Maybe then this would be managable

While getting my degree in Interior Design in my early 20s, I found out the hard way that I do not thrive under stressful situations. I honestly would rather have chronic surprise attack diarrhea than perpetual days filled with stress and anxiety.

Currently my bowels are working just fine, not that you asked.

I knew when I signed up for this move (I mean really, it’s a move, not a trip, and I’m slowly coming to terms with that), stuff would get stressful. I figured I would be OK, because I would quite everything and focus 100% on getting our family to Belgium.

As if live as I knew it pre-relocation would cease, day-to-day commitments would vanish, and everything that needed to get done would go smoothly and according to best laid plans.

Below is a whiny list similar in nature to a public display of surprise attack diarrhea. Please save yourself and your guaranteed eye-rolling and skip reading it. Long story short: I still want to move, but the process is proving harder on me that previously calculated.

Proceed at your own risk.

Look! It’s springtime in the city! Close the computer and go outside! THIS BLOG POST IS DUMB.

13984657395 7aa73ea8b7 Maybe then this would be managable

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We’re moving to Belgium in less than three months, but before then we have a lot of everyday life to squeeze into a 9 week window. A few things:

Relocating would be easier…if my sister wasn’t getting married (at my parents house) a few weeks before we leave. I’m feel like I can’t help out and be there for her like I really want to be because I’m preoccupied and very much self-serving right now. Heck, I’m even going to miss her Bachelorette party.  *But I am so excited for her to tie the knot I could pee. The timing is just not the best.*

Relocating would be easier…if I wasn’t trying to train for a half marathon through all of this. Isn’t moving across the globe marathon enough? Who’s stupid idea was this anyway? *Worth noting: I really want to run it, but am so excited for May 3rd to come and go, basically so I can get these training runs off my plate.*

Relocating would be easier…if Michael wasn’t traveling so much. *But I understand this is part of the deal, still hard though.*

Relocating would be easier…if the week before we leave (we literally will get back to Indy from this trip and fly to Belgium within a day) we weren’t going on a nonnegotiable extended family road trip across the country. *This trip has literally been planned for over two years, and I’m excited for the adventure, but again, the timing is a wee bit insane.*

Relocating would be easier…if I hadn’t just taken all 3 of my pets to the vet for their pre-relocation “well checkups”, and walked out with heartbreakingly grave health discoveries. *I am overly emotional about this, and honestly I think this sad new has been a real emotional tipping point. Moving on…*

Relocating would be easier…if we weren’t in the middle of selling the house and our two cars. *I know it must be done, but I truly do not understand people who buy and sell homes every few years. This shit is hard.*

Relocating would be easier…if I could skip going on our house finding trip to Belgium next month. Childcare is so, so, stupidly complicated when you have four kids. Once thought of as fun trip I totally just don’t want anything part of, and this is not me being dramatic (cue eye-rolling). For real, let me pick out the rental house out off internet. I’m a good visualizer of space from photos, and I cross my heart and hope to die I’ll be happy and never bitch once if I don’t like it.

Relocating would be easier…if my brain and body would let me sleep. *I’m living proof that lack of sleep can cause an influx of irrational emotions.*

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You got it, I’m in pretty rough shape. I find myself shutting down a lot, crawling into bed around 8pm, instead of tackling my to-do list. Basically the exact opposite of what I should be doing if I’m actively pursuing stress reduction.

And this isn’t a cry for help by any means. I made this mess, and I’ll find my way out of it, hopefully in about 3 months time.

I keep telling myself how fortunate I am to even be in this situation to give my family this life-changing experience. That this is the hardest part, and great reward lies ahead.

Eyes on the prize, folks.

Tower of Terror for one (and a pair of clean pants), please.

Last weekend I spent a few glorious days in sunny California, specifically Disneyland. The trip aligned perfectly between two of Michael’s really looooooong trips to Belgium, so the decision was easy to gift myself a few relaxing days away (without my children) when Casey asked if I wanted to accompany her on a conference trip.

Normally I would pass on such a “frivolous” weekend away with friends, but given our (my) current stressful situation of moving abroad and my husband current intense work calendar, a few day of respite sounded amazing and justified.

So I packed my bags and went to Disneyland, leaving my four kids behind in gloomy Indiana. (best. mom. ever.)

You guys, not to rub my good fortune in your face or anything, but it was nothing short of magical. We hopped parks till late in the evening, spent lazy afternoons lounging at the pool, and I think I read 3 books in a 72 hour period.

Sure, one hundred time over I wished my kids were with me to experience the sights and sounds only Walt Disney can create, and I promise I’ll bring them back someday (next stop, EuroDisney), but this particular adventure was just for me.

13894881464 866051da0f Tower of Terror for one (and a pair of clean pants), please.

One of the most unexpectedly awesome moments of the trip came at 7:15 am on Friday morning. The park does this thing called “extra magic hours” where only guests staying on property in a Disney hotel can visit the park. Basically, for one beautiful hour, the park is seemingly empty. And never wanting to miss an opportunity, I got up early and by myself and headed to the park to get on some of the good rides without having to wait in an epic line.

I bolted to The Tower of Terror, a ride that puts you in a haunted hotel elevator and plunges you to your death. Apparently I was the only one in all of California with that wake-up call.

You guys, the ride was empty. Like, I was the only non-worker in the whole tower (and can we discuss for a second how seriously the Tower of Terror employees take their jobs?). I mean, the ride is particularly creepy to begin with, but then couple that with being the only person on a ride that typically has up to a 90 minute wait, and I was about to mess my pants.

13894465835 43fdb42e1e Tower of Terror for one (and a pair of clean pants), please. Visual proof, don’t let the fake smile fool you, I was terrified.

When the ride finished up, the dude running it asked me if I wanted to stay strapped in, because he would be more than happy to just keep the ride running for as long as I want. Over and over again…

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Once was enough, and I got the picture to prove it.

no! sleep! till belgium!

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