chasing goats to nowhere

a few times a day someone will call or come see us and ask "how are you doing?". and i'll admit, that sends a huge prickly feeling up my spine. i dig my heels in and say, "i'm fine! why wouldn't i be?" i mean, c'mon, it's not like i'm dying over here or something. ok, the other night when abby and i were both rolling around in the bed moaning and puking, death seemed like a nice vacation spot i'd like to go to soon, but for real?  everything is pretty much exactly the same.

it hasn't phased me in the least (of course the stomach flu train that rolled through town rocked us a little, but that's par for course there). and i think, "so what does that mean about your marriage annie?".
 where is ty missing in the equation if you can't see the difference? and i can tell now, right now, when i'm lying in bed at 2:36 am listening to the leaves blow outside. wide awake, scared to fall asleep. that is when i realize that i'm not at home.  i don't feel settled. i don't feel home. i don't feel anything really. this entire move has been like one GIANT epidural as far as my feelings and emotions go. yes, admittedly, i bawled my eyes out a good 3 hour chunk of the drive here. i had lovely, lovely, lovely, life long friends that i left for forever. that i ache for on a daily basis. but that's not just it.

i can tell that the girls are bored with me as there is no daddy to fly them around the room, take them fishing or to ACE hardware to pick up wall anchors. no piggy back rides or snuggle fests on the couch watching a red sox update on espn. but it's more than that. it doesn't seem to bother me that ty's not home because i'm not home either. any move is unsettling. just ask my avis : ). it's hard. add three kiddos to the mix and it's a freaking circus. a move to the desert in the middle of june and a renovation at hand? fuhgettaboutit.  we haven't felt like a family or at all. we just wisk in and out of birthday parties and church functions placidly. when ty is home he's not home. he's sanding a floor, or putting up a light or organizing the shed for storage.

and when i signed the 4 digit check on thursday that fixed the kaput air conditioning unit, while saying goodbye to the beautiful (and shockingly expensive) rug i had planned for the family room, i thought "is this it?" this is real life? is this how it's always going to be? i look out our windows and see land covered in giant weeds. and dirt with little bits of grass from a past when someone loved it and watered it. i walk by them and say "i'm coming, i promise! i'm coming". but there aren't enough minutes in the day. enough time to fix the sprinklers. bulldoze the enormous 2 story building weeds that have taken up residence in front of my pomegranates. to level out the lawn that looks like paul bunyon has been golfing on. to painting the inside-outside and everything in between and nailing on base boards that have sat in my hallway for 6 WEEKS. heaven help me.  the list could reach the moon and back. so i'm drowning, slowly drowning in a sea of "some days" and "next times" and "we want to do thises".  i keep telling myself, "i'm tough" and "this is the worst it will be", but deep down inside i'm scared. scared that in 20 years that same box that says "LR books and decor" will still be sitting in the hallway by the bathroom door next to the wall that i want to wallpaper but am scared to wallpaper because every house we've moved into has horrid old outdated wallpaper that makes me vomit in my mouth and swallow.

the entire point of this post is something i don't know. we're unsettled. and that's ok, according to my mother. "give yourself 6 months" for a move. and "12 weeks" after every baby. she's always been right about the baby time period, so i'll have faith in this one. 6 months 6 months. wait, 4 1/2 months left of pure limbo.

4 1/2 months.

*side note* i'm thinking i don't admit i miss ty very much because that's how i survive. if i were to start thinking about how i'd like to see his face in the morning i'd get all sad and sappy.  bah! who wants that? sad and sappy can eat it. i'd rather die an early death happy than live my days out with my head in the sand whining and wishing things were different. that's just me. probably why i had such a blast when ty served his mission for our church. bwahahahaha.


Whitney Baldwin said...

Avis says, I sure like you Annie.
I'm gonna hold your mom to that six months.
If it doesn't work, I'm going to want her number.
Only kidding.

Anonymous said...

You should probably go back to utah.

Anonymous said...

Oh Annie, I know what you're feeling only yours is on some steps above mine. I will pray for you and you pray for me. We are strong women. We will survive. We will conqure. We will look back someday and think about how we survived the little things we did that seemed like the end of the world at the time.

Bowler Family said...

Hello Annie, this is Earth. Welcome!! It sucks here!!

Home ownership is wonderful and awful all at the same time!! I know, MY weeds mock me about it!!

Wahl Family said...

Hey Annie!Just remember someone down the road can't wait to get to know you a lot better. I loved taking with you the other day!

Jed Wheeler Family said...

If you're like me, it will be better when your man gets home. Nothing is more overwhelming than dealing with life aka puke on your own.

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