Not Dead

And here I sit typing my first post from Arizona.  Yes, I made it alive.  We all did.  The schedule was every bit as exhausting as it sounded, and the flight here with Maddie immediately following checking out of our house which immediately followed horribly long, hot hours of cleaning was just all around insanity.  I didn't sleep much that week.  I worked in my house that got up to 90 degrees at times due to the moving guys keeping the doors open for easy access when hauling my shit around.  It was awful.  Thank God I had my mother in law in town to help with Maddie, otherwise I really don't know what I would have done. When everything wrapped up with the house, I basically took an overnight flight to to Arizona. 

I got to the airport in the nick of time, and thankfully I'd had Susan calm my fraying nerves over the phone on the drive there.  After parking, I strapped Maddie to the front of me and had over 100lbs of luggage that I was wheeling, one handle in each hand, along with two bags over my shoulders.  Through the parking lot, up an escalator and into the terminal.  A mother helped me when my bags shifted and started to fall over.  So many people helped me.  They had no idea how physically and emotionally exhausted I was, and I got teary at times.  On the plane when Maddie was screaming instead of sleeping, I cried too.  I was also incredibly grateful to have had Charlene, the best lady ever to have next to you on a plane if traveling with a cranky baby.  She held Maddie, fed Maddie, walked with Maddie and me down the aisles, and talked me down when I started crying.  She even flagged down a Sky Cap after we landed so I could get a ride to my connecting flight's gate.  Charlene from California, I will never forget you.

We finally got to Tucson and to Joe, who got us down to Sierra Vista.  By the time we went to bed it was almost 5AM Georgia time.  SUUUUUUCK.  Still, I could only sleep for about four hours and then was up.  It was that type of tired where you feel like you're moving when you're not and that there's this buzz in your head.  Yeah.  And in the midst of all that, Joe's Dad and stepmom informed us that day that our dogs (that I would be flying out the next day to drive back from GA) would not be allowed to stay at their house.  Enter: meltdown.  I do not like wrenches thrown into my plans, nor can I handle them appropriately at the end of a stressful week without sleep.  I'd written in emails and in FB messages that I would bring Maddie out on Wednesday, and then fly out on Friday to start driving back with the dogs.  Where did they think the dogs were going to go???  They maintained that they had not thought about the dogs, just us humans, and even told US that we were bad communicators for not having properly clarified.  Okay.  At no point in their offers for us to stay there until we got situated in our new place did they ever say anything about the dogs not being a part of the equation, nor was anything ever said the eighteen times I wrote or spoke about bringing the dogs back.  But we're the bad communicators.  I mean if you know me at all then you know that I love my dogs and intend to bring them along on a move.  What irked me more than anything was that it was just a "nope, can't help you."  They'd helped so much letting Joe stay with them, etc, so I don't know if it is wrong that I felt like they just left us hanging at the eleventh hour or what.  However, my sister may have said it best when she pointed out that their help was the equivalent to not letting us bleed out.  So anyway, we regrouped and found a place to board the dogs, though I did ask about the day we would be getting into town - if too late, could the dogs stay there for just a night.  I was told yes, outside.  Fine.  Whatever. 

I spent the rest of that day in a cloud, really thinking that Sierra Vista was not a place I wanted to come back to, colored in my mind as it was at that point.  I flew out ass-early the next day and went back to GA.  Thankfully the spray paint I'd left in my completely sealed vehicle didn't explode in my car while I was gone, nor did I run out of gas on my way out of the airport parking lot.  I managed to make it back to Columbus, pick up the dogs, and get the rest of my crap before getting stuck in a huge storm IN COLUMBUS.  Yep.  Finally, I got on my way to my sister's house in Mississippi.  I was pretty tired, and the last forty miles were killer.  I was literally slapping myself in the face to stay awake.  But I made it.  And my dad was already there, getting his rest to drive the first part of the next day with me.  Woot. 

Spending that Saturday morning at my sister's house was glorious.  It was great to be with my family.  Of course just as we were about to pull away, Dad and I got into it.  He wouldn't let me keep my car clock ten minutes fast.  Seriously.  My car.  Paid for.  He would not let me.  So, if that was the battle that he was going to pick, fine.  I didn't let him keep the loaded gun (MY .45) in the center console next to where our drinks were sitting.  But by God, he got to keep the clock how he wanted it.  Somehow that was the only issue we had after TWO days in the car together.  I was grateful for his help and don't know how I would have made the drive without him.  Dunno if my body had enough adrenaline left for that.  We made it to AZ on Sunday, the 29th, as planned.  However, we made it earlier than anticipated.  Enter: the dog problem part two.  Joe's dad said we could have the dogs at their house even though we were arriving early, to which his stepmom freaked the fuck out and left the house, threatening to stay at a hotel.  This information was being relayed to me while I was in the last hour of a three day drive.  Again, maybe I'm a selfish asshole after all the help they provided...but I just felt they could have done us a solid after a three day drive to AZ, no?  So, I told Joe to pack our shit, and we went to a dog friendly hotel.  The thing was that the dogs were boarded the next morning.  I refused to board as soon as we got to town because I felt they needed to get acclimated to their new surroundings with their family...see Daddy, etc.  BECAUSE AS EVERYONE KNOWS, I AM A DOG PERSON.  My dogs were my first kids.  Talk to me for five seconds, and you'll know that about me. 

By this time we had secured a house, but could not move in until the 1st, not to mention our belongings were still in transit.  No matter, we would camp out, so as not to leave our dogs boarded indefinitely, nor be a burden to anyone else or our own wallets.  So we spent three nights in an expensive hotel until our house was ready.  I wish it could have worked at Joe's parents' house, as it would have saved us $500+, but I guess that wasn't in the cards.  The day after our arrival - Monday - I got a text from Wendy saying that no one was mad at us for wanting to be with our dogs, etc, and inquiring about Maddie's birthday party that was supposed to be at their house the following day (Tuesday).  The text kind of caught me off guard because, maybe selfishly, I thought of course you're not mad at me.  YOU NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN.  There was no realization that I may have been a bit irked at them, though.  So I wrote back asking why everything blew up, why she got so mad, and let her know I didn't feel welcome.  The response back was something I'd expect from a psychiatric patient.  It rotated sentence to sentence of how much she loves me and wants to help me to how can I do "this" to the family, hold a grudge, and hurt Joe in the process and that the whole family knows what's going on.  Uh, 'scuse me?  I'd been in town for less than 24 hours.  I moved into a hotel to properly care for my family, and keep them un-hurt and away from drama, and then I get this manipulative pseudo-lovey BULLSHIT?  I basically wrote back just saying to stop because that was enough.  I then called Joe, freaked out because really, this is what I walk into after a huge move without my husband?  I'm met with a familial battle in my new town?  At Joe's recommendation (no more texts), I called Wendy...who insisted on putting me on speaker phone so the whole family could hear me, despite the fact that I told her I called just to speak to her.  She insisted on wanting everyone to hear.  (What?!)  So we went the rounds.  I wasn't ugly, by explained myself.  I wish I could have been more patient on the phone and not so exasperated.  But what do you expect at that point?  It ended basically with me just conceding and us both giving what were probably disingenuous apologies.    

I have no idea who all was there as my audience (Joe's grandparents and aunt live here too, and Wendy may have been at their house at the time), nor what they were told ahead of time.  It still kind of makes my stomach hurt to think about.  Everyone seems to think it was all about the dogs.  Initially it was, as they are my babies.  Ultimately, though, in my opinion it boiled down to this: they wanted to help, they were thrilled to help, but only when it was convenient for them to do so.  When it wasn't, they said the heck with it.  Maybe I'm a brat, a huge freaking brat.  But this is how I feel.  Maybe I'm spoiled, but never in my life have I had a parent say, "No, can't help you, sorry."  That is the part that sticks with me.  All because they said they weren't used to having dogs in the house.  That's it.  That was the reason.  Just not used to having dogs in the house.  Okay.

That is how my time here has started.  Things now are mostly smoothed over, at least on the surface.  I still do not know what the rest of the family thinks of me.  I don't want to care, but I do.  Joe has been on my side the whole time, but he doesn't always get that I'm still hesitant to take them up on their offers to help with Maddie.  I have to share her, but I don't want to be anymore indebted to them than we already are.  Plus, I don't want any bad stuff said about me in front of her.  Then, of course there are all the normal moving "things": emotions regarding change, exhaustion, stress over the cost of the move, and hello, culture shock.  I'm a little sad.  I actually do miss Georgia.  The mountains and big sky here are pretty, but the gravel yards are not.  I miss real grass.  I hate gravel yards...they are depressing looking (we have grass in our backyard for the dogs).  I miss the size of Columbus and all the shopping and resources it had.  Grass isn't always greener...especially when there is none.  I miss my friends...it would have been nice to have some local folks to turn to during this family mess.  Joe has friends in his coworkers, and his family will always love him.  They don't have to love me, though.  Then of course the money.  Holy shit, the money.  I can't even get out of here on a small trip if I wanted to because we really shouldn't be spending anymore freaking money. 

So I'm here.  I'm alone.  The adrenaline has quit pumping, which leaves me feeling half dead sometimes.  I'm surrounded by boxes that need unpacking, as well as a now one year old that needs even more attention than the boxes.  I'm tapped out and needing some TLC, which I don't think Joe really gets, despite what I've very directly told him.  He came home yesterday wanting to start a workout schedule for both of us, which means he wants to start working out regularly, even though he says that it's for both of us.  Bullshit.  I'm tired.  I need rest.  To make me feel better emotionally and mentally, I need to start making it out for a neighborhood walk or something, not be thrown into a workout regime that I'm not ready for.  He also had dinner our with some of his buddies from Benning who were in town over the weekend (they come out here for various training pretty regularly), but I've yet to have an actual dinner date with him myself.  I feel taken for granted for everything I did to get us all out here.  Maybe I'll feel better after things are more settled.  Or, maybe I'll feel better when the next eleven months are complete....