One week from tomorrow, my husband and I take custody of our third house in 18 months.
Our first home here we had to abandon lickety-split due to mold that had progressed to the mushroom stage, which tormented me for the six months after we escaped it with the Sinus Infection from Hell. The house we chose next was an emergency Dear-God-we-don't-want-to-live-with-our-parents decision because of said mold. We would likely have been happier in the long run if we'd swallowed our pride and stayed with family for a month, since right after we moved Sam got a fantastic new job that had, you know, reasonable pay and actual benefits. But we did not want to be Those People. You know, the couple in their mid-to-late-twenties who boomerang back home. Again.
Instead we chose a house that cost more and yet was smaller than the apartment I had in Dallas. In addition, it ended up being completely flea infested. It took us six months to finally beat the terrors back--just in time to move to our current residence. I swore to any and all who would listen that I was not moving again for at least three years. I was tired of moving. Just as importantly, our bank account was tired of moving. This house came with a roommate--a friend we'd both known for years--and thus would be a chance for us to financially recover from grad school/multiple moves.
Then two very important things occurred.
A) We found out that our family will have a new addition this summer. (Translation: baby!)
B) We were informed after the new year that our current landlady would not be renewing our leases come August, and if we wanted to move out earlier that was A-OK with her. (It's not for any bad reason--she has family moving back this direction and wanted to let'em live here. Completely understandable!)
Visions of trying to move while either 9 months pregnant or with a newborn immediately started haunting me. Nuh-uh. Ain't happening. I told this to Sam, and thus we began what I expected to be a 2-3 month endeavor.
We found a new house within the week.
This is definitely not what I'd call an emergency house, either. No, we're talking full-blown "Hey! Grown-ups live here!" type of house, with plenty of room for us and the baby and visitors. Though no roommate. (He has no desire to live with a newborn that isn't his.)
"Holly, that's great and all, but why are you writing this, here, now. You abandoned us. In July. Of 2011."
The truth of the matter is I've wanted to get back into blogging for awhile. I even told Sherri last November that I was planning to start back up, as I felt mentally and emotionally settled for the first time in forever. (Trust me, most of my blogging at the Flea Trap would have been whining. I prefer to whine in private.) Then I found out that I'm pregnant, and pretty much that's all I've been reading about and thinking about and wanting to write about. I am just paranoid enough that I didn't want to say anything in such a public forum though until I was in my second trimester--which just so happened started this past Monday.
"Oh no. Are you saying you're going to be only a Mommy Blogger now? But what about the cats! And cooking! And D&D! And random stuff from the internet! And series that you say you're going to do and then only do a few posts of!"
No worries, my friends. All of those things will happen as well. But, for the most part, this blog was my way of keeping friends and family up to date with my life. And the new baby will definitely feature in what they're interested in. And, honestly, I'm hopeful that there may be some other expecting or new moms who stumble across what I'll be writing about. But my interests have always ranged fairly far afield, and I'm sure they'll all shine through from time to time. (Aren't you glad you missed my sarcasm and insight during the election season?)
So let's see if I can get back into the swing of things, eh?
No comments:
Post a Comment