At the end of May I flew home to Texas from DC for a two week vacation (ha!)/little bro’s HS graduation/baby showoff/house hunting trip. I boarded a plane with a baby one day shy of 4 weeks old and prayed he would sleep through the whole 6 hour journey so I wouldn’t be “that mom” on the plane with “that baby” that everyone wanted to punt. It was incredibly exhausting and draining, though not because Kendall was fussy. He actually did sleep through the majority of the trip, snug as a bug in my Moby Wrap, keeping a close eye on his precious food source with his head resting between my boobs. The problem was that I had only been without a fever from the second case of mastitis in a week for about 24 hours, was running on only 4 hours of sleep since Kendall was still very much a nocturnal creature before leaving, and was breaking out in itchy hives everywhere from a reaction to the antibiotics I was taking for the mastitis. I was worn out from all the misery from the preceding weeks (post delivery week 1 – stitches, crushed tailbone, no sleep – week 2 – stitches, crushed tailbone, no sleep, contact dermatitis – week 3 – stitches, crushed tailbone, no sleep, contact dermatitis, mastitis – week 4- no sleep, insane, hormonal bitch, mastitis, reaction to the meds to help with mastitis) and was overwhelmed by what was ahead of me (travel with newborn by myself halfway across the country, introduce newborn to hundreds of people who will want to touch/kiss/infect him, face my very small hometown crowd at one of the year’s biggest community events at 4 weeks post partum knowing that every girl who hated me in HS will be judging how I look and loving it, drive across the state of TX – a very big state – to Dallas to look for and select a house to buy in 48 hours).
I did make it there alive… barely, and managed to meet up with my dad and his girlfriend at the airport where Kendall met them for the first time and I was happy to pass him off so I could have two free hands to vigorously scratch the hives. We had a fabulous visit and the first few days really weren’t that bad. Kendall finally started settling into a normal sleep schedule, the graduation went great (even though I was accosted by several people who wanted to smear their germs all over my not even immunized yet baby), and we even attended a fabulous “Meet the baby” shower with people who I trusted were icky germ free. Then the real fun began.
A couple months ago we got word that my husband was finally approved for a transfer from DC to Dallas. It was such a relief. As much as we love the DC area, it has never been more blaring obvious that this place is expensive as hell and too far away from family as it is with a newborn and a nearly 4 year old in a crapass, overpriced 2 bedroom apartment. The fact that we can get a very respectable home in TX twice the size of this place for what would only buy us a lean-to in this area was incentive enough to brave the house hunting insanity with a newborn and only my sister for support. (I had to make the trip to TX alone because Scott had to stay here to watch Hailey and the dogs and to finish up some projects at work.)
Our two day house hunt was a success, and after running in to look at countless homes while my sister and real estate agent took turns soothing Kendall in the constantly running rental car (boy, we did a number on the environment and the checkbook those two days), we finally found the one. Well, it ended up being “the one” after the first “the one” we put a bid on went to someone else (but I’m not bitter…really). Now, even though the whole house hunting, putting an offer in, countering, financing crap was quite insane and has consumed our lives these last two weeks, I am under no illusion that the worst is over.
No. We are leaving tomorrow to DRIVE to TX from DC (a 20ish hour drive without a breastfeeding/I constantly want to eat baby) with Kendall, Hailey, 2 dogs, a cat, a moving truck (which we have to pack ourselves tomorrow morning), two vehicles, and (thank the dear Lord) my sister and Scott’s brother- who will no doubt be vital buffers between me and Scott and may actually be able to take credit for saving our marriage after this insane road trip. And before any of that can even happen we obviously have to pack. Ha! I sit here in a sea of mess that is nowhere close to even resembling organized chaos.
So with that said, I guess I should get my ass off of here and go throw some crap in boxes….or the dumpster. The dumpster is looking far more appealing at this point. You most likely won’t hear from me until at least next Saturday, and that’s assuming I haven’t committed myself to the first treatment facility inside Texas state lines. I hope the next time I blog I will be doing so from inside our first home, and I am sure I will have lots of wonderfully wild stories to tell about our magical journey. This trip should be nothing if not good material.
6 weeks 1 day old.