Well, hello. Remember us? So many things to say, so little energy. We are still living in a hotel, 21 days since a fire destroyed two bedrooms and a roof. Still waiting for work to begin on our house and all we’ve heard in response to When can we move back in? is Two? Three months? Maybe more.
Nearly one month gone and it’s looking pretty gloomy.
I will say that I no longer feel that home insurance is a useless, overpriced bite out of our wallet. No, not anymore. I don’t know what we’d do if we had to pay $300 a night, ourselves, to stay in this (so not) palatial inn.
As you can imagine, it’s been hard on the boys.
We’ve been in three different units now, thanks to the complaints of people below us. It’s the noise, they say. Sounds like jumping. Yes, my children jump. I never realized how much until I tried to restrain two excited, jumping, autistic boys — who cares if it’s 5:30 a.m.! Suffer with me. Well, now we’re on a ground floor and so far so good.
(We did have a brief one-week respite from the (so not) palatial inn when we went on our beach vacation. That is a whole other post involving sensory overload. Think sand. Think waves. Imagine.)
Our insurance company is trying to find us a house or town home to move into for the duration. So far not so good.
We’ve kept up our routines: school, camp, ABA, a mad dash of commuting. It’s been hardest at bed time because they will not let me leave them as long as they’re awake. Sam gets teary and asks about the house and Are the people still fixing it? I used to feel a bit smug about how easily my kids went to sleep. Bath, book, lights out, no complaints. And it kept my sanity knowing that at 7:30 I would have that down time we all need.
Instead, that down time is disappearing as bed time turns into a Supernanny episode. (It’s not working!) I don’t expect it to get better any time soon and you know what? I’ve been a little cranky about it. I think I’d be less cranky if they slept through the night but they play musical beds or something, each night alternating with a wailing sob right around 3:30. If we’re lucky, we get whoever back to sleep while slumped on the sofa. Other nights we’re up for the day.
I know that this is traumatic for them, I know. But it’s like having newborns all over again. I’ve just realized that I’ve been awake since 4 a.m. Yawn. But hey — did I mention the breakfasts here at the (so not) palatial inn? Every morning: eggs, sausage, fruit, french toast. Never underestimate the power of a free breakfast. It almost compensates for this silly hotel not having Bravo so that I can watch Season 5 of Project Runway.