As I drove away from our house this morning at 4:30, I had a million things going through my brain.
I had been awake for hours before… mostly because the Expert woke up around 1:30 with stomach pains, and I thought—-OMG… my food poisoning from Wednesday was actually a stomach virus and the Expert had caught it —and on MOVING day… no no no no—-turns out, he is okay. But after that I was awake worrying, well if he’s sick like I was, then I need to take off from work, because he’ll be in the bathroom all day and someone has to help the moverrs… but I can’t take off work because I have time-sensitive meeting today—and then what about the kids, they can’t be sick too, they are going to Sweet Red’s to play with her kids and have sleepover… and and and….
So at 4:15, the Expert confirmed that he was fine, and I got out of the bed and prepared for Friday’s workout extravaganza of a 1600m swim, spin class and a 5k treadmill run.
Yes, ridiculous. Moving on. Welcome to Ironman.
As I drove away from the house for the last time as a resident… I was not nervous, not fearful, and not sad. But I was actually more at peace. And I know that peace is a harder thing to come by than any other feeling.
Really, I could only think of how thankful I was that we, as a family, had the opportunity to live in that house for the last four, almost five, years. That we were able to raise our babies in a safe environment (except the one time the people broke into our cars and stole our contents AND the garage door opener… well…). We have had our troubles, as married people, as parents, and as human beings. And if you can believe it, I have waaaaaaay more issues than I even talk about here. (I know, don’t defriend me).
But sometimes it takes leaving a place…to realize what you’ve had all along.
As the Swim Bike Family begins this new chapter, I hope that we have made the right move. But how do you ever know for sure??? I hope that just because it’s the four of us moving and living together—just us—that we have to rely on each other more than before, that it brings us closer and fills us with a more sense of togetherness that we’ve known before.
[I hope that I learn how to make coffee in our new rental house, because the mud I make each morning is getting really hard to drink.]
I hope the living closer to the gym will make our lives and workouts easier. I hope that living close to the schools will make our children’s lives more joyful. Finally, I hope that I can finally be the wife and mother that I’ve always wanted to be–but have failed so often because of exhaustion from work plus 2+ hours of daily road rage.
[I hope that I will not roll my eyes at the wealthy Lululemon moms who have perfect bodies and time to bake and bring in super-fancy snacks for the schools. Ah-hem. Wait… maybe I will have time to bake now! Oooops, but what about
I guess what I have learned over the last 11 years of marriage with the Expert, is that we have never been afraid to pick up and go when we need to. This is our 6th move in 11 years of marriage. We’re usually good to step to the edge, and take a leap of faith… Despite many years of troubles and working harder than I would’ve never cared to do, I think this spirit has served us well. And surprisingly, it’s kept us out of The Expert v. Swim Bike Mom, Civil Action Case No. 666, Divorce, in the Superior Court of Gwinnett County.
And if we make it through unpacking tonight without killing each other, then we will have hit another milestone.
And if Sweet Red survives the sleepover with the crazy Swim Bike Kids, that will be a miracle.
…..Aaaaand if I survive a 13 mile run tomorrow [which apparently is going to be squeezed in somewhere during PART II of the Moving Extravaganza… because all of our stuff won’t fit in one truck… I blame triathlon gear]… well, if I finish that run, I’m going to jump into the game of Wreck-It Ralph and get my medal. (Two blog posts in a row referencing Wreck-It Ralph. I’m sorry. It’s all I’ve been seeing.)
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger! Right?
And pardon this one (you guys all know I’m a God-fearing triathlete, so please see the humor in it, mmmmkay?)… it was too good not to post. Thanks to a dear SBM friend for sharing it with me:
I’m not sure about the bad-ass part… but I have a big one. Does that count?
Have a great weekend, friends. Thanks for “listening” to all my drama this week.