I used to play MASH.
You remember that game from your childhood? Mansion, Apartment, Shack or House. Yes, I would live in a shack with Joey McIntyre. Even with our five kids in a Porsche.
I liked MASH, I never said I was smart about it.
But in all those daydreams, with fantasies scribbled in pencil on scraps of lined paper, not once did I picture my current reality.
In my apartment I never thought of raised light sockets and lowered switches.
My shacks never came with extra-wide doorways and halls.
The house of my dream didn’t have grab bars and safety ramps.
Who even heard of a mansion with no stairs??
We once sent an application in for “Extreme Home Makeover”. Stroke. Peyton’s cancer. Separated for 18 months. Two more strokes. Lifelong handicaps.
The entire time we were making the video I kept thinking “We’re never going to get picked.We haven’t cried once. The kids smile too much. We’re definitely not woe-is-me enough to get picked.”
I don’t know if they saw our video. We didn’t get picked. If you saw my bathroom you’d be DUH on that one. It’s ok, because I’m pretty sure they would have hated our attitude of “Life sucks! Aaaaaand now we pick ourselves up and keep going.”
Sending that video was like a grown-up version of MASH.
I know I’ll take my three kids with Pete in the house. It may not be perfect but it’s pretty damn great.
However, I never did get my Ferrari.