You see, we have moved. Again. I know I mentioned it briefly before, but the details go something like this: Previous landlords moved back and wanted their house back. We acquiesced. Husband wanted to be closer to hospital for the duration of his residency which begins in June. I acquiesced. The Dilettante wanted never to see another flight of stairs again. The stars aligned and two weeks ago we moved into our new apartment. It is much smaller and much more manageable for those of us commoners who don't have servants and a cleaning staff to follow behind messy toddlers all day. The stipulation was that this place didn't accept pets. And honestly, I was OK with that. The thought of bundling a newborn, a two year old, and myself up and leashing two dogs for multiple daily trips outside to pee made me want to poke out Fairway's other eye and finish the job on Jack that the car had started.
Luckily, my merciful husband stepped in and we found foster homes for them while we live here. Fairway is staying with some friends from our church and Jack will be going to stay with family in Indiana. This is why I'm leaving a week ahead of Jeremy and attempting something of this magnitude on my own. Jeremy will join us next Friday and we will all drive home together at the end of the month. Well, all but the four legged of us.
I was pretty proud of myself for doing this without fear and when I told my Mother this she just reaffirmed her nonhuman status by explaining that when I was four and my brother was an infant she would drive from MASSACHUSETTS to Indiana NON STOP just for kicks. And then I politely informed her that she should be careful not to irk me because she falls into a high risk demographic for osteoporosis and when I see her I could easily sit on her and crush her bones to a fine powder with minimal effort. She does this, and I love her for it actually. After I had Elsbeth and still had 50 pounds to lose, I would proudly call my Mother after I had taken a brisk walk and inform her of my monumental accomplishment. To which she would reply, PSHHHH, call me when you do some REAL exercise. And I would, and it was only in doing that REAL exercise that I was able to lose the weight by the time Jeremy returned home from Kuwait six months later.
So, tomorrow we'll be off. If you'd like to follow our journey, I'll be twittering along the way which you can follow on twitter on in the sidebar of this blog if you'd prefer.
When we return I will be 37 weeks pregnant and the arrival of this new baby will be imminent. As the days wear laboriously on for my exhausted body, my mind is more and more consumed with thoughts revolving around this new person and the change that she will bring to this family. I'm sure that when I do post something, it will be reflective of this. So please bear with me and just be thankful that your feet don't look like Shrek's as mine do right now.
Wish me luck!
Oh, and this time, the bike IS going with me!
And I'll leave you with a little something great. It will be especially sweet for those of us who grew up in the Hoosier state as I'm sure we're all well acquainted with this song.
Indiana: Don't knock it till ya try it!