"Strap a piece of toast -buttered side up- to the back of a cat. Throw the cat out of the window.
Will the cat land on its feet or will Murphy's law apply?"
In those last few days before Sky was shipping out to school, I made a huge to do list of all I would work on while he was away. I would look at it now, but it got lost about 3 days after he was gone. If I could look at it, though, I would just laugh. I do remember enough of it to know I haven't done a single thing on it. Oh, Erika. How cute to think you would accomplish things. But it turns out that it's just as well I didn't clean organize every closet like I planned.
Everyone warned me about Murphy's Law, and how Murphy would inevitably strike the second Sky's plane lifted up the landing gear. It's the worst-kept military spouse secret. What they didn't tell me is that Murphy can come in the form of something wonderful...and still be annoying.
I was taking out the trash yesterday morning when I happened to look down the street and see a sign, and it looked familiar to me. Squinting through my dirty glasses, I realized I had seen it once before, when we first moved to this street. It was in front of another building my landlords own, and it was advertising a 3 bedroom for rent.
Here is the back story: when Sky and I were first married, we rented the upstairs of an old house near campustown. It had five million steep, narrow stairs to reach it, was either blisteringly hot or sub-zero cold, and had a galley kitchen smaller than a Mini-Cooper. I loved that place; it had lots of charm and character, and it was only a couple blocks away from an amazing farmer's market, a quaint downtown, and a lovely restaurant in an old newspaper building. Completely smitten. We even got married in it.
But those 5 million stairs and temperature extremes weren't quite so tolerable with a baby on the way. A few months before Millie was born, we decided to look for a new place. We found one a quarter mile from my dad (and where I grew up), and could barely keep calm as the landlady showed us around. It was perfect, it was inexpensive compared to most places in town, and it was a very quiet, very safe neighborhood. Sky and I spent that first night on the floor even though I was pregnant- we were so excited to feel like we had a real home.
After Millie was born, I stopped working, and life settled down a bit, we realized having a three bedroom place for us was more than what we needed, and more than what we could pay. We decided to move four doors down to another building our landlords owned, this one a two bedroom and less expensive. We've been here a little over two years, and I don't regret it; we've saved a lot of money and stretched through those thinner income months.
When Sky left, he thought we should let the landlords know we were interested in a three bedroom place again. I never made the phone call, because I knew how unlikely it would be that one would open up, and I worried about affording it anyway. We could make do in this place for a few more years, I thought. When I saw that sign yesterday, though, I texted him immediately and called both my parents for advice. Going back to that place would mean the babies would have their own rooms- and while I don't care much about that, especially when they're little, I do relish the thought of not waking Millie with every 2am feeding and diaper change. I think about all the baby gear that spreads itself out into every nook and cranny, and know we'd have room to breathe in the new place. And I think about how I could cook in the kitchen and still see them in the living room with the open floor plan, instead of the way it's hidden now. We only left that place because this one was cheaper, but being a soon-to-be family of four, it makes a lot more sense to be back there now.
After talking it over with Sky (the conversation mostly consisting of: Erika- "Hey, there's a 3 bedroom open now." Sky- "GET IT.") and my parents, I called our sweet landlady and told her we wanted to do it. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where Murphy comes in. It turns out, I've somehow managed to have to PCS alone even without having orders to do so. It may be down the street, but it still requires packing this house into boxes to load on a truck, unpacking them all over again, switching everything over to the new address, etc. The move in date is before Sky gets home. And if I hate moving under any circumstances, I really hate moving without him, while pregnant, and in school. Not my cup of tea.
Before I sound like one of those annoying people complaining about good things, I want to say that it's a huge blessing, and I'm very excited to know that we won't be climbing all over each other with a new baby in the house. It's great timing, minus Sky being gone. We get to move to a bigger place without putting in a new deposit, and my dad can find us a huge moving truck for free. It can't get much better than that. I'm happy for what it means for us, and I'll be very happy to have Sky help me unpack it all after he gets home.
In the meantime, I will be up to my neck in cardboard boxes, thanking God and cursing Murphy all at the same time.