***WARNING: This blog post includes potentially unpleasant graphic images which will only take place in one’s mind, and that may be upsetting to anyone with an imagination or cognitive thought process. This post also includes expletives, but not ass-hat, shit-breath or bastard-beefcake.
Reader discretion is advised.
A few hours ago, my daughters heard me scream, “FUCK!” I think that’s maybe the fifth or sixth time in their lives they’ve heard me say that word. (Okay, maybe the seventh.) After a few deep breaths, I apologized to them in a swift and sincere manner. It was clear that they understood why I passionately stated that particular expletive, and accepted my apology with deep love and empathy. Then, they asked for m&m’s which was easier for me to provide for them than the two ponies I was considering.
For those of you who follow me on Twitter, Facebook or read my blog, you know that my daughters and I just moved to the suburbs. You also know we have hit several minor potholes along the way. POTHOLE as defined in this particular post as:
POTHOLE – [ˈpätˌhōl]
a deep natural underground cavity formed by the erosion of rock, especially by the action of water that sometimes, becomes a trenchy death-hole and a breeding ground for frustrated new tenants no matter how much faith they have “that every little thing, gonna be alright.” For example, the lack of warm or hot water in a beautiful, newly rehabbed suburban home that they’re super excited about as they bathe in frigid water for a week and then, “PositiveAttitudeMom,” hauls heavy cauldrons of boiling water up HUGE flights of stairs repeatedly, hurts her back, and then when the new home finally gets hot water, the new tenants rejoice in a sort of “Hallelujah” type Baptism or Mikvah. (Whatever floats your boat, which can totally float because there’s water everywhere.) And all thanks to a brand new water heater that replaces the evil, old, brand new water heater. As the youthful tenants finally bask in the glory of a hot bath, the tub floods the entire bathroom below and that bathroom below, leaks to the basement, where “PositiveAttitudeMom” was recently seen cleaning up a flood last Saturday as she joyfully reveled in six loads of frigid laundry. Straight from the brand new washing machine, “PositiveAttitudeMom” is fairly certain that the leaks from this major appliance go straight to the creek behind this exciting suburban home and then flow onward to Middle-earth.
So, yeah. That’s a pothole.
When I exclaim that a lot of shit has gone wrong in this move, I mean it. Our most expensive items broke in the move, (the stuff that isn’t from the Dollar Store), our move was far more costly than we anticipated, (which is why we currently only shop at the Dollar Store), and many other issues that I am happy to share with you if you pay me one dollar per story. (We need the cash right now.)
Yes, many things have gone really wrong with this move and I do talk about it. Sometimes, I just need to talk about it.
THIS IS NOT AT ALL THE SAME AS ME NOT BEING GRATEFUL.
THIS IS NOT THE SAME AS NOT HAVING FAITH THAT EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT. IT’S ALREADY ALRIGHT.
As I shared some of our tales of woe to a very select group of individuals, there periodically appeared to be a level of discomfort when I got to the part about the big multi-day (which means two weeks), construction project that starts tomorrow. Okay, so I did say, “Big, FUCKING construction project that’s going to take two fucking weeks.” The discomfort on the other end, I think, was that I was sort of upset. I was upset.
Some of the responses surprised me. I actually had some of my own writing quoted back to me: “There are no mistakes,” or “Everything happens for a reason.” Of course I believe all of this, but can’t I simply talk about being upset that my kids start school tomorrow, I have tons of work stuff going on including an important speaking engagement, and well… breaking through our ceilings and floors is a little upsetting? I mean, shit. C’mon.
I still love it here and feel like a happy pig rolling around in terrific mud. I don’t regret moving here. I understand and acknowledge that we are blessed with food on the table, a roof over our heads, (except when they break through it), and all of the other abundant gifts that I am thankful for every single day.
I’m human. I am going to say, “Fuck!” and mean it sometimes.
I think it’s important to practice and learn to just be a listener and not always have a rebuttal or a fix. Tonight, I needed some listening, and I did receive it from a trusted friend who I treasure.
I commit to being far clearer, right up front, when I just need to be listened to for a while. I can’t expect people to read my mind. This is what I can do way better than I did tonight.
A few hours ago, I kept feeling a good cry coming on, but it never happened, and now, I don’t think it will.
I have already dealt with enough leaks this week, but let me be clear, that even with the continuous leaks, I am even more flooded with gratitude.