Please humor me…I am hoping if I get this all off my chest I will stop moping around…so here goes.
As some of you may or may not be aware, Ellie and I live in a somewhat small apartment. And by somewhat small, I mean – IF I DON’T GET A BIGGER APARTMENT REALLY SOON, I AM GOING TO ABSOLUTELY LOSE MY MIND.
You know I am all about the action. So I have been frantically looking all over Washington Heights for a 2 bedroom apartment, that is quiet, that has an elevator (so I am not tempted to throw the stroller down the stairs), and is close enough to the subway that I don’t get scared walking home after dark. Simple, enough…right?
WRONG…SO F-ING WRONG.
You see, I found what I affectionately call, “The best apartment ever” and I filled out an application, wrote out a check for the deposit, and had my family come in to give me the stamp of approval. This was on Friday.
All weekend, I looked around my parents house for furniture that I could steal for Ellie’s room…Furniture that my parents will pretend to miss, but I know that my father secretly wants nothing more than every last bit of furniture out of their house – that includes the furniture they actually use…I really think my Dad has an anti-furniture thing going on, but that is for another blog.
My mom was going to make nice pillow covers for these huge floor pillows that have seen better days for Ellie’s room, I picked out a new real sized crib for Ellie, I laid in bed moving the imaginary Christmas Tree from one area of the living room, to the foyer, back to the living room. I began inviting family over for dinners because, “I am going to have so much space I won’t know what to do with it.”
Well that problem solved itself with a phone call from the broker telling me that the management company had promised the apartment to a current tenant that wanted a bigger place, without telling her. She was very sorry, but I couldn’t have the apartment.
I sat on the couch and cried. And then I told myself that I am very blessed and have a healthy daughter and we will figure this out. Okay, in between there I may have called my parents to cry to them.
And I was keeping it together just fine until I saw a nice apartment today in the same area, a bit smaller, with a laundry room that was not nearly as well kept – all things I was okay with sacrificing.
Until I noticed one HUGE missing detail.
I was admiring all of the cabinet space in the kitchen and I paused mid-scan and turned to my broker and said -
“WHERE IS THE DISHWASHER?”
“Oh, there isn’t one. I didn’t know that a dishwasher was on your list of must-haves.”
“UM…IT IS. I AM 31-years-old, I AM A SINGLE MOM AND I WORK FULL-TIME. I AM NOT HAND WASHING BOTTLES. I HAVE A DISHWASHER NOW AND I AM NOT MOVING BACKWARD IN LIFE.”
“Okay then…we will call the management company and see if they will put a dishwasher in.”
Then I regained my composure and admired the closet space.
And then I called my mom on my walk home from the subway, when I was 45-minutes late getting home to the very understanding nanny and a very cranky Ellie. (That would be the new nanny, the previous nanny quit giving me 3 days notice a few weeks ago).
I sort of yelled at my mom about how much this sucks and how hard it is trying to do everything, all the time, always. I just need two of me sometimes.
Or maybe all of the times.
And tonight I just decided, I am allowed to throw myself a pity party for a few hours.
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