Monday, April 23, 2012

Stage One: Success

Well, I think we're successfully prepared for the movers. With minimal injury and angst. Notice I say "minimal" and not "zero". I'm currently laying on the couch with a heating pad on my lower back, because I'm 89 years old. Or because I lifted mattresses to retrieve dust ruffles to properly fold and place in clearly-labeled bags. OR because I sat on the hard tiled bathroom floor for a few hours purging the cabinets underneath our sinks. ORRRRRRR because I did some yoga positions REALLY wrong. There's no way to know. I just know it got me out of a LOT of work today. Z, on the other hand, has been bossed around big time. It goes something like this:

Me: *pauses incredibly fascinating episode of Say Yes to the Dress* ZACH!! ZAAAAAAAACH!!

Z: *comes downstairs to see what the fuss is* Yes?

Me: Scissors.

Z: um. Yes. We have them.

Me: Ok, but we need them in the laundry room.

Z: Ok. *pause* Why?

Me: Because I don't know where to buy scissors in Germany! They need to go in our unaccompanied baggage stack, and that stack is in the laundry room.

Z: Ok. I'll put them up there.
*starts to walk back upstairs*

Me: Wait! Can you go through all of your clothes and figure out what is staying and what is going and then put everything that's staying in my closet? But not on the right side, because the right side is all of my stuff. Actually, both sides are my stuff. Just find some space. But don't touch my stuff.

Z: Yeah, Ok, I'll do that.
*starts to walk back upstairs*

Me: Wait! Can you bring me a drink?

God bless him.

Moving is supposed to be one of those "top" stressors in marriage. That being said, I am happy to say that I think Zach and I win at moving. (He would be quick to point out that it's not a competition, but whatever.) I'm really proud of how we've both handled the first "co-move" experience together (so far). Yes, we had our moments. There may or may not have been a heated conversation involving some pillow cases, which are now placed in Zach's moving pile because he's agreed to be fully responsible and accountable for those pillow cases. And I'm fine with that. Because why wouldn't I be fine with keeping two pillow cases that don't match any of our sheets and we haven't used once in 7 months of marriage? Of course we should keep those! I DIGRESS.

Anyways, phase one of our first official military move is complete and was successful. I can only hope things will go as smoothly on the German side. And that the heating pad doesn't get lost in the move.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Carpe Diem...Tomorrow

The movers come in 6 days. In 6 days, our home will be empty save for a few suitcases, air mattress and various “unaccompanied bags". In 6 days, the walls will be bare, the rooms empty, the “home” gone from the house.
I think I’m in denial, which is a familiar place for me. I have things to DO. Things like sorting through Z’s “organizational system” which is mostly just piles of paper in different “strategic” places throughout the house. Things like figuring out what to throw away, what to donate, what to keep. Things like cooking and eating everything in our pantry. But I am not accomplishing any of those things. In fact, I’m not accomplishing much of anything. Except watching marathons of Grey’s Anatomy on Lifetime.

I know I need to kick it into gear. I know I need to start getting things done. But right now I just…can’t.

So I’m going to have another cup of tea and watch another episode of a show that I don’t even really like. That’s how I’m coping today.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012


I’ve talked a lot about how it hasn’t sunk in yet, the whole “moving to another country for an extended period of time” thing.

I think it’s starting to sink in now. Slowly, subtly…but sinking. At the time I’m writing this, I have 6 weeks of work left. At this point, it’s mostly mind over matter and every other cliché you can think of. Finish strong, tough it out, keep your head in the game, don’t burn bridges. A lot of words. A lot of  pep talks about the importance of getting out of bed and turning on my computer FOR ONE MORE DAY. A lot of scolding myself for daydreams or accidental visits to Pinterest, the time sucking vortex reminder that I will never be as creative or talented as “they” are. Things I do not do: crafty DIY projects.

And as my daily routine comes to an end, I start to realize that our time stateside is limited and then I start to feel twinges of sadness, nostalgia, excitement…an assortment of substantive “mini-breakthrough” thoughts masked as seeming absentmindedness. Flavorful, fleeting tastes of my true feelings about the change that is about to engulf life as we know it.

I think about hot sunny days on the lake with my family and long afternoons that lead to happily exhausted nights grilling out on the front porch and waving at neighbors who drive by in their golf carts. I think about helping my mom with dinner as music wafts out from the kitchen and about making my brothers laugh by voicing the thoughts that pass unfiltered through my often twisted mind.

 I think about having Nerf wars with my brother’s-in-law and game nights with my in-laws and bonding with my sister’s-in-law over how blessed we are to have married into such a family. I think about my niece or nephew that will be born while we’re gone…I had my first major meltdown the other night, just sobbing in bed about how extremely sad I was to think about missing the birth of my first niece or nephew and how many other major milestones we’ll miss in his or life and in the lives of our friends and family.

I think about eating tacos and cheese dip and drinking margaritas on the patio of our favorite restaurant in Atlanta with my best friends; talking about anything and everything until we’re full and tired and content that we’ve been brought up to speed on all the details of each other’s lives that we miss when we’re apart.

I think about my best friend’s fast approaching wedding…and a lump catches in my throat and I have to very quickly think about something else because I can’t start crying just yet…I am so excited for that day. It’s possible that I’m more excited for her wedding than I was for our wedding (sorry, Z) because I don’t have the nerves or the pressure of details weighing on me. I get teary just thinking about how meaningful it is to be able to watch my best friend marry the man I’ve heard her dream about for the past 20+ years. I can’t wait to celebrate with her and her family and my family and so many of our mutual friends.

I don’t think about the day we leave. I don’t think about the goodbyes. I don’t think about being gone for the 4th of July (one of my favorite holidays) or about missing the birth of a dear college friend’s baby. I don’t think about those things because right now I’m just trying to deal with the slow, subtle sinking in. That, I can deal with. Usually. One thing at a time.