Reality

We have officially survived our first week after the sudden evacuation of our home. Sounds dramatic, but when you have to don a mask and eye protection to simply enter your house, it's really not.

The house gets inspected for mold on Monday, the 5th, which unfortunately happens to be Matt's birthday. That the mold is there is undeniable, but what we don't know is the extent of the damage. We are really hoping that it is just the kitchen, but it could very easily be in the walls and possibly even in the pipes.

We have done pretty well, there have been a few break-downs here and there, but for the most part we are trying to remain positive. After all, it's just a house.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I very nearly lost it on Friday as I arranged my hair products on the floor of my mother's laundry room, next to the thumping dryer. It's just hard. I am incredibly and eternally grateful that we are able to come and stay here, but I don't want to be here.

I want to purse my lips and allow my chin to quiver in self-pity, I want to be angry at anyone, to blame someone. I want to stomp my feet and yell and have someone else come in and fix the problem right now. But I can't.

Because that is not reality. THIS is reality. We are here, we cannot be there, but we will get back there eventually. We are blessed to have a home to go back to, and somewhere to stay in the meantime. And in this reality, hair products on the floor are a little bit funny. Hanging your clothes from water pipes is a little bit funny.

So we laugh, because we don't want to cry. We cuddle on the big family bed (a futon pushed up against the couch), we hold hands and we kiss chubby baby cheeks. We unfold the card table to make a desk, and life goes on. We laugh at the dog, who happens to think this is the best sleep-over ever, and we try to emulate his enthusiasm. We remind ourselves that this could have been much worse, and that moping about the house will accomplish nothing.

We remember our blessings, and we try to be good houseguests.

After all, not every boy gets to spend so much time with his grandparents!

Warrior? Maybe.

Much to my surprise, I had absolutely zero trouble losing the weight I had gained during pregnancy. Jack is a little on the fussy side, and to keep him happy for the first few months of his life required constant dancing around the house. Dancing is a great calorie burner, as is breastfeeding, so between the two the weight kind of melted off.

HOWEVER that does not mean my rear end is not more jiggly than ever, nor that my stomach does not seem to flop over every pair of jeans I own.

So what is a girl to do? Well, if that girl has a supportive husband, they sign up for a 5K together. We have run together a grand total of ONE time in the six years we have known each other, so Matt is taking a bit of a risk signing on with me as a running partner.

As for me, I am also taking a bit of a risk, Matt is a track coach. And Matt is bossy. It's like I can actually smell the arguments coming.

Since we have never run together, we knew we had to pick a very special race, and did we find it? DID WE EVER.

WARRIOR DASH.

This is no ordinary 5K people, this one has obstacles. obstacles like this:

GULP. I am in so much trouble.

We are signed up to run the northeast course, along with a bunch of Matt's college buddies. Shockingly none of my female friends want to run! I wonder why??

There are some serious perks though, I can't forget to add that. There is free beer (!), a warrior helmet (sweet!), and the typical t-shirt.

Oh also pulled muscles, blisters, scratches, possible concussions, humiliation, and embarrassment!

On second thought, maybe a jiggly rear isn't such a bad thing...

News from the Street Yo

So while I have been having fun pretending to be a real homeless hoodlum on the street, Matt put on his angry pants and called the seller of our home. (It should be noted that it's not the previous person who lived there, we bought our house from a property group that buys, renovates, and sells houses.) We did this for a few reasons, namely we believe that while he personally may not have known about the mold/moisture issue in the house he 'renovated' for us, someone directly under him did know, and that person covered it up with a piece of plywood and some cheap linoleum.

The seller sort of confirmed this by pleading for 12 hours before we called anyone else, while assuring us that he would take care of the issue...and today, a contractor met Matt at the house, looked at everything, and told the seller (who also came to the house) that he needed to take care of this, and he needed to do it right.

I don't know all the details, but Matt just called me, and for the first time this week it wasn't a tearful call with bad news, I heard a tiny hint of hope in his voice, and that is all I need to know that this is good you guys. Really good.

We are being told that this is not going to be quick, so we will need to basically move out of our house for a while, but what a blessing huh?

Also...I DO have pictures that I am dying to share with you, but my card reader is at the house, and I am in my mom's basement...so I'll keep working on that! Several of you urged me to take Jack to the pediatrician, and I wanted to assure you that we have! She listened to his lungs, and checked him out in general, and (huge blessing again!) our baby boy is perfectly healthy. She believes that he was not exposed to mold spores long enough for it to have an adverse effect on him, but we will of course be keeping a close eye out for any symptoms.

I know that things aren't perfect just yet, nor will we be moving out of the basement anytime soon, but I am just so overwhelmed at the answers to our prayers, I am walkin' on sunshine over here folks! I can't thank you enough for your concern, encouragement, and prayers.

Homeless

We recently noticed that the floors in our kitchen were beginning to buckle, and no amount of pretending it wasn't there could alleviate the problem. We finally buckled down and just tore up the floor, and two layers of linoleum, one layer of plywood, and ANOTHER layer of linoleum later we were horrified to find black mold. And lots of it.

As much as I am upset to have this problem, I am much more upset that my infant has been exposed to it.

We will be staying at my mother's house until we can fix this, but we just don't know where to start. Do we call an inspector? Insurance? Torch it? (just kidding...I keep trying to make myself find the humor in the situation...it isn't working)

I'm not one to wallow in gloom, but it is tempting. Oh so tempting.

Can You Handle This?

This is what I walked in to find in Jack's room:

"Train a child in the way that he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it"
-Proverbs 22:6

Ch-ch-ch-changes

After many months of watching me squint at roadsigns, my husband took it upon himself to make an appointment for me at the eye doctor. I fought it , oh how I fought it.

"Honey...I'm fine! I can see, it's just, you know, sunny! So I'm squinting." (It was night-time).

"Oh Matt, it's okay, I can see, I'm just, uh...tired!"

"But Matt! You won't be able to see my eyes! You love my eyes!" (coyly batting lashes).

He didn't buy it. So last week I went and guess what? I need glasses! After a brief struggle with my own vanity ("I'M TOO YOUNG FOR GLASSES!" Ha...I wish) I grudgingly chose a pair of frames.

As I stood before the vast array of eyeglasses, Matt jokingly said "Oooh I wanna see you in that pair of Ed Hardys!" (for reference...they looked like this)
I just shook my head and smiled. Not my style. I finally chose THE frames, turned to the technician and guess what glasses she was wearing? THOSE EXACT ED HARDY FRAMES.

Oops.

I may need glasses, but Matt is going to need surgery to get his foot out of his mouth.
Sigh.

The Dance Goes On

Some of you may remember this post, it was actually a guest post I wrote for a (now defunct?) blog called Domestigals. In that post I wrote about how Matt sometimes takes me in his arms and slowly begins to sway to the beat of his own love for me, and how that dancing used to embarrass me.

As he and I have traveled down this road called parenthood, I have noticed that sometimes my path seems farther away from him than I like. Some days we don't have our first kiss of the day until bedtime. Some days we don't share a kiss at all. And that? That is heartbreaking to me.

Two nights ago, after putting Jack to bed, I came out of the nursery and looked at my husband. I realized that in some small ways, I saw him for the first time in almost four months. I went to him, put MY arms around him, and began to sway to the beat of MY heart.

Matthew, I am sorry. I hope you know that you are a true blessing to me. That I have loved you, and will always love you, even when our paths seem a little distant.
I realized that I need to take time out of my day to invest in my husband. Yes, even if that means that I spend a little less time devoted to Jack. I know that the best thing I can give to Jack is the opportunity to grow up seeing his parents in a happy, loving, functional marriage.
Have you danced lately?

Martha Stewart I am Not

Last night I decided to make burgers and fries for dinner. After I served dinner, I realized the fries were a little undercooked, so I popped them back in the oven for a few minutes.

45 minutes later Matt asked me if something smelled like it was burning.
Oh crap. Did it again! At least this time there were no flames leaping from the stovetop.

Can I blame this on "mom-brain" two weeks in a row?

Also...can you tell my oven heats a LITTLE unevenly?! Sheesh!