It’s sad when the most relaxing part of your week was getting your teeth cleaned.
I can’t believe that it’s been a week since the move began, but we are finally feeling settled in the new house. This means that both cars are parked in the garage, most of the boxes have been unpacked, and the clutter has settled down into a level that might just be confused for my household’s general chaos. Sure, we have loads more sorting out to do, but I’m feeling ready to let B go back to work and our lives drift back to (new) normal.
It hasn’t been the quietest of weeks, move or not, what with ear infections in both kids, a giant castle cake for a friend, B’s birthday coming up, and a men’s party at church for which I provided desserts. I hate chaos. I hate not knowing where things are. I hate that the house still smells of the previous owner’s dogs. I hate spending money on more things, even if they are necessary, and I hate that the cake didn’t turn out perfect, as I always think it should. Above all, I’m so, so tired of keeping up a cheerful and encouraging front, feeling like I must carry the discombobulated weary on my back. If I lay down, would anyone carry me?
As with all things, it will get better. Over time. Over a long, long time. We praise God that he brought us here, because we love the house. And while we’re loving it, we’ll get it all sorted out, with a bit more prayer. We have a saying in our house: patience is a virtue; it’s just not mine. But maybe now that God’s got us in the right place, He’s gonna work on that next.