Time for an update:
Christmas, New Years, got Covid, started moving.
Okay, now that we’re up to speed, it feels too late to do a holiday post so I’m going to blow right by Christmas and New Years and the fact that I woke up at 3am on Jan 1st with a Covidfever (we all recovered), and just get to what’s happening now.
My lovely family and I are in the process of packing up everything and moving into my mother-in-law’s place. We are so beyond grateful that she is letting us stay there for a few months, because I hate paying rent and she lives in a country club with 6 golf courses. So yeah…pretty hard to beat that as we start rounding the corner into Spring (hopefully). Despite how excited I am to live there, here comes one of the worst tasks ever: moving.
Moving absolutely sucks. The fact that moving exists makes me question why I have things. Every time I move, I end up throwing out so much shit, then I accumulate more just to throw it out again when I move out of that place. All I really need is a mattress, TV, Xbox, grill, computer, 9 outfits, a chair, and my golf clubs. That list has grown to include Jenn and Emily’s stuff, but I think I could legitimately live with just those items. Anyway, moving sucks, but it sucks more with a baby. Since we aren’t moving into an empty apartment, all of our big stuff needed to go into storage. Luckily, I have a free storage facility known as my parent’s basement. So, we had to rent a UHaul and bring most of our big items and boxes of non-necessities to my parent’s place. Not too bad since they came to help but moving furniture in the snow with a baby isn’t fun. Plus, we’ve gotten all the big stuff out and we still have a bunch of shit to deal with by either donating or getting to New Jersey. Thank goodness Jenn’s grandparents have a truck and a trailer.
I didn’t write this just to bitch about moving, here comes the unsolicited advice you’ve all come to love: ASK FOR HELP! As a young father, I want to be the man of the house. I have the picture in my head of what the ideal father is, and it’s really just my dad. My dad is a worker, and he works harder than anyone I know. He is getting something important done seemingly 24/7. Obviously there are breaks for meals, walking the dog, and Jeopardy!, but even his leisure activity is running. The man is a goddamn machine and also an amazing dad. This is the man I want to be. So, when it comes time to move, or budget, or make a big decision, in my head I am going to solve it on my own and get it right the first try. But that is complete and total bullshit. Despite my gut feeling that I need to solve every problem on my own, I constantly ask for help. I have had a lot of practice. You don’t get 5 years sober alone, and early sobriety has taught me that I need to ask for help to survive. This is something that has made its way into every facet of my life. I ask my parents, my friends, and my wife for help all the time. This was something that I struggled with for a while, but it is something that I feel so strongly about now. Asking for help is critical, whether its help with a diaper change, moving a couch, or needing a basement to stay in, you can’t get it if you don’t ask.