I know. I know. This blog is like *crickets* and it's driving me a little nuts. Mostly because I have so much to say and so much to post about but, you know, I keep falling short on time. I blink and it's midnight, my eyelids are heavy and I'm cozying up on my mom's futon where a sleeping Ethan lays as obtrusively as humanly possible to ensure I maybe catch two or three hours of sleep before it's morning. The good news is as of this morning our housing situation is no longer up in limbo. The general contractor we hired begins work today and he's given us a time frame of about a week before we can be back in our house. The silver lining to this whole mess is that it's an excuse to paint our entire house and I think we're going to go drastically different than we did when we moved in. And because our homeowners insurance covers actual painters to do the work, I'm hoping things look a little more polished than when we did the first job ourselves. (Because for all the times I said "the drips of paint on the white baseboards add character," I was totally lying.)
Ethan has been reveling in every moment of time spent living at Grandma and Grandpa's house. By two o'clock, he's all but glued to the windows waiting for my sister to return home from school. We are, of course, extremely grateful for my parents who have let us crash and take over (in the way only a toddler can) their house. With every piece of paint-splattered artwork that winds up taped on my mother's decorative dining room mirror and every cup of spilled milk (or water, or applesauce, or yogurt) that winds up on the floor, my mom handles it all with grace. And a shrug. And an arsenal of sprays, cleansers and cleaning equipment that are never too far out of reach. Ethan smashed a lightbulb on the guest room floor? No big deal, here comes Grandma with the Swiffer. Just when I thought my mother has had it with a two year old emptying her kitchen cabinets or dumping his cup of water at the dinner table, she offers up an "I'm going to miss you when you go back home."
As nice as it is to walk in the door at 6:15 after swimming lessons to find dinner waiting on the kitchen table and stay up far too late watching Tattoo Nightmares with my sister, it will be nice to be back in our home and have life resume normally. I miss my bed, and our cats, and not having to worry about insurance and contractors and when they are going to smash down our walls.