This summer, we will have been living with my Husband's parents for 3 years.
That's shocking to me. Even though it shouldn't be.
In the least.
When we arrived on their doorstep in August of 2008, we were confident that it was just going to be a 3 month transitional period.
3 months became 6.
6 months became a YEAR.
I got pregnant.
The plan was to be out after O was born and I was healed.
Snort.
Riiiight.
Because we would so be financially flush after having a child.
We're thinkers, we are!
Then?
We would be out by O's 1st birthday.
Yes!
He's just about 6 months away from turning 2, we can all see how well that went...
At the turn of this year, I found myself angry and desperate.
Overwhelmingly so.
For all of the reasons and more that I have blogged about in the past...
It is not easy living with another couple.
Particularly when that couple happens to be your Parents (in-law).
Not only are there the usual expectations that you would face while learning to coexist with roommates, but the the additional expectations that all children feel the need to meet (and exceed) in order to please their parents.
The most crushing element in this equation is the societal pressure.
Americans are a nation of islands.
If we find ourselves in a position where we must rely on another (especially in any financial sense), we have failed.
Every nuclear family for themselves!
Even with the changing tides of the economy forcing people to move in with Ma and Pa and for households to become multi-generational, there is still the general sense of embarrassment and the pungent smell of perceived failure hanging around the topic of "going back home."
My husband and I wrestle with it probably more than anything else in our marriage.....
Why?
Why do we allow ourselves to be labeled as failures?
Why do we berate ourselves for things beyond our control?
Why can't we look at the marriages we've built and the beautiful son we're raising despite the chaos in the world as TRUE signs of success?
Sigh.
We're trying.
I'm trying....
In the last couple of months, as I've stopped to take in certain moments of the day, I realized that while this situation is not ideal, it is actually quite the gift.
It goes deeper that a financial woes and cheap rent.
In our time here, I've gotten to be extremely close with my MIL, and love my FIL as if he were a father, which is big for me.
They gotten to know me better, but more importantly, they've started to get to know their son better.
Not just as their child, but as a man.
As a husband.
As a father.
He is no longer the irresponsible teenager they tended to remember.
He's gotten to know them beyond their title of Mom and Dad.
He's gotten to see them with new perspective, as he is now a fellow parent joining the ranks...
Creating bonds I don't think they had before.
The best by far, though?
Being a team of 4, raising my son as a family.
This little is flooded with love.
He gets to truly grow up with his grandparents.
His grandparents (who in the beginning, were definitely reticent about the idea of us having a child under their roof) have been blessed to be present for every single step of this child's life, from the first movements in my belly to the flying like a diapered-dervish through the house on his own two feet...
And are as utterly in love with their grandson as he is with them.
He likes them better than Mommy and Daddy. Not that Mommy and Daddy are bitter, or anything....ahem.
I don't know how I would've gotten through my pregnancy without the support of my ILs.
I don't know how the Hubs and I would've survived the first couple of months when we brought the baby home...
Frankly, I don't think O would have been born at ALL, had we not been living with them. No exaggeration.
That ALONE makes bunking with the 'rents, totally worth it.
Someday, we will be in our own place.
Someday, we will be separate.
For now, we're at home.
In all the ways a family can be.
[Peeps? When you get a chance, head over and visit the lovely Jaime over at The Story of Us.
Today's beautiful post helped me really gather my thoughts for this post. AND? Her children are just delicious!]
Showing posts with label Living arrangements. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Living arrangements. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, September 20, 2010
Well, we're back and stuff.
We're back! Thank GAWWWD.
The trip was a stressOrama moneypit. It was also soul-crushingly depressing for the Hubs and I, BUUUUT WAIT!
It did have its high points FO SHO:
1. O did AMAZINGLY FANTASTIC on both the trip there, and the trip home. He had a couple cranky moments, but nothing major, and Delta airlines just thinks he's a peach. I am one proud Mama. Seriously, I think Hubben and I were crankier than he was.
2. Seeing my Hub's family (we hadn't seen most of them in 3 years, and who knows when we will again?, and we always enjoy our time with them.
3. O meeting those family members.
4. Hub's grandfather's 80th surprise party (after months of planning and stress for my MIL, it went swimmingly).
5. O's christening (he was HANDS DOWN the best-behaved child I've ever seen in a church-I'm not saying that b/c he's mine, either.) was beautiful.
All of that was swell. Warm and Fuzzies all around!
Being stuck without a rental car, Hubs not really having time to look for work/interview (which was why he took an unpaid week off of work) and the amount of money that flew out of of savings account [read: almost ALL] was not. Neither was my body's decision to revolt-making me feel like crap the whole time...My period coming a week early was an especially nice touch.
That could all be overlooked as the perils of traveling, I know.
The knife in our backs was really staying at my Hubby's grandmother's house.
(The house has sat empty for almost 2 years-his Grams now lives in a nursing home)
Why?
Because it was the house we would have moved into if Husbandface had gotten the job.
The house that we spent hours decorating in our minds and making plans for the future. We even talked about having another baby if it happened.
(In hindsight, not the best idea, but we were attempting to be hopeful.)
I think we were both taken aback at how hard it all sort of kicked us in the teeth as we arrived, and kinda hung over us like a shadow the whole week we were there.
We just felt even more stuck. Even farther from where we want so badly to be, if that makes sense...
And I realize that I should have just let.it.GO. but I couldn't stop worrying about money. We absolutely had no business taking a trip (albeit a mandatory one) for a DAY let alone, a WEEK, so I was wracked with panic over it the majority of the trip. I don't think it helped that my darling Hubben was also freaking out over the fact that our plan of him hitting the pavement with a vengeance every day that week to look for jobs/interview pretty much fell flat on its proverbial ass, and there wasn't jack we could do about it.
Did I mention that the Man and I spent that week sleeping on a full-sized bed when we're used to our king? Yeah....
But, we got thru it, and managed to fly home safely with our son (and our marriage) intact.
However, coming back home was rough.
It was like leaving the field utterly defeated.
We walked back through the doors of my IL's house totally broke, having made NO progress while in WV.
Yes, we knew as we left that THAT may be the outcome, but we were trying once again, to be positive.
As for our plan forward, we don't really know. We need a miracle. I've been campaigning for one since I got pregnant with O, so maybe we'll get it eventually.
And before anyone pipes up to tell me how fortunate I already AM, I know.
We are extremely grateful that my husband's parent's have opened their home to us, and even more grateful that through the last few years at least one of us was able to keep his job. We are so thankful for what we have because we know that it could be worse.
That being said, we need to get out on our own. The living with his parents situation is NOT a forever deal. We knew that coming into it, and we've already been here far longer than either party expected or wanted.
Even more pressing, we have a child that we want to give a home to. One that is our own.
Sigh.
On a lighter note,
For the sake of our sanity (and sex life), Hubs and I decided to turn our little "apt." into 2 distinct bedrooms.
You know what that means!
Baby has his OWN room!
It's so cute!
We seriously spent from 9am-12am putting it all together. We totally lucked out b/c friends of ours gave us a crib, and we already had a dresser for him (that we also use as a changing table). So all we needed to buy was a shelving unit for his toys, a crib mattress, some bedding, and some adorable wall decals for art.
Did I mention it looks really cute?!
'Cos it is.
I will add a picture next post.
It's definitely lifted our spirits to give O a nursery. we've been waiting to do that since we got pregnant.
Tonight will be the first night he sleeps in there!
Wish me luck...I'll probably cry more than he does.
The trip was a stressOrama moneypit. It was also soul-crushingly depressing for the Hubs and I, BUUUUT WAIT!
It did have its high points FO SHO:
1. O did AMAZINGLY FANTASTIC on both the trip there, and the trip home. He had a couple cranky moments, but nothing major, and Delta airlines just thinks he's a peach. I am one proud Mama. Seriously, I think Hubben and I were crankier than he was.
2. Seeing my Hub's family (we hadn't seen most of them in 3 years, and who knows when we will again?, and we always enjoy our time with them.
3. O meeting those family members.
4. Hub's grandfather's 80th surprise party (after months of planning and stress for my MIL, it went swimmingly).
5. O's christening (he was HANDS DOWN the best-behaved child I've ever seen in a church-I'm not saying that b/c he's mine, either.) was beautiful.
All of that was swell. Warm and Fuzzies all around!
Being stuck without a rental car, Hubs not really having time to look for work/interview (which was why he took an unpaid week off of work) and the amount of money that flew out of of savings account [read: almost ALL] was not. Neither was my body's decision to revolt-making me feel like crap the whole time...My period coming a week early was an especially nice touch.
That could all be overlooked as the perils of traveling, I know.
The knife in our backs was really staying at my Hubby's grandmother's house.
(The house has sat empty for almost 2 years-his Grams now lives in a nursing home)
Why?
Because it was the house we would have moved into if Husbandface had gotten the job.
The house that we spent hours decorating in our minds and making plans for the future. We even talked about having another baby if it happened.
(In hindsight, not the best idea, but we were attempting to be hopeful.)
I think we were both taken aback at how hard it all sort of kicked us in the teeth as we arrived, and kinda hung over us like a shadow the whole week we were there.
We just felt even more stuck. Even farther from where we want so badly to be, if that makes sense...
And I realize that I should have just let.it.GO. but I couldn't stop worrying about money. We absolutely had no business taking a trip (albeit a mandatory one) for a DAY let alone, a WEEK, so I was wracked with panic over it the majority of the trip. I don't think it helped that my darling Hubben was also freaking out over the fact that our plan of him hitting the pavement with a vengeance every day that week to look for jobs/interview pretty much fell flat on its proverbial ass, and there wasn't jack we could do about it.
Did I mention that the Man and I spent that week sleeping on a full-sized bed when we're used to our king? Yeah....
But, we got thru it, and managed to fly home safely with our son (and our marriage) intact.
However, coming back home was rough.
It was like leaving the field utterly defeated.
We walked back through the doors of my IL's house totally broke, having made NO progress while in WV.
Yes, we knew as we left that THAT may be the outcome, but we were trying once again, to be positive.
As for our plan forward, we don't really know. We need a miracle. I've been campaigning for one since I got pregnant with O, so maybe we'll get it eventually.
And before anyone pipes up to tell me how fortunate I already AM, I know.
We are extremely grateful that my husband's parent's have opened their home to us, and even more grateful that through the last few years at least one of us was able to keep his job. We are so thankful for what we have because we know that it could be worse.
That being said, we need to get out on our own. The living with his parents situation is NOT a forever deal. We knew that coming into it, and we've already been here far longer than either party expected or wanted.
Even more pressing, we have a child that we want to give a home to. One that is our own.
Sigh.
On a lighter note,
For the sake of our sanity (and sex life), Hubs and I decided to turn our little "apt." into 2 distinct bedrooms.
You know what that means!
Baby has his OWN room!
It's so cute!
We seriously spent from 9am-12am putting it all together. We totally lucked out b/c friends of ours gave us a crib, and we already had a dresser for him (that we also use as a changing table). So all we needed to buy was a shelving unit for his toys, a crib mattress, some bedding, and some adorable wall decals for art.
Did I mention it looks really cute?!
'Cos it is.
I will add a picture next post.
It's definitely lifted our spirits to give O a nursery. we've been waiting to do that since we got pregnant.
Tonight will be the first night he sleeps in there!
Wish me luck...I'll probably cry more than he does.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Attack of the Nagging Hausfrau.
Okay, so I am so BEYOND irritated right now, but I'm torn as to who I should be more irritated with: myself, or my husband.
Having moved in with his parents, we live in a very small space as compared to what we had before (a 2bd/2ba entire apt).
We now have:
Two bedrooms which are connected by a jack n' jill bathroom being used as our "apt.".
In that space, we have a small living room/office area, and then a bedroom area. Now, we are trying to negotiate how to fit our son into all of that as well.
This is a hard task. It's made harder by the fact that my darling spouse is a SLOB.
Trails everywhere he freakin' goes. Clothes strewn wherever he happens to take them off, crochet paraphernalia (yes, he crochets) here and there, whatever magazines or book he decides to flip through, dishes, shoes, etc.
Basically anything he touches/uses in his daily life gets scattered through our little abode.
It drives me FUCKING nuts. Partly because I am, in fact, a Type Aer who has inherited her mother's reverence for cleanliness (although not nearly as psychotic), but MOSTLY it's because a small space immediately becomes unlivable if it's not kept clean and organized.
And I have TRIED. I've let a lot of things go in the 2.5 years that we've cohabitated, and I've done my damnedest to try and give everything a place, so it's easy keep stuff picked up.
This does not register with him.
The thing is, I feel bad for getting mad at him about it. When we both worked, I didn't feel bad, but now that he's the only one working, I feel like the LEAST I can do is the housework. So now, I DO feel bad, because I feel like I'm not pulling my weight.
This feeling is not as a result of him either. He doesn't care if I clean or not. He's fine with the mess and overflowing baskets of laundry. I'm the one having the nervous breakdown about it.
Before I got pregnant, This wasn't that big of an issue. For the most part, even though I got annoyed from time to time, I did all of the cleaning/laundry, and that was that. But now, it's a different story.
I'm so tired. All the time! It seems like the messes are creeping up on me more and more frequently now. Oh, and the laundry. Good LORDY LOVIN', the laundry. There's always been a lot of it, because my husband is sweaty and changes at least twice in a day, but lately, it's just overwhelming. I can get it sorted, washed and dried, but by the time I get to the putting away/hanging up portion of the program, things fall apart.
I just don't have any energy or focus, which is worse than the fatigue.
So we end up with baskets of laundry lined up on our window seat or next to the bed, which end up being rifled through by the Hubster, and thus strewn throughout creation.
And a day like today will come, a day that is hot, one in which I am tired and headachy, where I look around our space and its piles of mess/laundry and try to imagine our son and all of his stuff coexisting with it all, only to realize that it's going to get SO MUCH WORSE.
--this is when I CRACK.
Yelling is imminent. My poor clueless spouse will walk in the door any minute now, and I will unleash a torrential bitchfest upon him.
But I don't want to. He works hard, and I SOOOO appreciate that. He doesn't care if I do nothing but sit on my ass and eat bonbons...
So what right do I have to chew him out for not putting away his crap?
But at the SAME TIME, shouldn't he put away at least some of it?
Sometimes as he sits there, after work, playing his Xbox, amid piles of laundry as I once again gather up his dishes, I briefly visualize strangling him with the controller cord and throwing the machine out the window....
Other times as he sits there, after work, detailing the mind-numbing day he had, amid the piles of bills he's trying so hard to pay, I'm so thankful that he's willing to do it and come home so happy to be with me every day.
Does any of this make any sense?
I think I just needed to vent.
Having moved in with his parents, we live in a very small space as compared to what we had before (a 2bd/2ba entire apt).
We now have:
Two bedrooms which are connected by a jack n' jill bathroom being used as our "apt.".
In that space, we have a small living room/office area, and then a bedroom area. Now, we are trying to negotiate how to fit our son into all of that as well.
This is a hard task. It's made harder by the fact that my darling spouse is a SLOB.
Trails everywhere he freakin' goes. Clothes strewn wherever he happens to take them off, crochet paraphernalia (yes, he crochets) here and there, whatever magazines or book he decides to flip through, dishes, shoes, etc.
Basically anything he touches/uses in his daily life gets scattered through our little abode.
It drives me FUCKING nuts. Partly because I am, in fact, a Type Aer who has inherited her mother's reverence for cleanliness (although not nearly as psychotic), but MOSTLY it's because a small space immediately becomes unlivable if it's not kept clean and organized.
And I have TRIED. I've let a lot of things go in the 2.5 years that we've cohabitated, and I've done my damnedest to try and give everything a place, so it's easy keep stuff picked up.
This does not register with him.
The thing is, I feel bad for getting mad at him about it. When we both worked, I didn't feel bad, but now that he's the only one working, I feel like the LEAST I can do is the housework. So now, I DO feel bad, because I feel like I'm not pulling my weight.
This feeling is not as a result of him either. He doesn't care if I clean or not. He's fine with the mess and overflowing baskets of laundry. I'm the one having the nervous breakdown about it.
Before I got pregnant, This wasn't that big of an issue. For the most part, even though I got annoyed from time to time, I did all of the cleaning/laundry, and that was that. But now, it's a different story.
I'm so tired. All the time! It seems like the messes are creeping up on me more and more frequently now. Oh, and the laundry. Good LORDY LOVIN', the laundry. There's always been a lot of it, because my husband is sweaty and changes at least twice in a day, but lately, it's just overwhelming. I can get it sorted, washed and dried, but by the time I get to the putting away/hanging up portion of the program, things fall apart.
I just don't have any energy or focus, which is worse than the fatigue.
So we end up with baskets of laundry lined up on our window seat or next to the bed, which end up being rifled through by the Hubster, and thus strewn throughout creation.
And a day like today will come, a day that is hot, one in which I am tired and headachy, where I look around our space and its piles of mess/laundry and try to imagine our son and all of his stuff coexisting with it all, only to realize that it's going to get SO MUCH WORSE.
--this is when I CRACK.
Yelling is imminent. My poor clueless spouse will walk in the door any minute now, and I will unleash a torrential bitchfest upon him.
But I don't want to. He works hard, and I SOOOO appreciate that. He doesn't care if I do nothing but sit on my ass and eat bonbons...
So what right do I have to chew him out for not putting away his crap?
But at the SAME TIME, shouldn't he put away at least some of it?
Sometimes as he sits there, after work, playing his Xbox, amid piles of laundry as I once again gather up his dishes, I briefly visualize strangling him with the controller cord and throwing the machine out the window....
Other times as he sits there, after work, detailing the mind-numbing day he had, amid the piles of bills he's trying so hard to pay, I'm so thankful that he's willing to do it and come home so happy to be with me every day.
Does any of this make any sense?
I think I just needed to vent.
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