I live in a very small town. Neither James or myself grew up in this town nor do we have any real connection to it. When we were looking for houses we had a pretty strict budget even though the mortgae company approved us for much much more. The house we have lived in for the past five years was the first house we looked at, it was also the cheapest. We didn’t buy the house because it was cheap, although that was a pretty nice bonus. We loved the hardwood floors that covered each room and the so very tall ceilings. It needed (and still needs) some tender loving care but we saw potential.
The potential of our house has been squashed by it’s size. We simply cannot fit 7 people in our little house even with a planned addition. Before I got pregnant with the triplets we had decided to tear down my mother’s small house and build a bigger house on her patch of land. We have ties to that town while we have none in this little town.
I have talked about how small this town is before (links not included as I never got around to restoring my archives after I switched hosts). You may have thought I was kidding about only having 1 police officer, but I wasn’t. This place comes alive once a year - the 4th of July. Ok, it sorta comes alive around Christmas as well but it’s northern Minnesota and it’s too damn cold out to really notice. So instead of loud bands and drunk people walking up and down our streets you get blinded by your neighbors and their clearing out of the Christmas light aisle at WalMart.
Tonight marks the beginning of the festivites. I came up to our bedroom to get some peace and quiet (I am really hiding from James since I think he’d just hand me a baby to hold is he saw I was using my arms and hands for purposes other than burping, feeding or changing diapers - kidding!). Where was I? Oh yes, peace and quiet. Instead of peace and quiet I am listening to a pretty bad country band and a bunch of teenagers who got into Mom and Dad’s liquor cabinet while they were down the street getting drunk listening to a horrible country band.
Part of me dreads this time of year in this little town. The first year we lived here I didn’t know what to expect, but now I do and my headache started yesterday. There are so many things to look forward to such as the lighting of loud fireworks at 3am or the drunk men getting into a fist fight in my front yard. The first year we lived here I was stupid and tried to educated the party goers of the sleeping home owners that surrounded them. Instead of getting an apology and some quiet time I was told to “shut the fuck up, bitch.” It was as if she had read my mind and repeated it back to me.
This year I am going to ignore the idiots and enjoy the fun with my kids - well the two who know what’s going on. Earlier today james and I drove “the big ass SUV that needs a new name which does not include a swear word” down to the baseball field to get a prime viewing spot for tonight’s fireworks. Oh yes, we bought a new vehicle. Another post for another day - but you really can’t fit 7 people into a minvan with 4 of those people are in carseats.
Tomorrow morning we’ll head over half a block to get a spot for the parade. All the while I will be pulling our make-shift double stroller. It was kinda sorta tested out this afternoon but I need to add bungee cords to complete the masterpiece.
Voila! Is it a wagon or a stroller?! How many times will people stop us so they can see the babies?!
Sunday we’ll do it all over again - the parade bit anyway - when we head to my hometown to see my family.
I hope your 4th of July is as interesting as mine surely will be!
