Hey, internet searcher, did you know I know what you typed into your search box to find this post?  I may not know you but I do know your, ahem, interests.  You’re not going to find what you’re looking for here. Have a great day!  

It feels like my family has been in the process of moving forever but it hasn’t been that long.  In April, my husband got a new job.  We put our house on the market a week later.  Two weeks after that, our house sold.  In June, we moved into my mom and step-dad’s home because we had to be out of the house.  About four days after we moved in, I stood in the driveway of a home for sale.  With my finger pointed and my shoulders squared, I said to our real estate agent and my husband, “We are putting an offer on this house now because I. am. done.”

So, then our offer was accepted.  Not on that house.  We were outbid on that house and the one before that?  We didn’t even get an offer in on time.  The third house accepted our offer.  And for the next few, cramped years our mantra will be “Location, location, location.”

And then my daughter fell down some stairs.  And we had to haggle over home repairs after the inspection.  My son went to a new level of three year old defiance and I’m pretty sure he’s picked up on sarcasm (“Mom, look at the sky!”  “Oh, the blue sky?” “No, Mama the gold sky.”)  Plus my mom kept buying chocolate and wine for me (adult version of have a snack and quit bothering me?) and now I’m in my second trimester of fat.  Beyond all that was the pain we all felt when my daughter stopped expecting to see her dad and when my son said week after week, “I don’t want you to leave, don’t leave me Daddy.”

This is all stress but it’s also mostly good.  Good things can create stress.  What’s really good is that this part of our transition is almost over but we are at the end of our rope.  Like, we reached the end of the rope, tied the knot and held just as Theodore Roosevelt suggested (go on Pinterest and you’ll find the quote printed on sisal or something) and now our hands are slipping off the knot.  We’re going batty, basically.

We went up to visit my husband this week and after dinner one night we drove by the new house.  We had to because he stalks the house everyday to make sure the family is moving out or to make sure that they’re not salting the grass or something (batty).  In our agreement, we asked that they make certain repairs to the exterior of the house and I mentioned that it didn’t look like the repairs were getting done the way we had asked.  Why did I say this?  I should know better but I don’t because as I said above, my hands are not fully grasping that knot at the end of the rope.

That night, we  circled back around the block twice so my husband could get a better look and then and then he said he was going to get out the camera.

I have a mom camera.  You know, the kind everyone bought so they could take fancy pictures of their kids?  The, I have to wear it on my shoulder instead of being able to just throw it in my purse, this makes the stroller 10 pounds heavier- sized camera?

We circled back around the house again to get proof of maybe done the wrong way home repairs with my huge mom camera.  How this proof would be used wasn’t considered.  What the hell would we do with it?  Print it out on glossy 8×10 paper and throw them across the table at closing?  Hey sellers, what do you have to say about this?

I was mortified.  But, we drove by the back and front of the house TMZ style (except in my mom suv with one kid in the backseat sucking on a pacifier and holding a green monkey and the other one flying a toy plane out the window), as my husband  snapped photos with the huge mom camera.

Later that night in the hotel, I went through the pictures.  After I viewed them, I got into bed with my husband and laughed and laughed and laughed (at not with him)and something amazing happened, my hands regained their grip on the rope.

Because we can’t force ourselves out of worry but sometimes serendipity gives us a hand. For me, it is and will always be laughter that helps me regain my senses.  Thank God for it.  Also, sorry God, I’ll try harder to make it not be at the expense of my husband the next time.

For your viewing pleasure, here are our spy photos:

This is not our house, trees, or fence. I probably don’t need to mention that it’s also not in focus.