Making It All Worth It

Moving wasn't easy for me. The entire week before, when I should have been excited, instead I was just - paralyzed. While normally I'm not the kind of person to sit and sulk, whereas stress normally propels me into action, all sense of normalcy vanished during this move. Instead, I'd sit and stare at the packed boxes and the ones left to pack and compose mental to-do lists, and rather than get off my ass and do something constructive, like, you know, PACK, I'd concentrate on slowing down my heartbeat as well as the nagging desire to tear each individual hair out of my head, one at a time.

I didn't handle things well. Y had promised me that he'd take care of the actual move, that everything really would get out of the apartment and into the house, even if he had to stay up all night every night for the week straight. And he delivered. But until it was over, I couldn't calm down.

They say that moving is on the list of major stresses that catapult people onto a therapist's couch and I believe it. But I think for me the panic was more about the culmination of a very stressful, very fast-moving two months of major change - and no opportunity to digest it all. To adjust to it. To stop, for even a minute, and FEEL what was going on. I didn't let myself stop, I just moved and ran and drove and did. Which is all good, necessary even. But it was bound to hit me sometime.

Anyway, I both applaud and appreciate Y for sticking with me during this exciting - if terrifying - stage in our lives. Especially considering how I behaved last weekend.

Friends and family - if I didn't call you, it was intentional. Sometimes you don't want to freak out to everyone and their mother, and sometimes freaking out is the only talking you can do. I love you all and my phone number hasn't changed.

The house is wonderful. Feels wonderful. Wonderful to wake up to, wonderful to come home to. It's warm and comfortable and feels comparatively like a palace. As my sister-in-law pointed out, I have a kitchen table, and a dining room table too.

I'll never take that for granted.

Promise pictures soon. We're still unpacking and have yet to even set up the computer, which is why I've been so slow to blog. Well, that and the fact that I've been spending every free moment putting things away and throwing others out.

On the first night in his new big-boy bed in his new, own big-boy bedroom, I kissed Ariel goodnight and started to leave his room when I heard him whispering something sleepily. I padded back over to his bed and leaned in to hear him better. He wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered again, smiling and more loudly this time:

"Wur together. Wur in our new house and wur together."

I kissed his two-year-old nose and thought about quickly things are sometimes put into perspective, and from the least likely of sources.