The countdown has officially started today for the move.

I have so much information swarming around in my head right now I can’t think straight. I can’t even focus on junk television right now if I tried. Instead I finally put my feet up, turned the light off and am typing to you in the dark except for the brightness of the monitor, which I turned down greatly. I am so close to snapping. I want to throw myself on the floor kicking and screaming. I have sucha small smigheon of hope that I am hanging on to it. That if I kick and scream, say I’m not doing this, that President Obama will snap his fingers and 2 major things in my life. 1. He’ll allow for The Man to come home and not go negative on his leave to help me drive with the kids and 2. He’ll move the Grand Canyon north for me to see it because he’d hate for me, the who is supposed to be strong, to miss the canyon for 3 different attempts.

Where to start with, hmm…

 I had to call around to a couple different places before finding the right office. on who to set up a move from HOR with him gone. Printed the papers a million times, signed, read, reread, triple reread and fax them off to her. I get a call 2 hours later as I’m pulling into our driveway that I’m missing a form. Tear the house apart looking for it and decide to fax on Thursday. Thursday gets here and I take the kids to the UPS store. Only place in town where the awesome shop owner never ever charges me for anything. Sit in the rain for him to open, to which he did 20 minutes early just for me. I love that old guy! Go back home and get to work sorting through things. Call the Transportation Management Office (TMO) to make sure all the forms are received and confirm packing dates. Upon this conversation the lady is kind enough to look up our move up here last year to check on weights. Some how we went over by 250lbs. How that happened I have NO clue. Start panic attack #1858w35738 for the week.

It is decided and that I will do a partial DITY move (have to remember to fax more papers to them today), reserved a small trailer for the truck, and need to start packing up all the clothes in the house as I will be taking all clothes, linen, kids’ toys, camping gear, and MAYBE a tv or 2, dog igloo, food, and whatever else I can think of to get us under to move with. Sadly I already purged the house before we moved up here. I can’t get rid of anything else.

Aww; to answer everyone’s questions about living off post; I have looked into it. Unfortunately the cost for a 4 bedroom out in town is going to run us about $400 over the housing allowance we receive, plus the cost of utilities. That is just too much for us right now since we are a 1 truck family and we desperately need 2. I’d much rather continue living in a 3 bedroom for a year or so if it means getting the kids back on streets that have children around them; not having to worry about the rental being foreclosed on (been dealing with that stress for the past 5 months); and getting us a bigger vehicle that will accommodate this large family a little better then my truck.

In the end I have to take the good with the bad. Nothing is ever greener on the other side. Sure it will look it but once over there I’ll find my own set of problems. And thus the vicious cycle continues of wanting to jump the fence. I know what needs to be done, I will get it done, until then the mini panic attacks will come and go until I’m on the road and realizing that the puzzle pieces are fitting together and the stress was unneeded.

With that said, I have less than 3 weeks left here till I leave to go reunite our family with the man I love so much.

Sometimes it's hard to find the golden lining in things

Every time I think things are going smooth I run into what some will call a hiccup. Sadly though, what is a hiccup to you or someone else is like the Grand Nile to me. I try very hard to not over react or let myself obsess over it but I can’t stop it. I can’t think and process first, instead as childish as it seems, I freak out cry and then when it’s processed I think it through. During my "freak-outs" I honestly can't see a single positive thing around me. The panic I feel within is just so incredibly unreal at times. It’s annoying. It’s embarrassing. But even with going to therapy it’s the one thing I can’t get rid of without going back on meds. And really I’ve learned to deal with it and make adjustments for it so why should I go back on medicine just to fix one thing when everything else has been fixed and put into place.

With that said, I was finally able to get a hold of the housing lady at the new base post (must remember the Army calls it post where as we called it base in the Navy). I do not know what got into my head that it would quick and easy to get into a 4 or 5 bedroom house. I really don’t. I remember the wait time for one in San Diego took almost 10 months to get into. The housing lady burst my bubble today by informing me that the wait for a 4 or 5 bedrooms would be 12 to 24 months. I about had a heart attack. She offered to put us on a wait list for a 3 bedroom that will only be from 5 to 6 weeks approximately.  I am trying not to find negatives on this. Trying. Very. Very. Hard. We are currently living in a 3 bedroom; the boys are at each other’s throats having to share a room. ‘Tater has her own room. And I know this sounds absolutely horrible. I’m sure someone will shake their head and say I’m wrong. With that I gave up my walk in closet to Princess. It has a window, not huge but enough to let the sun shine and give her fresh air. She has half the closet for her and the closet has a heater. It’s not the “ideal” spot but really at a year old she only uses her room to sleep. I know, horrible. I feel guilty about it all the time. Originally she was supposed to only be there for a couple months till she finally started sleeping through the night and wouldn’t wake ‘Tater up. She has been sleeping through the night for 3 months and I still haven’t moved her. I like her being super close to me and that I can get her if I need to. When we move she will have to move to share with ‘Tater though. Looking on the housing list, the 3 bedrooms have only 1 baths. ONE bathroom. That makes me want to run and hide. I can’t imagine sharing a bathroom with everyone. These kids are horrible, always hogging the hot water, the toilet forcing me to potty dance outside because right now we have 2 bathrooms and they take both of them from me.  

I just have to keep reminding myself that in the grand scheme of things; it doesn’t matter what size house we live in as long as we are together. We will manage and tough it out because being cramped is a minor inconvenience to the kids seeing their daddy every day and me getting his kisses. We will survive it and the minute it’s possible, we’re going on the 4 bedroom wait list next year and get into them.

Now if I could just get the lady who 1. Couldn’t remember my last name to save a life while on the phone with her, 2. Couldn’t get The Man’s social right to save another life and then 3. Can’t return phone calls to save my dog; to answer some more questions I had about their housing, I’d be smiling and moving right along with this move.