Sometimes, I think the universe likes me.
The last two weeks have been like living in hell...aka minivan hell. Now I'm not going to lie, I love my "new" van. I'm not really thrilled about the gas mileage the thing gets (it's a 4 cylinder as opposed to a six like most vans) but I love being so far away from screaming and hitting children. And it is more comfortable for them despite the above hinted at incidents of sibling abuse. But this week I've experienced the suburban mom nightmare called transporting. All week I've been toting kids back and forth to school (charter school=no buses), and in addition, have been toting Piper to work with me. Add to this having to meet up with H at my school to do the kid exchange...well, hell. The van already looks like we live in it.
But let's not forget the "morning hell." This entails forcing tired and all too often grumpy children from their beds. I fight to get on clothes, fight to comb hair, fight to brush teeth, fight to actually move three tiny little asses out the door. And all that being so not a morning person. Of course Camille usually tops off this lovely experience with a full, on the floor, screaming tantrum right outside the door to her school's cafeteria. After five minutes of such embarrassing behavior, she skips into the room, and begins to sing like a cherub with the world's best music teacher.
Oh and have I mentioned homework hell? Trying to get homework done when you're lucky if you roll in at ten as been shall we say interesting. School is not a break for me, and if one more person asks how I"m enjoying my "free time" I may punch them in the face.
But this is more stressful because we don't have a home. We have been doing all the above things with the added pressure of looking for a place to live. At some point, we gave up trying to find the perfect home. We figured there was no way we would have the time as we were both starting teaching the same week. It was sad, and I felt a tad depressed. We've been compromising homespace ever since we moved here, and I was hoping for once to find something I loved.
Physical space is very important to me. Despite being able to pick up and move at a moment's notice, I do care a great deal about being surrounded by a space that works for me. When I view a new home, I want to be able to walk and instantly imagine that space as my home. I haven't been able to do that with any of the places we've lived in since we had Umberto. These places were more homey with our things around but there was still this disconnect for me. They had no personality...just big white boxes divided into box like rooms.
So once we had given up, we saw it. A little house, newly renovated, fenced in front and back yard, in a district we love. We parked, walked around, peered in windows, and as I stood underneath the tree in the front yard, I felt peace. This was the place. When we finally saw the inside, I wanted to sing, dance, and just stamp myself all over the place. It was cozy, old, filled with personality. Upstairs there were two attic rooms, perfect for a nice little TV room and a playroom. I could imagine us sitting up there on rainy nights watching movies while we listened to the rain pour down on the roof. I saw the kids' new little beds lined up against the wall. I imagined H and I blogging at night in front of the fireplace. I saw the yard decorated for Halloween.
And then the hell that involved getting the application started. The woman had not brought an application. For some reason, the fax machine at my office was not receiving what she was sending. I didn't fill out the application until yesterday. I was a mess, exhausted, discouraged, and so sad that I might not get to live in such a beautiful home. And then I got the call today...it's ours! At these moments, I think maybe, just maybe there is karma.
I miss you all so much. I miss my blog but hopefully we will have wireless, fast Internet soon...or maybe that's just asking too much of the universe.