Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘moving’

Beginnings

I don’t even know where to begin.  The last few weeks have been down-right crazy!

For those of you out of the loop, we moved! Hurrah!  We now officially live in Orange County.  I love love love our new house.  Everything about it is awesome: the location, the view, the natural light, the dog friendly neighborhood.  It’s truly fantastic.

That does not mean that it wasn’t absolutely hellish getting here….because it was….HELLISH.

I don’t think I was ever more tired than I was last week during the move (ok, maybe after giving birth, but next to that this was pretty exhausting).

Let me take you back to the beginning.

About two-three weeks ago, C and I both had allergy attacks, probably from the packing and cleaning going on at the house.  We both have hay fever, but it usually passes.  So I wrote off my persistent headaches as allergy related and C’s crankiness as teething.

As usual, I was wrong.  I’m getting a little tired of being wrong ALL the time.  It is seriously annoying.

After about a week of crankiness, sleeplessness, massive drooling, and finally a refusal to eat I took C and I to our individual doctors. On our first visit, the doctors checked us out, confirmed my suspicion of a sore throat and ear infection (since I had the worst sore throat of my life, as well as some massive pressure in my ear, I figured C might be suffering a similar fate).  We were each given some antibiotics and sent home with orders to rest.

Rest is difficult enough when you’re trying to move an entire household in just a few days, but when you’re a psuedo-single mother dealing with a sick child and trying to manage it all alone, it’s damn near impossible.

For the week leading up to the doctor visits, as well as the first few days after I was averaging about 4 hours a night.  Sigh….It was….challenging.

My mother finally took pity on me and kept the baby overnight, while I drugged myself with NyQuil and slept for 10 hours straight.  I should have turned the corner after that, but I didn’t.  In fact, I felt worse.  And to top it all off C was worse.

After debating all Sunday about whether to make an ER visit or just wait until Monday morning, I finally packed us up and off we went to urgent care.  By the time we got there I was wheezing so badly it was nearly impossible to get a clean breath, while C screamed his head off for about 3 hours straight.

I begged, cajoled and threatened my husband until he left work and met us at urgent care so I could actually be treated for whatever was wrong with me without trying to keep a miserable toddler happy.  Good thing I did, because I had to have chest x-rays followed by a breathing treatment since bronchitis appeared to be forming in my lungs.  After a shot of antibiotic and a couple prescriptions, I was sent home.

C was no happier, so I took him back to his doctor in the morning where he also got an inspection, and a shot.  His single ear infection had spread to  a double ear infection as well as a raw, red throat.  No good.

It took about 48 hours for both of us to start feeling better, which wasn’t an ideal schedule since we were still sick on Tuesday when the movers showed up.

I opted for the more expensive and slower move by stretching it over two days.  It cost a bit more, but it gave us a chance to hole up in the master bedroom and stay in bed all day while the rest of the house got packed up and moved out.

Without going into too much detail, let’s just say it was an extremely stressful 48 hours (for which I would like to thank my mom and cousin A for getting me through).

I’m not going to think about it anymore.  Instead I’m going to focus on my lovely new house and the wonderful beginnings we have here.

(I’ll try to locate a camera other than my iPhone and post some pictures of the new house so you can see just why I’m so happy)

Read Full Post »

After much debate, a lot of nail-biting, some snarky comments, and finally an agreement, we’ve decided to sell our house.  Hurrah…?

This was a seriously agonizing decision.  We went back and forth.  Should we? Shouldn’t we?  How much of our original down payment will we lose?  How much house will we gain by buying at a down swing price?  How much better will our lives be closer to friends and family? How much less will we see each other now that BA has to drive an hour each way to work? How much money will we have left over after all of this?

Ugh! Money!  Money money money! I am so sick and tired of talking, worrying, thinking about money!

I just want to be Ms Rumphius (plus a husband, a baby, and a couple of dogs).  She gets to travel, be a librarian, and live by the sea!! She has my dream life!

This could be me (but replace the cat with a dog and maybe a child)

No one ever talks about money in her book.  They talk about how nice she is to little children who like stories and the beautiful flowers she plants all over her seaside town, making the world a more beautiful place.

I want to talk about those things instead of mortgages, down payments, APRs!

Unfortunately for me  (and because I need to get out of LA and my isolation before I lose my mind so I can’t wait for BA’s project to end) I’m going to be doing the majority of the legwork on this whole “sell the house and move” situation.  So I’m going to be thinking, dreaming, speaking about money for the next few months.

But here is how I’ll console myself: I’m going to look for a house by the ocean.  Maybe it won’t have ocean views, maybe not even sunset views, but I’m going to be able to feel the cool sea breeze at dusk when I step outside.  I’m going to find a house where I can smell the ocean from my kitchen window.  It may not be the same as greeting the dazzling blue of the water every morning, but it’s one step closer to being Miss Rumphius. And that’s good enough for now.

Read Full Post »

The Hunt

The hunt is on once again.  It’s time to move.  Not because we’ve outgrown our house or dislike what we’ve done with the place.  Quite the contrary, our house has never looked better.  Everything we wanted to do with the place is done.  Our backyard is our own little city oasis.  The kitchen is modern and fresh looking.  Our made-over living room wows every visitor we have.  But it’s not enough.

I want a home, not just a house and this house will never be my forever home.

Maybe you don’t know what I mean by forever home.  It’s the place when you close your eyes that you see yourself pulling up to at night and as the light spills out of the window, contentment spills into your heart.  In fact, the mere thought of it makes your heart lift on the heaviest days.  It’s the place where you envision the babe in your arms growing into an adult; where when you close your eyes you see them riding their first bike in the driveway, where they learn to throw a baseball on the front lawn, where they stand on the front porch looking like they’re playing dress up in the fancy clothes for the first high school dance, and where years later, it’s not longer pretend and suddenly they are men and women instead of boys and girls.

I can see it in my mind’s eye.  Thinking about this home, brings a lump to my throat and my heart gives an extra thump.  I can almost see the purple light of early mornings glinting off the counters in the kitchen.  I can almost feel the breeze in the backyard furl my hair around my face when I close my eyes to the dusk.  I know this home is out there, I can feel it.

Where we live now is lovely and more than big enough.  It’s the place I spent my first nights as a newlywed and where I brought my baby boy home to.  But it lacks the soul of a home.  It lacks family.

Being far from everyone we’re related to, even those friends who could fill the role of family, deprives our house of the true ability to be a home.  There are days, though few, that my house fills with conversation, friends, laughter, and family.  For a few hours I relish in the noise, the togetherness.  We move about the house with ease, as if it was my forever home, lounging here and there, traipsing up and down the stairs, causing the house to echo with joy.  But then the conversation and the laughter fades as the light dims and soon my house is empty of all but my son and myself, as my husband is all too often absent. And while I love my pups, they can’t communicate with me in any meaningful way, though they love me so (and I them).

And so, since I can’t have my husband home as often as I’d like, I’ve decided it’s time to move.  It’s time to make our forever home nearer those that love us.  For though, they may go home at the end of the day, the nearby family provides more comfort than I can express.   It’s time to move.  It’s time to go find not just another house, but my home.

Read Full Post »