This weekend (or, more appropriately, this afternoon) I got all nesty in Todd's face. That sounds weird.
When we found out we were expecting baby #2, we knew we'd have to consolidate some of our crap and some of Jack's crap to make room for our precious new addition. So, Todd and I thinned out our dresser holdings and combined 9 drawers into 5. The plan was to empty out the dresser we keep in our closet ("Todd's" dresser), put everything into the dresser in our room ("My dresser") and then move the main dresser into the closet.
Fast forward 5.5 months and we finally managed to get rid of the closet dresser and make the swap. Took about 20 minutes. Wow. We suck at this junk ridding stuff.
That was yesterday afternoon. I promised Todd that I was done for the weekend, with the exception of bringing stuff downstairs to the newly cleared out hallways and stacking it in the entry to move stuff to storage. I told Todd that I don't just want to take one thing to storage, that I wanted to wait until we got a whole bunch of things because we'd just be bringing more stuff back, right? (Ask me about the time when my hoarder neighbor tells me "oh yeah, that's how my place looks right now" and watch me wallow in shame.) Then I went nuts. All I wanted to do was turn 3 boxes of knick knacks that I'm not willing to part with but no longer have shelf space to display into one and move the box to storage for when we have a bigger place, no small children, and shelves. I dusted cobwebs, made Todd clean the ceiling fan, threw stuff away, (the stuff! I threw all the cat toys away except for a few mice and a stuffed spider) vacuumed and got the edges, and then after begging me for a shower to help his poor red, dusty eyes recover from my rampage, I made a deal with Todd that he could shower and we could be done, but he'd have to vacuum the staircase for me this week. Sucker. Ask me how a simple task turned into a cleaning, organizing, measuring for new baby gate, trash ALL THE THINGS rampage and I won't be able to give a coherent reason. It's my process.
Anyway, we managed to clear stuff out, got three trash bags of crap out of our upstairs and it still looks like a cyclone has hit our bedroom. Our lovely, clean, organized closet has been refilled with crap that we don't want the cats to get into but that I don't have a space for right now. Jack's room was taken over for a few hours by rogue laundry baskets (oh, right, when we cleaned the closet out, we discovered about 2 loads of laundry that we've been walking on for god knows how long).
Last weekend we rearranged all of the living room furniture to unblock our return vent further. Honestly, there's quite a difference. About 2-3 degrees difference. Such a difference that we're considering possibly not getting a new furnace/a/c/heat pump this year and seeing if we can't make it through another summer with the old one. That's up in the air for now. I will go about seeing what kind of a deal we get, how much the unit will cost, and break down a monthly payment and THEN we will decide on a course of action.
Next weekend? Who knows. But until we actually get the refinancing process done there won't be any purchasing of anything. I would love blackout curtains in our room before Nina arrives (ready for this? 3 1/2 months...that's a terrifying thought). I want to organize the kids' room into a pleasant space for two kids to share. Organization takes money, people, money that we'd rather spend on food and gas so we can refinance this month and afford closing costs.
Unless the bank pushes out our closing date.
Again.
For the third time.
***
Last night, Jack spoke his first coherent sentence. As Todd was attempting to wrangle him upstairs, he turned to me and said "Come on, Mama! Go! Go!" Todd and I just looked at each other for a second and then proceeded to bounce around like floundering idiots. Jack's been having a rough couple of nights. He's been waking up crying, whimpering in his sleep, etc. I'm hoping that we're gearing up for a developmental milestone and that this one involves lots of talking. People tell me that once he starts to talk, all I'm going to want is for him to shut up. What they don't know, or perhaps don't realize, is that Jack babbles, incessantly, and sometimes I do ask him to please be quiet. He never stops trying to communicate with us. We just have no idea what he says. Everyday, the words "please, for the love of god, just speak English!" exit my and Todd's mouth. We try and explain (to a 2 year old...logically...because we're morons) that if he just spoke English that there would be no need for this whining and fit throwing when we offer the wrong cup or snack. He always responds with "okay!" and continues to whimper until we fix the problem. He understands us, he just isn't breaking through with his own words. I've noticed that he will only say a word when he's sure of what he is saying. The kid has confidence in every other area of development. Why not language?? Bah.
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