Major lesson learned from husband falling from 3 story balcony and having to stay in a hospital bed for 5 weeks at his parents house:
I LOVE my little house and all its cramped spaces and disorganization and tiny 1940's closets with no room and not-so-perfect drapes and dog hair tumble weeds and deck with chipped paint.
We do not need to live with my in-laws for a year to save money for a bigger house.
I am perfectly content in staying here and saving as much money as we comfortably can each month. I feel happier knowing that our first child will be with us in our first home where we humbly began...they will share in that togetherness with us. Maybe not REMEMBER, but they'll know that they slept under our little roof and ate veggies from our little garden and swung in our striped hammock with us. I remember feeling a sad pit in my stomach when we made the decision to move in with my in-laws...not because I don't like them or felt it would be particularly difficult, but because I really wanted a BABY in THIS house....in our little yellow room with lots of light. In my mind it has always been "the nursery".
So, now we can do that....with confidence and without wonder.
Living with my in-laws these last 5 weeks because of Trevor's injury was a blessing in disguise. We learned that while it's great to have a Mom and Dad cook and clean for you, pay the cable bill, walk the dog, offer to do laundry, load the dishwasher, and have a hot meal waiting for you at 8pm after a 14 hour day....it ultimately feels WAY better to do those things on your own...at your own speed, on your own terms. I think it was after the first 2 weeks when we just looked at each other a blurted out almost simultaneously that we couldn't wait to get back to our little house.
So here we are. Back home. Piles of laundry and dishes. Doors off the hinges so Trevor can maneuver easily. A 3 foot pile of paperwork to shuffle through. Barely any food in the fridge.
And it feels so damn good.