I honestly don’t know or remember how I made it through the month of March. These past few years, March has been either very good or very bad for us. This year, March was just BATSHIT INSANE. I can’t think of a more polite or accurate way of putting it. It was a perfect confluence of events and (literal) shitstorms that made the 744 hours that called March home nothing short of tornadic.
It started with the business trip during which you would think I would have been able to get five nights of blissful restorative sleep except that the bed was about as comfortable as marble. It ended with the final cleaning out of our old house in which our prolific hanger collection clung for dear life to the goddamn wire shelves in our master closet almost sending me into Faye Dunaway-esque fits of wire rage.
In between, there was every kind of drama, large and small imaginable. Some highlights:
Little Miss had her first illness, a lovely combination of sinus infection and bronchiolitis with possible pneumonia, culminating into a three hour epic doctor’s appointment complete with a chest x-ray, breathing treatments and antibiotic shot to the thigh. My usually sweet smiley girl was a hot, feverish and snotty mess who made a full recovery within 24 hours, as little ones are so easily able to do.
We got into heated negotiations with the seller of our new house over some furniture he had that we were willing to take off of his hands. It came down to a difference of $140 at which point, he offered to include with the furniture things like … old bricks to the house, floor mats in the garage and the manuals for the appliances. Really. We ended up taking his offer only because it also included the original blueprints to the house which we knew would come in handy when we went to renovate the architectural travesty that is the front of the house that he designed. We think the look on his face when he sees the changes will be well worth the $140.
We celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary with a beautiful dinner party for 20 of our closest friends at a gorgeous old restaurant in the French Quarter on a picturesquely beautiful New Orleans spring night. Except, Mr. X wasn’t there because he had come down with a terrible stomach bug the day before which he proceeded to give to me and his parents who were staying with us. May I never have to hear of my in-laws digestive troubles in such detail again.
The next – yes, the next – day, we celebrated Rex’s 3rd birthday with a windy race-car party of running 3 year olds and alcohol-wanting adults. That night, I began to feel stomachly challenged and had to miss work the next day to lay on the couch while my in-laws begged for death in the guest bedroom and bathroom. Oh, and the appraiser from the bank came around to do an appraisal on the house for the new buyer.
We packed, closed on the new house, moved, unpacked, cleaned the old house and closed on it in a space of 9 days. NINE DAYS.
There were also the usual shenanigans of work, laundry, baby care, toddler wrangling, husband soothing, and kitty snorgling. In other words, I never want to do this again.