I sing a song to May – a silly, baby song meant to make her smile when she cries (and works – 98% of the time!). It is a silly song, but at its heart is a truth that is difficult for us.
The song goes as follows (and here I’d like to formally thank Apple for not providing me with a microphone): Oh Baby May… you are so sweeeeet… Oh Baby May… you go tweet-tweet. TWEET-TWEET! Oh Baby May… I love you soooooo… Oh Baby May… Don’t ever grow. DON’T GROW!
When she was really small, I’d sing that last part to her over and over in succession, growing ever softer until I was just whispering, “don’t grow” into her ear while struggling not to cry. On occasion, my husband and I would admit to one another that we wished she would never grow up, since a little baby with special needs is much easier to care for than a grown adult.
I can’t say that my feelings towards the matter have changed. I am more accepting of May’s needs, but of her future? I can contemplate no further than five or six years old.
May will be much younger than five or six before the time comes when lugging a 20 lb baby, up four flights of stairs, will become a near impossibility. We knew this anyway, before May, that a baby would mean moving from our flat into something lower. Something without a balcony looking out over the whole of London. (And, who wants to give up that?)
Oh, but we love our flat. In American terms, it is a pokey little thing. Two bedrooms. one bath and a combined kitchen/living room that is really just a living room with a stove.
But, it’s where we first brought May home. We love it: for its warmth and quirkiness, and for all its memories. And, did I mention the view?
On Friday, my husband was at home since his school doesn’t open again until Monday. He laid in bed, blissfully unaware or, more likely, ignoring completely the doorbell. A minute later, he heard the door to our flat open.
It was our landlord, letting himself in, illegally mind you – since he didn’t ask our permission in advance, but just rambled in confident that we’d never know the difference. Thankfully, my husband was there to stop him. But, the story gets worse as he wasn’t alone. He had a bank evaluator with him.
Our beautiful flat is being valued for sale.
The time has come. It wasn’t a 20 lb baby, or four flights of stairs, or even May’s disability that forced the issue. Like most tenants in the world, as usual, it was our landlord.
You will find something that matches all your needs. Change is always hard but it will be wonderful because you will make it so. So mourn this move and then set out to find exactly what you want for the next adventure.
I’m sorry to hear that you have to move so soon…bloody landlords! I live in a tiny flat in Sydney and am facing a move within the next 6 months as the walls seem to be shrinking as my toddler grows. Are you considering a place with a little backyard? May would love it! All the best xo
I am always grateful for the fact that at 6 my son is still small enough to wear size 3 clothes and weighs only 16kgs. I also dread the heavier days ahead.
Good luck with finding a new home. I hope it’s as special as your current place is.
xo
You never know where destiny will lead you, or why. Hang in there during this next transition and keep the faith.