Decisions and Fears

Lately I feel like I have really strong reactions, in my head, to things. Knowing that a lot of it is probably "just hormones" (I really hate that phrase), I try to keep it inside. Then I spend a lot of time feeling sorry for myself for not sticking up for me and saying what I think etc. I also feel like I complain more than ever now. So, I'm hesitant to start talking about what I was going to blog about.

On the other hand, in an effort to clear the cobwebs and get my head on straight and really just to discuss what's going on in my life, I thought I'd just start typing. So, here's my big announcement (perhaps as much to myself, having been in denial and anger and now perhaps getting ready for acceptance- did I get the steps right?)... at the end of February, Jeff and I will be moving into his Dad's house. We actually were trying to do it sooner, but the fees and consequences of breaking our lease were more than the cost and consequences of finishing it out.

So, who lives at Jeff's dad's house? His dad and step mom and 13 year old half brother. And the step mom's mom and two 17 year old brothers. Three dogs (if chihuahuas really count as dogs) and two cats. And, until recently, some turtles and snakes and who knows what else? They have a good sized room in the basement for us that is a bit away from everyone so hopefully we will have some privacy.

I don't want to sound ungrateful because I'm certainly glad they're willing to help us out, but I am scared to death of this move. The first time or two we talked seriously about it, I just cried. Perhaps it sounds worldly but the thought of really living with someone else and their rules and ways of doing things and packing all my stuff away in storage, made me feel like I would just disappear. I told Jeff, how can I be the wife and mother when I don't even get to decide what's for dinner?

I will note here that a time or two, I've felt a very reassuring feeling of "don't be so afraid; this is how you'll get to be home with your baby." I've held onto that like a life line, but some days, even that doesn't feel like a reality. I told Jeff that I will not work and leave my baby just so I can live in the basement of someone else's house. I hope he gets that.

I'm also afraid that Jeff will go and forget that he's the dad and the husband and he'll feel like one of the 17 year old boys and just want to play games with them all the time. I told him he can't forget me. I've heard that president Kimball said it's not good for a couple to live with their parents; that they need to be independent as much as possible. I worry we won't be grown up married people, but more like roommates and children.

My parents have also offered us a room at their house. I love my old bedroom, but it is small and more in the main part of the house. Jeff is probably right in thinking that we couldn't fit and would have no privacy. I would worry all the time that he would be feeling like I'm afraid I'm going to feel. But I would be much more comfortable living with my mom and Khrys than a bunch of stinky boys. Especially once my baby gets here.

Another concern is that just after the baby comes, everyone, including his step mom, will be out of school for the summer. I will never have any time to myself. How am I supposed to learn to be a mom when I'm constantly being bombarded by people and barely have a spot to call my own?
I worry about things before that as simple as when I'll get to take a shower and go the bathroom. I don't know if I remember how to live around people like that and I've never had to do it with people I don't know really well.

What really bothers me is that I keep blaming myself. Did I make a wrong choice somewhere? Am I not doing good enough- with our finances, with working, with... I don't know, whatever- to keep us out of this mess? And I can't help fearing that if Jeff really wanted to be a grown up and married and have a baby, he wouldn't be so willing to do this. Like I feel like he's retreating and I'm just going along stupidly, thinking he wants me there.