Install hardwood on main floor. Move refrigerator, dishwasher and stove into kitchen. Hook up washer and dryer. Lay carpet upstairs. Begin to unpack and put away clothes and toiletries. Make several trips to IKEA and Home Depot. Install new light fixtures and find ways to organize in our new space. Finally get the internet connected. Get the previous owners to come back and remove their broken down van and hot tub from the backyard. Celebrate Slade’s birthday. Celebrate father’s day. Celebrate my birthday. Meet our new neighbors at a summer kickoff bbq and set up playdates with the kids across the street. Find and visit our new pediatrician. Step into the VP board position at ArtsEd Washington. Set up a date night to see Titanic at Roosevelt High School (those kids are talented!). Bring in all remaining furniture from the garage. Enroll Liam in a co-op preschool down the street.
These things all happened in the first 2 months of living here. We were rockin’. We were on the cusp of getting this place whipped into shape and I was enjoying feeling settled in after 3 months of packing, renovating and moving. And then Fourth of July weekend: I take a pregnancy test and the universe stops moving. I proceed to spend the next 10 weeks in my pajamas, eating crackers and napping 3 hours a day while caring for an increasingly energetic 2 year old and moaning about how much I hate being pregnant (i really hate being pregnant and all i could find to be thankful for was that this is the last time i will be pregnant).
This week it started to rain. I couldn’t be happier. I pulled out our boots and fleece jackets. Summer is over and I’m not puking anymore. Fall is good. I am thankful for Fall.