12.19.2011

the reset button


When Catcher was born and it was our third or fourth day at home with him, I joked that I wish I had a "reset" button so I could start the day over--or maybe a fast forward to go ahead and get to the next one. In those early days if you mess up the change-feed-burp-swaddle routine in the slightest, then your day is shot. And forget about sleeping that night. With the magical reset button you would have the opportunity to "put right what once went wrong," (I believe that's a direct quote from one of my favorite early 90s television shows, Quantum Leap).

Today I want a reset button. While there's nothing specific I want to do-over, this morning I woke up to another rainy day in Austin and knew that the kids would be wild. Last Thursday--after an unprecedented five straight rainy days here--I came home from running errands with the kids to find a "lease violation" notice tucked inside our door. Apparently there have been "numerous complaints" due to the "excessive noise" that is coming from our apartment. If we don't correct the situation immediately, then further action (not specified what exactly) will be taken. I have visions of us getting kicked out onto the streets of Austin a week before the baby is due. Although my fears may be slightly dramatic, I can't help feeling on edge. Every time Scout missteps and falls to the floor or Catcher gets excited and runs to the door when Alex gets home, I cringe knowing that someone is just waiting to report us. I guess I'm most confused because I don't consider myself a loud person, and we put our kids to bed routinely at 7:00pm. Most nights I'm home alone tiptoeing around the apartment trying not to wake anyone, and during the day we're in and out while most of our "in" time is spent sitting down eating or Scout napping. I know that mornings can be a little crazy around here, but how do you stop a 16 month-old from running to her high chair because she's excited to eat waffles?

When I last rented an apartment it was seven years ago in New York City, and you were happy to have a place where the toilet wasn't in the kitchen or a crack whore wasn't breaking into your building and banging on doors screaming at 2:00am. Forget about the neighbors who had a knack for re-arranging furniture at all hours or practiced their comedy routine at an ear-splitting volume. You could deal with that. And you could deal with the traffic blaring outside and the "was that a gunshot?" noise you heard every now and again. You wouldn't even notice a 22 lb. child tripping or an excited 3 year-old running to his room to get his firetruck. But I guess expectations are different here, and now we're in the wrong and I'm over-thinking and over-analyzing every noise that crosses through the apartment--is the vacuum to loud? Should I wait until later in the afternoon to start this load of laundry? Can they hear the kids playing in the bathtub?

I know we're not really getting kicked to the curb, but I just want a little relief from the anxiety that this formal notice has caused. Reset.

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