This is a humor blog. A pain free zone. An escape from reality.
That is why today I'm NOT going to burden you with my moving stresses. I'll just disperse some helpful advice instead.
If you don't want to burden others with your stresses, alls you have to do is say but no worries, I'm good at the end of each troubling thought. Or you can also say but no worries, it's not that bad.
Anything to that effect.
For example, if you're describing a major life change that feels like a chronic toothache gnawing away at your soul, don't forget to add but no worries, I'm good so others don't feel uncomfortable or think you're complaining.
As a rule, be cool, and try not to let your visiting teachers see you sweat (especially around your eyeball area). If you have a choice between grumpy or weepy, GO GRUMPY!
Seriously! Grumpy says I'm in charge. I'm capable. And strong. And independent. And don't even think about messing with me right now, particularly if you're my hub and I've asked you to run to the dump, is that TOO MUCH TO ASK?
J/K peeps! No worries. I would never get grumpy with my hub. It's not that bad.
I did, however, ask him nicely to run to the dump for me yesterday because I cleaned out my children's childhood playroom--the playroom each of my children played in throughout their entire childhood.
And while I was cleaning out their childhood playroom I was thinking of that song Iwa told me to add to my playlist I Miss You, My Hawaii by Na Leo and I was wondering why Na Leo didn't think to title it, I Miss You, My Legos or I Miss You My Lincoln Logs or my chubby blocks or my hot wheels.
I'm thinking of writing my own song called I Miss You, My Washer/Dryer and singing it to my hub who insists we bring our old washer and dryer to Utah even though he knows I've always wanted a set of red front loaders.
But fo' reals all is good in the hood right now. No worries. We are taking care of biz-ness. It's not that bad making important, life-changing, earth-shattering, mind-numbing decisions and tying up the loose end of one life, while opening a can of worms in the other.
I didn't even break a sweat when Kahuku high school refused to let my kids attend classes for one day so they could say goodbye to their friends.
"There are no visitors allowed during the first week of school," the helpful, friendly, courteous, kind Kahuku lady told me.
"But they're not visitors. They're actually enrolled."
"Did they pick up their schedules?"
"No, because we're moving next week."
"Then they'll have to say goodbye to their friends after school."
Awkward pause to process incoming information.
"Sooooooo . . . does this mean they're not Red Raiders for Life? Cuz that's what all your T-Shirts say."
But noooooooo worries. I'm gooooooood. It's not that baaaaaaad. In fact, the only time I broke a sweat this week was when my son asked me to pour him a bowl of Frosted Flakes.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" I sobbed uncontrollably. "You're 13 years old and you can't pour yourself a bowl of Frosted Flakes???????"
Moving doesn't hold a candle to the challenges of motherhood.