Enough Already!

OK. So the move, as in we will be living there at long last, is supposed to be tonight/tomorrow. We will have birthday party #2 for Son at 4 o'clock at our house, which officially will close all of his birthday celebrations for 2007.

The kids' beds were finally delivered yesterday and they shall be together soon. But I've still got to get my treadmill (which I miss) and my son's baby dresser, plus boxes and boxes of books over to the house. I don't care if stuff is on top of stuff right now. I only want to be done with moving stuff already!

I moved us. Me. I did it. With Mr. T's back being problematic and needing therapy for it and all, I have moved us all by myself. Now that's not a huge deal since we had no real furniture left after having gotten rid of most of it 2 1/2 years ago. But little by little, I got clothes over there, dishes, toys, etc. made the dump runs, made the donation runs, and now I am down to the 2 pieces I want to keep that I can't handle alone. Since we only bought beds for the kids right now, I want Son to use his dresser from his crib set (always meant to be transitioned into adolescence and beyond anyway) so he'll have a place for clothes and keep me from going nuts looking at extra stuff all over the place that could have a home. I had a tall thin dresser from my bedroom long ago and I already brought that over - by myself - for Daughter to use in her room until we get one to match her bed.

The nickle and diming that has to go on when one moves is enough to give a rock a headache. I am a rock so I know. I had a headache all day Monday and I get them so infrequently that it's always my sign of sickness/stress.

We all know one has to "take time" to get what you need, yadda yadda yadda, but aside from me being the impatient sort, we just happen to need way too much all at one time. I've been here and done this when I first moved from home almost 14 years ago so I must admit, doing it again is enough to give me agita (did you know this is a slang term? Word lesson for the day!).

For now, I have to find an able-body male to help me get stuff into my station wagon. Soon, I'll be calling on my girls because that's usually the best way to get things done. I just do not want to rent a truck if I don't have to. Of course Mr. T. has informed me that we are taking the mattress we've been using at his house until we get our own new stuff because after all we just got the kids' beds and we can only do "one thing at a time." OK, can I please shoot the person who came up with that term? I'm about sick of hearing it and I know when folk come to our house tomorrow who haven't been there before or haven't been there in a long time since we painted, etc., I'm going to be hearing it for hours.

"Well, one thing at a time."
"One day at a time."
"One piece at a time."
"One paycheck at a time."

Enough! I get it! Yes, yes, yes, I know, ok? For goodness' sake I can't even post pictures right now until I am in my house to download from the camera onto the computer. I am getting dressed between 2 houses and I am tired. Hear me? T-I-R-E-D.

My job (which yes, I still love it) is insane and has been since December with no sign of letting up - ever. My writing is stalled and my writing group needs me to start submitting some pieces too. My business is waiting on me to work on it because time stops for no woman and we need to start making a profit. We owe crazy taxes this year because it's simply the lot of the middle class to pay for everybody, it seems, and the more you make for your family, the more on the hook you are - unless you have an independent tax person to show you how to avoid the traps. (Lesson finally learned there. Mr. T. found out the hard way that H&R Block is not the way to go and I didn't even have to say I told you so.) I've lost more weight without trying and I can't think about that right now because - say it with me - it's one thing at a time!

Well, I guess I've vented enough for now. I know it's a blessing to have our own home. I know it's a blessing to have a whole family with a mommy and a daddy who can work and work together. I know it's a blessing to have a job in the first place, let alone one you enjoy. I know it's a blessing to have the family and friends who care about us and help us as they can. All of this I know. I'm just ready to be done running back and forth, pulling things from the damp basement that has been home to most of my stuff for way too long; to wake up in my nearly empty room surrounded by stuff that is waiting for me to create a home for it; to sit on my kitchen floor (since I don't know when we'll get the dinette set we agreed on) and make a nice long list of all the stuff we need and want (one day at a time, of course) and just be once again.

It's been a long time coming. 2 1/2 years of preparing and looking and now 3 months of getting the house (and ourselves) ready after finally finding it. I will wrap this up if I have to strap that dresser on my back and carry it over there. Thankfully, that's not too far. Soon and very soon, folk. For now, back to work.

Are We There Yet?

In a word? No.

But all the painting is done upstairs and carpet is going in Son's and our bedrooms today. Not sure how long it will be to do Daughter's and the family room but hopefully not too long. "We can probably start moving clothes over after the carpet goes in," Mr. T. tells me last night. "Way ahead of you, honey!"

The only reason the kitchen stuff isn't there is because of the paint disaster in the kitchen that I wanted to clean up first. It was paint central all this time and my sink and counters were scary. So I'll go back there tonight and clean around the stove where DH pulled it out to paint and found a mess, as anyone would if you pulled your stove out of it's niche.

"Do you like the color?" he asked.
"You mean the non-color in the kitchen? It's lovely."

Really. Off-white - OK, I think it's really closer to eggshell or some silly whitish name like that - is NOT a color but it's a kitchen and I don't mind the light walls. After all, I had him paint Son's room the lovely blue and purple (per Son's request) and Daughter's the ever bright yellow and dark lavender and I let him choose the color for our room because I wasn't sure what I wanted so he picked a green that I can live with. Plus my office is going to be Orange Blossom, which means orange just as you think, and that made him cringe but I don't care. It'll be hot. Plus, the foyer and living room will probably be either Cafe Royal or Roxbury Caramel (shades of rich brown) so what's one little whitish kitchen (and living room and kid's bathroom and maybe our bathroom too) in the midst of all that sweet color?

I think Mr. T is tired of painting and I don't blame him. I'm doing my office myself so I can get it done and move some stuff there too.
"It's expensive!" he complained.
"Hey! We're changing carpet and painting walls. That all we NEED to do. We have a new house. Don't need reno so painting, no matter how expensive the cans, will always be the cheapest thing we can do. When we're done, we're done," I assured him.
He simply nodded and looked up at the very high ceiling above the stairs that lead upstairs.
"I don't know," I responded, reading his mind. "Let's not think about it. Let's just do what we can and get the heck out of your mother's house!"

So, we're going to leave the darn brown carpet on the stairs and in the foyer for now. It's not horrible. We want flooring in the foyer so we'll do it when we can. We'll clean the carpet in the living room too since it's not horrible either but knowing me, I'll find a rug somewhere at some point to help usher in color since we aren't painting there. But the rest is pretty much done and I am going to start moving stuff this week.

Now the challenge is to do it on the downlow so MIL can't see it. I know it's mean but I want to worry her. I want her to think we'll never leave. See, I've heard her say to my BIL, "I don't know when they're leaving. They're not even packing. I think they're comfortable." And that shows you how in tune she is to people. If she wants to know, ASK! But she doesn't, she talks about it to others instead of going to the source and that's not surprising. She always has. So instead of saying anything I want her to suddenly look up and go, "Hey! Where's all your stuff?" Really, lady. Do I strike you as someone who wants to live with you FOREVER? Please don't flatter yourself! There is nothing like your own space.

I just can't wait. Pictures to come.