An end in sight

So if you know me or Brandon in real life, you probably have heard once or twice about how much we kinda hate this house and want to move.
Except moving is never simple, especially with a fixer-upper that seems willfully resistant to being improved, not to mention the perils of selling and buying a home in general. Throw in the mix two cats, a dog, and of course a baby, and moving seems to be a lusty dream that still falls into the ‘some day’ category. That is, of course unless you find a good sized hunk of money that your husband’s former employer is offering in the form of a cashed out pension. (Seriously, I didn’t even know that some jobs still came with pensions.) Now this hunk of money doesn’t make us wildly rich or anything, but it does let us pay down some debt (mostly car payments) so that if the stars align, we can reasonably afford a second mortgage.
Now there truly are plenty of stars that would need to align for this to become a reality. Obviously we need to talk to some home buying and selling professionals to see if our good-on-paper plan really is good. Then we’d have to actually find a house that we would want to consider buying. And the standard red tape and headaches that usually follow, plus the joy of actually packing and moving with the aforementioned critters … Ug, do I really want to do this?
(The answer is a resounding YES! We really kinda hate this house!)
And THEN comes a marathon of repairs and renovations to get THIS STUPID HOUSE on the market and sold before anything else breaks. So yeah, we might be moving. Maybe. We’ll see.

The apple falls not far

My dear Nora,

Let me be the first to day it: you definitely have your mother’s knack for voicing your displeasure.

Most everyone who has ever met you would probably call me crazy. In truth, most of the time you are very calm and observant, or joyfully playful. You are the “good baby,” and people notice how happy you are. My favorite phrase to them is, “She’s very happy… Until she’s not.”

This isn’t quite true, though, or I’d be caught quite often with an epic meltdown. The signs you give are so very subtle that most don’t ever notice the shift. But when you give them, your father and I exchange that ‘countdown’ look, and we politely hightail ourselves to the nearest acceptable place for you to nurse and nap.

Of course we are far from perfect, and you are fond of changing the game as well. It seems that for as much as you enjoyed the holidays, now you want to spend a good bit more time ‘recharging’ with extra naps and marathon nursing. That’s cool, but you’ve still got to give us a little warning. Melting down whilst covered in avocado and still in need of a pre-nap diaper change makes life harder for everyone.

Ah well, we’ve come through this too. So forgive me for chuckling to myself while you shed a few tears. It’s just that you remind me of, well, me. And as your grandmother would often say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.