After weeks of feeling completely exhausted, scatterbrained, and aching for the days before mortgages and pest control, I came to the realization that moving is much like having another baby. There's upheaval, great expense, sleepless nights, and adjusting to a new, foreign routine. I mean, there's less poop involved (human anyway, if we're not counting the everloving rabbits), but I think you see what I'm saying here. After all, they do say moving is one of the greater stresses you can experience in life. As is having children! How counterintuitive! If only there was an infographic to help me cope!
Creating a new budget is like trying to breastfeed:
The supply never meets the demand.
You realize it's necessary and good and things will pay off in the long-run, but OHMYGOD, it's painful and can't we just hire an accountant? (And do they still make wet nurses?)
And let's not forget the stigma attached to deciding not to feed your baby because it's JUST NOT IN THE BUDGET. (Please...don't act like you didn't have THAT conversation with the lady in your book club.)
Making new friends is like trying to introduce the newborn to extended family:
There's always someone in the corner who is completely uncomfortable and awkward and wearing too much perfume and then YOU'RE the weird one for pulling out the gas mask. (IT'S FOR THE BABY.)
People get all eye-rolly when you try to wipe them down with Germ-X before even saying "hi", but, like, HELLO, I don't know what kind of indigenous diseases you Texans carry.
When your use of antibacterial products is discouraged, you're doubly judged for DRINKING THEM because NO ONE BROUGHT LIQUOR.
Unpacking is like trying to soothe a crying infant.
Overwhelming is a word. So is homicidal. And pointless. And institutionalization.
As soon as you feel slightly accomplished, someone reminds you that this will go on...for...months...or....years....andthenyoustabthatperson and go to jail for months...or...years.
Upgrading and fixing the house is like observing your naked body postpartum.
You have such grand ideas, but there's just not enough money in the world to fix this shit hole. (Erm...)
Saying goodbye to friends and family is like saying goodbye to your youth, happiness, and will to live.
Just as there are no more late-nights, concerts, or experimental self-medication once you have a baby, there are no more impromptu visits with th high school BFF, a guaranteed-not-to-turn-your-hair-green trip to the salon, or a quick run to mom's house to get a home-cooked meal. For the children. Because you're not up to it tonight. And here's some laundry, while you're at it. Hey! You can afford Tivo!? I'm just gonna watch that one... ::snore::
Of course, none of this is to say that I don't love my new home and the life we're making down here in
::dumps gunpowder over head::
(Editor's note: I realize I might be coming across as kill-myself-y, but don't be concerned about my stability. I've already located to local Big Daddy's liquor store. Plus, I'm taking the boys to the library this afternoon. I expect it to be very relaxing and not-at-all stressful and chaotic.)