Just wanted to give a big thanks to my parents who as self-describing themselves as “old”.  My mom planted flowers, cleaned windows, and helped unpack things.  My dad hung up blinds and did anything else I asked of him, including hauling crap to the dump that I didn’t get out in time for the regular trash pickup (major fail on my part).  My brother Steve did TONS of stuff, including teaching me how to use templates to cut peel and stick tile (it’s easy once you know how to do it).  This entire moving process has been hell and without the help of my family I wouldn’t have made it. 

I’ve given plenty of thanks to my friends because they don’t really have to help - apparently I’ve hurt my family’s feelings by not mentioning them enough.  So consider yourselves mentioned. 

Just wanted to give a big thanks to my parents who self-describe themselves as “old”.  My mom planted flowers, cleaned windows, and helped unpack things.  My dad hung up blinds and did anything else I asked of him, including hauling crap to the dump that I didn’t get out in time for the regular trash pickup (major fail on my part).  My brother Steve did TONS of stuff, including teaching me how to use templates to cut peel and stick tile (it’s easy once you know how to do it).  This entire moving process has been hell and without the help of my family I wouldn’t have made it. 

I’ve given plenty of thanks to my friends because they don’t really have to help - apparently I’ve hurt my family’s feelings by not mentioning them enough.  So consider yourselves mentioned. 

I’ve been fairly absent from the blogging/twitter/facebook world lately, but that’s only because I’ve been consumed by both client work and getting the house to a presentable level.  My kids apparently take after me - they don’t like chaos all up in their face, especially in their home.  Things are definitely better and I’ve been managing to accomplish quite a few tasks every day.

Robey was entirely awesome and surprised me Friday by showing up with both food and boys to help put things away and get my family room to the point where you could sit in it.  I plied them with Bourbon and we unpacked a bunch of boxes, and I got some much needed downtime on the screen porch when I probably should have been working.  One of the helpers didn’t even know me - I am glad I got to meet Alisa, and she’s really the bomb for showing up at a strange woman’s house to string lights and break down boxes. And Chad - sorry I spewed pink champagne on your shirt.  I’m not used to drinking from a glass I guess.

Since I’ve been here, I’ve put down new peel and stick tile in my bathroom, watched my brother rip out the bathroom sink and add a cabinet/vanity and a new toilet, ripped out a shower stall door, painted the bedroom, girls’ room and office, unpacked and organized the garage and gardening shed, hung some pictures, unpacked 95% of the boxes, and gone to the grocery store one time.  Last night my dad mowed the front lawn with the new self-propelled mower - that thing is awesome - and I did the back.  Today I spent some time dripping sweat everywhere as I blasted the mack daddy of camel crickets out of the garage with the leaf blower, as well as dust and leaves from who knows how long ago.  I’ve swept and touched more cobwebs and icky spiders than ever, and if this doesn’t cure my massive arachnophobia, nothing ever will.  The girls “decorated” the gardening shed playhouse with lights and pictures of sparkly princesses in ball gowns.  It makes me smile to think that while I’m potting some new flowers, I’ll have little pictures to remind me of their boundless joy and energy.  It doesn’t take much to make them happy.

We all took a much needed break today and headed to Southside to visit our new pool. I joined last night online; it’s affordable and I loved the pool.  It’s very, very “normal”.  None of the Wyndham pretensions, none of the battle of the mom-suits.  The majority were not anorexic with breast implants, and not everyone wore expensive designer suits that aren’t meant to get wet.  Some kids were *gasp* not white.  Some women were poorly dressed or chunkier than I.  The lifeguards were laid back and encouraged Arden to go down the very fast waterslide on her stomach (she did), and they all cheered loudly for her when she popped up victorious.  It takes me 15 minutes to get there, but it’s a road to another world.  There is nothing about it to remind me of past summers in the Wyndham pool, and instead of making me sad, it liberates me. 

I never hated this house I inhabit, but I will be honest.  The first few days here were, well, humbling.  Making ice cubes is a pain in the ass, and something I haven’t done in at least 14 years.  Everything is quirky with this house.  Some might say that’s “charming”, but at first it was just really annoying.  Taking a shower in the bathroom made me shudder.  Everything was coated in either grime or camel crickets or worse yet, random bugs I couldn’t name or spiders I could. The house smelled - that bad combination of old people who aren’t all that clean, uncontrolled and unchecked Virginia humidity, and dog (not mine, either).  I miss the landscaping at the old house and a few luxuries, like my bathtub.  My first nights were spent curled up feeling incredibly alone - not lonely - but alone.  Sometimes I’d cry or think I wasn’t going to make it, but I still never questioned my decision. 

A few weeks out, I’m feeling much better.  The house still has a funk to it, but it’s a diminished funk.  An exterminator has been called; there is a mass exodus of sick, moaning camel crickets from the crawl space and family room.  I haven’t seen any disgusting spiders inside the house, nor has another cockroach appeared in Lily and Arden’s room.  My bathroom has new, very clean, very inexpensive tile.  Nicole’s beautiful curtain designs completely changed my dreary bathroom and my very 1960’s kitchen into something that really looks quirky and charming instead of just really effing ugly.  My bedroom is tiny, but it smells good, has new linens and is completely and utterly mine.  A neighbor showed up with a bowl full of home-grown vegetables - it made me want to cry because it reminded me of the housewarming visits neighbors in Michigan would pay.  My experience in the last neighborhood was that visits were made, but mostly to see what car you drove and fact-finding questions that would be reported back to the minions of Prada-wearing mothers.  I was lucky; both my immediate neighbors were nothing like that - but there was nothing pretentious or nosy about a bowl full of weirdly-shaped zucchini and cucumbers. 

I had some very needed alone time this weekend as well.  I’m still working through a number of issues - decisions are looming, and I’m spending a lot of time thinking through both the “why” of my situation as well as the “what do I want” part.  I still work on gratitude lists and am amazed how many good people have helped me through what can only be described as a disaster of a year.  I wish certain things were different - better - easier - but I’m also through what I’d like to think of as the worst bits.  I’m looking forward to a new, less complicated, less energy-draining and soul-destroying rest of the summer. 

Sometimes being an adult is no fun.  Being a mom with kids is fun and of course rewarding much of the time, but now I find that decisions I made easily before (as a married suburban mom) are so very difficult right now.  Today I put myself first - my kids first - and although that is the “right” decision, it hurts a lot.  Quite frankly, I’ve tired of hurting all the time. Those moments where I feel peace, or joy - they are crack to me, and I want more of them.  I can sense that as I put one foot in front of the other there will be more moments of pure sunshine, but they are few and far between right now.

Today was bad enough that I had the telltale tingling extremities.  My face went numb, my heart went nuts, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I never carry my emergency stash of chill pills anymore, but that won’t happen again.  I need to be more boy scout (always be prepared!) and less super woman (who needs drugs to manage panic?  not me!). 

Today was another tiny step, and another version of the realization I’ve had since this all began.  Nothing makes it easier.  Support helps navigate this mess, but I have to go through the emotions. There are no shortcuts, no distractions big enough to pull me away from what I need to feel. 

I am sitting in my living room and feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed by the stuff around me.  In other moves, within 1 week I’ve had everything neatly stored - in some cases, even the pictures were hung and the house was clean.  I’m more than a week into this now and it looks almost worse.  I have no energy. I want to sleep.  I want to eat, I don’t want to run, and I want to really hide in my bed for a minimum of 24 hours.  I’ve been here before and know how intense these feelings can be, and I know that they will fade and subside and I will be just fine. Or better than fine - I will be great. 

I’m going to write this down because I’ve been saying it in my head to many people:  because I asked for this doesn’t make it less hard. Going through wedding albums, reading engagement cards, picking through the things that my husband felt were too painful for him to deal with and having to throw those things away was heart-rending.  I’ve never been faced with the reality of the divorce more than I was putting things into boxes, filling trash bag after trash bag, forcing myself to not be overly sentimental, forcing myself to keep the wedding albums because I know the girls will want to see them one day. 

As I made yet another trip to the Wyndham house today, I wandered upstairs and felt myself coming unglued again. The house looks sad and bleak.  There are random leftovers from a life lived there; a tiny smiley-face bead from a necklace of Arden’s, rolled carelessly into a corner where it will be consumed hungrily by a vacuum.  Half of an earring.  A leftover scrap of Thora’s rawhide.  A stick of butter; a dying plant.  It looks like ghosts live there now, even though I can still smell the smells of my kitchen or bedroom, and feel the cool tile under my feet. 

This new house feels safe to me - it has so many locks and doors and places to hide.  Underneath the smell of animal from previous tenants, the good hardwood smells are still here.  Because it’s so different from my previous life, it feels welcoming. It also feels alien and a bit scary.  I have a few security blankets and I had to get rid of one today.  There’s a fine line between getting warmth from a blanket and being smothered by one. 

I’m trying to focus on breathing, and warming myself. 

I’m moved.  Well, almost.  There are still random things at the “old” house and tons of boxes, camel crickets and dust balls at the “new” house, but the point is, all my furniture is here and most of my sanity.

Since I’ve been so ridiculously consumed with both a.) moving and b.) not getting fired by ALL of my clients, I have been neglecting the blog.  And frankly, no one wants to hear me gripe about my sore back, my cranky demeanor or the sobbing fit the first night I used my very dirty, very depressing “master bathroom shower”. 

Nicole has been a lifesaver.  Not only does she make even the most daunting task seem like “OMG! NBD!” (Oh My God, No Big Deal!), she actually lends a hand. She assured me that the bathroom was “fixable” and that no additional tears need be shed onto the cold, unforgiving, and very dirty grout.  She blogged about the process today (and made it sound like I was totally calm and sane, bonus points for you, Nicole).  And extra love for making it seem like I am posting an entry without really actually having to do it.

Yes, before and afters coming soon, especially since Robey rampaged through my house and threw out every stitch of artificial flower I owned.  It was the kind of purge I love.