It looks like we will be moving this summer, once school is out.
Myself and the 3 younger kids will be moving in with a friend of ours and her kids for the next school year. Husband, OldestSmacks, and Other-Husband will be getting a smaller apartment in town so that Husband doesn’t have to leave his job and Oldest can finish high school here (he’s a junior). After that...? Hopefully, finding a place by (or with) my friend for all of us.
It’s not ideal by any means, but we just can’t handle the constant BS that living here entails any longer. Also, and even more important, there are better schools by where my friend lives, and better special needs services (kids 2 and 3 are on the spectrum). The schools here have been getting worse and worse. I don’t blame the teachers, I know they do their best. I blame that jackass Walker and his cronies in the state government. The boys simply need more than the local schools can provide any more.
The kids are actually excited about it, because they will be going to school with their friends there, and they love visiting my friend (she has a really great place. And a dog. Which was totally a selling point for kid 2!) Their dad(s) and I are absolutely not splitting up, which helps. We made that very clear that no one is divorcing or separating, this is just the best decision we can come to for everyone for now.
Now that it’s been announced and settled, I’m starting to freak myself out about this! I have not lived without Husband in nearly 20 years, and we’ve been with Other-H for 7 years. We’re a team. We live together, parent together, do pretty much everything together. I’ve never lived on my own. Ever. Husband moved into my mom’s place with me when I was 17, and we’ve never been apart since then.
I mean, I still won’t be “on my own”, my friend will be there, but I won’t have the guys to lean on and, frankly, I’m not sure I know how to be an adult all by myself! Which sounds funny coming from someone who’s been basically running 2 households for years, but it’s how I feel right now.
I suppose I’m just scared of change, even good change. I’m (ack!) nearly 36. It’s time and past for me to leave the nest (so to speak), so I’ll just put on my big girl panties and keep chugging along. (Pardon my mixed metaphors. It’s been a hell of a long day.)