February

24 hours after he was born, we brought our little boy home.  No time to break out the champagne though, we had an entire house to pack up and we only had 28 days to do it.  In that time we also had to find an transitional apartment to rent from March-June, hire movers, negotiate post-inspection and schedule contractors for repairs.  Oh yeah, and take a little time to deal with new big brother blues and maybe catch a wink of sleep.  Cake!

Thankfully, we have a tremendous family and they swooped in to help us cook, pack, and watch the kids while Riz and I trudged about Pittsburgh trying to find a decent place to live.

Mother nature did a number on Pittsburgh while the fam was in town.  The feet upon feet of snow finally brought down one of our tree limbs…right on top of both mom and dad’s car.  Whoops!  It looks like a major disaster in the picture but enough snow had covered the cars beforehand. Once all the debris was removed, we could see there was no damage done.  Some luck!

The days were flying by and no one was willing to rent us a decent place for 3 months.  Knowing that someone was taking over your house and leaving you with no place to go felt absolutely horrible.

At the 11th hour we found this place.  It really hurt to think of leaving our home for a place less than 1/2 the size and less than 1/2 as nice, but it had to be done.  It would only be for 3 months after all.

A visit from Auntie Aziza was definitely a bright spot in the midst of all the stress related to the move.  She came bearing gifts of course.  Manu was delighted to receive train pajamas.  Any guesses to what he’s exclaiming here?

Somehow, we made it through the month.  We moved on February 27th.  On the 28th we went back to tidy up and tie up loose ends.
Here’s the kids on our very last day there. It looks like a happy time, but looking at it always makes me a little sad. It was taken in our empty bedroom.  Azeem won’t remember that house.  Arman pretty certainly won’t either, but I will.  That’s the house that we brought our babies to; the house where Arman took his first steps and danced with his dad to Micheal Buble over and over again.  It was the house where I spent many days trying reviving our neglected garden and did countless loads of laundry.  We called that house “home”.  There of course will be another one.  That one will be a more permanent one.  It’ll have a spacious kitchen with shiny appliances, a serene master suite, and a yard large enough to host neighborhood movie nights.  It’ll be home too, but it won’t be our first.

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