Let me tell you about me and change. Actually, here's a funnier way to tell you about it. Rather than just saying "I don't like it".
At the very end of the year, like the second last class, Meghan decided she didn't want me to leave her alone at preschool. I looked at her teacher a but puzzled and asked her what she made of it.
"Well, we've been doing some talking about Junior Kindergarten and she's moving. Lots of changes for Meghan and we both know how Meghan handles change."
A-ha... Yes. We do.
I understand that alot of the changes in my life recently were either unavoidable or brought on by only me. Understanding that doesn't make how I am handling this easier or excusable.
We had friends over today for lunch and a tour of the new house. Marty was everywhere and I was worried about her hurting one of their kids. I had to make lunch. I had to entertain. Within a few minutes, I became a huge bitch. I don't think it was too obvious, but I did alot of barking at John and my kids. I hate how I behaved and I did apologize once I realized it, but I still feel like shit.
I want to admit that I am harbouring a bit of resentment toward my husband recently. Because he was coming here to work every day while we still lived at the old house, I didn't see him and sort of forgot that he really has it pretty easy. He doesn't have to commute to work. He works for himself. He sets his timetable.
Now that I am here and John is working from home again, I am realizing that he's got it pretty sweet. I mean, I understand how hard it is to keep a business together. How hard it is to budget and keep this family eating and living in a nice house with new cars etc... I get that. Big time.
BUT, basically, the guy just has to roll out of bed and go to work. He doesn't cook meals and he gets a free pass on childcare just by saying "Well, I have to work!" I can't argue, cause it's our livelihood. He can fuck off to auctions and not return until late and he doesn't have to worry about anything going on here. I will do it. He knows that.
I long for that freedom. I am jealous of it. I want it.
As husbands go, I am very lucky. I know. Really. I've only ever had this complaint really, beyond him not picking up his underwear and keeping his hands off my boobs while I cook.
I guess it really doesn't have much to do with him. I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed. A bit trapped. 4 kids. A dog. A house three times the size as my previous one.
And you see? See me making excuses for my feelings? Why is that? My feelings are valid and why can't I bitch about them? Why? Why? Why? Huh. I guess I just did.