The Ugly House at the End of the Street

The big day is coming.  Friday, we settle on the ugly house, at the end of the street.  The house that I’m not so in love with, in the neighborhood that I am.  Sometimes, life is a trade off.

I am ready.  The commute is taking its toll.  Though the days occupying myself have gone rather quickly, I cannot endure one more ride home with children, who really need to be outside burning off the energy they’ve managed to contain all day long.  Being trapped in a minivan with three fighting, seat kicking, yelling children is stressful, to say the least.  Doing it five days a week, almost unbearable.

I swear the commute is making my ass is growing wider, too.

Although the ride home has been difficult, I am extremely proud of my boys, who not only have had to walk into a strange school, with no familiar faces, but who have also been troopers throughout this whole process, with no major breakdowns (yet).  Though I fear one when they realize they won’t be seeing their grandparents, everyday.

Today, we have off for Rosh Hashanah, which is a nice respite from our commuting.  The boys, who have had minimal free time during the week, have spilled out all their legos and are playing nicely, for now. I give them an hour.

Little Lady is running around the house, hiding, holding in her poop.  I thought we had moved past this, now I’m wondering if it will ever end.  I hope so. But, at least she’s in the comfort of her grandparent’s house and not out on the road with me, avoiding public toilets like the plague.

The excitement of the new house, not withstanding, I’m gearing up for a tiring week.  Tuesday will be a day of entertaining Lady Little, Wednesday, back to school night, which might mean three trips back and forth to our new hometown, Friday, moving day, Friday night, First Son’s invited to a birthday party, which I’m having a hard time saying no to, considering that I want him to make new friends, and Saturday, we start soccer.  In the meantime, I have to start packing the overabundant amount of stuff we bought with us to my parents, who thankfully did not lock the door when they saw us pull up in a packed cargo van.  They have been remarkably patient with our children, as well as with the sheer amount of stuff that has invaded their space (that goes for my dad’s neatly kept garage, too).

It will all be over soon, and we’ll be back to junking up our ugly house sooner than we know it.  I’m sure we’ll look back fondly on our month here, the commuting and disruption, a blur.




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