This Old House.

I wonder if I will ever be able to talk about the old house without the catch in my throat.  My feelings are still so raw.

I rarely speak about it for this reason.  I don't even make reference to it.  It's as if we just materialized here from thin air - no background...

But the kids tell their story.  Our old house was huge.  Our old house was awesome.  Our old house had everything.

Our house was amazing.  It was everything I never knew I wanted...I romanticize it now. But it was pretty spectacular.  Things we took for granted...double vanities - two walk in closets - high ceilings and wide doorways - 6 panel doors with knobs that don't stick and it never smelled like old musty nonsense.  The furnace was new and and our house was warm - the fireplace came on with the flip of a switch.  A large open kitchen that felt like home from the first day we walked in.

I can't help but feel like we let them down - like we traded it all away for a fresh start.  Could we have stayed?  Could we have remained buried with bills?  Could we have made it work?

But here we are.  Wedged in a tiny house, bursting at the seams.

I sound bitter.  I feel bitter.  I feel angry.

I used to feel so relieved and authentic but something changed.  Now I am envious of others.  I drive around and stare at giant houses and silently hate even those whom I know are suffering much greater pains than me.  I feel so sorry for myself and I hate myself for it.  I should have control over this but it consumes me.

I say the right things out loud more to convince myself than anyone else.  I talk about how blessed we are for our four healthy children.  And we are blessed.  So very blessed.  But also we are shit on...or shit out of luck...something involving shit - and not the kind where you step in it and come out smelling like a rose.  Just plain old stinky shit.

So at 11:30 PM last night when the sewer drain backed up and we were literally standing in shit I decided now would be a good time for a major attitude adjustment.  My love, unfazed by this latest development shrugged his shoulders and said, "It'll be fine.  It could be worse."

"How could it be worse?"I cried hysterically.   "I'm shop-vac-ing shitty toilet paper off the basement floor.  How could this possibly be worse?!?!"

But somehow he was right.  And there was nothing I that my panic was going to do to make it stop.  So I pulled up my big girl pants and cleaned the mess.  I popped two melatonins, hopped into bed and fell sound asleep.

My house might be shitty but my attitude doesn't have to be.