So, the Great Migration of 2005 is officially over. We are settling into our new (to us) small apartment fairly well. My parents were here for over a week to help with the project, and for the most part they really were very helpful. My father in particular was very helpful - he likes to clean, is big enough to move heavy things, and doesn't comment on things unless asked. My mother, on the other hand, is slightly odd, and can be difficult to get along with at times. (Edited to omit mean things said about my mother - after all, she just did me a huge favor.)
Our new house has bugs - lots of them. Fortunately, they are mostly harmless, and I'm thinking that they will disappear at the end of the summer. The Bear has been eating them, but I'm not too worried. I suppose if she were going to get sick from them, she would have done it already. A little dirt builds immunity, right?
We also have upstairs neighbors who stomp. Loudly. Husband swears that they're just walking normally, but I think they're playing hopscotch in wooden clogs. Suffice it to say I am not enjoying living underneath someone, but it's cheap and hey, we all have to make sacrifices. Like bugs. And loud noises. And no garage. But I digress.
The Bear is adjusting well to life in her new surroundings. She was highly confused and consternated for the first few days, as she tried to navigate around the boxes and figure out what she could actually play with (nothing.) and how to best escape Grandma's clutches and eat paperclips. Then, we moved all her furniture and put it in a new room, which irritated her to no end. Now, she seems to have accepted the new surroundings with moderately good grace. She knows where her room is, and she can trot back there to play whenever she wants, which she seems to enjoy. We've even upgraded her bath from the kitchen sink to the actual tub, and the kid is in Hog Heaven. She has this little sponge, and she constantly fills it with water and then sucks it out, or holds it up to watch the water run out... lather, rinse, repeat.
She started pulling up on the furniture two or three weeks ago, and now she can cruise from couch to table to chair and back again. Also, she's learned to climb onto low surfaces (the footboard of the computer desk, for example) and this excites her greatly. Me, not so much. She has also adjusted her schedule - of her own volition - and now goes to bed one hour later at night, and sleeps one hour later in the morning. This kid, she thrives on routine. She loves her schedule.
I am not adjusting to the new surroundings quite as well as the Bear. Husband and I have been fighting pretty much since the first box appeared, and things show no sign of improvement. I am one of those people who hate Change, in any form. So, naturally, all of life's big moments - getting married, getting pregnant, having a baby, moving, starting a new job, you name it - turn me into a Raving Basketcase. I recognize this. I accept this. To date, I have found no reliable way to circumvent this unpleasant fact of my life. Husband, however, can't figure out why I get so freaked out, so consequently has no patience with me, so consequently loses his temper with me, and so we fight. Almost constantly. About absolutely nothing. Where to put this chair? Let's go fifteen rounds of name-calling! What to do with miscellaneous crap that I can't bear to part with because my great-great-auntie left it to me in her will? Let's lock someone out of the bedroom! You threw it away?! Why?! Let's cry about it for an hour! (When asked, he denied that we fight "all the time." That's crap - if I say we're fighting all the time, then we must be fighting all the time.)
Needless to say, life in our (new) house has not been all sunshine and puppies lately. There are several other factors playing into this, not just the big move, but it's certainly brought many of our worst qualities out into the daylight. I just get so frustrated with him, and I can't quite figure out how to get him to stop being so damn irritating all the time. Yeargh.
Of course, then there are the times when he redeems himself, and I remember why I love him in the first place. Last night, for example, he went out to rent a video and came home with the entire first season of "Gilmore Girls" on DVD. I enjoy my bit of fluff on Tuesday nights, and he started watching with me last season. After I went to bed, he stayed up for another three hours and watched two whole discs (like 6 or 8 episodes) by himself. Because he likes it. How cute is that?! ::collective awwwww::