I went back to work in February. I’m not sure I was really ready to go back to work, but our bank account was having a really negative attitude, so it seemed like the best option. Funny thing, the people that send us bills really like when we pay those bills…
I’m back in a lab, a place I was afraid I’d never get to go back to. Not only that, but I’m in a hospital lab. I’ve spent years wishing I could be in a hospital lab, and now I am. I’m feeling quite a bit happier than I have in a long while. I actually want to go to work, which is always a positive. As I’m starting my third month there, I find I’m still feeling a little overwhelmed by everything, but my coworkers are the best, and they’re always available to help me through the little hiccups and the big nightmares.
The boy and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary in March. And by “celebrated,” I mean he woke up two minutes before I left for work, and that was the only time we saw each other that day (he didn’t get home from work until the wee hours of the morning the next day). I’m hoping that by next year we’ll actually get to celebrate both Valentine’s Day and our anniversary (this year’s Valentine’s Day disaster is worthy of it’s own post). While celebrating may not have happened, I can honestly say that I am so incredibly blessed to have the boy by my side. We’re not perfect spouses, we both screw up on a regular basis (me, far more than him) but we do the best we can. The first two years of marriage have been really difficult. I’ve cried more in the last year, than I have in my entire life. It’s been exhausting, overwhelming, and even scary. However, I think it’s actually drawn us closer together, having to go through this. I know it’s brought me closer to God (that’s another post, as well).
And now, I’m going to sign off for the night, because tomorrow is going to be here very soon and I can’t afford to sleep through my alarm again (that’s definitely another post. I’m sensing a theme…).
Today, I boxed up the boy’s old dishes, and supply of plastic glassware, and unpacked my dishes & non-plastic glassware and put it away on the shelf. I’m in the middle of making my second loaf of bread, with my super awesome new bread machine. I cleaned the master bathroom. I emptied the trash out of my car (it was such a mess, it went well beyond embarrassing). I accomplished much, and yet I’m sitting here feeling like I accomplished nothing.
If I were Suzy Q. Homemaker, I’d have everything clean, the basement would be completely organized, the laundry would be going, the thank you notes would be written and delivered, and all of my belongings would be unpacked and put away and no longer living in boxes making the guest room look like a disaster area storage unit. (And I wouldn’t be writing long run-on sentences. Also, I wouldn’t be using terrible grammar because I’m too lazy to go back and fix obvious mistakes.)
As of today, we’ve been married for three weeks, and I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. It’s hard to explain. It’s been a crazy amount of change in a very short amount of time. Before three weeks ago, I’d never kissed a guy, let alone lived with one. Before three weeks ago, the most responsible thing I had to do everyday was just make sure I got myself to work. The boy has been amazing. He’s incredibly patient with me, and that’s truly what’s getting me through this.
I had lunch with my dad yesterday, and I was telling him about how frustrated I am with myself. Basically, I want to be SuperWife, and falling short of mark makes this perfectionist want to cry. I told him that I wish I had taken more than a week and a half off from work. I had no idea how overwhelming and stressful this all would be. He was really sweet and kind, and asked me, “How do you eat an elephant?” Now, the correct answer is, “One bite at a time,” but lately I’ve been approaching things, “The whole thing in one bite!”
So, I’m going to do my best to hang up the cape. Let some other poor woman try to be SuperWife. I think right now the best thing I can do for the boy and myself is just be Wife.