Real Housewife of Rhinebeck

real world. real housewifery. or something like that.

Does the Bank Take Payment in the Form of Hopes and Dreams?

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I didn’t realize it had been quite so long since I had posted. When I started I was like oh, I’ll have plenty of things to write about! I have to say that the past two weeks haven’t been all that exciting. I’ve been too busy worrying about when we’re going to hear about our loan (it’s been two weeks since the appraisal, people, you’re killing me!), how I’m going to pay for all of the bills that seem to never stop piling up (this is when having a self-employed husband sucks!), and the looming (scary and exciting) trying to conceive. That, on top of all of the other things bouncing around in my head. I often wonder how I ever manage to get to sleep at night because my mind races so much.

The stress about the loan isn’t going to go away until the house is done, this I know. I’m dying to know if we’re approved or not. But once I find out it will only be a short reprieve. Once we get a”yes” we can order the house and that only takes six to eight weeks to build. So that means T has six to eight weeks to get all the excavating done and build the foundation. And what it really means is he has six to eight weekends to do it in. We can not afford for T to not work for two weeks to bang it out. If he doesn’t work then jobs don’t get done and we don’t get paid and I can’t pay the bills. Luckily, we have many friends who built things that didn’t fall down are skilled in trades of this type who will gladly work for free beer. So, theoretically, they should be able to get the work done in the allotted time frame, unless of course, they consume beer at the rate of 16 year olds (which is likely) and then we’re all doomed.

Once they’re done and the house gets dropped, I’ll have to impatiently wait to paint and move in. Hopefully, T will allow me to pick out things myself and then we don’t have to bicker over silly things like ivory versus eggshell. We’ll leave that to me and my mother. Of course that leads to other issues. I will have a house with nothing to put in it! We have unmatching bedroom furniture — we each have a dresser that are left overs from deceased relatives that we’ve had since college.  We have his sister’s old stained (stained like ruined, not stained like looks like fresh lumber) kitchen table, and his mother’s old scratched coffee table. The one nice thing we have is our couch. The one thing we bought with our wedding money (I have no idea what happened to the rest). But in our nice, new, much bigger place it will need a companion! Also, I will have a formal dining room. T tells me that if we host Thanksgiving or Christmas we can put plywood on saw horses. I am not amused.

I’ve also been fretting quite a bit when it comes to money. Who doesn’t? This is when I realize I am my parents’ child. While I am organized, efficient, and cheap thrifty  when it comes to our finances, like my father, when things get tight, I panic, freak out, and think we’re going to starve, like my mother. This creates a problem. I am at constant battle with myself. I look at my list and say, ok, it’s the beginning of the season, so it’s slow and it will be tight, but slow and stready wins the race. Then three hours later, I’ll look at it again and burst into tears, crying out how will we ever get all of this paid? The bigger problem with this is when it comes to T. He can not handle me when I am in crazy wife mode. When we sit down and have our “money chats” as I call them, I have to put on my cool, calm, collected business partner hat. Beligerent, sobbing wife hat does not have a place in the money chats. That hat makes its appearance and the whole thing goes to shit.

I will not get into the nitty, gritty of my financial woes, but I try to remind myself that we always manage to pay things and there are plenty of other people that are in the same boat or worse. But, having your own business is stressful and sometimes it makes me wish T just had a regular job and collected a paycheck every two weeks like me (except bigger, obvi). It’s hard when you get a check from a client and then you have to stretch it until the next one comes, which could be days, weeks, or months away. And you have to worry about taxes, insurance and all sorts of other bills. So on top of the taxes from 2011 that we have to pay, along with our other debts and monthly bills, we are trying to build a house. T likes to joke with me that my mother must have smoked crack while she was pregnant with me. At this point, I might believe him because why else would I be crazy enough to believe that we could do all of this and build a house. Oh wait! AND we want to have a baby! Wait, there’s more! T needs to buy a new tractor and dump truck! Are you fucking kidding me?! This is why we keep buying Mega Millions tickets (dammit, we didn’t win on Friday either!). Because I have BIG plans for theose millions. At least then I will be able to afford the taxes imposed on me. Otherwise, I have no idea. Why does everything have to be crammed into one year? I am not one who likes to borrow money or even pay a cent of interest, but sometimes I think there’s no other choice. I do not forsee how a house and a baby will financially allow us to get a tractor and/OR a drump truck without borrowing. And then I laugh because if we’re lucky enough to get approved for this loan, surely they will laugh in our face when we say oh wait, we want to finance a peice of equipment too.

Oh, and a baby. While I think I am ready to say, yes, let’s do this, it still scares me to death. I am on the baby train. I’m not sure if I am the conductor of this train yet though. If I woke up tomorrow and was pregnant, I would be overjoyed. But I tend to fret over and over about my big life decisions. But I make a big deal out of nothing most of the time. I have to micromanage everything (another trait of my father’s I thought I would never get. I always thought I was a go with the flow type of person. Turns out I was wrong). I have stopped taking my birth control. I even have an ovulation predictor chart (that I think I did for one day). But because I must read and analyze everything on, based on my last period, if I got pregnant now, my baby would have a due date of December 20th. Gross. No one wants a Christmas baby. Christmas is stressful enough as it is and then the poor kid would have to smush his/her birthday and Christmas into one month. Plus, winter birthdays suck because you can’t have fun outdoor birthday parties, like Slip N Slide.

Personally, I want a spring, summer or fall baby. My sister in law tells me it sucks to be pregnant in the summer. Again, I don’t like winter birthday parties. But alas, I listen to what my husband thinks is the voice of reason, him. He wants a winter baby because he will be home more in the winter, ergo he can help. Or at least that’s what he says. I also panic about what we will do with the baby since I will have to go back to work. My SIL And BIL are both cops, they work alternate hours, with the same days off. He is 8-4, she is 4-12. His sister comes and watches their kids for the lag time in the middle, but otherwise, usually, one of them is always home with the kids. We will not have this luxury. Well, I don’t really think 4-12 is a luxury, but you get what I mean. T and I both work during the day, he works basically from sun up to sun down and most Saturdays and even Sundays when necessary. I work random hours between 8 and 6 during the week and some Saturdays for most of the day. Who is going to watch our child? T says we can worry about this when the time comes. Shouldn’t we be worrying about this now?! I think so. My family lives two hours away, so they’re out. His mother often has to watch SIL’s kids and has her own little one as well as working in the summer months. I don’t like the idea of daycare all the time and frankly, if that happens, most of my paycheck will probably go to that.

On top of that, I constantly worry about what if we don’t get pregnant right away? What if I gain 80 pounds and can’t lose it? What if I have to go on bed rest? Or need a C section? Or puke every single day? Or something goes wrong?Or, or, or. I could go on for hours. How do I even know I will be a good mother? I like to think I will be. I’m a good mother to our dogs. But they are pretty self sufficient dogs. This is when the micromanager needs to get a grip and let things just happen. Actually, I need to let that happen in all aspects of my life. I know it’s going to be a bumpy road, whether it happens to be bumpy or I make it bumpy, I don’t know, but I know we’ll get there in the end. I hope.


Author: realhousewifeofrhinebeck

jersey girl marries a country boy. he likes tractors. she likes horses. can they build a house and start a family?

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