Last week we changed residences.

The process of moving is not nearly as neat and tidy as that sentence though. In fact, things are still quite messy and thrown together, since we moved on Wednesday. Baby gates are propped up against the still unfinished stairwell…still waiting to be installed. The kitchen sink still isn’t draining properly and has grit and grime caked on it from washing out cabinets and mopping up construction dust. The laundry is piled nearly to the ceiling in my bedroom. And the Garage is filled high with boxes waiting to be unpacked.

Believe it or not though, there have been some improvements. At least we’re no longer straddling two homes in the limbo that we’ve been living in for weeks now. I went to the old house for the last time on Thursday and scrubbed it like it was going out of style. I put on my favorite Dixie Chicks mix and went to town (especially on the stove and counter tops). My husband vaccuumed, and we gathered up all of the odds and ends that would fit in our car. I fully intended to go back Friday evening and finish cleaning…shampoo some stains on the carpet, clean the blinds, mop the kitchen floor, and sweep out the basement and garage.

BUT, by Friday afternoon, my feet were so sore that I couldn’t stand on them anymore. I had been working tirelessly on the new house, and even though I had a friend to help me that evening all I could do was sit and visit with her while she lined my new cabinets with contact paper. So Saturday would have to be the day. The cleaning WOULD get done. I was having horrible visions of my landlord doing the final walk through of the old house and condemning me as a loathsome lazy pig.

Yes. Saturday I would do it. Saturday I would get that place finished up. Except that by the time I went to bed Friday night I had a headache to go along with my aching feet.

Saturday morning I awoke and I didn’t feel rested at all. I needed an entire season to hibernate, but there was work to be done. My mental cogs were beginning to turn and I was just about to heave myself out of bed when my husband woke up. He said he thought I had been pushing myself too hard. He said he thought I should stay home today, and have someone watch our daughter while he finished up at the old house. He wouldn’t be able to get all the deep cleaning done, but it would just have to be good enough. My usual pattern is to argue when he suggests things like this. Because OBVIOUSLY it IS the end of the world if the house that we move out of is not spotless. However, on this particular day what he said rang true. I was going to be headed for big trouble.

So, I did it. I just let it be good enough. I’m working on not worrying about our security deposit, or considering the opinion of our landlord. I did the best I could under the circumstances, and really isn’t that’s what we’re always telling our kids to do? “Just do your best honey” I hear the sitcom Mom in my head say.

When do you just have to let things be good enough? Do you ever push yourself past your limit, and what’s been the outcome?

Unlike my husband’s family (who has been known to stay in one house for 20 years or more), we moved a LOT when I was a kid. Especially in my early teen years. One year we even moved between 4 and 5 times (depending on how you count a move…I count it in the number of times you have to load and unload a truck, i.e. once each per move). Because of these moves, I’m pretty much an expert at loading a U-Haul, and I definitely know how to pack a box, and clean, and do all that other moving related  crap stuff. However, I think I loathe this process more than most people.

I tend to look around our house and think to myself how I wouldn’t want to pack up half this stuff, so let’s just get rid of it. It may be strange, but it’s how I really feel. I figure if you aren’t happy about boxing it up, making sure that it’s safe and secure, loading and unloading said box, unboxing it, and finding a new home for it, then it isn’t worth owning.

All that being said, this move feels different. I think it’s the most notice I’ve ever had about moving day…but even if it isn’t, it’s the most relaxing packing that I’ve ever done. I honestly the go into a room, fill up a box, label it, tape it up, and tell my husband that he can take it over to be stored in the garage at the new house. I don’t know why it isn’t stressful, but it just isn’t. I feel like the process is going in a relatively orderly fashion, and that progress is being made.

At the same time, I’m getting a chance to go through all the things that we have in this house that I don’t want to have cluttering up our new one. I know that I’ve changed my attitude quite a bit about housework over the past few months, but I never expected this to happen as a side effect. It’s amazing to me that changing from thinking “I have to get the kitchen packed up today” to “I’ll just fill up this box right now” can make such a big difference.

We’ll see how I feel as move-in day approaches, we’re at about nine days to blast off, and there are still many many many more boxes to fill.

Do any of you have moving secrets for success? I’m all ears if you do.

I have to admit that I jumped for joy when I found out that the Iowa supreme court ruled that the law banning gay marriage was unconstitutional. In case you haven’t heard about this, here is a timeline of what took place. It isn’t only because I know the soon to be Varnums (Hi Kate and Trish, if you’re reading this) of the Varnum v. Brien case, but because I’ve come to realize that marriage really is a civil right. It isn’t that I was ever against gay marriage. I just didn’t understand what the big deal was.

I can’t imagine not being allowed to be with the love of my life if they lay dying in the hospital, or not being able to take advantage of my dependent benefits at work because the daughter that I raised with my partner is not biologically mine, and I can’t be considered a guardian because my partner is a woman. These are just a couple of the instances that I have had friends and family tell me about.

I was really pleased that the supreme court of Iowa ruled unanimously, but I was even more pleased to hear that the opinion that the court published was very well written. I’ve never actually read a court opinion before, but my husband wanted to print it off and read it. So I got to hear a lot of it, and it really is a well crafted statement showing that marriage is a civil right and that excluding someone from it based on their sexual orientation is discrimination.

It is enthralling hearing the details of the judges’ opinions weaved and crafted so skillfully into the law. I really think it’s worth at least perusing, for everyone, but here are a couple of the points that really stood out to me. The defendants argued that because marriage was traditionally between man and woman that it should continue to be so. The court ruled that that idea cannot be upheld because it would open up a precedent for all kinds of discriminatory behavior to continue just because it has always been so. The defendants also asserted that the law was put into place because it was in the best interests of children to live in a home with their mother and their father. The court ruled that if this were the purpose of this law, then the law was flawed in several respects. First of all, not all same sex couples wish to have children, so the law casts too broad a shadow. Second of all, it does not include others who are not likely not good caretakers of children (like child molesters) from marrying. Third, it begs the question of whether it truly is not in the best interest of children to have same sex parents, and the defense could not provide such evidence (whereas the prosecution showed numerous studies that suggest that growing up in a family with loving same sex parents is not a detriment, and actually has not shown a difference).  Okay, I could go on and on about the tit for tat, but there is just one other point that I wanted to share. The judges ruled that there was an underlying (and unstated) reason for not allowing same sex marriage, and that reason was religious. The court ruled that religion absolutely cannot have a bearing on whether or not to allow civil marriage.

In addition to hearing this news on Friday, my husband and I ended up watching MILK this weekend. I really enjoyed the film, but one thing that I was surprised about was that in many ways the argument against gay rights hasn’t changed, and the fight for them seems to be generally in the same place that it was thirty years ago.

On the other hand, I’m living in the midwest, and the state just to the north of us just legalized gay marriage…so maybe we’re growing here, too. I was surprised and glad when a good friend who was openly gay won the mayoral seat in the rural town where my husband and I used to live. But then again, a couple of months ago, there was a big hoopla in that same town because people were fighting over whether or not to add sexual orientation to the city’s anti-discrimination document (protecting minorities from housing discrimination). One of the councilman voted against it and on camera says he would not rent to a gay person.

One of my favorite lines in MILK was a bit of actual footage where a woman stood up and asked an audience how they would teach their children to love those who were different than them, if they couldn’t get along with the gay rights group. I think it’s a good point. I’m all for teaching my kids that some people fall in love with people who are the opposite sex and some people fall in love with those of the same sex.

At the risk of opening up a can of worms, how do you intend to deal with the subject of homosexuality with your children? And any comments on the Iowa ruling?

We’re waiting…

That’s what this Spring break has been so far. We’re waiting to hear if we get the house. Everyone (the lenders and both agents) say that the outlook is good. That most likely we’ll take possession in the next couple of days, but it’s hard to trust that when we’ve been burned before.

I was writing on my personal blog yesterday that it was looking like we were going to have to write another check in order to extend the contract, and the way that things were going I didn’t think that was prudent.

We’ve got the first two days of the extension covered, but we’ll have a choice to make if that isn’t going to be enough. The choices are: A) Write another check of hard earned money, and hope that the deal goes through. There are no guarantees in real estate and this is no exception. We could lose all of the money that we have put in and have nothing to show for it in the end. But…it might make the deal go through. B) At five o’clock on Wednesday we walk away. Knowing that this house was a rare one. Knowing that the space and layout and repairs needed for that price are not the norm. Knowing that it will be difficult to find something comparable or nearly as good. Knowing that this price would have given us so much more financial freedom. Knowing all of that, we could walk away.
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So…um…the proverbial stuff happened to hit the fan on Thursday this week. It was a hectic week by any measure. I had a volunteer event to plan and pull off. It was the week before Spring break for my husband, with all of the administrative walkthroughs and observations that that entails. Oh yeah, and we were supposed to close on our house yesterday. I say supposed to because it didn’t happen. In fact, after all of the scrambling around for paperwork, and the emails from me to the lender and back (which I would then relay to my husband through text, or facebook status message, or whatever) and the phone calls and the running around town, we didn’t close yesterday because of a technicality and basically messed up paperwork (but not on my end).
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As the birth of our next baby is becoming an impending reality, I’m starting to spend more and more time thinking of the actual birth. This might sound strange, but I really looked forward to giving birth to my daughter drug-free. I was present when my mother gave birth to one of my sisters when I was a child, and that experience has led to me think of birth as one of the wonders of life that is a privilege to experience. Don’t get me wrong, I have no illusions about how much it hurts, or what hard work it is. However, the sound and look of bliss that emanated from my mom at the end was something that I will never forget. It’s seared on my brain.

When it came time for my daughter to be born however, we ended up with a C-section. I remember lying on the operating table and being more terrified than I had ever been in my life. I hadn’t prepared myself for the possibility that this would be the outcome. I had been waiting for the big finish, and the feeling of accomplishment. I never expected to meet my daughter while lying flat on my back with my intestines still sitting on my abdomen. In all honesty, it’s taken me a while to get over that.
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I feel like I’ve had enough major changes in my life, that I should expect this to happen each and every time. There sure is a lot of waiting in the midst of big changes. When I look back over things, I know that change has happened quickly, but in the moment our movements slow to a snails pace.

Tonight as my daughter nestles her little face into my lap and I can feel her energetic little body relax all at once, I wonder how many more moments will we have of this alone togetherness? How long until my lap shrinks and belly grows to bring new life?

Not long I tell you. In fact, we have a kumquat on the way at this very moment. And although we were planning for this little one, it snuck up on me. I recently found out that our little fruit was on the way before we even started to try. I’m so excited, and can’t wait to feel the fluttering kicks in my womb, or hold a new babe…and yet. I’m surprised how every other moment I am consumed with trying to drink in my first baby’s babyness, afraid that somehow not being the baby will make her feel less special, less something. The moments go on forever, and yet time is hurtling by.

Somehow, the pregnancy is already a quarter over.

I remember the first time around, being ready to burst and sitting in the hospital, waiting for hours and hours. I watched the “contraction counter” and wondered when I would stop measuring time in 6 minute intervals? When would the doctor come? And when would I get to eat again? The day eeked by a collection of eternal snapshots. The action began when they wheeled me into surgery, life jump-started and became a moving picture once more.

This pregnancy is like that. An emotional roller-coaster captured one jerky frame at a time. There are so many questions unanswered. How will our toddler deal with this change? How will we manage having two under the age of three? What will this mean for us financially? Will I love the second as much? I know in my head that the answer to all of those things is that you just do it. There is no solution to it all. It’s life and it’s messy. But at the same time, I’m a hormonal mess, and can’t help but worry.

Please share. What were your feelings as your family grew? And how did you deal with all the questions and worries?

Last week I announce that we’re planning for a huge life change in the form of a baby, and this week I’m announcing that we’re planning for another in the form of a house. The real estate market in our area is awful. AWFUL. That is if you’re trying to sell your house. But we rent our house, and what with falling interest rates, our good credit, and foreclosures galore, we just can’t help ourselves.

So the past week or two, I’ve been perusing sites like zillow, and about.com, both looking for properties, and trying to look for information on foreclosures. It’s not that I like to pick at the carcass of someone’s shattered dreams, but, well, we’re cheap. We have the means and man power to do a little fixing up, and so finding a good deal seems like it’s in the cards for us.
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