Alden. It has a lovely master bath. We hired a contractor to go out to house one tomorrow morning and let us know what it would take to get a master bath in there somewhere. The jury is still out, but right now I’m leaning to new. It’s been a hard year. We deserve an easy house.

But before any of that happens we will be bunking in a temporary apartment. We were living in corporate housing when Alden was born and it looks like he might spend his first birthday there too. Poor baby. I planned for him to be a sheltered little flower, but instead he’s already flown so many times I lost count long ago. I’d love to throw him a party in his very own house. I think, aside from that, the temp housing will be fine. It’s roomy, there’s a pool and gym, there’s a washer and dryer (praise the lord) in the unit.

There’s no better note to end on than a washer and dryer, so now I’ll stop nattering in your ear and go to bed.

Hey knitters! I need to order a little giftie online for one of your own. If you were stuck flat on your back for a while, what would you love to get in the mail?

(You have to know that I don’t know ANYTHING about knitting. So please type slowly and clearly.)

True stories.

1. I am looking at the mail when I hear my computer say “bing bong,” which is roughly the noise it makes when something interesting is happening. I look over to see my iPod charging cord. One end is plugged into my USB port. The other end is plugged into my baby’s mouth. On the screen a dialogue box has popped up that says “unrecognized device.”

2. It is H-O-T in New York, so we decided to “camp” in our most powerfully air conditioned room. I blew up the air mattress between the couches and we covered it in pillows and blankets. It was really fun. Later in the day I notice that Alden is sitting with his back to me, very still. I know this is not a good sign. I turn him around to see his has busily pulled a handful of feathers from a pillow and stuffed them in his mouth. He looked like The Tiny Chupacabra of Inwood.

I hope that the fact that I opted for immediate excavation both times rather than running for the camera means I’m a good mom. It certainly does mean that I’m never going to win $10,000 on America’s Funniest Home Videos.

As we (touch wood) wrap up the process of selling our apartment, I thought it might be fun for me to run through the process. Because we do it different here in Manhattan, y’all, and people are usually incredulous when I explain. Our realtor in Knoxville is fascinated. If you sell an apartment in Manhattan your experience will vary some, I’m sure.

— The first thing you want to do is find yourself a good broker. You want someone who sells a lot in your neighborhood. Ask around. A lot.

— Sign a contract with that broker — six months and six percent, which is pretty standard.

— Your broker will advertise your apartment a) on her website/in the window and b) in the New York Times. Manhattan does not participate in the MLS. Really. This is why your broker is so important. She has to have contacts and the ability to bring potential buyers in. Co-broking is also rare here, although becoming more common. That means that if I’m buying and I contact Broker A then Broker A will usually only show me apartments her office has listed. Broker A won’t even know about other apartments for sale in the same area unless she sees it in the Times or notices the open houses. This is changing in the current housing climate. It’s not nearly as bad here as the rest of the country, but the days of bidding wars on day one are mostly gone for now. That said, I think we only had three people from other offices come through our apartment. Everyone else came via our broker’s office or they saw us in the Times. Our buyers came from our broker’s office, but not our particular broker.

— You will have an open house every weekend.

— Once a buyer makes an acceptable offer, you negotiate the rough details via your individual brokers.

— When the basics are agreed up, everyone hires a lawyer.

— The lawyers then negotiate all the finer points of the agreement and write a contract.

— The lawyers argue about the contract for a while.

— Once the contract is agreed upon, the building’s management company delivers two years of building financials and one year of board meeting notes to the buyers’ lawyer. If that all looks good, the buyers will sign the contract.

— Then the sellers sign the contract. Everyone is committed as soon as the sellers’ lawyer gets a check for 10% (some buildings require 20%) of the purchase price (delivered with the signed contract) and the sellers’ lawyer delivers the signed contract back to the buyers lawyer. There is no inspection, but the sellers do have to guarantee that the appliances and electric and plumbing are working, or their lack has been documented in the contract.

— You’ve been having open houses all along, but now you stop as you are both legally committed to the sale.

— Now the buyers submit their board application to the management company. This is comprised, generally, of two years of tax returns, employment verification, letters of recommendation, credit card statements, bank account balances, and a few other things I can’t remember.

— The management company runs credit reports, gets credit scores and compiles all the financial information and then delivers it to the board. (This is where we are right now.)

— The board reviews the package. If they’re comfortable with what they see, they’ll schedule an interview with the buyers.

— The board interviews the buyers to address any concerns they have with the financials and to see if they feel they’ll be a good fit for the building. A board can reject buyers for any reason, and does not have to explain itself.

— If the board approves, you can schedule your closing! (Presuming the bank doesn’t back out just days before, which sometimes happens. Which would suck, because you’ve moved out by then. You promise in the contract to have the apartment empty and broom clean 24-48 hours before closing.)

We’re feeling pretty confident because our marvelous broker usually rakes prospective buyers over the coals financially before she lets us accept an offer. If the board dumps a buyer you’ve lost weeks of sale time (and a small fortune in legal fees), so it behooves her to make sure anyone submitted has an excellent chance of getting through. That said, there’s no way to know for sure. Maybe someone on the board will have a bad lunch or your buyers will remind him of an ex-girlfriend and then you can be toast. I really don’t think that will happen to us. We bought this place from the same broker and she looked at all our financial information before she showed us any apartments and was very clear with us about what she felt we could afford, which was a lot less than the mortgage broker thought. We appreciated her caution.

As you can see, the process is arduous and fraught. There will be celebrating (us) and booty shaking (Alden. And us.) when it’s all over.

Alden is about nine and a half months old. That means his time on the outside is now surpassing his time on the inside. It’s bittersweet. I didn’t particularly enjoy being pregnant, though it wasn’t torture either. But it was probably my only pregnancy. And I have mixed feelings about that. Having an easy baby is hard. Lord people, I cannot imagine what I’d do if I had a second who had colic. But, again, that colicky second is really just a product of my imagination. We’re decided against fertility treatments, just like we were the first time. (Although I will tell you, in secret, that I was close to cracking. But if you remind me of that I will deny it. This time I doubt I will be tempted.) Some of you may be wondering, “What ever happened to that Chinese baby she talked about all the time?” Fair question. She’s still there in my mind, and I’ll write more about that soon.

We went for a well-baby check and some vaccinations yesterday. I always go in with a little bit of an “IKnowYouDisagreeWithOurDecisionsToSpreadOutVaccinationsButIt’sOurDecisionAndWe’veMadeItThanks” chip on my shoulder, but in reality they don’t give us much of a hard time. Once the doctor feels heard, we proceed and get the shots I’ve got on my little schedule. Well and good.

I had my handy list of questions. Does he need a vitamin now? (Yes) He has teeth now, how about fluoride? (Yes). Is this little spot on his leg anything to worry about? (Very probably no, but keep an eye on it.) What’s this rash on his chest and back? (A little eczema). Oh, and…. he’s not crawling yet. That’s no big deal, right? Hahahaha. Some parents are sooooo uptight.

Doctor says:
Does he move around the room at all? Well, he has this thing we call the booty scoot, but he doesn’t get much distance or time out of it.
Does he pull up? He’s tried a few times, but can’t do it without us holding his hands.
Can he get from laying down to sitting? Not even remotely. He does an occasional hopeful crunch, but otherwise accepts his fate in relation to the ground.

He also doesn’t imitate us very well (but is delighted when we imitate him). But I was definitely done offering up his possible shortcomings.

I was very happy to say Yes! Yes! Yes! to: Does he clap? Does he bang toys together? Can he stand with support?

The doctor was very quick to offer reassurance that he is on the late side of normal, not late. That he wouldn’t be late until he couldn’t do these things at 10 months old. Which is in about 20 days. Pressure much? I really believe that he’s slow to develop in this area because he is a) an only child with b) a stay-at-home dad and c) a frequent-work-at-home mom who both d) port his patootie all over the apartment. And that’s fine. I don’t care if he’s behind because we carry him around like a little prince. I’m happy teaching him the lessons of reliable and constant love and affection. He can face down the real world when he’s, you know, old enough to have a pair of shoes. But I have had a few moments of, “That is why. That IS why. I hope.” I do think it is, truly. He can actually walk around (or stagger, really) at great length if we hold his hands. And he even does a little cruising once we stand him up and he can grab his crib rails or the couch cushions.

I truly got a kick out of it when the doctor said, “Well, you know, some people are great readers who just can’t throw a football.” I think perhaps he is, while not ready to call Alden behind, ready to write him off as a physical prodigy.

Alden has, in the 15 minutes I’ve been typing this, managed to migrate about five feet to the mouth of the hallway. He likes to sit there and enjoy the echo his shrieks and gabbles create. He loves it even more in the vestibule of our building, which made our neighbor’s 4-year-old ask me, “Is that Alden who screams his head off in the lobby?”

I’m glad he’s doing that, as he’s been off his game after getting those vaccines. He didn’t take it too hard, but this is the first time he’s ever shown any reaction other than an extra-long afternoon nap. He was feverish last night and out of sorts today. In response we have been running the TV so long I’m surprised it’s not smoking. We’re on a loop of Sesame Street and Blues Clues. These are his favorite kids’ shows, probably because they’re the only ones he’s ever seen. In the evenings he is partial to American Gladiators or anything with singing and dancing. Last night I felt sorry for him so we blew up the air mattress and put it near the air conditioner. Then we laid some waterproof fabric mats on it. Then we stripped him naked and hit up the DVR for his shows. He lolled and watched between frequent nursings. He was quite the little rajah.

Now is time for me to start dinner. Damon is out so I can add a whole stick of butter and he’ll never know.

Mama’s Little Doorstop