Zzzz

So you know how my blog title might seem like it's about living on a ranch-ish property? I can see where you'd get that. But actually, no, it's from my postpartum days with Bea, when I realized how insane this house is when you're trying to care for a 4-year-old, an infant, and a crazy Frenchie all day everyday. It's up and down and over and down and up and across and yelling "I can't hear you from any other room than the one you're in, Harper, but I'll be RIGHT THERE TO WIPE YOU! I'm just taking Georgie out/changing Bea's diaper/putting clothes in the dryer/peeing!" And then scrambling and sliding down stairs to find her.

I started saying I really wanted a reasonable ranch. You know -- mid-century style, easy breezy one-floor livin'. Give the kids a bath and then saunter to their rooms and then saunter to the kitchen and then saunter to the living room and then saunter to bed. Basically, I envisioned massive quantities of sauntering.

No shouting through the ancient walls to get heard or tripping over millions of staircases or strategically placing multiple space heaters and keeping a woodstove roaring from 6 AM to keep the temp above 55. Did I mention the dog who needs to be let out 175 times a day to very particular spots of land? Too much, I say!

This is all the definition of #firstworldprobs, of course, but I'm just zapped. It's beautiful here and sometimes magical and would be just lovely at a different stage of life, I'm sure. It's basically a great house to visit, but not to manage. Because for now, for me, I am constantly in a scramble from cold room to cold room, trying to keep things together and the kids happy (with their very different, 4-years-apart needs) and the dog fed and the husband fed and maybe not myself fed since I still have 7 pounds to lose and it's exhausting in this layout. #crymeariver #iknow

This is one of the reasons I am so excited about apartment living. I know we'll be cramped at times, I know it's going to come with its own list of frustrations and limitations, but it's going to be a better fit for me. For us, I hope. I know how to keep an apartment clean. I can keep a kitchen and one bathroom and a few extra spaces tidy. I'll have all that on lockdown and won't feel like I'm always one (or one hundred) steps behind on housework.

And! I won't have to leave Harper alone in remote corners of the house while I do baby things or George things. How will we ever adjust to communicating without (kind but very loud) yelling...?

Anyways. I'm working extra hard these days because on top of reg cleaning maintenance, I'm pushing to clear this house of extra stuff (there's a lot) and organizing what we want to take with to Brooklyn or donate or leave behind. I've always got a closet to clean or drawer to organize or box of clothes to sift through and I've always got a tiny baby Niecy Nash who's giving me sass while I do it. It's a strangely satisfying kind of work and I'm feeling more and more on top of things, but by the end of the day there's little left for anything too fun or soul/brain oriented (like book writing!) I'm okay with focusing on the mundane for now, though. Just knowing it's not forever keeps me buoyant.

All of this is to say: I'm tired, but excited -- and I'll be happy when the stuff's gone, I'm in my reasonable Brooklyn ranch, and there's a pocket of time for me (and probably a cronut).