Taking Stock

Sometimes it helps to step back and take stock just in case you have started to lose perspective completely (hypothetically speaking, of course). So, I've decided to make a list of the good, the bad, and the ugly from our first week in our new home. If I had my office together and computer up and running, I'd make a clever table-like chart. But since I'm blogging via phone, you're out of luck.

So, first, the good:

No more Comcast. And added bonus? Since we no longer have Comcast, I no longer need to remember our child-lock PIN, which I changed and then promptly forgot. This means I can watch movies and TV rated higher than PG for the first time since February. Score! 

Massive gluten-free and organic sections at the grocery. On the downside, no one told me they don't take credit cards, so I had to make an embarrassing and unexpected run to the bank while the cashier held onto my food.

My bank is only 8 miles away instead of 25.

Ren and I now have a bedroom on an entirely different level of the house. That means I can't hear it when the kids wake up and start fighting over Lego at 5 a.m. Added bonus? Separate rooms for them means they fight less over Lego anyway.

Gluten-free buns AND trains at a nearby restaurant.

The colors we chose for the kids' rooms might just work after all. A word of caution: "Lone Star Quilt" by Dutch Boy paints is a heck of a lot darker than you'd expect. Fortunately, once you add a bit of furniture and an off-setting color scheme, it's really not that bad. 

We have more than one bathrooom. 

WE HAVE MORE THAN ONE BATHROOM! 

No raucous college kids or crime watch signs anywhere in sight.

You can really buy just about anything online.

The bad:

You can buy just about anything online.

We know no one here except the realtor and the guys remodeling the basement.

The basement remodel means most of kids' toys are still in boxes. I knew we shouldn't have believed it when they said they'd be done by move-in day.

It's absolutely no fun to get to a zoo you've never been to before and realize your spouse can't really walk and the two kids most able to help push the wheelchair are only interested in high-risk driving.  

Even though we have more than one bathroom including an "en suite" far from where the kids sleep or play, someone still always manages to interrupt me every time I try to relieve myself. Every. Single. Time.

Explaining the kids' allergies and dietary restrictions always makes me look a) pathetic, b) overbearing, or c) like the most unlucky parent in the world. People usually respond by feeling sorry for me, being slightly annoyed, or acting visibly shocked. I'd forgotten how terribly unhelpful these responses really are.

In guess, really, things aren't that bad. I think Ren's back is clouding my judgment. That's the only truly ugly.