Wednesday, May 5, 2010
A few years ago a new neighborhood was being built about 2 blocks away from my house. The houses were beautiful! Hubs was helping some home-buyers purchase a home there and when he went to preview the homes, he fell in love with one of the models. He came home and said, “Do you want to see an awesome house?” Well, sure, who doesn’t? So we went to LOOK. LOOK as in with your eyes, not your checking account, or so I thought. The second I completed the tour and agreed that it was, indeed, a great house, Hubs said, “I knew you’d like it—let’s move here!” And so the whirlwind started—to move two blocks away.
(I have moved about 24 times since I left home for college. Moving is NOT my favorite thing to do.)
(I also had nightmares during that time…it was always the same: Hubs would drive away, waving out the window that he was late for work while I put one box at a time into Joy’s little red wagon, perched her on top, and transferred our stuff from one home to another, 2 blocks away.)
Things kept going wrong with this planned move, however, and finally I said, “Enough. We’re going to stay put”* (even though our ENTIRE house except for the very basic basics was packed in boxes and sitting in the garage). And so that was that—except that we had purchased flooring for the new home already. It was sitting in the garage next to all of our other worldly possessions. So we decided that the next best thing to getting a new house was getting new flooring in our existing house. Every last thing we owned stayed in the garage (except for our cars) and we had the flooring installed in our home.
Our entire downstairs is dark hardwood (entry, office, living room, dining room, and family room) and slate tile (entry inset, kitchen, bathroom, and laundry room). And I have to admit, they are beautiful, but not very practical. Right after they were installed, the real estate market stalled. All spending came to a screeching halt. We did not even have any extra to spend on area rugs. And so, now that we have Child #2, I am a bundle of nerves during her every waking moment because I am afraid she’s going to hurt herself. And don’t get me started on the cleaning! I sweep, dust mop, vacuum, and mop almost every day, but you can’t tell. Nope. You’d think I didn’t own a single cleaning tool or was too lazy to get off my rear end to do it. Sometimes I think I’ve done it, that they are really clean—and then the sun shines through the back window, with light glaring across my dusty, dirty floors.
So here I am again, back at the top of the list of nominees for Worst Mother of the Year and here’s why: (a) not only have I covered every square inch of my home with hard surfaces that can cause serious bodily injury to a little person just learning to master the art of walking, but (b) the same ‘every square inch’ is also consistently dusty/dirty/gross, and (c) I complain about the beautiful flooring in my home. (Incidentally, this also puts me in the running for Worst Housekeeper of the Year and Most Ungrateful Person of the Year. Don’t hate me because I’m multi-talented!)
*This decision single-handedly kept me out of the running for “Dumbest Financial Decision of the Recession”. Don’t worry, though—I still have time!
Posted by The Editor for Busy Body.