The boxes are slowly turning into empty boxes; we're settling into the house. I have done a fat lot of nothing to get us to this point - Bump has done nearly all the work with some help from Nana. Bump's mother arrived yesterday and both mothers are eager to do whatever they can to help. The to-do list in my head is a billion things long but it's tough to think of tasks for others to perform that aren't "Unpack that box and put its contents in a logical place, meaning we won't be able to find it after you leave so we'll buy a replacement and will end up moving two copies of the damn thing next time."
My homesickness is abating, just like all of you said it would. Considering that 1) moving usually turns me into a basket case anyway, 2) the crazy pregnancy nesting instinct is frustrated by the contractions that start after I unpack one stinking box, and 3) I haven't been able to stress-drink my way through this ordeal; I think I am managing my hormone-addled state quite beautifully.
A few hiccups:
1) Our phone doesn't work. We were supposed to be able to transfer our number to the new house, and while service stopped at the condo, it never started at the new address. When I called to complain, customer service was terribly confused.
Customer Service: The phone number is [cell phone number]?
Me: No, the number is [inoperative home phone number].
Customer Service: Why aren't you calling from that number?
Me: Because that number doesn't work. Which is why I'm calling.
Customer Service: So you can't call us back from the number on the account?
Me: . . . No. I'd love to, but no.
The phone company said they would send someone out as soon as possible: which would be Monday. Sometime between the hours of 8am and 7pm.
What the hell did people do before cell phones?
2) The cable installer never showed up. I think that is shocking to exactly no one. The cable company said the order didn't go through, so on the way to get his mom from the airport Bump went to the office and picked up the boxes. We now have cable on one TV [yay], but because we have no phone line, still don't have Tivo service [boo].
Incidentally, why is everyone using those stupid voice response prompts now instead of touch-tones? It is damn near impossible to complete a call without one of the kids yelling about something, resulting in that annoying "I'm sorry, I didn't understand. Did you say [MAMA! BABY IS PUSHING ME!] [click] [pause] I'm sorry I didn't understand. Did you [baby squeals] [click] [pause] I'm sorry you're having trouble. Would you like to [AAAAHHHHH] [click] . . . "
3) I thought Lumpyhead broke his hand. He got away from Bump's mother's watchful eye long enough to do something - we're not sure what, exactly, but we think he fell off the bed - and then screamed and cried about hurting his hand. He spent the next whiny hour either using his injured hand normally or letting it dangle limply at the end of his wrist. Then he fell asleep. We decided that since his hand wasn't swollen and he was able to use it okay, he was probably fine. Then he woke up hysterical and complaining about his thumb, so I started mapping the route to the emergency room in my head again. He fell back asleep, only to wake up yelling about his index finger hurting, so I don't know what the hell to think. If he's still talking about it this morning (and the pain hasn't moved to yet a different finger) I'll probably take him to the pediatrician.
You know what? I think it's these little disasters that make a place feel like home.