Shit

I can't really think of a good title for this post. I can barely make my fingers type.

This is my place to spill everything so who cares anyway.

I feel like I am dying. Slow, painfully,

Six Weeks

We are here, our stuff is here, our cats are here, even our cars are here. I am here but my mind is somewhere else. And my aching heart, missing home. But life goes on with no consideration for those of us wanting to go back. 

We have moved into my SIL's bach. For those outside of NZ, a bach (pron. batch) is a small beach holiday house. It's right next door to Niks parents and is right on the river opposite the rivermouth. I watch the tides change, boats go out fishing and the waves roll in against the towering limestone cliffs. Our house is separated from the 'Outlaws' as I shall call them, by raised veggie gardens, apple and plum trees and rolling green grass. Sounds idyllic doesn't it? It is, don't get me wrong. I love the landscape here and the ever changing sky and river. Driving to town is just rolling green pastures all sitting below the mountain. She is almost snow capped and can easily cause an accident as its just awe-inspiring seeing her pop out as you drive. 

So we are living in the bach while we build a new house. I know, exciting right?!! It's my silver lining and I'm Pinning like crazy getting ideas for my new cottage. Meanwhile though, Minky is sharing our room for the unforseeable future. But that's another post.

I'll be writing more here now as I feel it's both therapeutic and I miss blogging. So if you find me, hello! I hope you stay for a while and have a read of my adventures. 

Moved

The moving was horrible.

I went numb on the Sunday night, our final night in our house. Or perhaps it was the Saturday? I started to have a moment on that last night that could have ended terribly. I cried, almost out of control. But in the end I pulled myself together and just went numb. I watched the sun set over the back yard, over the mango tree and the roofline of Chloe's cubby and felt the world end. I took a photo of that moment and kept the scent of the evening flowers in my mind. Then I lost my phone and that photo, along with that moment is gone forever.

Some people would love a chance at a new beginning. Not me. I was battling on but things would have got easier. Not this way though, this is horrible.

The packers came and took everything over the space of three days. By the time it was pouring down with rain on the final day, I went to the house to let the cleaner in and it all hit. The house was empty, it echoed. It was like walking into a dead body. All the memories, all the love and warmth was gone and it was just a shell. No going back, nothing more I could do. All just gone.

I hadn't wanted to go over and see it like that but thought perhaps I should have. What a terrible mistake. I cried. No, I howled a deep, primal howl that came from somewhere so deep I can't even say it sounded like a cry. My neighbour walked in and found me and helped me out to the car. That was the last time I went there.

The move over here has been ok. I have NOTHING to do during the days and it is really hard living under someone else's roof. I keep having nightmares about having to pack up and leave home in Australia then I wake up and realise it's not a dream and that it is my life.

We are going through the motions of building a house. I hold out little hope that it will actually happen. I have learned not to get my hopes up. I just hope we are in our own home again by Christmas.

By the weekend we should be in our rental, the house next door to my in-laws. It is a tiny two bedder and we will have to have Maxy in our room but it will do for now. I need somewhere I can call my own again for a little while and grieve.

I don't want to be in New Zealand, away from everything I know. I don't want to think about the future. That I might even grow to like this place and one day have to move again. I think about dying a lot. I think my kids might be better off without me.

On being a bad mother....

Monday morning.

Today is one of those days where I really hate to admit it, but I really need help {i.e. this move IS a good thing}.

Maxy woke early, crying. He's also learnt to bang the wall to get attention. It just happens to be the wall that separates our bedrooms so it has maximum impact.

I'd run out of meds on Saturday and knew I had to run to the chemist before swimming and get my script filled. Just awesome with two kids, one who is refusing to be held anymore but can't stand up. 

Nik must have sensed it as he left his empty pain killer box on my purse as if to say 'oh you know, just while you are passing'. Yeah, so simple. Did I mention I was on a huge come-down from my meds? The type that leaves my head spinning, mouth dry and mood somewhere between homicidal and suicidal?

Wrangled the kids in and out of the chemist and somehow had half an hour to kill before swimming lessons. Do I A) go early and get a park without stressing out over time; or B) go get a drive through coffee and risk running stupidly late, just adding more pressure to the morning. I like living dangerously so went with B. Coffee in hand, off to swimming.

It bloody pissed down.

The carpark at the Sports Centre is always busy but this morning a local school had a camp there so all the parents in their big 4WD's took up all the parking spots while I just sat with my indicator on hoping some poor mother would run through the downpour and pull out of a spot right next to me. After missing oh, at least 8 spots due to propping on the wrong side of the carpark, I did some manic hand gestures to a woman who was about to steal my spot. 3 minutes to spare. Winning.

Naturally Chloe didn't want to be at swimming and wouldn't sit still, wouldn't kick and paddle and generally acted up the whole class. I got supershitty when I noticed that a few of the kids in her class were lining up to go in the next class instead, having graduated to independent swimming classes (I've had Chlo assessed that many times and they still haven't let her move up. Not happy.) Maxy decided to cry again so between the two, I only just made it through the half hour lesson and back out when it started pissing down again. Chloe was running around, stopping in front of the pram so I could run her over and generally being a little shit. I vagued out for two seconds then WHACK over she goes. She slipped over and whacked her head straight on the concrete pavers much to the shock of all the old water aerobics ladies who were coming in.

There was a terrible silence. (Thank you Mem).

Bad Mother Moment #1

Instead of rushing to her aid, I screamed bloody murder "I &%$ TOLD YOU NOT TO RUN!!!!!" Fuck. Gave her a cuddle, assessed any serious head injury. The staff asked told me it was slippery there (no shit love) and offered an ice pack. I grumbled something about just trying to get the fuck out to the car and stormed off, Chloe under one arm, Maxy crying in the pram, out to the bloody fucking carpark that was underwater by this stage.

Thankfully her head is ok and I made up for it with lots of kisses and cuddles. Poor Minky.

And of course Bad Mother Moment #2 of the day had to come. I left Maxy crying for nearly an hour in his cot. Absolutely. Screaming. I went in a few times and gave him a cuddle but the majority of the time I sat here, staring at my stoopid Windows 8 and wishing to god I had someone here that could take over so I could just breathe for a minute.

He's asleep now. It's peaceful. I hope the afternoon is better.

ETA - I never did go back to swimming lessons.... Total wuss!

Sold

In less than a few days, the cottage has sold.

I have cried a river of tears and have been told to 'feel every emotion'. There is sorrow, loss, anger, resentment and grief. We are losing our home and have no idea where we will end up.

Through the darkness though, there is a little hope. I have started to feel the small twinges of excitement. Wonder at where we will be in six, 12, 24 months. How life in the country will feel on cold winter mornings. What it will be like to have family close by to just drop in to. There is a small bit of hope filling my heart that this might just be ok.

My laptop died this week so I am typing this on Nik's work one. Mum is here and very generously bought us a new one which I pick up Monday. I had been throwing myself into my other blog, writing, designing and planning MLL's next move. I am taking it as a sign from the universe that I just needed to stop, sit the fuck down and relax for 5 minutes. I am utterly exhausted.

So we are looking like moving on 27th March. Having an actual date leaves a gaping hole in my throat and chest. It's so permanent, so real. We aren't having a farewell party. I skipped out on a friends party early last night so I didn't have to say goodbye to a heap of people that I know it will inevitably be the last time I see {for a long while}. There are quite a few people who I feel are only being polite for the sake of neighbourly relations anyway, so I'm not really that fussed about a big send off. Quietly slipping out the door is my style, like I have done so many times before.

My heart is heavy but I mustn't dwell. Charlotte Dawson committed suicide yesterday and I am determined that I won't do that. The dog might come on the plane with me and will inevitably move in with us again, sleeping quietly under the bed. I won't succumb to all the thoughts that dash through my mind though. There has to be another way through this.

Just keep on swimming - Dory, Finding Nemo

It's real

The house is on the market.

Three weeks of backbreaking work it looks fantastic.

I couldn't be sadder.

On being brave...

My Mum thinks I am very brave to be making this move. I think I don't have a choice in the matter.

I had decided this was going to be a good week. The end of last week saw apprehension, bad news on houses in NZ, a quote for moving that was well over double what we had thought it would be and the realisation of the enormity of work that this house needs before we can put it on the market. And we are meant to be moving in MARCH?!

My mood is swinging between pissed off and slightly excited. It's also kind of exciting to see our beautiful little home finally getting finished (even though it's not for us).

We wanted to put up a VJ/tongue and groove style ceiling in the study but it's going to cost too much. Nik suggested straight plywood which would make it a bit too dark and small. I had the clever idea of whitewashing the ply and googled it to see if anyone has done it. Turns out it's kinda the next big thing! Lots of beach houses are doing it and it's a cheap and easy way to get a worn look.

We are also having to do a shit load of work on the kitchen here before we can list it for sale. I had always wanted a white timber kitchen with stone or timber bench tops. As with most things though, what I wanted didn't count so we ended up putting on plain white gloss cupboard doors that Nik's parents paid for. While I am full of gratitude and grateful that they could help, it was a knee jerk decision that wasn't thought through by Nik and now we have half a kitchen with 1980s yellow doors falling off their hinges and the other half white gloss. Just more work to do!!

In other news, we have found out that (maybe) we can get a mortgage in NZ. There would of course be conditions attached to it, but hopefully it will mean the freedom of our own home again. There are fuck all rentals in the area we want to live in and not many more in town. Plus it would mean moving from here, into the in-laws, into a rental then into a long term property. Personally if I could find a decent rental I would prefer that than owning again straight away but AGAIN what I want or think doesn't matter. Story of my life.

The house we are looking at turns out needs the internal walls knocked down so I can see the kids from the kitchen. The main living area is blocked off, and the fireplace is also on that wall. It'd be a pretty massive job but Nik seems to think it won't be too hard to do. The bonus is it's a huge block backing on to farmland, a few seconds from the school and play center and on the high, sunny side of the street. And it's white, hooray! I am not getting my hopes up again though. I couldn't bare to get them dashed again.

So we are having a garage sale on Saturday I think? We were going to get the removalists to come in and do a 1st pack of all the stuff we want out of the house to sell it but unfortunately it's too $$$ so I now have to do it all myself and store it in the shed, which means making room in the shed. I can't do that though until I have finished sewing a present for my dear friend (so I can pack up all the study/sewing room) and we can't move all the linen cupboards out until Nik finishes the new linen cupboard in the kitchen. That bloody chain effect again.

And somehow I also have to parent my children.

It was going to be a good week.

{a before shot of the beach cottage}