I’m really not good with change. Especially big change, even if its completely planned and wonderful.
For example, I flipped out when The Big Bang Theory was temporarily moved out of its Thursday night slot to Tuesday (It totally messed up our DVR schedule!).
I was also really upset when I moved to California and realized that along with Faygo, Toasteds, Better Made potato chips, and Winshuler’s cheese, I would have to add Open Pit BBQ sauce to the list of things I can’t find at the grocery store. Eventually, I discovered Baby Rays and peace was restored in the kingdom.
On the scale of larger changes, although I really wanted to stay home with Olive once she was born, and truly appreciate every day I get to spend with her, I was desperately depressed the first month I was home and my routine was altered. I was used to putting on my nice pretty work clothes and stopping by Starbucks on my way to work. I would spend a few minute chatting it up with my office peeps (rehashing last night’s episode of American Horror Story) before settling down to the rest of my latte and perusing my work emails and then jetting off to a morning meeting. Regardless of how wonderful it is being Olive’s “super mommy” (or mediocre mommy), spending my days bottle feeding, changing diapers, not showering, and watching horrible day time tv and scrubbing dog drool off the furniture was a cruel new reality.
So again, I have to remind myself that changes are good! We bought a new house (our first!) and moved in last month. We had previously been renting a few miles from our current home and frankly we were tired of renting. With Matt being in the military, buying a home is more of a risk than a normal home owner because you don’t know how long you will get to enjoy it. We have three years and then it will just depend on where his orders take us. If we don’t stay in San Diego, we will be faced with either selling our house or renting it out and hiring a management company to deal with it while we are away. But I was tired of living in a house without a dishwasher, central AC and functional heat of any kind. Plus I’m fairly certain the electrical was no where up to code. So I’m very excited to be living where we have all of these things. It feels very luxurious.
If I’m going to be honest, I’m not a good packer. Or unpacker. Or organizer. Or decorator. So things are slow going. I blame part of this on our move coinciding with the first trimester of my pregnancy which made me ridiculously tired 23 hours out of the day and want to hurl all 24 hours of the day.
The other part of moving that I hate is the adjustment period it takes to figure out where every thing is located. For example, I knew exactly where the closest drive-thru Starbucks was at our old house, the best Target location, the best Albertson’s grocery store. I knew that if I left for the Commissary by 8am with list in hand, I could be back in time to put the groceries away, grab some snacks for the diaper bag and be at our play date with our play group at 11 am.
The first play date we were scheduled to go to post-move was a pre-holiday cookie exchange. I was exhausted from the move, but I love baking and we hadn’t been to a playdate in a while because of the move so I was determined to make it happen. I stayed up until 11 pm the night before making hot chocolate cookies with melted marshmallows on top and woke up early the next morning to hit up the commissary before the play date. Unfortunately, the location of our new house tacked on six miles each way to the trek and I didn’t get back from the commissary until the play date started. I was exhausted and feeling sick from lack of food and energy. I walked into the house and Matt and Olive were playing together, still in pajamas and she hadn’t eaten yet either. I broke down and started crying, shoving cookies in my mouth. “WE’LL NEVER MAKE IT!”
If we are ever faced with a zombie apocalypse, I probably shouldn’t be the first person you team up with.
And we didn’t make it, partially because we would’ve been over an hour late by the time we got there and mostly because I didn’t want people to see my mascara streaked face, bags under my eyes, and chocolate coated teeth. So I put the groceries away and took a nap instead.
Part of the way I deal with change is to plan. Which as any military wife or mother will tell you is pretty much impossible. We had originally planned on trying to get pregnant and have our second baby before Matt went back to a submarine, as it would best assure that he would be here for the delivery and recovery period (I had a c-section with Olive and I am anticipating I may have one with this pregnancy as well). However, his sea duty was pushed up a few months and well…you can’t plan everything. So here we are approaching the second trimester and here we go! Back to the boat!
What this means for us is Matt may not be here when our second baby is born. After almost ten years together, I’ve figured out its best to plan on him not being here so I don’t have to be devastated and overly stressed when plans change and I have to put on my big girl pants and deal with something on my own.
Which means I will more than likely have to do LOTS of extra planning. I’ll be making lots of meals for the freezer and buying some things in bulk closer to the due date, so we will have everything we need for the first couple weeks in case I can’t drive (Oh the joys of c-sections).
It means possibly boarding our beloved Beluga Whale of a dog for a couple weeks until I’m healed (the thought of him jumping on me post-delivery makes my uterus hurt).
It means having lots of people on back up and possibly having family fly out around my scheduled due date so I have extra help with Olive since I won’t be able to pick her up for the first two or three weeks post-delivery. And having people take us to follow up appointments for those two weeks when I can’t operate a motor vehicle or lift anything heavier than an infant.
I try not to think about all of this too much, because the very thought of dealing with not only another c-section, but adjusting to having both a toddler and an infant, all while my husband is gone kind of makes me want to simultaneously stuff my face with cookies, start sobbing, and scream
“WE’RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT!!”