As i sit here tonight twiddling my thumbs, i am feeling strange. My husband is away – again – and the kids are in bed, and i’ve finished my OC Housewives and it’s only 9:30.
We’ve been in this house, in this state, for nearly a full year. Two months shy of 1 year, actually. This is odd for us. Since my nearly 7 year old was 2.5 we have moved 5 times. 4 of those times were state-to-state moves.
And i swear we aren’t even it witness protection…. parent protection might be more like it, though. Gotta keep CPS busy somehow.
5 times in 4 1/2 years is insane. I don’t recommend it. It’s nice to look back and see that we got through it, and i love that i’ve met so many amazing people, but i don’t like leaving those people behind. It takes a lot for me to put myself into a friendship with someone, and i hate just walking (moving) away from that.
Facebook makes it kind of hard to be ok with leaving those people behind
It’s taken this long for me to look around and realize how much i still have in boxes just out of sheer self-preservation. If i have to pack or unpack another box anytime soon, my head might actually explode. I’ve lost the drive to even care where anything is put. Is there a space on a shelf? There. There’s your answer. I. Don’t. CARE.
Even this house isn’t permanent, as we are hoping to buy our own house soon, but at least we know we are staying in the same zip. The goal is not to change schools. We have already broken the teachers down for my kid, i don’t know that i can do it as well a second time so soon.
But it’s been nice to just settle into a place. This is what normal and boredom feels like. No stress. No drama .. well, minimal drama, anyway. It is still me we are talking about. But instead of feeling bored, i’m going to appreciate the quiet and maybe even find a good book to read.
READING! What the hell is that? !! The last book i ‘read’ was an audiobook. Bossypants by Tina Fey. I’m convinced i can pick up my kindle and actually read words myself. I might start out having to read them out loud out of habit, but eventually i’d like to just go back to reading grown up enjoyable books in my head. No Skippyjon Jones, no Monkeys jumping on beds. No Walter the Farting Dog.
all great books, i might add, but not my own personal favorites.