The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

11,520 Minutes of Freedom

Dear Clients,

If you call me this week and I don’t answer, it’s totally because I’m working super hard on whatever you need me to be. Or, if I’m not working on your personal housing needs, I didn’t answer because I’m at this very minute working on something completely urgent and important for one of my other clients. But if that’s the case, I will absolutely be working on what you need me for any minute. Or like right now. Or now. Regardless, I’m either doing one of those two.

The point is, if you call me and it goes to voicemail, or send me a text and I don’t answer it immediately, it’s absolutely not because I shipped my kids off to go to the beach with their saintly grandmother for EIGHT GODDAMN DAYS and I’m living a life of mindless joy and debauchery.

I promise you, I’m working really hard here. I can assure you I’m not spending 192 hours (11,520 minutes) of utter freedom from the responsibility of caring for every desire and life-sustaining need of three human beings other than myself doing anything like:

Sleeping till 9AM on a Tuesday.

Going to circus school so I can begin my training to run away and join the circus.

Trying to break the world record for number of Happy Hour attendances in 192 hours.

Not putting on pants or a bra until 3pm daily.

Taking ballet class at noon so as to accomodate both sleeping in and happy hour attendances.

Spending an entire day catching up on completely neglected lady maintenance: mani/pedi/massage/wax/haircut.

Throwing away all of the kids’ toys that are broken/missing pieces they never let me toss because they have sentimental value but they won’t actually notice are gone.

Running 3 miles on the treadmill and then immediately replenishing all the calories I burned with margaritas, chips and guac while laying by the pool.

Putting things away only to turn around and not have them immediately scattered all over the floor again.

I’m absolutely not doing any of those things when I miss a call from you, dear Clients. So just put that nonsense out of your head and know I’ll call you back (and be super sober) any second now. Plus I’ll definitely be wearing pants when I do it.

Sincerely (and with lots of professionalism),

REALTOR® Elizabeth


Dear My Lovely Children,

While you’re gone, I just want you to know that I’m missing you every second. I’m definitely not enjoying our time apart at all. It makes me super sad to be in the house all alone with nothing but blissful, glorious silence and time to myself. Swear. Not enjoying it. Even a little bit.

Love and kisses,


PS – Jonas, when you told me you won’t miss me this week when you’re gone because you like Grandma Linda better than me and then I told you it was ok because I like Gray better than you, I was kidding. Miss you!


Dear Everyone Else,





Totally wearing pants. Swear.


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