In the past week I have been alone with the boys two days, on Wednesday and again today. Both times I have been completely run ragged, ready to throw in the towel by about 4 pm. The scary thing is, when I am left alone with both of my sons, I get NOTHING else done. At all. I'm doing good to get a shower. But laundry? Dishes? Forget it. So I'm a little concerned about the move, as setting up house requires so much work, and I can't seem to do even basic maintenance. I guess we'll have unpacked boxes in our new house until, probably, March of next year. Errgghhhhh. That's going to drive me crazy. You'll hear all about it here, I'm sure. If I ever find time to post. I can't make any promises.
Here are some pics of the new place. It's quite a large duplex... we have nearly twice as much room, and for a lot less money. It's a different world down here.
These are pictures of the side and the front porch, respectively. Not the best photos, but you get the idea.
On Tuesday, the day we signed the lease, I fell into a terrible depression. A don't-talk-to-me, don't-look-at-me, I'm-staying-in-bed-all-day-except-to-feed-this-baby depression. Signing the lease made our move from Chicago finally sink in, and, as you know, I hate that we have to leave. I stayed in my funk for all of Tuesday and a good part of Wednesday. Then the clouds started to part, and I started to feel okay again.
So I think I am finished with most of the emotional work of moving. Now comes the manual, menial labor of finding a home for every single item that we own. Can't somebody please fast-forward my life to three months from now, when the majority of this would be done?
Oh, I guess that's not a good idea. Fourteen years from now, Theo would confront me about all the missing baby pictures from the first months of his life. And I would feel bad. So I guess I have no choice but to flounder through these next months. Hard work, here I come.