The first month of my second trimester was insanely busy. I had to give notice to my apartment complex, get everything ready to move in with my in-laws for a few months, and get a storage unit for all of our things, then help pack, and get everything moved into storage.
On top of regular moving stuff, we also had business moving stuff. I gave notice to the business landlords, gave notice to my customers, and had to do without employees after April 1st so I wouldn’t have to deal with a partial payroll quarter. Thankfully, without the preschool to worry about, I had lots of time to handle everything while my husband prepped for finals.
We cut store hours to just after school, and open weekends the second half of April, and only allowed crafts that could be completed that day. No more pottery painting. Our work-in-progress pieces were held at a friends shops so people could finish them (after giving customers plenty of notice) and we managed to sell what was left of our inventory, our kilns, our wheel, our shelves, and tables and chairs. Every item sold. We were actually kind of lucky. There’s a lot of other business that couldn’t make it this year that didn’t fair as well as we did, and no matter how sad it makes me that we lost the shop, I know that it really worked out a lot better than it could have.
I had a fun shower/going away party with my employees and friends, and when I got home I cried… a lot. I didn’t want to move, I loved my apartment, I loved my shop, and I loved my life here. Unfortunately life isn’t perfect, and things change, so at the end of the month, I turned off my open sign for the last time, looked around my empty store, turned in my keys, and the husband and I moved in with my in-laws.
I love my in-laws. They are the kindest, most generous people I know. I cannot thank them enough to taking us in for the summer. My mother-in-law is almost more excited than I am to have a baby on the way, and I liked the chance to talk to her and go through baby albums over the summer. I love her husband (still not sure if I should call him my father-in-law, my husbands father died when he was twenty, before he met me, but not by much, so he’s my husbands step-father, except I’ve never heard him referred to as his step father, just by his name. He’s super nice, I just have no idea what to call him, and it’s a sensitive issue for my husband. Will my daughter refer to him as Grandpa? Or just by his name? I have no idea…) he’s just the sweetest man I’ve ever met (outside of my husband that is) and I’m beginning to get along much better with my husbands youngest brother (now sixteen).
We didn’t get along very well at first, or maybe we did, and our not getting along was all in my head. My husband used to hang out with him a lot, and then we started dating, and he got promoted at work, and he started school again, so he didn’t spend as much time with his youngest brother. I felt bad about that, and partially responsible. Maybe it was all in my head, but I feel like he felt the same way about me, that I was in the way. Later, once my husband and I were married, and he would visit us over the summers, I was way less tolerant of any rude or immature behavior. The age excuse didn’t work on me, because he wasn’t that much younger than I was. My husband adopted the same outlook, where he used to brush everything off based on how young his brother was, and I think there may have been some resentment there. Now, at sixteen, he’s the same age I was when I met his brother, and I feel like we have more common ground. I remember being sixteen very well. It’s nice to get along.
The middle two brother’s though… I have no patience for them. They are both extremely immature and manipulative, they are 23 and 21 respectively, they both live at home, they both treat their mom like crap, and they both do illegal things that I just don’t abide by. One of them is physically handicapped, and I feel terrible for him, but that doesn’t make the temper tantrums he throws when his mother doesn’t buy him cigarettes and more ok. He’s physically handicapped, not mentally handicapped, breaking things when you’re angry isn’t appropriate for a five year old, much less someone who can legally buy alcohol.
My mother-in-law is nice, maybe too nice, because I would have booted them both out years ago. So while I enjoyed a summer of rent free living, and hanging out with my mother-in-law, and childhood friends (it’s nice going to your hometown for awhile), I also had to deal with police being called due to domestic disturbances as everyone downstairs screamed and shouted at each other, and broke things. My youngest brother-in-law, my husband and I would hang out upstairs away from the drama, but it was still very stressful. I was glad we were only staying three months.