It’s been a tough week.

Somewhere there’s a list of life events that can bring you to your knees and if moving isn’t at the top, it should be. Moving into almost-finished new construction with only two adults, a pickup and a Hyundai wagon. In 90 degree heat. When one of the adults considers the other “a hoarder” for having stuff… Yeah, “stressful” is one word for it.

(Thank goodness for Poppy’s mad vacuuming and cleaning skills, and Grammy’s mad Boy-entertaining skills!)

And you’ve accomplished this monumental thing, moving an entire house in two days on top of constructing said paid-for home from the ground up, but you are surrounded by boxes and missing shower curtain rings, and where-the-hell-am-I-going-to-put-that stuff. (I swear I’m not a hoarder!)

Then comes an unexpected, HUGE bill in the mail to take the wind right out of your sails, and evaporates any semblance of excitement you had left, and you wonder how anyone ever gets a leg up…

Then one of The Boy’s best friends decides he doesn’t want to go to summer day camp anymore, and his absences begin to trigger meltdowns and anxiety every night and morning. The Boy lashes out and threatens not to go himself, even though he absolutely adores it.

And you’re supposed to go to work and do work things correctly when you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in over a week, you haven’t eaten since you opened that huge bill, and you’ve taxed your body to the limit. The worry and overwhelm seem to be taxing your brain even more.

Everyone around you is worried, too. Either about the same things as you, or about you, and there’s nothing to say or do. You just keep going. There’s no time or money to do anything else. And crying gets old. Deep down, you know this too shall pass, so you just continue to be until it gets better.