Published on October 20th, 2017 | by voxx0
I recently, and most importantly finally, moved into my own house. It’s a beautiful rented little house by the beach and everything I have been dreaming of since moving in with my parents two years ago. My parents are incredible, but living in one bedroom with my toddler was not. He needs space, I need space and I’ve had quite enough of spending extra time in the bathroom for some ‘me time’. I felt like a prisoner as Diego’s fists connected with the door. Trying, and failing to break me out.
I always left, defeated. My hope plummeting down the plughole, alongside my dignity. What lengths should a mother go to for some peace and quiet? It was becoming clear that I needed to get my head together before I forgot how to ‘adult’ completely.
Letters have gone missing, I’ve left things in places that shouldn’t even be places and I’ve missed appointments. Yet, things are coming together. Our new house already feels like home.
Diego seems to have grown to become a teenager. He’s taken over the house like a boss baby. I hope he doesn’t fire me! I always thought that being the only adult in the house would mean any decision I made would be the final one. Wrong. If I forget to do something – BIG trouble. If I do something unnecessarily – DOG HOUSE. Heaven forbid if our Chihuahua as much as dares to look at Diego’s toys! It’s like separating squabbling siblings!
It’s complete chaos, but it’s brilliant. There’s a wine rack in the fridge, I’ve found the movie channel and kid’s TV. I’d say this move has been successful.
Minus some broken ornaments, furniture, the toddler boss and the misplacement of what should be some fantastic muscles, I’d say things are going fabulously!
- By Boneata Bell