We are currently in the throes of packing for a move across town and the realization of our over abundance of belongings has begun to make my head swim. I feel as if I am signing my life away with the infinite amounts of paperwork that accompanies purchasing a home. We know that escrow closes before the end of the month but the date has not yet been confirmed which brings a whole lot of unknowns to be dealt with. Lack of boxes has put our work at a standstill and the hunt for cardboard has left me feeling like an alcoholic Nancy Drew, as I stalk the neighborhood for newly moved in neighbors and frequent the Liquor store.
Numerous times throughout the day I find myself saying, "Get your hands out of your butt" or "Nobody likes hiney hands." As fun as these are to say they are not in vain. Keely is in the midst of potty training, not by my choice, she just refuses to wear clothing or diapers ripping them off as soon as they are put on her, which necessitates the need and the sayings. Thankfully she is doing well, the accidents are few and far between, now if only her hands and butt were.
Speaking of needs, my sleep needs are not being met, four hours of interrupted sleep does not do it for me, two of which were on the kid’s bedroom floor. My sleep, or lack thereof, has left me weepy and irritable. Brian is out of town on business and calls me daily and normally gets the brunt of my emotions. I love to hear from him and miss him terribly but as much as I want him to be having a nice time, my jealousy rears its ugly head. At first I was living vicariously through his dining out and Vegas fun, but I turned a deaf ear after two days of hearing about gourmet cuisine while I ate Taco Bell and cold cereal and trudged through all of the aforementioned crap. What a bad wife! Where's my joy? Most likely it rolled under the Dora bed when the kid's kicked it out of me while lying on the floor at 2 in the morning.
Some commitments I made before we even thought of moving are now due, within days. Have I started? I'll let you guess.
So, there it is, the edge in which I precariously teeter, ramrodded there by all of the above. My mom, who is out trying to help me make sense of my domestic nonsense, has been able to reel me back a few steps. Helping with the kids and allowing me time to nap has clarified my out-of-control feeling to an extent. However, I am hoping that a life line will not be necessary. I believe if I am able to rally myself, this final push through my own personal crisis I will not see myself fall endlessly into a pit of despair but rather realize that I'm on the edge of some type of success. A success that will bring to fruition the dream of a new home that will accommodate our family better; where I can make semi-gourmet non-Taco