The Pregnant Lady's Perspective

A Week of Watching My Husband Move Crap Around the House

I don’t know if there’s any of you guys out there in the HG audience that are compulsive furniture mover-arounders like I am, but man. It’s seriously a problem, I think. I can’t go more than sixty days looking at the same pattern of furniture and decor without losing my mind. Does that mean I have commitment issues stemming from something sex-related like Freud would probably say? Hardly. I think that variety is the spice of life and feng shui-ing business up is the main course. It’s a challenge; how many things can I move around and still love the flow of the room?

My husband, however, hates it. He’s a master of routine and there’ve even been occasions when he’s come home from work late, only to trip over the rocking chair that wasn’t there when he left earlier that morning. I move the laundry basket to the opposite side of the room and his digestive system is off-kilter for days. It’s bad, friends. Bad.

This past week, however, a Big Thing happened. My husband suggested that we move upstairs (we live in a two-story renovated farmhouse and the master suite is on the ground floor) so that when the baby is born, we can be close to his or her (HER) bedroom and so that we can start easing our toddler into her own bed, into her own bedroom. Grudgingly, though I knew this day would have to come over the next six months anyway, I okayed the move. I’d be giving up a spacious bathroom, directly connected to my old bedroom. There’s two full bathrooms downstairs. And there are none upstairs. For all of you who are too groggy in the morning to get what this means, I’ll fill you in: multiple bathroom trips up and down the damned steps all night long. Woo! Party!

So it took two days, but we finally moved our bedroom furniture upstairs, the guest furniture downstairs and the kids’ rooms have also been moved around accordingly. And by “we finally moved”, I mean “I barked orders at my husband to FORGET centering the dresser in the middle of the wall, don’t you KNOW it’s an odd-shaped room?” It all worked out for the best, though – my three-year-old slept in her big-girl toddler bed last night (though we had to move it into our room for now because she said she was “apprehensive”; no lie, kids) and now I even have what my husband is calling a “Mom Cave” adjacent to our bedroom. It houses my clothes, my toiletries, various candles, plants and magazines ranging from Southern Living to National Geographic (even including People). It’s lit with beautiful ambient lighting and decked out with cushy chairs and soft blankets. I FINALLY HAVE A DOMAIN.

On the whole, I suppose I’d have to say that any inconvenience was heavily outweighed by the positive aspects, huh?