Have you ever had a post at the top of your page that you really wish wasn’t the FIRST thing people see when they happen upon your blog? Well my last ultra whiny, self-absorbed post about my descent into moving hell is just that post that I’d like to be moved down the page a bit.
So here I am, not exactly taking a blogging hiatus, or possibly I am. I seriously just want that last post to just move on down the page. I’m not saying, “hey I’m totally fine with this move!” I’m not fine. But I’m trying to make the best out of a lousy situation and reminding myself that 1) we’re lucky my husband has a job in this economy and 2) I NEED to be positive for my sanity’s sake and my kids’ sake (and 3) It’s not okay to be as upset as I’ve been over the loss of my dream kitchen because DUDE: GET OVER IT. It’s merely a gas cooktop, sink in the center island, double ovens kind of kitchen. SERIOUSLY, BIG DEAL. WAAAAAH.)
Moving on…(ha! Get it?? Moving? God, I’m hilarious!)
Tate left Monday to start his new job and prior to his departure I was very worried about how I was going to be able to handle my two zoo-like wild children on top of all the stress. “Ohs noes! How ever will I do it alone?! It cannot be done! It cannot be done! Woe is me.”
Writing this next sentence is probably going to condemn me to a life of vomit/tantrum/diarrhea/no sleep hell tomorrow surely, but!!! This week has been surprisingly easy.
Possibly because I know that I don’t have reinforcements showing up, I’m freakishly calm and patient with the kids. So far this week, I’ve had to take two children two and under to the BMV (B???) to get my license plate. It was the easiest trip ever and my children…behaved. Then I lost a filling in one of my teeth and had to arrange childcare and find a dentist and schedule an appointment. Everything fell into place thanks to two of my neighbors and it turned out that I hadn’t actually lost a filling.
My son has become a pogo stick, jumping up and down at every attempt to dress or undress him. Normally I’d be sweating and cursing under my breath and saying (yelling) things like, “CARSON. ENOUGH. Stop jumping right now or I’ll take away all of your trains and feed you to wolves.” There would be lots of wrinkle inducing nose scrunching and eyebrow furrowing. And eye rolling. And huffing. (There wouldn’t really be mention of being eaten by wolves. Uh. Yeah.)
But instead I find myself gentler and smiling and not allowing this annoying stage to get the worst of me. I haven’t freaked out when Ella throws her entire tray of food on my just mopped floors. My house is cleaner, the TV hasn’t babysat, and I’ve made lots of “progress” on our impending move. And oddly, despite Tate getting to socialize and eat out every night, I don’t feel resentful or overworked for being the stay-at-home parent.
I’m not sure what being a better single parent says about my parenting abilities or mental state, but I’ll take the “good mommy” me over the “BAD mommy” me anyday.
I’d like to thank each of you who has offered sympathy and encouragement to me as a result of our move to Tennessee. To answer a few questions we are moving to East Tennessee, we’ve lived there before, and my husband is in management for a company and apparently he’s pretty good at his job so they keep asking him to help at other plants.