Life has been hard lately.
I say that and then I immediately want to start beating myself up.
"Your life is not hard."
"You have so much to be thankful for."
"You shouldn't complain."
All of those things are true but in spite of all of that junk that I put on myself the fact is... Life. Has. Been. Hard. We're eleven and a half months into living with my in-laws. That doesn't really need any explanation, but I'm going to give it. Don't for a minute think that I've got dreadful inlaws. They are as good as they come. That is not an exaggeration. I will never be able to thank them enough for saying, "Move on in." when we sold our house sooner than expected. (And before we were ready, if we're being totally honest.) Eight of those months we've been building our dream home which is both the most amazing and also the most difficult thing we've ever done as a family. But really the biggest challenge is that when you're used to having your own space for a long time, it's really tough to have to share again. It's hard on us. It's hard(er, I'm sure) on them. It's hard feeling like the messes your kids make (all kids make) are worse than ever because it's now a mess in someone else's home. It's hard to live in a house that isn't your home. It's hard to feel like you don't have all of your clothes/shoes/recipes/tools/toys/blankets/etc/etc/etc that help your normal life function. It's hard to not have enough space to put your things. I've fallen into this "if I fold the laundry it will all just be unfolded in bins anyway because we don't have any freaking DRESSERS here" phase.
I spend my time at the new house taking it all in and telling myself, "I'm so ready for this. This feels like home." But also knowing that even though we're ready for it, it's not quite ready for us. Knowing that I need to be patient because it will be even better to move in once it's complete, 100% finished. And then I come home to the mountains of once folded, but never stays that way laundry that fills the entire room where we sleep and cry because I feel like I'm drowning underneath jeans and t-shirts. Suffocating in sweatpants.
And I don't even own sweatpants....
I think you get the point here. Sometimes life just isn't how we want it to be. It isn't always the beautiful thing that we've worked so hard to build. Sometimes it's messy and broken and disorganized and scary. Sometimes we just want to break down and cry.
Yesterday, while we were working on the house, our good friends' two-year-old little girl was so sad she was doing just that. So, I snuggled her up and carried her out to our trampoline. The same thing I've done with my own kids so many times. We sat in the sunshine and played. I held her hands and we jumped and sang "Ring around the Rosie. Pocket full of posies. Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down." We'd fall down together, she'd giggle and I'd scoop her back up. Over and over again. The sadness couldn't last.
I'm thankful for the little moments like these that give me clarity. When I was in my "ashes" today, it didn't take me long to dust them off and remember that a little light will drive out the darkness. A few snuggles and giggles will make it all right. So, I snuggled the kids and we laughed together.
And then I folded the laundry....
