Woody and Buzz have moved in


‘Tis the day after Christmas and all through the cabin

Are boxes of stuff from daughter moving back in

In theory I should be organizing something right now, but I’m not sure which corner to tackle.  I already organized the grandkiddo’s room and cleaned it.  His book shelves and toy box are full of his stuff.  His bed is ready with new Buzz Lightyear bedding.  Most of Auntie Julie’s stuff is out–a pile remains in the hallway.  Mommy Shelley is working to make Aunt Kiki’s old room her own space.  Out goes the lacey cat motif.  It’s amazing how black throw pillows can give  an edgier look to the girly pink and green.

Bedrooms are the easy rooms.  Trickier is incorporating two kitchens into one.  Some stuff can be saved for later, but Shelley does like to cook and has her favorite things.  After twelve years in this house, my cabinets and cupboards are jammed with who-knows-why-I-need-this. So…it’s time to do a full kitchen clean-out. 

So far the move-back is working to everyone’s advantage.  I have gained the use of extra cutting boards, decent cookie sheets, and a Kitchen-Aid mixer.  It has also resulted in two bedrooms getting a much needed overhaul.  I have a good cook in the house who I’m expecting to act as my personal trainer and get me back into shape.  (And maybe even her dad–although that’s a greater challenge!)  The music room is once again filled with the gentle sounds of her piano compositions.

Daughter gets all the benefits of living in cozy, well-stocked log cabin in the woods with parentals who are there to provide emotional and physical support.  Grandson gets internet (!) and the great outdoors.  He also gets to jump into bed with grandparents in the morning.

Ok, we know we will drive each other crazy.  Besides the fact that the not-for-company areas of the house are in a dysfunctional clutter (“Which one of these bottles do you use to wash the clothes?” ), Shelley has to deal with parents who she insists are turning into geezers.  I beg to differ.  We are no different than when she was in high school; she just didn’t pay attention to our behavior when she was in high school.

I’m surprised by the number of people I know who have their adult children (and even grandchildren) living back at home.  As crazy as everything can be, none of them begrudge the offer.  They tell me how much they enjoy it.  I’m sure we will too.

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