All told, it took about 10 days, but by the time the moving truck rolled around on the 27th we had stripped wallpaper and painted 4 rooms (no small feat for 2 un-handy people), but not without battle wounds. Maura did not do well. Sleeping in a pack-n-play in an empty hollow room is no picnic, and it showed. She was so unhappy, which she's never been. She usually looks like this:
Or like this:
Or like this:
But instead, she didn't sleep, cried a lot, wouldn't eat, clinged to you one minute and then fought you the next. It's taken 'till now for her to begin to adjust. Another moment where I'm glad her long-term memory is barely developed. Although my child psychiatrist friends at work beg to differ and chide me that she'll be in therapy by 3 1/2. We, too, were flat out pooped. I'm in the middle of a terribly busy time at work with our biggest event of the year coming up next Tuesday, and I was in no mood to fake professional. But I did, and I think it cost me a bit of the joy I should have felt at being in my new home. I need an effing vaca, for reals. And Jay was more exhausted than I've ever seen him. But we're here, and it's amazingly coming together, and we're never ever moving again. Ever.
Here are some pics of where things stand today with the Smalleys Get Settled movement. Please take special note of my new affinity for framing wrapping paper and calling it art, particularily if it has little birds on it. Jay has been a real trooper in letting this slide, and in return, I have promised to never paint anything lavender.
There are 3 bedrooms upstairs that aren't so exciting, hence the lack of pictures. The most exciting is Maura's pink room we painted, but she snoozing at the moment and so no pic can be had.In other Maura news, she is getting cuter by the day. No shit, I never thought I would be that cliched parent who thinks their child is the cutest, but I do. I mean, seriously. Look at this sweetness:
Every day she does something more amazing. She's unofficially 17 1/2 pounds (which is still tiny for a 10 1/2 month old but whatever), she's pretty much crawling, she stands holding onto things, dances to music, laughs, reaches for you, eats chicken and raspberries, waves hello and goodbye, rubs the back of her head and pulls her hair when she's tired, and is basically all around the best thing ever. She's really great with our family and friends, and blows kisses with the best of them. I love her so much.I still get these weird flashes of terror about something happening to her, but I've decided that's pretty much just how it is. I almost threw up the other day when I read a story about a mother who ran over her toddler in the driveway with the family minivan, but I think it's normal to feel that way. I had a dream last night that someone tried to shoot her in her crib, but I took the gun away and shot them first. A 7 year old boy in Massachusetts died on Father's Day when his own father beat him so severely he went brain dead. I will incriminate myself now by saying that if anyone hurt her, I would kill them. Send me to jail forever, I don't care.
On a more upbeat note, generally all is good. It's fucking rained everyday for the past month, and only once or twice been in the 80s, but that can't last forever unless we've reached the end of the world, which I don't think is possible quite yet. So the bright side is: it's summer, we're in our new home, everybody's healthy, my commute is better than I thought it would be, we got $42 back at closing instead of owing thousands, Maura's adjusting, Etta stinks but curls up next to me and I love on her anyway, and Jay is so close to work he's home at literally 11:06 on the dot. Wishing you all the same.
