Hammering

The new house is beginning to feel like home. It doesn't really feel "New" with its place so near to the old house but there is no question of the upgrade in amenities. The luxury of sitting on a toilet that is level and sturdy under my anorexic weight is quite a relief, all by itself. I worried continually when my son's wife carried her considerable mass that direction. None of the floors in this old shack are any too sturdy and the bathroom, in particular, slants entirely too many ominous directions. Then we get to the concept of central heat. Luxury on high! ! ! No more police action to keep the baby safe from space heaters while she masters the art of walking! ! ! What a concept! ! ! No more overloaded electrical sockets that look like sculptures far too intriguing for a baby to resist. YAY! ! !

The decking crew only worked half a day yesterday but got the deck far enough that we can now sit outside the sliding glass door in the dining room. Still no stairs safe enough to carry furniture into the house, but it won't be long now. Just praying. . .

Hubs and I decided to remove all traces of Christmas from the donated gifts still rolling in. Reason one is worries of over-stimulation for the children. They have endured entirely too much chaos in their short little lives and the routine we have established with them since that chaos landed them here in August remains quite fragile, even without the current two weeks in a radically different environment with their mother's family and the ominous grown-up rumbles about the up-coming permanency hearing. I suspect they are hearing allot more about that from the lawyered-up faction there than we let them hear in our care. Our hope is that having the new house ready to roll out the school train is a far more sustainable focus than more Ho Ho two weeks after The Day. Reason number two is that we listed kid room organizers to the wish list. Gotta know what to shop for and in the world according to Arf, organizing is a key element in launching a well-conducted school train. I avoid duplicate efforts whenever possible.

Hubby's forray into Bachelor Hall was anti-climatic. All doors were closed and he was able to wade through the chaotic housekeeping without being noticed. Snoozing bachelors arenae difficult to slip past. We're okay with studying ignorance of aging bachelor yaddahs. Our lives are complicated enough without the yaddahs of middle aged child blahs. For now, it feels great that Hubs and I are discovering routes to safe discussion of the subject. Guilt trips and blame games over where we went wrong as parents are far from productive and the city ordinance enforcers holding us to owner responsibilities definitely donae want to hear about how 40 year old residents came to be so irresponsible. Even legal ordinance enforcers have problems of their own.

Hubs and I are nagging one another about rest and self-care being productive activities, but the drive for stability is nagging even louder. I am still saluting all nag flags, and there are many of them waving, but I believe we are holding steady. Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer.

The guit-chi report is holding steady at, "Just Sing." Lots and lots of angel kisses. I still haven't tickled those imitation ivories I set up in the Christmas corner. Piano was my first instrument and the vehicle of the music therapy which broke through my mutism during early adolescence. Keyboards just might be one of the weirdest psycho snot knots in my psychobaggage car. Just noting. . . Today doesnae feel like a good day to tackle any more psycho snot knots than absotively necessary. I'm already crazier than usual.