Let me just blow the dust off the shelves around here. Sorry about the state of things… Life with a toddler (Yup, toddler! Seedling is now 16.5 months old!) is busy – wonderful and frustrating, highest highs and some cranky, rotten, no-good very-bad lows. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
I don’t know if anyone will read this, but I just need a place to let it all out. There have been several really difficult things in the last few weeks and while Hubster is an excellent shoulder to cry on, I feel like what I need is to just scream into the wind, scream until I make myself hoarse.
It started at the end of April with Hubster was in a car accident on his way to work in the morning. Thankfully no one was hurt, and it wasn’t far from our apartment so I woke up Seedling, drove out and waited with him, called insurance and AAA. He was able to limp his truck back to our Apartment afterward. There are still a lot of questions with the insurance, as to who was at fault (no witnesses other than the drivers) and so we can’t move forward with repairing his truck until we know if the insurance will pay for it or not. So that means we are suddenly a one car family. I know it is fairly common, and my complaints are that of a “first world problem” but with crummy public transportation options, being stuck at home with a wiggly and and energetic toddler has given me a right good case of cabin fever. Add in a good dollop of feeling overweight and out of shape and wishing I could access various parks and outlets of exercise, having some really awful body image issues, and continued lack of progress in the conceiving of baby #2.
Then I had the very sad day of taking Seedling to get a lip tie and tongue tie assessed. The doctor was really wonderful, but I wish we had caught this sooner. Seedling was incredibly distraught to be swaddled and held down for a mouth exam, and then to have that done a second time so they could cut the ties. Since then she’s been having some (understandably) rough days dealing with pain and healing, and me constantly messing with her mouth to ensure things are healing correctly.
But the biggie? Well, that will take a but more explaining. It’s complicated. I’ll try my best to simplify it. So, Hubster’s current job does not bring in enough income to cover rent, bills and living expenses. We have been slowly living off what was left off his savings/trust fund. He is in his final semester of college (remember, day job and night classes keep Hubster a very busy boy!) and once he graduates, and takes his licencing exam for welding, the world of possibilities opens up for a better job. We knew that in this semester we would run out of the last of savings. So he asked for a larger student loan to cover tuition and give us a little extra for living expenses. We waited… and waited… wand waited for this loan check! He would check in with student aid and they would just say it was coming. Monday of this past week I got a letter in the mail from financial aid. THE CHECK! I tore it open – no. Not the check. A letter stating that the loan request had been DENIED. Clearly there had to be some mistake, some misunderstanding. Tuesday Hubster spend a good chunk of his afternoon in the financial aid office trying to figure out how to get us the check. The short story is that while the personnel were able to scramble together enough grants to cover tuition, there would be no loan check, no extra money for living expenses. I return to the fact that we cannot afford rent and bills. Turns out our lease ends at the end of this month. We certainly don’t want to resign a lease we cannot afford to pay. But anything we might have been able to afford was about the size of a shoebox and pretty low standard of living. My mother offered that we could move in with her. And the fact is, it is really our only option. So we accepted. But of course, it;s not just that simple. It’s humbling. It’s depressing. I’m 29, I have a daughter, I figured that when we moved next, it would be into a house. Maybe even buying a house. Oh, and let’s not overlook the fact that we will be squishing our bedroom and Seedling’s nursery will be combined into 1 (one!) room. Because my mother’s condo is tiny. It’s perfect, for her. But for her plus us? It’ll be “cozy”. And my mom is a pretty particular person. She has a VERY high standard of cleaning and organizing and clutter and, well, we are more relaxed. My mom is a very talkative, inquisitive, sensitive person who doesn’t have a great awareness of boundaries. Hubster is a fairly reserved guy, very sarcastic (especially when stressed or cranky), fiercely independent person. Not to mention that I’ve worked very hard over the past decade to instill boundaries with my mother that are going to be tested to their utmost limit. Oh – and of course this move takes us 30+minutes away from Hubster’s current job and school, away from my mom groups and friends. With no car and no close friends I have a foreseeable future of being stranded in that tiny condo alone with Seedling. I can feel the claustrophobia setting in. We will be putting most of our stuff in a storage unit, only taking the BARE essentials. We are going into this knowing (expecting) that it’s temporary until Hubster can find a better job. Could be as soon as a month or two, hopefully no more than 6 months! But so there is added stress of knowing that not only are we doing a stressful, last-minute move in three weeks time, but also the stress of knowing we can’t really “settle down” but will be moving all our crap again in a few months time. I feel…. adrift. Chaotic. The word “stress” doesn’t even BEGIN to cover all the EmOtIoNs going on. Some times I feel relaxed, and I can see the good things (super low rent, and extra hand with Seedling, Seedling ADORES my mom, incredible jetted bathtub…) but mostly all I can see if just that this is going to take a lot of energy and effort and the strain this will cause on my relationship with Hubster and my relationship with my mom.
I want a little cottage in the country. Big enough for us to grow our family, but cozy. Lots of acreage for cows and sheep and a big garden and fruit trees and chickens and bees. Nothing glamorous, just simple, pastoral, content. A place where me and my family can work hard and go to sleep at night knowing we did an honest days work, knowing that my kids had loads of fresh air, that I know where the food on my table came from because it came from me. Dirt under my fingernails.