Hey, I'm Back!

{Image Source: overgraeme}

So ... hey. I'm back.

It's been a crazy couple of weeks. As I've mentioned several times before,we have been in the process of moving. It's finally OVER, and I am so darn happy I could burst. I mean, yes, we have boxes and piles of stuff EVERYWHERE and I'm having trouble locating underwear and socks for everyone, but we're out of the old house and into the new one, fully and officially. We've met some of our neighbors, Ana is in school, the little ones may start Gymboree ... yeah, we're in.

I'm so relieved to be out of the old place. I tried to keep a positive outlook on the place while we lived there (aside from a couple of breakdown on teh Intarwebs), but now that we're out, I can let loose. (WOO!) I can tell you what a jerk our landlord was. I can say that I regularly threatened him (subtly) with legal action if he even tried to screw us over. I can mention that he once tried to get into it with Matt when HIS kid nailed MY MOM'S car with a weighted lure. I can complain about the noise, the smoke, the drunken behavior. All of it. Done, hopefully for good.

That doesn't even really begin to cover what was wrong with the house: the mold, the lead paint, the asbestos (all of this coming to our attention, of course, AFTER we moved in). The shift in structure after the earthquake. The leaky basement. The deathtrap of a spiral staircase that Petra learned to climb. The peeling wallpaper, the ugly tile, the BROKEN tiles. The useless pool and the shoddy fence.

Honestly, I don't know how we did it. Or why we did it, for that matter. We didn't have to live there. We didn't have to stay in that town, on that street, and worry constantly about one of the kids running into the road and getting run down by one of the crazy, thoughtless drivers that routinely traversed that route. We could have taken our time, looked for a smallish place on a quiet street, and been proud to live there.

We did it because we were living in a two-room, 900-square foot apartment with a baby on the way, and we needed more space. We did it because it was in the same school in which we started Ana, and we were sick of moving her in the middle of the year. We did it because it was close to family, and I needed all the help I could get.

Look where that logic got us: we lived for nearly two years in a toxic environment, both physically and emotionally. (And I will NEVER forgive myself if my kids have some sort of disorder or brain development delay because of it.) We still ended up moving in the middle of the school year, into a new school district. And I seldom used my aunt and uncle for help because I felt guilty for imposing on them.

It's temporary, though. We'll get things cleaned up, put away, organized. We'll fall into a routine. Ana is already making friends at school, and the kids are SO NICE. The school is close to a military base, so a lot of the families understand about being the new kid. The house is well-planned and spacious, and our neighbors are welcoming and helpful. Are we going to move again? Well ... yes, because we're renting. But the next move we make, if things go according to plan, will be into a home that we own and will be the last one that we make for at least a decade.

Here's hopin'. (Keep your fingers crossed!)

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