MIL

My mother-in-law is moving in. Yes, she’s coming tomorrow. I realize she’ll be moved in by the time I publish this blog entry. I also realize having one’s mother-in-law move in at this stage in the game isn’t customary. It’s also not customary to have a stroke at 31. Not much here is customary. 

My MIL is not the stereotypical mother-in-law. She never was and never will be. Don’t get me wrong...she is a take charge kind of gal…but she knows how to reign it in. She is here to help us, and we can definitely use her help. It’s something we have talked about for a long time. Years, really. Even before I actually had a stroke. Yes, pre-stroke Alison approved this plan. I was able to do a bit more then, too.

It has been a week and a day since she came. Things are better than fine, by the way. I will continue my recovery with her help.

We moved

So I have moved since I last started a blog. We came as a caravan, with Chris driving the moving truck and two caregivers following him and my MIL (yes, I actually call her that), our nephew and my brother in tow. It was a hectic day, but it was made less so when Jeri brought a sandwich tray, a super-cute housewarming wreath and her kitchen unpacking skills.

We met some neighbors that evening and some later. All have been really nice. I have missed living in a neighborhood.

About the house, it isn’t on the prestigious southern side of town, but it has a half acre. The master bath is the first major home improvement project I have lived through. But we're almost finished.

The floors went in before we moved in. The kitchen is next. Somewhere in this process, we will need to actually furnish the house and finish the basement. Until then, we will continue looking for deer and the rumored fox, turkey and owl.