Knock on Wood!

I have not been the most prolific blogger lately, but there has been little time for extracurricular activities.  The boys (and I) had the stomach flu in shifts for about a week.  It started with Alex appearing next to bed in the middle of the night at the start of the week covered in a sloppy paste of vomit and diarrhea, thus succinctly answering my question of "What's wrong?" with one wet, chunky homogeneous texture and ended six days later with Andy standing naked in my in-laws bathroom, patiently waiting for his clothes to be finished drying after he had puked and then pooped all over them.  Andy waited alone.  I had dinner to eat, my appetite uncompromised by the bodily fluids I had just cleaned up.  And that, my friends, is motherhood.

We had the flu, I feel like I've been working more hours lately, and, the biggest thing is that we do indeed seem to be moving.  Knock on wood.  Go ahead, I can wait.

These two are the worst helpers ever.

The process thus far of selling this house (I use the word selling loosely as it seems that we are basically paying the buyer to take this damn place off our hands) and purchasing our next one has been trying, to say the least.  There's been a lot of back and forth, a lot of waiting, a lot of second guessing, and a lot of recalculating.  It's been rather nightmarish, although if it all works out, it will have been totally, mostly worth it.  The best piece of advice I can give to a prospective homeowner is DON'T BUY A HOUSE.  Rent forever.  Of course, we continue to buy because we both descend from a long line of homeowners and also it seems that we have both suffered severe cranial damage at some point in our recent adulthood.

And so I try to pack.  Chris is gone most of the day, and I do a lot of it myself, squatting and lifting carefully so that my big heavy baby belly won't burst from the exertion.  Packing with two small children around is the most fruitless, infuriating task you can ever embark on.  They insists on helping in the stupidest way possible.  Yesterday, Alex set his very full glass into an open box I was working on, mumbling, "I pack water."  No, Alex.  You can't pack water.  That's pretty much the worst thing you can pack. I'd almost rather you packed vomit.  At least that stuff is partially solid.

These kids slow me down like you wouldn't believe, crying over who gets to help tape the box shut and what goes where.  They are also worse than their father when it comes to throwing away items that are essentially garbage.  I refuse to pack broken or outdated or useless items into a box.  That's just how I am.  Chris refuses to part with any item he's ever owned ever (I am telling you, cassette tapes ARE NOT COMING BACK anytime soon), and Alex today burst into tears when I tried to throw away a wayward flashcard from some lost set.  To make up for this, in those rare moments I am alone, I am just tossing stuff out by the armload with no consideration to any level of uselessness. We can buy another carbon monoxide detector down the line.  No biggie.

I hope we can get through the next week and a half and actually get all of this stuff done.  I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but for every box I pack or one thing I accomplish, I seem to think of two more things I need to do or realize that I need at least a hundred or so new boxes.  That's when my blood pressure starts soaring and I need to throw out three or four of Chris' cherished possessions just to feel better again.

For all of my bitching and complaining, this house has been good to us.  This house is where we brought home our two beautiful baby boys.  This house was the first place Chris and I owned together as a married couple.  We had it built to our specifications (although we will probably keep fighting about the extra $5,000 we spent on our solid pine doors until the day we die.  I think I win since the appraiser was not impressed by this purchase).  We made a lot of great friends in this area and really built a life here.  It's been eight years since we signed that contract to build.  We were newly married, and we accomplished everything that we wanted to in this little house, and then some.  I can't believe I am pregnant with our third child and we are here, solidly in our mid-thirties with so many great memories behind us, ready to once again pack up and move.

Now excuse me while I pack another box and then spank a small child.