Down and Up

Believe it or not, I'm trying to have a good attitude and not complain, but I think if I don't talk myself through this, I may go insane :)

Officially, we started moving out last weekend. We took mom's couch back to her and left my beautiful painting, thankfully, in her custody. We started packing boxes. Monday, Jeff spent the day at his dad's house to help clear out an old shed and start building two new ones they bought. I dropped Jeff off on my way to work and picked him up after. We ended up staying for dinner and even though Monday was surprisingly calm, I expected a busy hard day, so was okay with not getting much (okay, getting any) packing done.
Monday night, I didn't sleep at all. My stomach hurt from eating garlic and onions (smart move there) and my muscles were achy. Tuesday was a harder day this week than Monday. By the time I got home, I was crying, not for any emotional reason, but just because I was tired. Jeff told me not to worry about packing (not a smart move either I'm sure) and made dinner and took care of me. This was very nice, but by last night, I was getting really nervous about packing and moving.
His mom and step dad are about the only ones we know with trucks, trailers etc and they are going to be out of town the next few weekends. This means his mom wants to move us Friday. We are so dependent on other people it's driving me crazy. Friday may or may not work because of my lack of packing but also because the shed building thing is not going so quickly and that's where a lot of our stuff will be going. Also, until the sheds are built, his dad and step mom can't finish cleaning out our room because it's mostly used as storage now. So when we have help to move us, we may not have a place to move it to. I feel like I'm going in circles.

Anyway, last night I insisted on getting some packing done. I felt like I accomplished so much in relatively little time. But then I stopped and looked around and we're still not ready to go! And my back and stomach hurt so much just from what I did, I couldn't go any more. Jeff is really good to help, but I keep feeling, perhaps wrongly or being too controlling, that I need to do it so I know where my stuff is and can be organized about it.

I have a beautiful roll top desk I got for Christmas when I was in junior high. Ideally, I'd like to have it in our room, becuase it is special and highly practical. But, there may not be room. One goal last night was to finish cleaning it out. I feel like it's a treasure chest. I try to keep it mostly practical, but it also houses things like coloring books and little games and stationary that make me happy. Thinking of what I need versus what can be stored or given away was quite difficult. We don't know how long we'll be there, but kind of have a year in our head because time goes by fast and we do have to get a baby here etc. A year from now, my life will be completely different. I will probably be completely different. How do I know what I'll wish I had and what I won't? If it's just going in storage anyway, there's a lot of stuff that doesn't seem worth keeping. All of this combined to make me very sad. I cried as I packed, threw away, and tried to treasure my little things.

I hope it doesn't sound too worldly. I never think of myself as a material person. That's why the things I do have are so special. They are my treasures. They are what will someday, again, make my home my home. That's not so wrong is it?!

After the desk, I took some pictures off the wall and packed away my books, journals, scriptures- my real treasures that I want to make sure I have available and are taken care of. Once the pictures come off the wall, it really feels empty to me. But by this point, I'd pulled my emotions together and was focused on being productive. I packed some more boxes and then, feeling done for, just wanted to make sure I had what baby stuff we do have put together. Also some important stuff right now. I knew I had a few little treasures stowed away in my cedar chest and wanted to make sure I got those out, not knowing where the cedar chest will live for a while either. That was a fun box to look into!

I didn't have as much in it as I thought. But I do have a sweatshirt I got when my grandma died, purely for sentimental reasons. It's what she wore a lot before she died and I wanted it because it's how I remembered her (I was 10). I also have a couple dolls my mom made for me when I was little. I was awed at the time and talent she put into them. I have a little stuffed dog that's about worn out- like my Velveteen rabbit- that I slept with while my parents were in Hawaii when I was about 9. My mom took one dog and I took the other so that we would stay connected that way. His name is Caramel Cashew and hers was Hot Fudge Sundae.

And then the baby things. I had more than I remembered. I have a few books I've somehow collected and was so happy to see. The B book by Dr. Seuss (not to be sacreligious, but I've never been a big fan of the doc. I do love this book though). And one little critter book that even Jeff got excited about, called "Just go to Bed." A book by Oscar the Grouch titled "How to be a Grouch." And, a beautiful Stephen Cosgrove book. And I had a few outfits.
What I originally got in there for was a present, still wrapped in beautiful tissue paper, I knew I had tucked away. I had been invited to a baby shower for someone in the ward and bought the present and had it all pretty and ready to go. I don't remember if my grandpa was just going into the resthome (he'd been sick and in the hospital and they would only release him to somewhere he could have constant care) or if he was just coming home from the rest home. Either way, we weren't sure how long he would live. My aunt lives in Elko and she needed to come up to Salt Lake and the only way (or best way) she could get here was if my mom drove down and picked her up. I went with my mom and missed the baby shower.
Perhaps it sounds lame, but for whatever reason (probably grandpa and family things), I never did get the present to whoever was having the baby shower. I don't remember her now but I do remember this weekend. So, eventually, I tucked away the present thinking I would give it to myself someday. I didn't remember what was in the present either, but I did know it was for a girl.
Last night I opened the present. I had a little tiny pair of pink mittens with white hearts on them, some striped socks, and the outfit is a soft, fleecy, pink outfit size 18 months. It's SO cute and I think will be about the right size at the right time. Even Jeff thought the mittens were cute.

So, the times they are a changing... is that what people say. This morning I was trying to talk myself into a good attitude as I got to work. I paused for a moment and had to admit I'm doing surprisingly well with all the stress and change in my life right now. Maybe I should give myself some credit.