every day when we return from school, oliver and i chat about the progress. he shows he's been paying attention when he says things like, "goodness gracious. would you look at that? that's awful that they tore those houses down. that's very naughty. we'll have to go over there and put things under their fingernails for being so naughty." i'm not sure where he got that last bit, but it makes me think of viet nam.
as we were pulling in on monday, after a driving nap, i saw them nearing the end of the first building, straight across from our drive. i walked the children halfway down to it, oliver crying in his fight to extract himself from sleep. he finally calmed as we watched the last wall being knocked down. we were the last to say goodbye to the house.
he worries that they're going to tear our house down and i tell him no way.
i also learned he has anxiety over moving from here to a house. i didn't realize he had developed an attachment to this place and i reckon he hadn't realized it either, until he learned it's possible to not live in one place all your life. i've been trying to gently extoll the virtue of single family home living without pushing him over the edge.
yards to run in and picnic in, hammocks, gardens, compost piles, friends in sprinklers, trikes on driveways, picking out your own room because your sister is too young to know any better.
i pointed out some houses over by where marianne and annette live and he ordered me in a stern voice to drive away from there.
have i told you all this already?
i look around this place and feel suffocated. i don't know how on earth to get it ready to sell, much less be a non-embarrassment. just the daily muck of two days swallows me up. i collected a big bag of clothes for good will. but more clothes just replace it. i need to lose my weight, finally, so i can say goodbye confidently to more bags of clothes, knowing they really are in poor style and not just clinging to too much fatty tissue.
brian tells me we have to sell this place before buying another and that causes me all kinds of new levels of stress. i'm not good at quick decisions, generally. i guess. and that sounds like a whole lot of decisions, big decisions, to be made at once. i mean, this is the next me we're talking about. the me of a lot of years to come. who am i going to be? what neighborhood will partially define me? how about the bathroom tile? it will determine friends of children. what if we move in next door to future hooligans?