So today is moving day. I was stressed all of yesterday, really on edge. Steve had taken the 2 younger ones to a party and I took the 2 older girls for horse riding and then waited back at Steve’s house. He didn’t get back until around 9pm. I was tired, the kids were tired and within minutes we were arguing. I was feeling particularly sensitive because I’d been at the house, with all my memories, our accumulated furniture and things, knowing I’d been visibly erased and it wasn’t my ‘home’ anymore.
I snapped, he talked about the house signing again, and I swore at him and he got angry. It was a hopeless and yet predictable scenerio. I left in tears, trying to hide it from J as she was spending the night with me.
This morning there was all this hassle around the hiring of a trailer, which I felt I had to instigate, but I knew dad would complain if he incurred more outgoings and Steve would do the same. I was caught in the middle. In the end, I found an available trailer but Steve’s car didn’t work! – we needed the tow bar. So I called the AA, and then called a truck rental place (truck made more sense but Dad had been keen to use a trailer and do lots of runs – I don’t know why). I negotiated a good deal and sent Steve and my Dad off to get it. They can work out the finances – I’m done!
So I’m feeling pretty anxious. I hate moving anyway, I hate the stress, I am stressed about my finances, I’m stressed about managing this place! I’m stressed that Steve and my dad will be shitty with me. I mean, yes I’m a failure and am I doing enough?? Doesn’t feel like it.
Next week is full on with appointments and school holidays to manage and my parents are still keen for their ‘holiday’ time.
Urg. Back to moving…