File this post under stream of consciousness.
So, my husband gets home from softball last night, and wants to talk. He’s concerned about our impending move and home inspection (but not so concerned that he will miss softball), and interrupts my reading (because I am so concerned that I have nothing better to do but read). Except his concerns never come out like concerns, they come out as insurmountable odds, like, “Were never going to make it!” Which last night, just sucked the life out of me.
Each of us has our roles in our relationship (as I’m sure you do yours), mine is cheery optimist, as in “Of course we can refinish this bedroom furniture ourselves,” and “It will be fun.” His role, “We’re a mess,” and “Are you crazy?” The house selling, with all the showings, open houses and now moving, has only magnified our self imposed stereotypes.
Except this time, there’s a bit of a glitch in the pattern. I’m not feeling very rosy over the whole situation. In two weeks, I will be homeless. Of course, I’m being a little dramatic, because it’s not like we’ll be on the streets, my mom has graciously offered to take us in (which I’m sure she will come to regret in exactly 1.5 days, which is all it takes for my family to thoroughly annoy others), but she lives a little over an hour away, which in the short term is A-ok, in the long term not so great. School starts in September.
So, if we don’t make an offer on the one, very in need of an update with the strange smell, house that we are considering, we are thinking of renting short term, if someone will rent a decent condo to us short term. Of course, this would put a complete wrench in the whole moving department, raising questions such as, do we move all of our stuff, some of our stuff, what would we need short term, what would we store, what should we do with our play set? Should we get a pod and movers? We can’t just use a pod, my husband and I can’t lift all of our stuff ourselves. What about the piano? Where am I forwarding all my mail and will I have to pay more money to set up all my utilities since I won’t be immediately transferring them? Can I keep my phone number and will I have to turn in my cable box? All these questions need to be answered before July 29th.
Yesterday, I was in a small panic. After talking to my sister, who accused me of being in denial because I hadn’t yet contacted any movers, I decided she was probably right and started making phone calls. Of the three movers I called, two were already booked and one has yet to get back to me. Call me naive, but I didn’t think finding a mover would even be an issue. You know why? Because our first move we didn’t use movers, our second and third moves, we were moved by my husband’s company. You know what I had to do? Absolutely nothing. I never even packed a box. Movers, that I didn’t call, came in and packed everything from our clothes to the dishes in our dishwasher.
Did I mention that I might have to kill my husband if he announces that he wants to go for a promotion in another state, anytime within in the next five years? Then, this move will be nothing but a huge waste, financially and otherwise.
Just typing that sentence I see the ridiculousness of this all, of course he’s going to want to go out for a promotion, provided it’s not somewhere in middle America. No offense middle America, I just have this thing about being land locked.
What am I doing?
Did I tell you I read “The Help” recently. Awesome book, but now every time I complain, I think of one of the maids who pointed out the ridiculousness of yet another white woman complaining about how much she has, or something to that effect. And then I feel rather petty and small and realize that the things I complain about are nothing to complain about at all. I have a place to live, family, money to buy food and necessities, and the luxury of staying home with my healthy children. And while I might not have a place to live in two weeks, it’s by choice.
Which takes me to this conversation I had with this girl yesterday, who is a life guard at a public pool, about ten miles from where I live. Yesterday was her day off from life guarding, but she was working, babysitting at my pool. She remarked how nice it was to be at pool where parents watched their children, which didn’t seem all that remarkable to me considering that I would never entrust my toddler to the young teenage guards at our pool, who I’ve never seen as much as shift in their chairs at the sign of danger, even when a parent was screaming, rushing to get their child, who had lost footing and was floating under water. But she worked at a public pool in a low income area and she said that sadly, most of the children come by themselves for the day, because they have no where else to go. A child only has to be ten to be unaccompanied at her pool, they have to be twelve at ours. Furthermore, she said at five, it’s family hour, and if a child doesn’t have a parent with them, then they have to leave. Two days ago, she confided to me, she pretended to be a boy’s mother so he could stay. She had gotten to know the boy over the summer, she said he was a nice kid and he had no where to go. She felt sorry for him. I thought it was really something special that this girl, who was similar in age to the young girls I see babysitting at my pool, was not only attuned to the larger issues of the world, but that she wasn’t sitting pool side texting (like the babysitters at my pool).
And like the passage from the book I read, talking to this compassionate, hard working young lady, put my problems into perspective and once again, I felt kind of small and petty.To take this post in yet another direction, second son has come down with some sort of summer time cold. He started with a mild fever last night which left him asking to go to bed at seven, second son has NEVER asked to go to bed. His low grade fever is still plaguing him today and his throat started to hurt so I gave him ibuprofen, which has made him feel a little better. In other words, he’s too sick to be outside playing in the water, but not sick enough to be laid out on the couch. It’s been a difficult day. It’s no wonder to me, that in the middle of all the chaos of moving, my children, who hardly ever get sick, will get sick. And as anyone knows who has more than one child, sickness happens like wild fire, it’s just a matter of time before they all have it.
In the meantime, I’m trying to get my house ready for the home inspection, at nine, tomorrow morning. I’ve been cleaning all day, the prospective buyers will be in my house for a long time and have plenty of time to look around, I don’t want them to know what a slob I really am.
As for the concerned husband, let’s just say that one of us in on the golf course today and one of us isn’t. The working world can look pretty appealing sometimes. Wish me luck!