Ready, Set, DEAL!

It is an odd thing...moving. You are still you but in completely different surroundings.  You feel like everything should still be the same while living in chaos and with no routine.

Or am I the only family member that is expected to still be myself?

This is not intended to be a whine-fest or for me to complain.  This is simply my observation and not a poor-woe-is-me moment.  This is my life and I fully accepted my circumstances.

The kids are allowed to behave different.  The husband is allowed to adjust.  Even the dogs get a pass on behavior.  But I put on my AF spouse panties and get things back to normal ASAP.

Last week I had to "deal".  

• Deal with the movers.
• Deal with unpacking every box with the exception of the garage, which hubby was kind enough to take off my hands
• Deal with preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner while unpacking boxes.
• Deal with going to the grocery store to prepare those meals.
• Deal with finding the grocery store.  And home improvement store.  And wholesaler.  
• Deal with curtains, pictures, and organization to get our house looking like home.
• Deal with unbrotherly sibling love.
• Deal with registering those brothers in school.
• Deal with walking our elderly dog at least 5 times a day since climbing the deck stairs is like Mt. Everest to him.
• Deal with taking other dog to the vet because the best time for an ear infection is smack dab in the middle of a move.  
• Deal with everyday chores:  laundry, bills, and begin cleaning the house.
• Deal with hubby's new work schedule which is pretty much sun up to sun down.  

It was a loooonnnnggg week.  I chose to deal with the majority of those issues all at once; seems the faster I can get our house put together the faster the other three humans in my house adjust which makes things easier on me.  Things get back to normal when momma hustles her booty.


My husband and boys did help tremendously...I was not alone in the unpacking.  But since I am COO of this house, all decisions pass by me. If I had curled into a ball and cried or not felt like doing anything, I think everyone would have freaked out: "What the hell is wrong with Mom?  What do we do?"

Now we can begin to live our lives again.  Well, maybe not we; rather, they begin to live their lives.  I will still be on "deal" mode until school begins.

And then I will be able to deal with the emotions of moving and begin to find my way once more.