Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Moving Can Kill You

I was thinking the other day about a list I'd read one time of the most stress-inducing events in life and I was pretty darn sure moving was atleast number 3 or 4 on that list. However, I've just been doing a little research and found out that, in fact, Marriage is number 3 and Jail Time is number 4. Moving didn't make the list. However, I've decided that it makes MY list of most stressful life events after these past 2 weeks in what I like to call "moving hell." In fact, I'd put it right up there with giving birth and losing something really important (like a kidney or your car in the parking lot at Walmart after dark).

Atleast, that's how I felt the other day after Matt had gone to work and I was left in our little cottage on the mountain with an almost one year old and one. million. unopened. boxes, which for a Type A, overachieving, OCD stressball, is the ultimate recipe for a potential meltdown. But, I really thought things would be ok until after a quick trip to the bathroom (during which Sam was "safe" in his walker, which keeps him from getting into anything), I found Sam with a shiny dime in his little mouth, fished from a box that he was able to reach with his go-go-gadget baby arms. Lightning-fast, I snatched it out of his mouth just as it was about to be swallowed. And then, I sat down and cried.

That was the breaking point. So, Sam and I quickly got dressed and left the house, which I dubbed a "baby minefield" in a Kardashian-worthy dramatic phone conversation with my mom soon after the dime incident. Later, Sam and I made visits to Target and Chic fil a, which made life a teensy bit more manageable.

Anyway, we've come a long way since that day, but I will admit to having considered running away on more than one occasion. It's not been pretty. I think I may have even aged 9-10 months. In the process, I've also discovered that I'm wound a little too tight. Oh, who am I kidding. I already knew that along with anyone else that has known me longer than 3 minutes. "Wound too tight" might actually be putting it mildly. I make energy drinks nervous.

Moving Progress Report:
1. Sam is still alive, despite having developed a taste for paper products and indulging in a little toilet paper/paper towels/cardboard box when I'm not looking. I think this might be his way of coping with stress.
2. Matt has hooked up our internet and we have now gone wireless. I feel so 21st century despite our lack of cable.
3. Our little 953 square feet looks and feels pretty much like home these days. (So, come visit. We'll pull out a rug for you.)
4. After a small oven fire involving a baked potato, I have baked 2 batches of cookies and eaten most of them myself. I've needed the extra sugar-induced energy for unpacking boxes, obviously.

I'll be honest, moving has taken it out of me and so I've made the decision that we're never going to move again, which means I can mark that off my list of stressful life events. Now, I can concentrate on avoiding stresser number 4: Jail Time.

This just in:
While doing a little more research, I've found a list that acknowledges what I already knew. Moving IS one of the most stressful events in life. If you're interested, and you're probably not, here's the article that proves I'm less crazy than my husband thinks I am:

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