We are in DC at my parents’ house and have settled in. We had a few hiccups right before we moved, namely that I woke up with a fever of 102 the day after Christmas. We only had approximately 60% of the house left to pack so that was awesome. After a trip to the doctor, in which I demanded antibiotics, and a two hour nap, I felt well enough to pack. We got back down to business and had several late nights but we got it all done.
The drive up here went shockingly well. Will took three naps of at least 1 1/2 hours each. When we got to Stafford, VA (a very outer ring exurb of DC), the traffic came to a screeching halt and we inched along the rest of the way. It took us about 3 hours to get here from that point, and it really should only have taken about an hour or so. Poor Will lost patience at that point and would pull his paci out of his mouth to squawk a couple of times and then pop it back in and whimper in irritation and frustration. Poor baby. At last though, we pulled into my parents’ driveway.
I’m sure my parents are thinking that the house suddenly feels very small and very full of blinking, beeping plastic crap and shedding, barking dogs. Will is enjoying being doted on 24-7, and has resumed morning napping because it’s very exhausting to be on the receiving end of so much attention. The husband started his new job yesterday, but is home today because, welcome to the not-South:
We are casually house hunting, but can’t make any decisions or buy anything until the house in Atlanta sells. And the house in Atlanta can’t even go on the market right now because we are in the midst of construction hell. That may be for the best because DC real estate is incredibly depressing. $850k for 1,000 unrenovated square feet with no yard or off street parking? Totally reasonable! Or maybe we’ll just live with my parents forever. I’m sure they’d appreciate that.
I’ve got to get looking into some things for Will and I to do during the week because staring at one another across my parents’ family room all day is getting old. And I’m sure little man is sick of hearing, “No! Not for babies!” 972 times per day. (As an aside, I really took for granted the convenience of living 10 minutes from the zoo, aquarium, and children’s museum. When said outings require an hour each way in the car, I don’t even try.) This morning he pulled a poinsettia off an end table and dragged it through the foyer, leaving a trail of dirt and fertilizer in his wake. This may be a clue that he needs something to do.
I am a little bit in denial about the fact that we aren’t going back to Atlanta, but I’m guessing that reality will sink in over time. Forward march, right?