Establishing a Homebase

I walked around nervous. I didn't know if people could tell. Could they tell by the way sat, stood or even walked? I was always so very careful. We needed me to have this job and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep it a secret.

It was late-September when I pulled into the drive way, followed shortly after by my mother. She was rambling on and on about how she found another one and we just had to go see it. My husband, Mike, came out from the house. We had been staying with my parents ever since we finished school in Ohio.

My mom must have really liked this one, as she still hadn't put the car in park and was shouting out the window to Mike to grab a pair of shoes and explaining to me what a "flat roof" was. 

We had been shopping for a house now for 4 months. Even with the housing market crash, pickings were still limited, considering our budget. 

As my mother explained this house's location, I caught myself only half listening. I wasn't sure if it was because I was so overwhelmed by it all; the house hunting, the new job, the constant worrying, living with my parents while being married... so much was happening I had not planned on, or ever dreamed would happen.

This flat roof home was walking distance from the church where I was baptized 26 years ago and where I said "I do" to my husband 16 months ago. 

"Yikes! Its only been one year," I think it so hard... I say it out loud. 

I must have interrupted  my mother, she passes a confused look my way and then continues on. 

She has been so wonderfully supportive. Patient, kind, motivating.... its amazing, when your 16 you think your mother is so evil, so power crazy or controlling.. as an adult, its so refreshing to sit in a room with a woman you've known your whole life. When your a child, a band-aid and your mother's kiss goes so far to soothe your worries/pain... as an adult its her smile and a cup of hot tea.

I must have let my mind wonder off again because its not until we pull into this tiny house's drive way that I can actually hear the words  my mother is saying... "see the flat roof there guys?"

The yard is beautiful, roses, crape myrtles, hanging plants, a bird bath and ornate bird feeder and even my favorite... a garden gnome by the front door. I can hardly focus on anything now as she rings the door bell and we walk inside. 

The smell of decades of cooking is lingering in the house. Regardless that its current resident has been smoking in doors I can smell the garlic, the onion and even a hint of something sweet, like.... cake. Although, lately I can smell everything. I could tell you what the lunch ladies are cooking for the students by 9am, I can determine which kid in class farted, whose parents smoke at home and what someone had for breakfast that morning by the smell on their breathe. Surprisingly, many 12 year-olds seem to eat pop-tarts, soda and gummy bears for breakfast. 

Mike's stare snaps me back in reality and I stop daydreaming about gummy bears. My mom seems to be waiting for the man to give us a tour of the house but considering its so small, it almost seems pointless. He makes a gesture for us to roam down the hallway. To the left a small bathroom, ahead the master bedroom, although we come to learn later its not the largest bedroom in the house. As the hallway turns right we pop our heads into the other two bed rooms, small with large turn and crank windows from the 60's.

My mother keeps the resident busy with questions... I can hear her ramble on, "So when was the house built? And has the roof been replaced recently?". 

Thank goodness she asks him something, I have no idea what to say. As I look down to eye the carpet I realize I didn't know I was wearing sandals today. I could have sworn I put on sneakers. I think to myself, "I should wear sneakers more often, soon I won't be able to bend over so easily. Soon I won't be able to see my feet!"

"Hey, love! Are you okay?"  It seems like Mike asks me this ten times a day. 

Normally it could be viewed as annoying, but recently its his way of bringing me back around to focus. I let out a frustrated sigh as I follow him the four feet down the hall into the "master bed room". He gives me a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. I am always so amazed how calm and patient Mike is, so unlike me. I apologize again for being so "zoned-out" and he smiles. 

The hug becomes uncomfortable and I try to wiggle out of it without Mike worrying about me again. I look around the room and think to myself how small it is. I try picturing myself sleeping in a bed in this room, coming out of the shower, opening the closet, getting up two to six times in the middle of the night.. "Will I walk into that door?" I wonder. 

I start picturing it all and I mean it all. 

I hear my mother perfectly clear at the other side of the house, less then 20 ft away. "So, the house is how big? Eight-hundred and forty square feet? Ok."

I'm starting to feel queezy again... a mixture of nauseous, nerves and panic. I start running numbers through my head, our income versus the asking price and the interest with the loan, thinking over our credit reports and when the student loans will be due. I feel my stomach turn and that's when I am reminded yet again. That's not me, that's not my stomach turning over. 

It's our baby.

"Thidbideoux" (tid-bid-do) as Mike calls him/her. Even though I'm five months we've opted out of knowing the gender of the baby. Every time I am reminded I am pregnant I get the jitters. Yea, I'm excited to be pregnant and have a baby with my amazing husband but I'm terrified. Two weeks after graduation, I discovered we were expecting. Mike had only been at his new job for two days when I told him, he was going to be a father.

Will I be able to get up a million times a night? Will Mike and I get along with a crying baby around? Will we ever go on a date again? Will I like being a mother? Am I capable of caring, paying for, nurturing, providing for and loving a baby, a toddler, a child, a teenager, a young adult? 

Whoa! 

I can feel my mind wondering off again... flashes of pacifers, dirty diapers, teenagers with head phones in, missing children on news reports, doctors bills, medicine, permanent marker on the walls... a big, hot mess haired me climbing out of bed at 4am to feed a baby. 

I try focusing on Mike. Its no use. I feel like the walls are closing in or maybe I think the room is just that small?

Another rush is coming on... flashes of a baby on my hip while trying to check out at Walmart, a fussing toddler throwing a temper tantrum, chicken pox, throw-up that misses the toilet.

"So, do you want to make on offer?"

Mike's voice seems to clear away the crazy woman voices in my head. 

"Uhh.." I try to take a minute and focus, be objective, focus... come on focus. I can't.

I glance at the open door way from the bed room into the hall. And I swear I see it. 

Just for a moment. I see a   baby, tall like when Mike was a baby and lean, like when I was a baby, pitter-pattering down the hall around the corner, giggling the whole way.  

The image catches me off guard. I have no idea where it came from. I walk into the hall and look back into the room and then it happens. I see it all. 

Our First Home

I see a bed in the room with a thick, comfy blanket, pictures on the wall and two very small night stands. I smell baby powder and spaghetti sauce cooking. For a moment the worries faded. 

"Yes! I see us here Mike."

We moved in 2 months later, 3 weeks before Christmas.