This one’s dedicated to all the middle school girls out there…

News bulletin: We are not moving from our house this summer.

That was the original plan, for sure – we had been offered a great (GREAT) deal on a house in a great (GREAT) location by a family that we knew well whom we knew would be terrific landlords.

And then we went to look at the house.

I kept trying hard to justify things in my mind, like “Two bedrooms will be fine, we’ll just be cozy!” or “The floor to ceiling wood paneling will make it feel like we’re in a rustic cabin all year round! How nice!” or “Sure the back yard is all over grown kudzu, but what a little boy’s paradise, right?”

Except no. Two bedrooms might have been ok, but one of them had no closets and was tee-ninesy. It would have had to have been Bug’s, because our bedroom furniture would not have fit in it, except, OH RIGHT – it would have to be Other Kid’s room too. (“Other Kid” is not going to be his/her permanent name on this blog – I am ruminating on a chosen pseudonym) Lorso would have had no place to park his scooter – now we have a carport where it is covered and is easily chained up. Bug *might* have enjoyed exploring the vast poison-ivied neverland of the new backyard, but his A-#1 Fave Outside Activity of All Time is RUNNING. Doesn’t matter if he has a destination. He just wants to run. Our current backyard? Pretty swell for running. Kudzu land? Not so much. And when I explored my inner deep self and was fiercely honest I knew that living in a house that was 85% wood paneling would pretty much make me a basket case. I’m like a plant – I grow in light sources. Current house? Sunny. Plus there was the whole issue of having to get rid of fully half of our furniture in order to fit our belongings into the house. I am all for scaling back – Lord knows we all have too much in this life, but when the Lorso was talking about how maybe we could put a wardrobe in the living area to keep our clothes in so that we could walk in our bedroom, I started to wonder if maybe this was not going to work out.

But lo, there was gnashing of teeth and wailing and rending of garments before the decision to stay at our current house was finally arrived at. Because while Other House was teeny weeny, it had the Holy Grail of Things, the Luxuries After Which I Lust, the Dynamic Duo of Domestic Dwelling.

It had a dishwasher and a bathtub.

BOTH. BOTH THINGS. RIGHT THERE WITHIN MY GRASP.

But we walked away.

It is for the best, I know this to be true, and I am surprisingly happy not to have to move while pregnant, plus we’ve been given the go ahead to paint some rooms in this house (although the Bunches of Grapes wallpaper stays, unfortunately) which makes me irrationally, spasmodically happy. I’m excited to have walls that are not off-white for the first time in my 7-year marriage. And the dishwasher? Meh. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it would save us a shi-TON of work if we had one, but we’ll muddle through. People went for years and years and years without them – we’ll survive.

But I’m pretty sure even Jesus got to take a freakin’ bath every once in a while.

So to ease my crushed heart and not soon to be soaked body I am going to summon up my tweenager self – the one who crushed on boys and saw that love go unrequited. The girl who turned to her friends in such trying times and had these sage words seriously and reverently repeated to her. And she knew them to be true. Because anything that can be inked onto the bathroom stall at the local middle school or penned into a yearbook is Gospel Truth:

If you love something, let it go.
If it returns to you, it is yours forever.
If it doesn’t, it was never meant to be.

Rachel + B.T. = LUV 4-EVER

It will return to me someday.

3 comments

1 Kate { 04.10.08 at 4:07 pm }

Remember you have a standing offer to come use my tub anytime you want–and to fall asleep in my kid-free place and walk to work the next morning.

I know it’s not the same as having your own b.t.–kind of like when that cute boy finally called you, and your heart and stomach were all aflutter, but turns out what he wanted was not to take you to the dance, but help with his math homework (maybe this was just me)–but it’s something. And no algebra required!

2 Gramps { 04.11.08 at 7:34 am }

You remember, I assume, that the alternate version of that middle school chorus is that if it doesn’t return, you hunt it down and kill it. Here’s hoping you don’t have to hunt B. T. down and kill it.

3 Amy { 04.12.08 at 3:41 pm }

Laughing so hard…made me cry a little….still laughing out loud and the dog is looking at me like I’m crazy. Sorry you won’t have a dishwasher, but you know, until I turned 18 I didn’t know dishwashers existed…I WAS the family dishwasher. Sounds like a good job for the next generation if you ask me!

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