Just biding my time....

Waiting.  It's what we do.  We sometimes feel we spend half of our life waiting.  Just for kicks, I googled "time spent waiting," and the first result that popped up was that the average person spends 45-62 minutes waiting each day for various things--downloading something from the internet, pumping gas, waiting for an elevator, etc.


I feel I am in perpetual waiting mode, just biding my time for the next few weeks.  Waiting for my parents to leave at the end of this week so we can move into the bedroom we will be sleeping in for the next two years.  Waiting for the closing of our old house to occur in 10 days.  Waiting for the baby to come, whenever that may be.  Waiting to see what gender the child will be.  Waiting to see if my brother will move out and thus provide us with an extra bedroom of space.  Waiting for it to get consistently warm.  One would think all of this waiting would drive me crazy.  I would think all of this waiting would drive me crazy!  But somehow, I am slowly adapting to this waiting game.  I think it's because I have reached my maximal threshold for stress and I just don't have the energy to resist any more (amplified infinitely by being 9-months-pregnant).  Writer beware.  This is when Darth Vadar says, "Give into the dark side," and like a dam breaking, I could say, "Okay."  And yet, there would be no surprise.


And a John Mayer song runs through my head....

Lauren's a mini-me?

You know, when Lauren was born, I didn't think she inherited much from me.  I mean, sure, she has my big melon of a head (thus, the need for an episiotomy), and I figured she got the Schade chin and a singular dimple like me (on the opposite side).  But until recently, I didn't think she got much else from me other than my stubborn temperament.  But check out her likeness to a picture of me that my mom pulled out:

I was amazed at how similar we look.  Kevin now calls Lauren my clone or a mini-me.  And she also is turning into a control freak, though her excuse could just be that she's a toddler and learning to exercise her dominion.  What's my excuse, again?

On a totally different note....The other day, Lauren wanted to do "the animals" on the computer, which involves playing on Fisher-Price's website.  I had showed her before how to do the ABCs game, which is simply pressing the space bar to advance to the next screen.  But she likes the game matching the animal sound to the animal, which requires you to actually move the cursor to the animal, and then click.  Previously, I would always do it for her.  But I was not in the disposition to do it for her this day, and thought, "What the heck?"  So I showed her how to use one finger to work the touch pad on my laptop and then left click.  I didn't actually think she'd be able to do it.  But she was able to do it from the first try. 

I was half awestruck, and half full of pride that my little girl was growing up.  I guess I shouldn't be that surprised.  She is 3, after all, which is when I started playing the piano.  I guess I just got so used to thinking of her as a "baby", that now when she actually shows signs of growing up into a little girl, it knocks me off balance.  I'm amazed at how quickly these little sponges pick up on concepts, language, conversational skills, hand-eye coordination, etc.!!!

Well, we've gone and moved....

Well, we did it.  With the countdown on to baby Esch coming and my parents leaving on their mission in a month, we went ahead and moved into my parents' house.  This is NOT something I recommend doing while parents are STILL LIVING in the house.  We only moved a third of our stuff down, and there have already been quite a few rough patches, some hurt feelings, and lessons in eggshell walking--not an easy feat.  Of course, it doesn't help that one party is emotionally charged with leaving their home behind and departing the country for two years, and the other party is hormo-tionally charged with pregnancy hormones and anxious about juggling two kids.

 My parents' living room at the moment, which will probably see little change in the next 3-4 weeks until we can clear out room for Esch stuff.

But the good--make that GREAT--news is that the week we planned on moving anyway, we FINALLY, after two long years, were able to put our house under contract!!!!  Not the price we've wanted, but the timing is right to just cut bait and walk away.  And this buyer seems to be quite reasonable, in comparison to the neurotic buyer of '08 and the non-committal buyer of '09.  (Though I'm not a fan of this home inspector, who seems quite reluctant to share info on how to remedy situations.)  But barring unforeseen obstacles, we should have our house sold by the time the baby comes. (Preferably before.) 

I can't help but think of an Elder Oaks article that I came across last month as I was chucking old BYU Magazines.  It was all about timing and surrendering ourselves to God's timing.  He said you can have the best-laid plans for the most righteous reasons, but ultimately, it is not our choice in life how the timing of things works out.  Examples he referred to included finding your spouse and moving from place to place.  Hmm.  Both quite appropo in my life.  When I stumbled upon this article, I thought it was to help me more with the visiting teaching message of last couple of months on being emotionally resilient in learning self-reliance and managing resources.  But now, with the sale of our house happening just as we were planning to move, just before the baby comes, and just before my parents leave, I see that the article was to prepare me to again learn the lesson of Ecclesiates 3:1: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

I suppose I should have closed with just that, but I feel the need to vent a little.  If you want to stop reading, feel free.  But since this is my blog....I have to admit I do have quite a bit of seller's remorse.  I love my house and how we've really made it ours over the last 6 3/4 years.  I love the neighborhood, especially our new neighbors who moved in last year.  I love all the natural light that comes in through the south windows.  I love the new doors we put in.  I love all the snow we get up there (despite only 25 miles farther north).  I love feeling independent and self-sufficient, grown-up and responsible.  I worry that we'll never get that again.  I'm sure it's hard for everyone to leave their first house.  But if I had another house of my own to look forward to, I think I could adjust.  However, it's a bit depressing, as well as I feel like I'm regressing to move into my parents' home, the place I grew up.  Sure, we'll be saving a truckload of money each month.  Sure, we'll eventually have more room.  Sure, we'll be minutes from Kevin's work.  Sure, we'll have more family time.  Sure, we'll save money by not paying Cook County's insane sales tax.  Sure, we'll have access to a pool for two summers.  But with future housing so uncertain, and, as one person put it to Kevin, needing a shoehorn to make two households fit into one, it certainly makes the seller's remorse cut even deeper.