There’s little I hate more than apartment hunting. Job hunting trumps it, but not by much.
We moved into our current place in December, and thought it was going to be long term. We signed an eight-month lease, bringing us up to August 1. This winter was FREEZING. We’re in a 105 year old house with really, really old windows that even with plastic on them still are so drafty that we quickly realized that wearing sweaters and slippers would keep us warmer than upping the thermostat. We were spending $250/month in electric heat and our thermostat was at 15 degrees for the entire winter and early spring. Top that up with nicotine-oozing walls and no parking spot (with a street-parking ban on all winter), this place was quickly realized as NOT A GOOD PLACE TO LIVE. I can’t wait to get out of here.
Every day I scour craigslist and kijiji hoping to find somewhere suitable. I plan to flyer the neighbourhood that I want to live in. We’ve looked at one place so far, far out of our price range, and have two more places lined up for tomorrow. I work in one part of the city, Ash goes to day care in another part of the city (I walk him there in the mornings and then walk back to work) and Clive works in another part of the city, over a toll bridge, so we have to find some kind of happy medium as far as location. Not to mention I want an affordable apartment with hardwood floors, lots of storage, a backyard, two or three bedrooms, washer and dryer or hookups with good windows and cheap utilities.
It is never, ever fun. We’ve got six weeks left in this apartment regardless. It’s slightly stressful. Then a big move, with hopefully a better transition for Ash than last time, who spent three weeks straight crying. And now that I’m working full time, I won’t be there to hug and nurse him as much as I did last time. It was seriously brutal.
He basically looked like this every single day. And for those of you who’ve met my kid, you know he NEVER cries.
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It’s interesting to see how much energy children require- I thought that going back to work and being on my feet and talking to the public would be far more exhausting than lazing around the house with Ash, but on the days where I have him all to myself, I almost always pass out as I nurse him to sleep. The other day I put him down just after 7pm, and it wasn’t until 7:41 that I woke up without even realizing I was even tired enough to fall asleep let alone sleep for forty minutes, Ash wasn’t even latched on anymore- something that rarely goes unnoticed. On my workdays I can come home and if there’s not a lot of housework to do in the evenings, I can easily put in a couple more hours of sewing or web updates or whatever… but then suddenly it’s after 10pm and I still need to at least cut fabric for two pouches that have been custom ordered- like tonight- and I don’t even know where the time went.
Working moms have an interesting lifestyle. I really actually like my life a lot now, now that I’ve found that balance. Tomorrow is my first Wednesday with Ash since last week I had it off but was feverish and puking so he went to daycare anyway. Can’t wait.
