So, we're moved in, we're unpacked. Let's enroll No. 1 in school. Off we go to what I thought was the nearest elementary school. Turns out, certain streets in our subdivision actually go do the new elementary school, which is closer to our house. Yes! We can walk to school every day! So I go into the office, present all required documents, and fill out paperwork. The very nice lady at the front office desk informs me that No. 1 needs a TB test. "We got those done before we left Texas. It's on her shot record." Here is yet another moving to Hawaii glitch that is not posted ANYWHERE on any web site about moving to Hawaii. It's not even on the Hawaii Health Department website: YOUR CHILD MUST HAVE BOTH THE DATE THE TB TEST WAS ADMINISTERED AND THE DATE IT WAS READ ON THEIR SHOT RECORD!!! The reading date and result are not enough. By the time we are informed of this little glitch, it is too late in the day on a Friday to call Texas and have them fax me the information. A lot of phone calls and a week later, my six-year-old is finally allowed to go to school.
We have friends coming to town for a birthday party. We have no sitter. We have no friends we can ask to baby sit. I can't even get an appointment to sign the kids up for daycare until the middle of November. Swell. So I call my mom. She volunteers to come out to Hawaii (I had to twist her arm really hard), and watch the kids during the birthday party. AWESOME!!
Mom and her hubby come out to visit. We spend our time driving around the island looking around. We go see the Pali lookout, which is a really neat way to see the Windward side of the island. Mom purchases a really neat basket made on the spot by a guy. Pretty cool. We drive up to the North Shore to check it out. Get to see some turtles in the surf. Very cool. We even visit the Dole plantation, which is the biggest tourist trap ever. Mom gets to witness the Japanese tourist effect, where they stop me to take pictures of the kids. We get to go to the birthday party without the kids. Our first kid-free day for two months!
We had a blast at the party. I got to walk on the beach with my friend Paige. She spent most of our walk complaining because there was no sea life in the tide pools. Just as she was saying something to the effect of 'this sucks' I turn around a see a monk seal laying no less than 30 feet from where we're standing. Many pictures ensue, and we try to encourage some local kids NOT to poke the seal with a stick. All in all, it was great.
We're settling in pretty well. Futon space is available at our house any time. Come on out!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Movers Arrive
We finally got a house, and our household goods are arriving, like, NOW! The movers arrive at our new digs bright and early the next morning. A crew of just three guys shows up with two trucks. They inform me that another crew will be there with another truck of stuff later. Holy cow, I forgot we have this much stuff! So the craziness of unloading all our worldly possessions begins.
Now, our new house has parking in the street in front of the house, which is taken up by all the neighbor's cars. So the movers pull around to the back of the house, which means that all our stuff has to be brought into the garage or through the back gate, across the back yard, and then inside the house. I am so glad I don't work for a moving company. Eight hours later, all of our stuff is in the house. My dining room table has two HUGE gouges across the top, my king-size headboard is now missing a finial, and the baby's changing table/dresser is now missing all four legs. All the glassware is intact, and the packers even made sure that not a pencil was broken (they used two sheets of wrapping paper to wrap 5 pencils. Really.) I'm slightly miffed about the large furniture damage, but hey, we're in Hawaii.
We get all the beds set up, and we all get to spend a peaceful night in SEPARATE ROOMS!!! I can't hear it when No. 4 rolls over in her sleep. I can't hear it when No. 1 jumps on No. 2 and makes her squeal like a pig.
As I'm getting ready to drift off, there is a large BANG. Turns out we live about 2 miles as the crow flies from the Coast Guard air station. They use pyro to keep the birds off the landing field. Every night. After 9 p.m. Joy.
Now, our new house has parking in the street in front of the house, which is taken up by all the neighbor's cars. So the movers pull around to the back of the house, which means that all our stuff has to be brought into the garage or through the back gate, across the back yard, and then inside the house. I am so glad I don't work for a moving company. Eight hours later, all of our stuff is in the house. My dining room table has two HUGE gouges across the top, my king-size headboard is now missing a finial, and the baby's changing table/dresser is now missing all four legs. All the glassware is intact, and the packers even made sure that not a pencil was broken (they used two sheets of wrapping paper to wrap 5 pencils. Really.) I'm slightly miffed about the large furniture damage, but hey, we're in Hawaii.
We get all the beds set up, and we all get to spend a peaceful night in SEPARATE ROOMS!!! I can't hear it when No. 4 rolls over in her sleep. I can't hear it when No. 1 jumps on No. 2 and makes her squeal like a pig.
As I'm getting ready to drift off, there is a large BANG. Turns out we live about 2 miles as the crow flies from the Coast Guard air station. They use pyro to keep the birds off the landing field. Every night. After 9 p.m. Joy.
Settling In...Sorta...
We arrived in Honolulu relatively unscathed. Got checked into our hotel rooms at the Hale Koa hotel in Waikiki. We spend a couple of uneventful days visiting the beach, the Bishop Museum, and just lounging around. Then closterphobia sets in. We've been in and out of hotel rooms, other people's houses, minivans, trains, and airplanes for almost a month now, and I am in serious need of a room that is not connected in any way with the one that our children are sleeping in. Not to mention that it would be nice to shower and pee without an audience. We're having to pay out of pocket for all of our meals, and it's needless to say, expensive. Our hotel rooms are equipped with a mini fridge, but no available cooking surfaces.
So, in the effort to get us out of the hotel, I take the initiative and call the housing office at Ft. Shafter. Nothing available for three months. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. So I called Schofield Barracks. Nothing. I then call the Navy, and the Marine Corps. Again, nothing. No housing availability whatsoever. Great. So, I get on my trusty laptop, pay $9 to get on the internet in our hotel room (boo), and begin searching for houses.
The house search takes THREE DAYS! We looked at exactly zero houses in the first two days. We burned up two tanks of gas driving all over the island looking at houses. If you've never been to Oahu, housing here is very very different. Not only is housing here extremely expensive, its, well, small. The first several houses we drove by were a combination of tiny, ugly, dirty, nasty, or in bad neighborhoods. And another little hitch: people don't put FOR RENT signs up here. You either have to be an internet guru or actually know someone who knows someone. As we're sitting in the driveway waiting on another realtor to show us another too-small house, I use my trusty blackberry in a last ditch effort to find something worth it. Bingo. Two houses pop up. So, I call. First phone number is disconnected. Second phone number goes to voice mail. I leave a message, figuring it'll be another two days of nightmarish hotel hell before we get a call back. The house is an ugly orange-sherbet color in the picture, and honestly doesn't look that appealing, but at this point I'm about ready to camp on the beach. While we're still waiting (realtor is by now 15 minutes late), my phone rings. It's the realtor for the other house. He happens to be at the property right now, and he can show it to us now. So, we ditch the too small house with the late realtor for the possibility of another prospect. We program the address into the new GPS, and off we go. (BTW, I'm still a HUGE GPS fan). The GPS guides us down a small, two-lane road. At this point, my husband begins to question my real estate sanity. "Where the hell are you taking us?" he asks. My sarcasm kicks into overdrive, and I reply,"Yes, I have found us a beat up trailer in the sticks." I receive the traditional husband grunt in reply. Our little two-lane road passes a really smelly water treatment plant, then a golf course. Other than the smell, this is looking promising. The two lane road comes to a stop light on a four-lane, manicured road. The houses are....nice. There is a park.....there is mowed grass....there are palm trees lining the streets....there are crosswalks.....A couple of turns later and we arrive at the orange-sherbet house. From the street, it's not so orange. It's more of a light terra cotta. The neighborhood is quiet. In fact, there's not much noise at all. The front door is standing open, so we herd the kids in the house to look. Brad, the realtor, is waiting to greet us. The house is cool, calm, and has a vaulted ceiling in the entryway. There are two living spaces, a dining room, kitchen with an island, office space upstairs, four bedrooms and 2 and a half bathrooms. AWESOME!!! This is the first and only house we've actually be inside in our three day search. It's perfect. Other than the fact that it's 30 minutes from Ft. Shafter, where my husband will be working. My glorious husband knows that I have reached my hotel room limit, and gallantly takes one for the team. He agrees to commute every day so we can get out of the hotel. Bless you, honey!!! We sign the paperwork, pay our deposit, and hustle back to the hotel to begin packing.
When we arrive back at the hotel, there is a message from the movers. Our household goods are available for delivery the next day. Good thing we found a house, huh?
So, in the effort to get us out of the hotel, I take the initiative and call the housing office at Ft. Shafter. Nothing available for three months. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. So I called Schofield Barracks. Nothing. I then call the Navy, and the Marine Corps. Again, nothing. No housing availability whatsoever. Great. So, I get on my trusty laptop, pay $9 to get on the internet in our hotel room (boo), and begin searching for houses.
The house search takes THREE DAYS! We looked at exactly zero houses in the first two days. We burned up two tanks of gas driving all over the island looking at houses. If you've never been to Oahu, housing here is very very different. Not only is housing here extremely expensive, its, well, small. The first several houses we drove by were a combination of tiny, ugly, dirty, nasty, or in bad neighborhoods. And another little hitch: people don't put FOR RENT signs up here. You either have to be an internet guru or actually know someone who knows someone. As we're sitting in the driveway waiting on another realtor to show us another too-small house, I use my trusty blackberry in a last ditch effort to find something worth it. Bingo. Two houses pop up. So, I call. First phone number is disconnected. Second phone number goes to voice mail. I leave a message, figuring it'll be another two days of nightmarish hotel hell before we get a call back. The house is an ugly orange-sherbet color in the picture, and honestly doesn't look that appealing, but at this point I'm about ready to camp on the beach. While we're still waiting (realtor is by now 15 minutes late), my phone rings. It's the realtor for the other house. He happens to be at the property right now, and he can show it to us now. So, we ditch the too small house with the late realtor for the possibility of another prospect. We program the address into the new GPS, and off we go. (BTW, I'm still a HUGE GPS fan). The GPS guides us down a small, two-lane road. At this point, my husband begins to question my real estate sanity. "Where the hell are you taking us?" he asks. My sarcasm kicks into overdrive, and I reply,"Yes, I have found us a beat up trailer in the sticks." I receive the traditional husband grunt in reply. Our little two-lane road passes a really smelly water treatment plant, then a golf course. Other than the smell, this is looking promising. The two lane road comes to a stop light on a four-lane, manicured road. The houses are....nice. There is a park.....there is mowed grass....there are palm trees lining the streets....there are crosswalks.....A couple of turns later and we arrive at the orange-sherbet house. From the street, it's not so orange. It's more of a light terra cotta. The neighborhood is quiet. In fact, there's not much noise at all. The front door is standing open, so we herd the kids in the house to look. Brad, the realtor, is waiting to greet us. The house is cool, calm, and has a vaulted ceiling in the entryway. There are two living spaces, a dining room, kitchen with an island, office space upstairs, four bedrooms and 2 and a half bathrooms. AWESOME!!! This is the first and only house we've actually be inside in our three day search. It's perfect. Other than the fact that it's 30 minutes from Ft. Shafter, where my husband will be working. My glorious husband knows that I have reached my hotel room limit, and gallantly takes one for the team. He agrees to commute every day so we can get out of the hotel. Bless you, honey!!! We sign the paperwork, pay our deposit, and hustle back to the hotel to begin packing.
When we arrive back at the hotel, there is a message from the movers. Our household goods are available for delivery the next day. Good thing we found a house, huh?
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