After some more time to think (and after frantically getting in the application to the trailer park–apparently they operate on a “first come-first get” basis!), I realized that I missed some key points in my first post. I mentioned that the day was incredibly “emotionally confusing,” but I barely skimmed the surface of the confusion!
If you hadn’t already figured it out–and I’m not sure you would have–CF and I don’t currently live together. So, this decision that we made wasn’t just a decision to move into a mobile home together. It was also a decision to move into a mobile home together. And while deciding to live in a trailer park was already rife with struggles with our collective sense of pride, it was also rife with the struggle of knowing that this was really our only chance of living together for the time being. Which is something we both really wanted. After deciding the area in which we wanted to find a place (near his studio AND our large vegetable garden) and after learning that the other apartments in the area were just too expensive for us, we came to this.
So, once we had made the decision, we were feeling pretty good. Pretty proud of ourselves in that we had made a decision that we were both happy with and that we had made the decision together. End scene, right? Wrong.
Moments after seeing the mobile home and making our big decision, CF tells me that his mom had some “cool” jewelry that she showed him earlier in the day, and that maybe I’d like to see it. Before I knew it, I was marching through the hallway of his mom’s house and being led to her large jewelry box from which she pulls out two 1/2 carat diamonds saying, “I thought maybe you could use these for a ring or something someday.” Um….ok? Thanks! She also showed me a necklace that was given to her as a child that she hoped to give to our (CF’s and my) first born daughter.
And I thought we were just moving in together?
Of course, I went home even more emotionally drained than before– when I was only dealing with the weight of making a decision as a couple and my own discriminatory ideas about trailer parks. Naturally, I called my mom to tell her about what happened and to ask her opinion of the whole moving-into-a-trailer idea. Here’s how that conversation went:
Me: “So, the only thing really holding me back from feeling awesome about the decision is the stigma.”
Me: “The stigma of living in a trailer park. In a trailer.”
Mom: “What’s wrong with living in a trailer? I always thought it would be kind of fun.”
I love my mother. Very much.
So, basically, I could have written my first blog post like this.
The Day We Decided to Move into a Mobile Home in Seven Parts
1. You can’t afford to live together!
2. Oh wait…yes you can! In a trailer park!
3. Buy the mobile home and fix it up!
4. FREE DIAMONDS!
5. Get married!
6. Have babies! Especially girl babies!
7. Another reason to love your mom!
And with that, I’ll sign off. But I promise more to come in the saga of actually applying to live at the trailer park and the drama that ensued. Until then–