Ding Dongs and lots of tears

Anyone asking me lately how the house is going has been hearing one of two things.  The truth, as horrible as I am making it sound (because that is what it feels like), and a 'padded' version of 'everything is just peachy.

Our moldy rental gave me one last sinus infection, a beautiful and thoughtful going away present.  It didn't want to be outdone, clearly, and once again the antibiotic is not working on it.  It has egged on the asthma and I have been pretty miserable and cranky for upwards of a week.  Trying to be cheery for my kids, who are thrown off by the move and the commute, but really starting to lose it despite my best efforts. 

I picked up the last load of my plants on Monday morning, the same day Sean flew out for work.  I've been doing commutes with both kids, both ways, all week.  That has entailed spending 4-6 hours per day behind the wheel.  And I don't actually like driving.  Certainly not on the highway.  Certainly not when I just want to crawl under something and go to sleep.  Filling my tank twice a week is no picnic either, for my sanity or my bank account.

This commute has enraged me, and I am a bit ashamed to have let my kids see that.  At first I was able to curtail it by calling people "Ding-Dong", and that was funny for a while.  But as the week drones on and on and I become more and more exhausted, I am finding that nasty words are coming out of my mouth.  I regret that my children have to hear that.  I have talked to them about this though, and I am sure, on some parallel level, it is good that they know that their mom is human.  Suffice it to say, I have not been wearing my super-mom cape all week.  My sanity has been wearing it, as it jumped off the Dumbarton bridge and is swimming around in SF bay.  Laughing at me and mocking me. 

I keep thinking about my moldy rental.  It was far too small for our family.  But it was cozy.  It was comfortable.  It was home.  It was where I raised my kids for 5 1/2 years, which, at their ages, is quite a chunk of time!  I miss my neighbors, and knowing where things are. 

I feel uprooted, even though I'm (in perfect traffic) 1/2 hour away.  My oven only goes on or off, not all the stove burners work, and the ones that do smell like melted plastic.  None of the floors are level, and not all are finished yet...just exposed sub floor.  We're still missing that wall, too, and I thought about hanging a picture on it today, just to see if it would help.  My kitchen is far smaller than the last and nothing is fitting.  The only thing actually working is the fire door between the kitchen and the garage, and I forgot that it actually worked and walked smack into it today.  Got a great goose egg on my forehead for that.  Then, dissolved into tears because I'm hurting, exhausted, and lonely, and it just seemed there was nothing else to do.  Except say another very bad thing that I was thankful my kids did not hear. 

I've decided that I actually hate my new house.  I cannot seem to have any other feeling for it.  I haven't been able to unpack stuff, either because I can't figure out where it should go, or because there are no floors in the room it should go in.  And this seems like I'm blaming my husband for that; I'm not.  He worked tremendously hard to get done what he did before he had to travel. 

I'm also trying to wrap my brain around Thanksgiving being next week.  I can't cook a meal like that here...so what are we going to do?  I know it isn't about the meal, but still.  Then I always decorate for Christmas on Friday.  Pretty sure that won't happen either, since there just isn't enough time to get the house ready to live sanely in before then. 

I think I need to suck it up and get some sleep.  And tomorrow, when driving the kids in, I should call more people a Ding-Dong, but work really hard to say it with a smile.  Maybe even get a box unpacked.  It sure would be nice to be able to call this home at some point.  For the kids' sake, sooner would be better.