Justin and I have lived in five different homes in our ten years together. Two houses in Manhattan, one place in Texas, our first house in Topeka, and finally, what I will always think of as our first home: 1229 SW High. This little airplane bungalow has a lot of memories packed into the short four and a half years we’ve lived there. I love this house and, honestly, don’t know if I ever would have wanted to leave, even if it has a surprising lack of closets.
But, the times they are a changing, and Justin was offered his dream job. In Ohio. We’ve known this was coming for a while, but they kept pushing the start date back, so we lived in a kind of limbo for almost a year. Finally an official start date was set and movers were booked. I can’t even list the amount of miscommunication that happened there. For a while it looked like we were going to be living separately while we waited on the movers.
Yesterday the moving company came to pack our belongings. I had the pleasure of listening to people discuss (unkindly) all of our worldly possessions, our home, us, and our dogs. It was a blast. Maybe if they had taken less time talking about us the second crew wouldn’t have had to finish today and we would have gotten on the road before 8. But I digress. I almost skipped one of the more embarrassing moments of my life. My final Dr appt with my midwife, who was with me every step of the way with Mitchell and all through every twist and turn of this pregnancy, was this morning. Except she was called out. Mitchell and I waited an hour, but by then the last week of running non-stop and having strangers traipsing through our house caught up with both of us and Mitchell had a meltdown. So I start to leave when a nurse comes and says she at least needs to check the heartbeat. Except Mitchell is beyond recovery at that point. I spend my last appt laying on the table, trying to hold Mitchell, while he kicks, hits, and screams. It then took three people to get his boots back on. When I finally got him into his car seat, we both sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes crying. I cried myself into a nosebleed, at which point I discovered I had no napkins in the car. And his baby wipes were frozen. Come to think of it, I’m still wearing the shirt that I wiped the blood on. It’s truly a statement of my day that that doesn’t even register as a bad thing.
So we go back to the house and I see this.
And cry again.
Did I mention it’s a whole twenty degrees this whole time? And the movers propped our doors open? And one of us had to be there at all times? And Justin was at an appt so that left Mitchell and I? Luckily Mitchell was content to stand on the porch and watch them.
So, fast forward to 8 tonight, and we finally hit the road. On our way to a hotel we lied to and said we owned two 50 lb dogs. Our cars are both packed full because it may take 8 days for the movers to get our stuff to Ohio. Even without all the stuff, there’s no way to fit two dogs, Mitchell, Justin, and myself in one car, so we’re both driving. We hit Kansas City and my car breaks down. So right now, this is me.
My face is swollen from crying, we’re in a terrible neighborhood waiting on a tow truck to get our car. Jon, Justin’s dad, is driving me back to Topeka and Justin is following. We’re going to get to Topeka at about 12:30, go buy an air mattress, and sleep in our empty house. Hopefully the car will be fixed tomorrow and we can try again.