A couple weeks ago, my son, Trent, closed on a house in Hobart. He closed on Oct. 20 and we hosted a gender reveal for Trent and Juliana and our grandson the following day. Then, moving week began. If I’m being honest, I still have coolers in my sunroom from the gender reveal, but Trent and Juliana’s house is looking fantastic. They had to go back to Indianapolis to pack up their apartments, so Travis and I organized their paint selections and got to work. On their house. We needed to paint baby Dean’s room, Trent’s office (he works from home), and the kitchen (ugh!). Everyone hates painting a kitchen. 

First, Travis went around and patched up various walls. He even patched in rooms we weren’t painting, over my objections. I argued that the paint left by the previous owner might not match perfectly. He said they would. I argued that Trent and Juliana could hang pictures in the same spots. I got a lecture on doing things the proper way. Travis continued to patch in the master bedroom and the hall bathroom. And after he painted those patches, they sure didn’t match in the master bedroom. And so we painted that too. Fortunately, the hall bath was a perfect match! Smallest room in the house! Although, painting a bathroom is a pain, so I took it for the win.

Despite going over everyday after work that week, we didn’t complete our mission. We got it all done except half the kitchen. Here’s what I discovered about painting. When under the gun, even Travis will accept my help. This is progress. When criticized for my lack of cutting skills (that’s edging), I will still swipe Travis with a loaded paint brush. That’s what gives character to work clothes. What’s changed is that I stayed and continued to paint after being criticized. And I improved rapidly. My mom was a painter, so I have those skills buried deep inside me somewhere. One time, in high school, I went to school and came home to find my bedroom moved to the living room. My mom had decided to paint my room just that morning, so she did. 

In case you were wondering, painting hurts. Trav and I sounded like a couple of old folks, complaining about our necks, backs, shoulders, and arms hurting. Wait, we are a couple of old, soon-to-be grandparents. So, there’s that. At the end of that week, we went to a wedding on Friday, and got up and drove Bert to Indianapolis Saturday to move the adult kids. We rented a one-way U-haul that Bert towed back like a champ. So while we were aching from painting, we started moving stuff. Hair of the dog, grown-up style. We loaded up both of their apartments into the U-haul and two cars and headed back north. Much thanks to Trent’s roommate Griff, who helped load. I had to remind Travis that we needed to eat. He wanted to load and run north. Lucky for me, Juliana agreed with me. Trav was arguing against it when Juliana said, “I could eat too.” Nobody tells a pregnant woman that she can’t eat. So we ate. Thank you Juliana!

I almost forgot. During that week was a 70 degree day that we couldn’t pass up. We did our last boat run of the season, and then met Tayden at the dunes for a hike. Then we went to the house to work. I think it was Tuesday of that week. We both needed dinner. Since I am gluten free, our fast food options are limited. We opted for Chipotle, despite the fact that it sometimes doesn’t agree with my stomach. What could go wrong? I dropped Travis at the house, and had to run to find cat food, since Tayden forgot to get some when he was home… and it’s his cat. Our cute little cat has special food or he craps blood, so I can only get it at special shops, which aren’t always open late. The first one had the brand, but not the flavor, so I moved on, ending up on the far side of Valparaiso. After settling back into the car, my stomach made itself known. I knew I couldn’t make it back to Hobart, so I opted for that sweating, uncomfortable, fast drive back home, since it was closer. I flew up our crazy driveway like Speed Racer, reaching over to find my purse with the house keys. As I parked Trav’s stick shift car without the parking break (major miss at the top of our driveway, fortunately it was in gear) I grasped my keys at the bottom of my purse, and ran to the door, dumping the contents of my purse on the driveway. That was a later problem. I am happy to report that I made it to the bathroom… but barely. Chipotle may be off my list, unless I need to clean things out. 

So, back to Saturday. We got them dropped at their house with the mattress on the floor of the main bedroom, and they slept at their new-to-them house. We went home rubbing our sore bodies, but satisfied. We went back the next day to finish painting the kitchen. I got the job of cleaning the floors under the fridge and stove. I almost threw up, but I realized that I wouldn’t then have to clean that too. It’s one thing if it’s your years of baked on goob, and another when it’s not yours. Makes me gag just thinking about it. It looked like a shag carpet when I started, except sticky. 

We may have set the bar for helping our kids with new houses too high. I don’t know if we can keep this pace for all four of them. For now, I’m just glad the big stuff is done. Trav’s been over more to help with plumbing and installing deadbolts on the exterior doors. And I just wander Menards with a broken toilet seat (to match the size), since Travis thought he could stand on it. In all that craziness, I still haven’t gotten a picture of the adult kids in front of their house. I had to steal a picture from Realtor.com. Have a great week everyone! Whew! I need a nap.