I fail at consistency. Let's just own up to that. Accept it. Embrace it. Move on.
Everyone owning? Accepting? Embracing?
Good. 'Cuz I'm already over it.
My husband and I have decided to move out of our one bedroom apartment. Originally the plan was to find somewhere with two bedrooms so we could turn one into a nursery. But then pesky little things like...bills...college expenses...the reality of what a money-suck a newborn baby is...things like that, started tapping me on the shoulder.
So we rearranged our plan a little bit and decided to move in with my husband's grandmother in the next town. She's a widow and could use the company and our help around the house. I can be handy tending the garden and my dear hubby just can't wait to start remodeling her bathroom for her.
We'll save quite a bit of money this way, and it might be helpful to be living with a veteran mother in my first months of motherhood.
Very few downsides to this arrangement.
Except for the incessant sense of foreboding and despair, of course.
I'm going to miss having my own kitchen. I'm going to miss having all my stuff around me (materialistic and shallow, possibly; but I can't deny the comfort one's belongings can provide). I'm going to miss having large windows. I'm going to miss the freedom that comes with confidently knowing one's territory.
Yeah. Especially that last part.
I foresee some egg-shell treading as we adjust to one another and establish boundaries. We'll talk it out, of course, and try to be responsible adults about the whole situation, but I know that most of the boundaries formed will be realized with a wordless, primal instinct.
I've been told that having two women in the same house can cause tension. I've never experienced this myself, but I have no fear. I embrace the opportunity to experience.
(Actually, if we're being honest (and I'd like to think we are), then I have to admit that I have experienced it...my aunt had to live with our family for a while and she really struggled going from her own house to only having a bedroom to herself (understandably so) and it ended up causing some tension between her and my mother. But I don't put too much stock on this single example since my aunt is also a little bit craaaazy (O.o) so she throws off the curve a bit.)
I never imagined I would look around this cluttered, cramped apartment with a sense of longing. I can't believe I feel that I'll miss this place. As desperate as I've been to get out of here for the last year and a half, I have to acknowledge to myself that it's not the worst place we could have spent our first years of marriage. Inexpensive, fairly spacious, and the corner apartment offers more privacy than most of the units in this complex.
It's okay. The thought of the sunny garden in the backyard cheers me up considerably. And the thought of all the money we'll be saving (cha-ching!) inspires me to pack faster (because, apparently, I'm a total Scrooge).
Oh, just look at all that wordy wordiness up there. Sheesh, I'm amazed you've made it this far. Congratulations and good news: I'm done typing for tonight.
And when shall we meet again, you and I?
It's hard to say. Remember that bit about consistency I mentioned earlier? Yeah...I promise to write again before the baby is born. Satisfied?
Accept it. Embrace it. Move on to your next blog of the evening.