When we first figured out that the delay in closing meant we’d be putting just about everything into a storage unit and moving in with my in-laws indefinitely, we laughed and joked about it. My husband said that he’d told his Mom that at 32 he was actually COMPLETELY Ok with the idea of curfew and would be happy to have the lights out at 10 – or earlier! – if she wanted. He joked that now that he was moving back home, he might try out for CYO sports. I believe there was talk of “getting the band back together.” Hahaha. Yes, we could laugh. Because this couldn’t be real. It couldn’t really happen.
But alas it could.
And with each box we pack, the reality becomes more… real. So that every few days I will turn to my husband and say – holy shit, we’re moving in with your parents in [fill in diminishing time segment] weeks or days because it has hit me anew then. I’ll go a few days in this reality – I think it starts to wear off though (because, again, this CAN’T be real. I am a responsible adult. Truly. Responsible to a fault. Annoyingly responsible! Arguably not fun at times responsible. A square (you know, if it were 1954).) so that every few days it’s like a newsflash in my brain until coping mechanisms (so sad that drinking copious amounts of alcohol is not currently an option while breastfeeding) soften the edges of it – so it can hit me AGAIN.
My husband has these revelations in different ways. He noted to me the other day how our lives have change to put the baby first and work for her future – so that we do things for her; we’re buying a house for her. Then he looked at her and said – so this is your fault.
I know we’re in a better situation than a lot of people these days. I mean, we’re not being kicked out of her home (except by those damn pushy renters who are all about “getting something” for that rent check they’re giving us!) or in dire financial straits. This is a set back because of a process issue and it will be cleared up.
But until then – have I mentioned we’re moving in with my in-laws?