Easter is a week away. Did you know that? Because I didn’t. I mean, I did–I was sitting in mass yesterday, trying to wrestle a 22-month-old out from under a pew as a priest talked about it, after all–but not in the way it applied to me. As in, dinner and family and the Easter bunny and children’s sandals and church services. Had no idea I have just days left until it’s here.
Did you know that we missed our cousin’s son’s birthday party yesterday? Yep. I know, you’re upset that we’re not members of your family, right?
It’s like somebody took all the days of the calendar, shuffled them together like a deck of cards, then dealt us a hand that makes no sense. And I don’t even like to gamble.
There are 13 shrubs of various sizes and shapes sitting outside part of the front of our house, ready to be planted. This is after David convinced me that yes, the front of our house is in full sun for at least half the day. The plants, though, ready to be placed in their little soil homes, have been sitting in the shade all day. All day. Yes, we bought the “full sun” kind. Yes, my green thumb is the kind that is mottled and gangrene-looking. No, this does not look good for the future of our landscaping. And yes, this upsets me, and of course, I’m going to plant the danged things anyway. I’m that stubborn, and that impatient. That and they look kind of good out there. For now, anyway.
David and I are coming to the realization that trying to sell our house right now might not be the best move (get it?! MOVE?) for us right now. We don’t need to move, and the actual situation of not having sold our place yet, not wanting to drastically lower our listing price to sell our place, and the idea of what we will need to do in order to make a new house feel like a home makes us stop in our tracks. Is it worth it? Do we need to? There’s no other house we’ve fallen in love with. There’s no area that makes us go, yes, let’s go there. Maybe it’s a sign that we should sit tight for awhile.
Do you believe in signs? ‘Cause right now the only one I’m seeing is one of those that signifies a roundabout. You know: the circle with all the exits shooting off of it. Bah.
Saoirse asked me this morning: “Mom, are you going to have a good day today?” I just looked at her, slightly horrified, before I answered, “Of course, sweetheart!” I didn’t think I’d been acting any differently toward her. I hope not. But kids are smart. They have x-ray vision that makes the pit sitting in your stomach as obvious to them as the toy trains in their hands. I don’t want her to sense our tenseness. I don’t want to disrupt her innocence with our grown-up dilemmas. And I don’t want her to miss another family birthday party because we’re so overloaded with our own issues we can’t look outside of ourselves.
There are decisions to be made, people. When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to be old enough to make my own decisions for my life. And now all I want is for somebody to just steer me in the direction I need to go. As long as it’s not a roundabout. I’ve had enough of them for awhile.