After the shit sprayer incident plus both oldies getting pneumonia, we decided to buy a house that would fit all four of us, sell each of our homes, and live as one big happy family. We found a house, which took a lot of looking (bless our realtor, she deserves a medal), prepped our houses to sell, and Dawn’s job was eliminated, but we forged onward.
Closing on Deanna and Clyde’s place was set for the week of December 12. The push to move them into our house, occurred December 10, rented U-Haul and all. My nephew drove over and helped load some delicate items from our house and take them to the garage at the new place. We took a load from the oldies’ home to the storage facility, and the cavalry arrived. Nothing compares to seeing a niece and her husband and a nephew pulling down the long corridor of storage units, one tossing sandwiches to the three of us already there and the others making quick work of unloading the box truck. While we loaded the first truck, we warned Deanna that she and Clyde needed to get moving and take everything they needed for the day to our house because once my family arrived, they would make quick work of the remaining items left at their house. She didn’t listen.
First on our list was the items moving from their house to our house—beds, a dresser, night stand, and a couple suitcases of clothes. Since that wouldn’t fill the truck, we started with items going to the garage at the new place. Thankfully, this gave Deanna a bit of time to heed our, “Teresa’s family moves fast, get out of the way,” warning, or at least we thought it did. While loading up a kitchen table and chairs, my niece’s husband went in to take the beds apart, and then came to find me and Dawn.
“Clyde is still in bed.”
“Ok, we will get him moving.”
The ensuing conversation went something like this:
“Clyde, you need to get up and go sit in the recliner. We need to take the bed apart to move it.”
“You are taking my bed?”
“Yes, to our house.”
“Why?”
“Because you and mom are moving in with us for a month while we get the new house ready.”
“But you need my bed right now? I am in it.”
“Yes, we know. That is why we need you to get out of it.”
“But I was having a nap.”
“Clyde, get out of that bed or we are putting you in the truck while you are still on it. And it’s cold in the truck.”
Ten minutes later, Clyde was in the recliner. About 5 minutes after that, the bed was disassembled and in the truck.
Once again, before leaving the house, we told Deanna to get their stuff and get to our house, immediately. No surprise that when we returned, they were having coffee in their respective recliners.
We were at the tail-end of the furniture, so my family was moving quickly to get to the garage items and be done for the day. While the niece and nephews loaded the remaining furniture and boxes, Dawn and I ushered Deanna and Clyde out the door. Clyde was still confused about everything being moved out of the house. It was then Deanna decided that maybe she should use her power of attorney to close on their place that week to keep Clyde from being completely confounded as to why they were selling the house.
At one point, Deanna kept switching from chair to chair as the boys kept returning to take another. When she was down to the last folding chair, we finally got everyone, and their little 7 pound miniature rat terrier, in their car, backed the car to the end of the drive around the moving truck, and sent them on their way. That truck load was quick work, unloading it at the new house. We returned for the garage items.
We had boxes of tools, a huge and heavy work table, plus a few larger tools loaded when we started on the lawn equipment. Push mower—tossed on with no issue. Garden cart—easy enough to sling on with one hand. Riding mower—maybe we should rent a trailer from Lowe’s? My niece, ever the optimist and great organizer says, “The guys can hold one side while the other side rolls up the ramp to the truck.”
The looks on the guys’ faces ranged from disgust to doubt to pride. Thirty seconds later, the mower was rolling up the ramp, everyone was grunting, and my niece stood at the top of the ramp, pulling it in once it got there. My family never ceases to amaze us. That day was no exception. Two hours, three loads, and one empty house. The storage unit was fully packed. The garage at the new place was a maze of precariously placed furniture and boxes, with the items we needed first arranged at the far back corner, in proper moving fashion, but a huge task was out of the way.
On the last load to the new place, my family decided that they needed to remove a branch that was hanging from the maple tree by our second garage. Two nephews put my niece into a nearly locked arm extension while the third nephew spotted her from the back. No one thought about the result of her pulling forward on the branch and it actually breaking loose. Thankfully, both nephews caught her, albeit right in her ribs, but her face didn’t hit the ground. I suppose I could have done the spotting from the front, but I chose to take pictures instead.
We returned the truck, sent my family on the way home, and got ready to take the oldies out for food. The next five minutes gave us a glimpse of the year ahead.
Deanna stood up to put Thor, the tiny terror, into his crate while Clyde was in the bathroom. In a matter of thirty seconds. Deanna’s sugar was crashing and Clyde’s pants were falling off. Dawn caught her mom, got her onto the couch with a glass of orange juice while I caught Clyde’s pants, hitched them up to where they belonged and tied the drawstrings. Dawn and I made eye contact while her mom was finishing her orange juice. We both registered sheer terror, and as we walked to the car, I muttered to her, “Do you think every day will be like what just happened?” She replied, “No, there will be quiet days.” We quickly learned that quiet meant worry, much like parents investigating toddlers when they are too quiet for too long. That was also the beginning of us referring to them as our toddlers, Later, they became our drunken toddlers, the most entertaining kind.
Living with the Old People 