We got keys to the house last Friday night. We took the girls with us. It was a little surreal. It was very sobering. The place looked like hell. It was cleaned, sort of. Like, swept, I guess. But there were food drippings and splatters on the walls. Slime in the tile grout. A leaky bathroom faucet with wet-rotting wall behind sink. Black (with mold) caulking in tub. Cracking paint in places. Some walls had a lot of spackling. Like, mounds of spackling. Not smoothed. None of the spackled walls were touched up with paint. Random lightbulbs were missing from random light fixtures. The banister was wobbly. The washer was so tiny!
On Saturday morning, I had to go to school. Mike took the girls to my parents', where they would spend the weekend. He spent the day moving stuff in my dad's pickup. Once I was done with school, I joined him. We took one more trip of stuff, ended up fighting (which had little to do with moving and a lot to do with alcohol), and returned to the old house for sleep. On Sunday morning, I went to school again, but thankfully only had a half day. Mike hauled a lot more stuff. He worked so hard. I know he did. On Sunday afternoon we tried to move the last of the loose stuff from the old house, in preparation for the movers the next day. We fought more. We had a lovely dinner with the kids, my parents, and Jessie and Carl that night. We returned to the old house for our last night to sleep there.
On Monday morning, I had to meet the cable person at the new house, and Mike took the girls to school. Mike oversaw the movers at the old house and the packing of all furniture. I waited at the new house and oversaw the unloading of all furniture. While trying to clean. And organize. And it was pretty dreadful. I didn't even know where to start. We picked the girls up from school at the end of the day and took them back to the old house, to say goodbye. We moved the goldfish, the frog potty, and the last couple of plants, and went to our new house. We haphazardly placed mattresses on the floors in the bedrooms and put on sheets. We put the girls to bed. Luckily, they were exhausted, so they fell asleep despite the shoddy arrangements. We found out on Monday, also, that our closing scheduled for Tuesday morning wouldn't happen. Since we couldn't close, Mike felt he needed to go to work. He has been extremely busy at work, and his time away was going to be unpaid, and they really needed him. I understood, but I was also devastated. We were going to do our final cleaning together in the morning before closing. We were going to have our celebratory lunch after the closing. We were going to spend the afternoon together, trying to put the house together. We had a counseling session scheduled together, which I really felt we needed. Instead, all was canceled.
So he went to work very early on Tuesday morning and took the girls to school. I went back to the old house and cleaned. And cleaned. And cleaned some more. It was depressing. I managed to lock myself out of the old house, so took a carload of junk back to the new house, got keys, went back to the old house, and cleaned some more. I was both being thorough, and dawdling. I didn't want to be done. I didn't want to leave our house. Our home. Forever. And I didn't want to be alone in that moment. I cried when I left. I just felt so alone.
I went back to the new house and tried to unpack. And clean. And I didn't know where to put anything. And I felt alone.
The next day I went to work, and the following two days I was home with the girls. So little things were done, and it slowly got better. A little bit each day.
This weekend, things got much better. We were productive. We painted the girls' room pink and put the room together. It is adorable. I think we did a great job. We got the cable/internet/phone situation working. We got the televisions set up. It is getting there. I feel a little less alone.
Everything changes. I know this. The only permanent thing is change. (And my own addition to this: The only permanent things are change and resistance to change.) I am trying to adapt.
The girls are just amazing. They are either the most resilient little creatures ever, or we did an exactly perfect job preparing them for the move. Emmy has been having some accidents, but I definitely anticipated that, being only a month or so potty trained before this major life change. They have been dragged around and kept up way too late. They have their moods, and they cling. I guess this has become a consistent theme for me: I am struggling to meet their needs and minimize their trauma, and in doing so, I am neglecting my own needs and exacerbating my trauma. I suppose I do this a lot. I don't want them to suffer for my being in school, so I never do school work while they're awake. I never take a night off for myself because I should be giving them attention whenever I can. But I have to acknowledge that this is not maintainable.
But it really is getting better. I can see a good, happy future in this house.
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