The verdict is in. We are truly suburban and yuppies. Buy me an SUV and call me a soccer mom. Yes, it’s true – we joined Costco. My condiments will now be purchased in buckets – would you like a side of ketchup with your fries? My basement, which seemed so spacious, will now be FILLED with enough paper products and canned goods to be considered a fall out shelter (dang – if only it had that stupid rough in!).
The problem with joining Costco, aside from having to buy things in such bulk that there’s no way your tastes won’t have changed before you finish the package; and the fact that cheap gas comes at the price of 1970’s style gas lines that make us late for everything; oh, and the fact that people are just exceedingly stupid anywhere near that store / parking lot! The place is always full – full of the least patient, dumbest, lowest driving skill people around. Aside from all that, the problem with joining Costco is the “food court.” I know it’s not really a food court. It’s a small counter where they sell a total of about 6 food items – but they sell them SO cheaply. Where else can we go and have lunch together for under $5 – total! Actually, I get all high falutin’ and want the burger and fries instead of the hot dog, so our bill sometimes heads towards $6 – this is my high rollin’ old school city ways coming out. We are becoming regulars there – which I don’t think speaks well of us… But even that isn’t the real problem. The real problem is that for $1.35 I can get a vat of fat free ice cream. And see, the thing is, I’m beginning to think that that’s a serving size. There’s enough ice cream in this cup to satisfy a family of 4 on a 90 degree day in Disney – but it’s an individual serving! And it’s fat free! Heck, I am being healthy there! It’s not like I bought the hand dipped ice cream on a stick – so big that I wonder what sort of reinforced metal that stick must be made of to support its weight (this is cold war technology at work!). Of course, when I do in fact buy that one, I am able to offset its lack of fat free-ness with the work out I get raising the thing to my mouth. So it all works out.
So yes, this is my suburban life. The frequent trips to Costco for ice cream – and hey, while I’m here, why not buy a lifetime’s supply of canned fruit and, I don’t know, lawn furniture – and home repairs.
Do you think my daughter can make it through her whole first year without deciding that I am totally uncool with the air of ennui and disdain usually reserved for 12 year olds?
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
And now I'm the crazy box lady! Hello new neighbors...
I mentioned I’d finally sorted through a bunch of the boxes? I was pretty excited – I had a really good number empty, so I broke them down and started putting them out for garbage day (saving a few for the hubby as requested for when he paints the foyer). I put them by the curb with a few bags of other garbage (mostly packing supplies) on top of them to weigh them down.
The next morning I saw the garbage truck arrive and take the bags. Hmm – well, recycling must come later and get the boxes. No problem. I went off about my merry way to run errands – noting all the other garbage and recycling (including boxes) in front of my neighbors. OK, thank goodness, I got my days right (I wasn’t entirely sure about this).
I came home several hours later to find the garbage and recycling gone in front of the other houses – and sort of gone in front of mine…. Without the garbage bags to weigh down the flattened boxes, they’d blown all over the neighborhood! The neighborhood that I’ve JUST moved to! Oh man! OK – not to panic! The baby is still asleep in the car from the drive, I can do this. I ran to the first neighbor’s lawn and started gathering boxes and running them to my garage. Then I heard a voice from across the street – it was that neighbor calling over to tell me that they’d blown on his lawn too! Oh no! (Worse yet, this neighbor is super chatty and I was NOT feeling that I had the time to talk to him right now.) I ran over explaining that my husband was at work and the baby was asleep in the car as I grabbed the boxes. He said – oh, just one of those days, I guess. So I decided to ask – um, was today not recycling day? He confirmed that it, in fact, was. But maybe they hadn’t taken my boxes since they were flattened. So I asked – but wasn’t I supposed to flatten them? Well, yes, it turns out I was.
ARGH. So who knows the motivation? The garbagemen just didn’t pick them up. Maybe they couldn’t see them when they passed because they were flat (even though they were piled about 15 high!). Maybe they were already blown everywhere! But this was my afternoon – a sleeping baby in the car and a frantic me trying to get my boxes from around the neighborhood and then to get some of the crap in from the car while the, by then screaming, baby begged to get out of her car seat and the dog barked from the door. I need to drink more!
The next morning I saw the garbage truck arrive and take the bags. Hmm – well, recycling must come later and get the boxes. No problem. I went off about my merry way to run errands – noting all the other garbage and recycling (including boxes) in front of my neighbors. OK, thank goodness, I got my days right (I wasn’t entirely sure about this).
I came home several hours later to find the garbage and recycling gone in front of the other houses – and sort of gone in front of mine…. Without the garbage bags to weigh down the flattened boxes, they’d blown all over the neighborhood! The neighborhood that I’ve JUST moved to! Oh man! OK – not to panic! The baby is still asleep in the car from the drive, I can do this. I ran to the first neighbor’s lawn and started gathering boxes and running them to my garage. Then I heard a voice from across the street – it was that neighbor calling over to tell me that they’d blown on his lawn too! Oh no! (Worse yet, this neighbor is super chatty and I was NOT feeling that I had the time to talk to him right now.) I ran over explaining that my husband was at work and the baby was asleep in the car as I grabbed the boxes. He said – oh, just one of those days, I guess. So I decided to ask – um, was today not recycling day? He confirmed that it, in fact, was. But maybe they hadn’t taken my boxes since they were flattened. So I asked – but wasn’t I supposed to flatten them? Well, yes, it turns out I was.
ARGH. So who knows the motivation? The garbagemen just didn’t pick them up. Maybe they couldn’t see them when they passed because they were flat (even though they were piled about 15 high!). Maybe they were already blown everywhere! But this was my afternoon – a sleeping baby in the car and a frantic me trying to get my boxes from around the neighborhood and then to get some of the crap in from the car while the, by then screaming, baby begged to get out of her car seat and the dog barked from the door. I need to drink more!
The move continued
Following on my last blog of what’s fun / what’s not fun of owning your new house – moving is NOT fun! I’m not sure we’ll ever get this place sorted. I finally felt like I’d made progress in the living room (box storage heaven – or really, hell) and my husband got the last (well, almost last. Cause, no, there’s still more) load from his parents house and it seems to be full up again! Oh man. I’m beginning to worry that we’re like those packrat people. The ones with the disorder where you can’t walk through their house because it’s piled with newspapers and junk? Except ours is piled with boxes and bubble wrap and used newspapers…
Can you drown in that stuff?
Can you drown in that stuff?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The pros and cons of homeownership
You know what’s fun about owning your new house? It’s all yours and you finally have some space that’s your own – to do what you want! To decorate!
You know what’s not fun? The first month of bills! Mortgage, HOA, taxes, water and electric – to name a few. Oh man. I miss being young and stupid.
You know what’s not fun? The first month of bills! Mortgage, HOA, taxes, water and electric – to name a few. Oh man. I miss being young and stupid.
Moving – the munchkin adjusts to the new house and everyone else adjusts to me sleep deprived (like it or not!)
This is a little late in coming, but got kind of lost in the holiday posts, so here it is -
Day 1 in the new house, the munchkin was up most of the night – not necessarily wanting to eat, but at least to be held. Every time I went to put her down, she cried. I finally looked at my husband at midnight and said, I need you to take a turn. I’m not sure when he made it to bed, but I was up with the next cries around 4. Oh dear God.
Day 2 in the new house –
Sleep seemed a little easier in coming – till she woke up at 1:30 and refused to go back to sleep. By 3 I finally had her back down, but my sanity was lost in the night.
Was it just the new place? Was she scared? Was it separation anxiety? Was it extra light from outside because the prior owners took their curtains and we haven’t yet found the box that has our curtains?!?!? (I’m personally loving that one myself. I’ve been changing in the closet since we moved.)
Day 3 in the new house – we started the break through and she was up only once. Thank God.
And then Day 4 in the new house – was like an epiphany! She slept through till nearly 8 am. It was like a vacation – God’s own personal snow day for us! I thought – this is great! I love this house! Maybe she just woke up so much at my in laws because there were more noises there (it seemed like someone was always awake!).
But it was not to last. And we’re back to wondering – how on earth do we get this kid to sleep consistently? Some nights she sleeps through, but some nights can be so long. The other night we went with the theory that if the crying wasn’t too tortured, we’d let her cry it out. I was so tired, guilt didn’t even keep me up when we turned off the monitor!
Oh, fingers crossed! Not just for me, but for all I come into contact with! I am not good without sleep…
Day 1 in the new house, the munchkin was up most of the night – not necessarily wanting to eat, but at least to be held. Every time I went to put her down, she cried. I finally looked at my husband at midnight and said, I need you to take a turn. I’m not sure when he made it to bed, but I was up with the next cries around 4. Oh dear God.
Day 2 in the new house –
Sleep seemed a little easier in coming – till she woke up at 1:30 and refused to go back to sleep. By 3 I finally had her back down, but my sanity was lost in the night.
Was it just the new place? Was she scared? Was it separation anxiety? Was it extra light from outside because the prior owners took their curtains and we haven’t yet found the box that has our curtains?!?!? (I’m personally loving that one myself. I’ve been changing in the closet since we moved.)
Day 3 in the new house – we started the break through and she was up only once. Thank God.
And then Day 4 in the new house – was like an epiphany! She slept through till nearly 8 am. It was like a vacation – God’s own personal snow day for us! I thought – this is great! I love this house! Maybe she just woke up so much at my in laws because there were more noises there (it seemed like someone was always awake!).
But it was not to last. And we’re back to wondering – how on earth do we get this kid to sleep consistently? Some nights she sleeps through, but some nights can be so long. The other night we went with the theory that if the crying wasn’t too tortured, we’d let her cry it out. I was so tired, guilt didn’t even keep me up when we turned off the monitor!
Oh, fingers crossed! Not just for me, but for all I come into contact with! I am not good without sleep…
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
The longer the move takes, the less time devoted to pretty much ANYTHING else
(oops, wrote this one and forgot to post - so a late post - meaning, I actually sent my Christmas cards before the 23rd!)
The move keeps dragging. Originally we were going to get in the first weekend we had the place (that’s when the movers dropped off most of our stuff). Then we needed another week because of all the unplanned painting to be done. Then just one more – as painting takes a lot longer than we thought… And the longer the move takes, the less I do anything else. I took the munchkin for Christmas pictures very early so that I could have the cards all ready to go to send with our new address before we started receiving cards (and so they wouldn’t get lost in the move). Admittedly I was slow about printing out labels and all that, but when I finally was ready to go on them, I found I had no energy to write much of anything on them!
This has always been a bit of a pet peeve of mine… I know I’m going to get flack for this, but hear me out. I get Christmas cards from college friends who I haven’t seen in years and they just sign their names – no updates on family or life, no photocopied Christmas note. As we’ve gotten older and everyone starts to have kids, they include a picture – so that’s kind of an update in itself. Although then the card is pre-signed, so they just stuff it in an envelope (with an address label) and send it off – feels like we could do that by email.
I know I’m being picky and petty. I actually really enjoy getting the Christmas pictures of my friends’ kids. It just starts to feel a little impersonal, I guess.
I mentioned this a few years ago to one of my friends – who does always write a note – and she said I’d see how much harder it is when I had kids (it’s her answer to a lot of things I say…). But now, with the move, I am ready to just shove these babies in envelopes – with my pre-printed labels, and printed new return address labels (just hoping they notice that it says we’ve moved!). I feel like I complained a bit too much about that in the past – and it does still feel too impersonal (if I like you enough to send you a Christmas card, I feel like I should say hi on it…), so I put a brief note on most of them. (To be fair, my husband’s relatives and college friends who I don’t know so well and my distant second cousins, etc. … did not get notes!) However my sentiments got shorter and shorter as I thought about my move to do list! Good friends who I hadn’t seen in a long time got a simple “Miss you! Hope to see you at the holidays!”
Great. I’ve totally turned into the thing I used to mock! I’m going to do my best to blame it on the move rather than the babe. We’ll see how that works for me … next year… (I’m sure they’ll be something new to blame it on then!)
The move keeps dragging. Originally we were going to get in the first weekend we had the place (that’s when the movers dropped off most of our stuff). Then we needed another week because of all the unplanned painting to be done. Then just one more – as painting takes a lot longer than we thought… And the longer the move takes, the less I do anything else. I took the munchkin for Christmas pictures very early so that I could have the cards all ready to go to send with our new address before we started receiving cards (and so they wouldn’t get lost in the move). Admittedly I was slow about printing out labels and all that, but when I finally was ready to go on them, I found I had no energy to write much of anything on them!
This has always been a bit of a pet peeve of mine… I know I’m going to get flack for this, but hear me out. I get Christmas cards from college friends who I haven’t seen in years and they just sign their names – no updates on family or life, no photocopied Christmas note. As we’ve gotten older and everyone starts to have kids, they include a picture – so that’s kind of an update in itself. Although then the card is pre-signed, so they just stuff it in an envelope (with an address label) and send it off – feels like we could do that by email.
I know I’m being picky and petty. I actually really enjoy getting the Christmas pictures of my friends’ kids. It just starts to feel a little impersonal, I guess.
I mentioned this a few years ago to one of my friends – who does always write a note – and she said I’d see how much harder it is when I had kids (it’s her answer to a lot of things I say…). But now, with the move, I am ready to just shove these babies in envelopes – with my pre-printed labels, and printed new return address labels (just hoping they notice that it says we’ve moved!). I feel like I complained a bit too much about that in the past – and it does still feel too impersonal (if I like you enough to send you a Christmas card, I feel like I should say hi on it…), so I put a brief note on most of them. (To be fair, my husband’s relatives and college friends who I don’t know so well and my distant second cousins, etc. … did not get notes!) However my sentiments got shorter and shorter as I thought about my move to do list! Good friends who I hadn’t seen in a long time got a simple “Miss you! Hope to see you at the holidays!”
Great. I’ve totally turned into the thing I used to mock! I’m going to do my best to blame it on the move rather than the babe. We’ll see how that works for me … next year… (I’m sure they’ll be something new to blame it on then!)
Friday, October 2, 2009
Airplane wallpaper
I know I haven’t said much about life with the in laws. This is probably in large part due to the fact that they went on vacation for most of our first week at their place. The one comment I will make is that when I sent the realtor an email asking for a timeframe / whether we need to look at other stuff and she wrote back with her comments, my husband replied to both of us – “I dunno. I’m sort of enjoying living in my little kid bedroom.” Heaven help me!
Thursday, September 24, 2009
If that's moving up, then I'm moving out
Just to finish out the moving out / moving in with my in laws saga… I believe I left us at fixing the ceiling leak on Friday evening. We finally made it to bed sometime after 11 – after the baby’s last (unexpected) wake up. That crashing noise you may have heard around the universe was me hitting the bed (well, air mattress, the bed was long gone by then!). I know that this noise is very loud because it is clearly one of the most annoying noises in the world to my daughter – one of the few noises that was guaranteed to wake her up from a long nap in the early days (you know, the long naps you worry are going to prevent them from sleeping well at night, except, haha the joke is on you because they’re not going to sleep at night anyway? Yeah, those.).
I was dead to the world. For just over 3 hours – till the baby woke up crying at 2:30. I listened to her for a little bit thinking – oh man, I’m so tired, please stop. God I want to just go in there because then she’ll stop in a few minutes, but she’s at an age where I probably shouldn’t do that anymore because she has to learn and… I was midway through these mind boggling (certainly boggling to my mind at 2:30 in the freaking morning!) thoughts when my husband asked if we should do something. I said no. And then… wait, I need more of a drumroll for this comment – AND THEN HE SAID lazy. WHAT?! What?! WHAT?!?!?!?!? I don’t have words. Not at 2:30 I don’t. He has not lived down this comment yet – and likely won’t for some time. I could try explaining to him that it’s actually in a way lazy to go feed her because we have to suffer through the long lesson of tonight to teach her to sleep on her own. Or I could comment on the fact that as soon as I left, he rolled back over to go to sleep while I fed her for half an hour! Yes HALF AN HOUR! No short feed and go back tonight! Of course not. You know we’re moving and sleep deprived and have lots to do tomorrow… Well, maybe I also sort of half fell asleep in the glider so more time may have passed than was strictly necessary. But that was because when I tried to delatch her after the normal amount of time, she was having none of it and cried to be put back! Which is not normal… so maybe she did need me… But whatever, I need to go back to bed and yell at my husband for calling me lazy!
I got her back down about 3:15 and she woke up again around 4. Oh. Well, that’s not normal. Hmm – I wonder if that whole teething thing could be a problem… We gave her some Tylenol and I fed her again and she managed to get back to sleep for a few hours. Not enough hours! But a few hours. Till our day began again.
It started with more cleaning and packing and loading stuff to the car on my part while my father in law came over to help my husband with some electrical issues – you know, plugs that don’t work. Plugs that haven’t worked in the 4 years we’ve lived here… Well, that’s not strictly true. They worked when we got here. But about 3 years ago, my husband tried to fix some and possibly electrocuted himself (just a little bit!) and they haven’t worked since then.
Eventually we hit a wall with what I could do, as my husband needed to do some touch up painting and finally seal the kitchen floor and I didn’t want the baby in the house for the fumes. So I took my Mom and the baby out to see our “maybe” house (if we ever manage to settle on it) and explore a little while he finished up. Baby Sweetness and I came back around 7 and he’d done a ton of little projects in his perfectionist way – finally painted the trim in the bathroom, installed smoke detectors in every room (why does he like the renters so much better than he liked us?), add a new fire extinguisher, etc. – but the floor remained to be sealed. We got some dinner (aside – I’d fed the baby while trying to eat while he ate. I was almost done with mine when he mentioned we really needed to get going – ok, fair, lots to be finished. I took the baby back and got the bill – and he picked up my fork and started to eat the stuff he told me there wasn’t time to finish! I managed to steal my fork back and he said, ok, so we really have to go. Boys!) and got back to condo around 9. The munchkin was not at all happy about being out so much past her bedtime (the drive was mostly screaming and sobbing, but it finally stopped as we got close – so that it was only those sad, pathetic little sobs. You know the ones – I’m so tired from crying, I’m going to stop. There’s no point because no one ever listens to me cry and no one will help me. Yeah, those.). So I left him at the condo and headed over to his parents house to get the baby to bed.
I finally got her to bed, but in a show of solidarity, I tried to stay up to wait for my husband to get home (lazy, my ass!). He got home sometime after midnight. I could barely keep my eyes open. But then he got into bed and – I COULDN’T SLEEP! Ugh. I guess it’s for the best – the baby was up twice in the night.
We got up early so he could finish getting his tools out of the condo and we could do the walk through with the tenants at noon. I was allowed to be there as long as I didn’t volunteer information because, and I quote, I’m too honest. (Great – we’re slumlords.)
And then that was it. Suddenly I realized our home was not ours anymore. And suddenly we both started to feel emotional about that. It wasn’t just the – huh, we have a lot more storage here than I realized that we’d felt in moving (as there was constantly more stuff). Or, huh, this is a nice place – esp. since you did all those last repairs. It was – huh, this is the place where we lived when we first got married. The place we brought our baby home to. And we’re leaving it. And I don’t like that – it’s a bad feeling. It’s like whenever my Mom says she’s going to sell her house and I ask her – my room too? That bad feeling.
I was dead to the world. For just over 3 hours – till the baby woke up crying at 2:30. I listened to her for a little bit thinking – oh man, I’m so tired, please stop. God I want to just go in there because then she’ll stop in a few minutes, but she’s at an age where I probably shouldn’t do that anymore because she has to learn and… I was midway through these mind boggling (certainly boggling to my mind at 2:30 in the freaking morning!) thoughts when my husband asked if we should do something. I said no. And then… wait, I need more of a drumroll for this comment – AND THEN HE SAID lazy. WHAT?! What?! WHAT?!?!?!?!? I don’t have words. Not at 2:30 I don’t. He has not lived down this comment yet – and likely won’t for some time. I could try explaining to him that it’s actually in a way lazy to go feed her because we have to suffer through the long lesson of tonight to teach her to sleep on her own. Or I could comment on the fact that as soon as I left, he rolled back over to go to sleep while I fed her for half an hour! Yes HALF AN HOUR! No short feed and go back tonight! Of course not. You know we’re moving and sleep deprived and have lots to do tomorrow… Well, maybe I also sort of half fell asleep in the glider so more time may have passed than was strictly necessary. But that was because when I tried to delatch her after the normal amount of time, she was having none of it and cried to be put back! Which is not normal… so maybe she did need me… But whatever, I need to go back to bed and yell at my husband for calling me lazy!
I got her back down about 3:15 and she woke up again around 4. Oh. Well, that’s not normal. Hmm – I wonder if that whole teething thing could be a problem… We gave her some Tylenol and I fed her again and she managed to get back to sleep for a few hours. Not enough hours! But a few hours. Till our day began again.
It started with more cleaning and packing and loading stuff to the car on my part while my father in law came over to help my husband with some electrical issues – you know, plugs that don’t work. Plugs that haven’t worked in the 4 years we’ve lived here… Well, that’s not strictly true. They worked when we got here. But about 3 years ago, my husband tried to fix some and possibly electrocuted himself (just a little bit!) and they haven’t worked since then.
Eventually we hit a wall with what I could do, as my husband needed to do some touch up painting and finally seal the kitchen floor and I didn’t want the baby in the house for the fumes. So I took my Mom and the baby out to see our “maybe” house (if we ever manage to settle on it) and explore a little while he finished up. Baby Sweetness and I came back around 7 and he’d done a ton of little projects in his perfectionist way – finally painted the trim in the bathroom, installed smoke detectors in every room (why does he like the renters so much better than he liked us?), add a new fire extinguisher, etc. – but the floor remained to be sealed. We got some dinner (aside – I’d fed the baby while trying to eat while he ate. I was almost done with mine when he mentioned we really needed to get going – ok, fair, lots to be finished. I took the baby back and got the bill – and he picked up my fork and started to eat the stuff he told me there wasn’t time to finish! I managed to steal my fork back and he said, ok, so we really have to go. Boys!) and got back to condo around 9. The munchkin was not at all happy about being out so much past her bedtime (the drive was mostly screaming and sobbing, but it finally stopped as we got close – so that it was only those sad, pathetic little sobs. You know the ones – I’m so tired from crying, I’m going to stop. There’s no point because no one ever listens to me cry and no one will help me. Yeah, those.). So I left him at the condo and headed over to his parents house to get the baby to bed.
I finally got her to bed, but in a show of solidarity, I tried to stay up to wait for my husband to get home (lazy, my ass!). He got home sometime after midnight. I could barely keep my eyes open. But then he got into bed and – I COULDN’T SLEEP! Ugh. I guess it’s for the best – the baby was up twice in the night.
We got up early so he could finish getting his tools out of the condo and we could do the walk through with the tenants at noon. I was allowed to be there as long as I didn’t volunteer information because, and I quote, I’m too honest. (Great – we’re slumlords.)
And then that was it. Suddenly I realized our home was not ours anymore. And suddenly we both started to feel emotional about that. It wasn’t just the – huh, we have a lot more storage here than I realized that we’d felt in moving (as there was constantly more stuff). Or, huh, this is a nice place – esp. since you did all those last repairs. It was – huh, this is the place where we lived when we first got married. The place we brought our baby home to. And we’re leaving it. And I don’t like that – it’s a bad feeling. It’s like whenever my Mom says she’s going to sell her house and I ask her – my room too? That bad feeling.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Moving: It’s not so funny anymore…
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?
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?
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Moving Day – ch-ch-ch-changes…
The move is coming, the move is coming – I think I feel the same level of anxiety as Paul Revere. Except he had an army awaiting his cry (or at least a militia!) and we… do not.
I should probably start by telling you that I HATE change. You know how some people thrive on it? They love living on the edge and getting that adrenaline rush. These are the same people who procrastinate because they “work better under pressure.” This is NOT me. Not to say I don’t procrastinate – but when I do it’s out of pure laziness, not some idea that I work better under pressure. So even in the best of circumstances, a move is not a happy ideal for me. As much as I complained about our condo (they’re turning off the water AGAIN tomorrow!) and claimed we were living in an overpriced tenement, I will miss it. I would miss it even if we were moving to the greatest house in the greatest location, etc., etc. But we’re not… Due to some title issues, settlement on our house is delayed (no update yet on when it will actually occur), so we are moving in with my in-laws.
Let that one sink in for a moment. Should I say it again? I’d really prefer not to. Now before I say anything else, I should say that they are really nice people (hell, they’re letting us live with them for an indeterminate amount of time on very short notice). I like them and generally find them easy to get along with. But, like most people, I probably find them easier to get along when I don’t live with them… (I realize that could be read either as most people find their in-laws easier to get along with when not living with them or as I find most people easier to get along with when not living with them. Which did I mean? Yes. Both are absolutely true for me!)
So there’s that issue and then there’s the other thing. The – you’re how old and moving in with your family? You’re pathetic! My husband has pointed out that moving in with his parents (bringing his wife and child) makes him feel like a complete loser. I’ve said – you think that’s bad? I’m moving in with my in-laws!
But I’m sure there will be many (many!) more entries on how THAT goes. So let’s go back to the topic at hand – moving. I hate moving. Really. I hate it. I bought my condo in 2005 at the height of the market, knowing it was a risky time but thinking – but if I buy now, I won’t have to move again for a long time. Seriously. That was the thought that went through my head – I know I need to move out of my apartment because they don’t allow dogs and my (then) boyfriend (now husband) has a dog. If I move into another apartment, I’ll just have to move again soon. Why don’t I buy a place we both like so I don’t have to? Ok, there was more to it than that, but that did factor in!
I hate moving and I am super anal retentive about being organized and getting everything done early to make the move as easy as possible. And my husband… is not. Let me walk you through each of our last major moves. Mine was the move to the condo. I settled on the condo on a Friday morning and immediately drove back to the place from the settlement office to start cleaning it. I’d driven around all day with my trunk full of cleaning supplies and the first load of things I wanted to deliver – dishes and glasses. They went in the dishwasher to get cleaned from the move and I went to work scrubbing. I made 2 more runs that afternoon trying to get as many of my breakables and as much other stuff as I could (the stuff that isn’t heavy, but takes up so much room) over and into closets so it wouldn’t get in the way / take up room for the actual move. By about 10, my husband (then boyfriend) suggested I was downright crazy as I had a bunch of people on their way over the next morning to help me and I didn’t need to totally wear myself out this way now. The next day half a dozen friends arrived and we loaded 2 pickups, a jeep and my corolla with my stuff to get everything done in 2 rounds. By about 3, everyone was sprawled in my (furnished!) living room eating pizza and drinking beer.
My husband’s last big move was about 2 months later. He moved out of the house he was renting / sharing to a room in his friend’s townhouse. The weekend of the move, I figured it was my turn to pay him back for his help and he could have me all weekend. But it was his friend’s bachelor party and after doing a little packing on Saturday morning, he actually had other stuff going on. We both went out (separately) on Saturday night with our friends. I got to his house by about 8 on Sunday morning and he was hard at work, but Sunday might have been one of the longest days in my memory. In that one day, we cleaned out all his stuff and got rid of about a truckload of junk, we moved his bedroom and couches to his friend’s place (the living room was before that empty, so they were donated to the cause) and I don’t know how much stuff we moved to his parent’s basement (they’ll attest that it was a lot – it’s still there). I honestly can’t remember how many trips back and forth we made to move everything out (as he didn’t want to ask any friends to help), throw out the rest and then clean the place. What I do remember was that it was July and the AC didn’t work and that I eventually gave up around 10 pm to go home and crash, but he was still going.
I’ve already tried to lay down the law that we’re going to do the move my way and not follow his style. I really have. I’ve even started some serious packing – I’ve got bags of my clothes to donate and several boxes ready to store and have packed up the china closet. But that barely makes a dent in 1200 square feet of space and truth be told, I’m worried…
So our survivor style reality TV program (without the TV) starts this weekend – wife pitted against husband for dominance in the move game. Who will win? Stay tuned…
I should probably start by telling you that I HATE change. You know how some people thrive on it? They love living on the edge and getting that adrenaline rush. These are the same people who procrastinate because they “work better under pressure.” This is NOT me. Not to say I don’t procrastinate – but when I do it’s out of pure laziness, not some idea that I work better under pressure. So even in the best of circumstances, a move is not a happy ideal for me. As much as I complained about our condo (they’re turning off the water AGAIN tomorrow!) and claimed we were living in an overpriced tenement, I will miss it. I would miss it even if we were moving to the greatest house in the greatest location, etc., etc. But we’re not… Due to some title issues, settlement on our house is delayed (no update yet on when it will actually occur), so we are moving in with my in-laws.
Let that one sink in for a moment. Should I say it again? I’d really prefer not to. Now before I say anything else, I should say that they are really nice people (hell, they’re letting us live with them for an indeterminate amount of time on very short notice). I like them and generally find them easy to get along with. But, like most people, I probably find them easier to get along when I don’t live with them… (I realize that could be read either as most people find their in-laws easier to get along with when not living with them or as I find most people easier to get along with when not living with them. Which did I mean? Yes. Both are absolutely true for me!)
So there’s that issue and then there’s the other thing. The – you’re how old and moving in with your family? You’re pathetic! My husband has pointed out that moving in with his parents (bringing his wife and child) makes him feel like a complete loser. I’ve said – you think that’s bad? I’m moving in with my in-laws!
But I’m sure there will be many (many!) more entries on how THAT goes. So let’s go back to the topic at hand – moving. I hate moving. Really. I hate it. I bought my condo in 2005 at the height of the market, knowing it was a risky time but thinking – but if I buy now, I won’t have to move again for a long time. Seriously. That was the thought that went through my head – I know I need to move out of my apartment because they don’t allow dogs and my (then) boyfriend (now husband) has a dog. If I move into another apartment, I’ll just have to move again soon. Why don’t I buy a place we both like so I don’t have to? Ok, there was more to it than that, but that did factor in!
I hate moving and I am super anal retentive about being organized and getting everything done early to make the move as easy as possible. And my husband… is not. Let me walk you through each of our last major moves. Mine was the move to the condo. I settled on the condo on a Friday morning and immediately drove back to the place from the settlement office to start cleaning it. I’d driven around all day with my trunk full of cleaning supplies and the first load of things I wanted to deliver – dishes and glasses. They went in the dishwasher to get cleaned from the move and I went to work scrubbing. I made 2 more runs that afternoon trying to get as many of my breakables and as much other stuff as I could (the stuff that isn’t heavy, but takes up so much room) over and into closets so it wouldn’t get in the way / take up room for the actual move. By about 10, my husband (then boyfriend) suggested I was downright crazy as I had a bunch of people on their way over the next morning to help me and I didn’t need to totally wear myself out this way now. The next day half a dozen friends arrived and we loaded 2 pickups, a jeep and my corolla with my stuff to get everything done in 2 rounds. By about 3, everyone was sprawled in my (furnished!) living room eating pizza and drinking beer.
My husband’s last big move was about 2 months later. He moved out of the house he was renting / sharing to a room in his friend’s townhouse. The weekend of the move, I figured it was my turn to pay him back for his help and he could have me all weekend. But it was his friend’s bachelor party and after doing a little packing on Saturday morning, he actually had other stuff going on. We both went out (separately) on Saturday night with our friends. I got to his house by about 8 on Sunday morning and he was hard at work, but Sunday might have been one of the longest days in my memory. In that one day, we cleaned out all his stuff and got rid of about a truckload of junk, we moved his bedroom and couches to his friend’s place (the living room was before that empty, so they were donated to the cause) and I don’t know how much stuff we moved to his parent’s basement (they’ll attest that it was a lot – it’s still there). I honestly can’t remember how many trips back and forth we made to move everything out (as he didn’t want to ask any friends to help), throw out the rest and then clean the place. What I do remember was that it was July and the AC didn’t work and that I eventually gave up around 10 pm to go home and crash, but he was still going.
I’ve already tried to lay down the law that we’re going to do the move my way and not follow his style. I really have. I’ve even started some serious packing – I’ve got bags of my clothes to donate and several boxes ready to store and have packed up the china closet. But that barely makes a dent in 1200 square feet of space and truth be told, I’m worried…
So our survivor style reality TV program (without the TV) starts this weekend – wife pitted against husband for dominance in the move game. Who will win? Stay tuned…
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