« Sometimes so many go over, you'd think we lived in a war zone | Main | According to her, Kenny Chesney said this one »
January 28, 2006
I feel like such an ungrateful bitch
This whole knowing-we're-moving-but-not-knowing-where-or-when thing is getting old. I'm tired of trying to answer questions that I have no answers for. I'm tired of trying to think of the answers. I'm tired of trying to make decisions without all the information. Hell, I don't even know what information I need anymore.
I'm developing a grudge against living in this inconvenient place. And then I've got a guilt complex because this inconvenient place is a lot better than a lot of people have it. When did I become so socially concious, dammit? It must have come with the political correctness that I can't seem to shake, even though it's obliterating every last ounce of my uniqueness and personality.
Back to this house, and the ways that it pisses me off. I have a ton of gear from when Jamie was a baby that I can't use. I can't find it in the pile of boxes in the basement, it won't fit where I can use it or I don't even remember I have it. I can't leave things that I use often out where I can get to them, because there isn't enough space. I'd love to have a craft area for Jamie, and even one for me, but there's no room for that either. My baby is sleeping in the office, for god's sake. I can't even print when she's sleeping. I don't even have a place to leave the infant seat that isn't in my way. And the high chair? It lives in the middle of the kitchen. It's a good thing it's on wheels, because I'm constantly pushing it around as I move around the kitchen to cook. Most of my pots, pans and kitchen gear are packed away. We have the basics upstairs, but when I want to get creative, I can't find the stuff I need.
I don't even like to think of all the things that need to be babyproofed. I'm not anal about having everything perfectly safe, but Jamie was such a good kid we didn't do a single thing when we moved in here. There are matches in drawers the kids can get to, glassware in the cabinets that even the baby can reach, no way to rope off the kitty litter (eew!) and I'm using storage bins to keep Katie out of the octopus of electrical cords by the couch.
A lot of this comes back to wanting what we left. Logically, I know that a bunch of the things that drive me nuts here aren't going to go away even if we slipped right back into our old life. I'd still have the two kids, after all. But when I compare now to then, it seems like I'm always saying, "This wouldn't be a problem in our old house." Of course, the longer we're here, the less true that becomes. After all, Katie has already outgrown some of the bigger baby gear. I won't have to worry about stashing the infant seat soon. It just seems like being here is making my life such a pain in the ass, and by the time we actually move I won't be able to use all the things that could have made my life so much easier.
I resent that. A lot.
Posted by me at January 28, 2006 8:28 PM