Posted by: emjb | June 8, 2006

Home, steady

Moving gets harder the older you get. Even when most of your stuff is already packed, and you have a good friend to help you and the biggest UHaul you can afford and a first floor apartment and no deadline…it’s hard. Brusing and back wrenching and sweaty and exhausting.

Not that I really did much of it. I was on baby duty because my mom was too ill to watch Nathan and my in-laws out of pocket. So it was just Matt and our friend Smokey, who is a Good Friend Indeed for helping out at the last minute.

All the same, Matt finally acceded to my request that NEXT time we hire movers. Up to now, he just refused to spend the money, but this move finally did it. Next time, we hire some sweaty student types with uninjured backs and younger muscles and a truck, and save our energy for the unpacking.

But all that aside, we have an apartment, our own, non-roommated apartment, for the first time in about two years. Deanpence was an excellent roommate, except for his excessive flatulence–oh wait that was Matt. Anyway, Deanpence was a good roomie, but once you have a kid, you have all the roomie you’ll ever need.

It’s not the World’s Greatest Apartment, but then our bar is set a lot lower than it was in New York. Now we’re impressed with things like garbage disposals, non-industrial carpet, walls that haven’t been plastered so much they’re too bumpy to hang things on, and most of all, my walk-in closet. I love my closet. So. Much. All my clothes…hanging! All of them! At one time! And my shoes…not living under my bed! It’s like a beautiful dream.

We still have boxes everywhere, and no bookshelves for my books, and general chaos, especially when we tried to make dinner but realized we didn’t have a can opener anymore. Thank Jeebus for the Dollar Store. But Nathan’s stuff, and Nathan himself, now have their own room.

And thanks to that, tonight he and I had what I can only consider a perfect evening. I got home and played with him and fed him an enormous amount of oatmeal, and gave him a bath in the sink, which he loved splashing in. We played on our new IKEA bed, which is lovely and large and has a nice firm mattress he doesn’t sink into and threaten to suffocate in. I read my book while he gabbled and talked and stuck his toes in his mouth or rocked back and forth on his hands and knees, practicing to crawl. Then the sun went down, which is our signal to start getting ready for bed, since his room faces west. We sat in the rocker in his room and rocked and read (in his case, tried to eat) one of his books together. He started to droop and rub his eyes, so I put him in bed on his special wedge baby-pillow, and knowing he wasn’t hungry, let him suck on a bottle that he was holding himself, like a teddy bear. He wasn’t getting much milk, but he really just wanted the comfort of it. I rocked and read my book and when I looked over, he was out. Easy as pie.

He sleeps hard in there, despite more traffic noise than I like. Last night there was even some idiot outside our windows thumping his base while playing some crap R&B song in his pimpmobile, and that didn’t wake him either. It’s his space, and that seems to make a difference, to my surprise.

Our first night here, I thought it might not work. Nathan was freaked out and wouldn’t settle in his crib. We hadn’t put our bed together and so were sleeping on our mattress on the floor in our room. I finally just brought his mattress next to ours and got him to sleep next to us that way. Even so, he’d wake up every few hours and clutch for me, making sure I wasn’t going anywhere in this strange place. I thought, oh God, we’re going to have to co-sleep after all. But the next night, he slept. And every night since, he’s slept better. We all are. We’re relaxed in a way we haven’t been able to be since before he was born. It’s just us, doing our thing, just our little family, hanging out at home.

It’s a small island of happiness in a sea of what is still a lot of uncertainty and occasional Sheer Effing Terror about our future, about money and jobs and all the rest of it. But I’ll take it.



  1. You took the source of excessive flatulence with you when you left. Thank you.

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