Some posts are about growth. Some are about things I fear I will forget. Some I begin with no idea where I will head just to tease out some sense of things that are rolling around in my head. Some are just a report of the who/what/where/when so that long from now I’ll not forget. And, of course, some girls mothers are bigger than other girls mothers.
We were supposed to close on our house six days ago. Six. Six is not a huge number. But really quick, for the sake of experimentation, get pregnant, pack up half of your house, most of your kitchen, stop your daily battle against pet hair because you think you’ll be deep cleaning your box-free floors any day now anyway and then just wait. Wait for six more days. And maybe for four or five more after that. Oh! And if that is not enough pleasure make sure the dryer in the home you rent stops working. So you have to go to the laundromat. Because you have wet laundry that will mildew if you don’t. And then, if you really want to have fun, make sure the light fixture in your dining room stops working so the wood paneled downstairs you have learned to live with is even darker.
I can pitch a tantrum the likes of which you’ve not seen. But it won’t make a mess of paperwork fall from the sky. I can worry and not sleep and make myself nauseous with fear. But there is no cause for concern. Everything is going along as necessary, just slower than anticipated. So, we wait. In our house turned upside down.
Seems once you know you’re leaving the things you were able to tolerate suddenly become intolerable. The wood paneling I learned to tolerate is now more cave like than I can stomach. The tiny shower I liked anyway because it had a cute little window in it is now impossibly small. (Although my daily expansion in the midsection is not helping the shower win favor.) I used to be nice to the neighbors I don’t particularly care for. This week at the grocery store a woman spoke to me and I actually said “I think you have me confused with someone else, I have no idea who you are.” And she looked at me like I was insane and said “I live next door to you.”
Sure enough as I got home from the grocery store she pulled in right next to me in our shared parking area. I am so out of here in my mind. And yet “Oh, in my mind I moved six days ago and you are totally forgettable” did not sound like a good explanation. So I just smiled and waved like I had just gotten home from a lobotomy.
So, that’s what’s up with the house. We are just waiting. We’ll close before the end of the month. I won’t have the slow leisurely move I’d hoped for, packing and unpacking a few boxes daily. But in all likelihood I won’t go totally mental between now and then.
MQD juggles the uncertainty of our closing date with my massive pregnant mood swings like a pro. He met me on the front porch the other day. We had both arrived home at the same time. I think he watched my face go from chatty and smiling to rage fueled and yelling. With each step I took towards the front door I got more irritated. Love that man, he spun me around and said “Where do you want to go to dinner?”
And like the gracious pregnant woman I am I replied sweetly “Well, not mexican. Or pizza. And not burgers…” In spite of the fact that not two days prior he had mentioned that chinese food is not his favorite dinner out, we piled in to his car and went out for chinese. As the distance grew between me and our cave-like dining room filled with boxes I grew happier.
We had a joyful, albeit dimwitted, waitress that got nearly every part of our meal wrong. Emily asked if she could get up from the table one hundred and twelve times. But somehow when we got to the end of our meal we were all laughing. Fortune cookies arrived. And I think we all got exactly the one we needed.
I will be receiving some good news soon. Emily will definitely not be overspending. And MQD? The next time he goes looking for an adventure, he’s taking a vacation. Alone, I suspect.