I'm going to insert a pause in the near-irrational Blathering excitement (although, please note, I FINALLY decided what I am going to pack, which has been a dilemma of Mammoth and Life-Impacting Proportions) and tell you that we are having a rough-ish time in the Cheung household. These kids, they are not making it easy.
I can think of a million and a half reasons why either the kids are being difficult or seem like they're being more difficult because Phillip and I are stressing about other stuff. Like impending upheavals to the world as we know it, aka Grad School. Truthfully I think it's a combination of both. Phillip and I have a lot of nervous-making stuff going on, but our typically-good sleeper kids have been nightmares for the last two weeks. The boy won't GO to sleep and the girl won't STAY asleep. I don't know how many times in the last two weeks we've had to stash Molly in another room so Jack can cry it out at bedtime, or run into their room at 3am to play musical bedrooms with Molly so SHE can cry it out. We've been staying up late and getting up early, my lower back is killing me because Molly isn't happy unless she's being carried or practicing walking, I am so very much in denial about the amount of time Phillip is going to be around starting next week and why don't I have any fun shoes to wear this weekend?
Most of this boils over into a conversation we've been having near-daily: when we're going to move out of this house. You should have seen my normally calm cool cucumber of a husband yank off his socks and throw them on the floor instead of lazily sliding them off with the opposite feet. "We! Are! MOVING!" he announced, and began munching his Lays potato chips with a little more vigor than usual.
I don't know if YOU do this, but in the CHEUNG household it's a common theme to assume there is One Magic Solution to all of our problems. For the last couple of days that solution has been More Than Two Bedrooms. Well, since we technically have more than two bedrooms right now, I should amend that to Three Bedrooms We Can Actually USE As Bedrooms. We do the cry it out thing and we have yet to be successful at having one kid sleeping peacefully while the other screams bloody murder in the same room. It's just not happening, no matter how many times my mom says, "Oh, they'll get used to each other."
(And maybe they are TOO used to each other, since Molly now naps in the office because she and Jack would play peekaboo in their cribs FOR HOURS at nap time. NOT OKAY.)
The third bedroom is two floors away from mine, and therefore is unacceptable for nighttime baby containing. No matter what my husband says, this is the case and I will not budge.
Last night I carefully tried to tell Phillip that moving to a three bedroom house doesn't mean our kids will fall asleep at 8 and sleep till 7 every single blessed night. And I honestly don't see what it will do for the girl who must be hefted around like the oldest daughter of the emperor. Or for the boy who won't eat anything that isn't tubular and orange.
But we take turns at Most Frustrated and Most Desperate. Normally it's me, so I ought to give Phillip his once-in-a-blue-moon pouty meltdowns. And I'm the one who came up with Get New House Quick Scheme. We're thinking about putting the house on the market in the spring, hopefully have it sell by the end of the summer and renting for a year. We can't really buy another house yet, for reasons mostly having to do with still having another year of grad school, but this way we can get more space without having to wait until Phillip is done with school. We THINK. Sometime after the holidays I intend to do some intense internet research and find myself a realtor who Knows Things. I need to know if this will even WORK, for starters.
I love our house. It's new and beautiful and I didn't even mess it up too much with my horrid paint jobs and constant mind-changing about where things should be on the walls. It's the PERFECT HOUSE - for people who don't have kids. Or people who have one tiny kid. Or even just ONE kid. But it's hard with two, and I'm trying to stop feeling guilty about saying that. I mean, you guys saw the pictures of my kitchen! How can I complain about a house that has that kitchen! But while there is enough TOTAL space, it's space that's laid out in a really frustrating way when you are wrangling two people who need constant supervision. There are two flights of stairs. The main floor is one big room, with no corner or alcove where I might stash a sleeping baby. The hallway upstairs has no extra space, no area where the kids can really play or (again) where I might stash a sleeping baby. Space is tight in both the bedrooms upstairs, and whatever extra space we had in the office is now used up by the pack 'n play. And the yard, which I originally loved because it wasn't fenced off into a little pen like every other townhouse on our street, is impossible for Jack to really use BECAUSE it isn't fenced in. Not that I would let him play out there by himself anyway, even if it were fenced, because I spend my time two floors away from that yard. IT'S JUST NOT WORKING ANYMORE.
How did this turn into a rant about my house? I'm sure I have MUCH more complaining to do about the nightly 3am Musical Bedrooms game.
Anyway. That's what's going on with us. We are tired. Don't cross us. And I promise not to talk about it this weekend. MUCH, anyway.