It's Friday night and I am sitting in front of a computer screen trying to collect all of my thoughts that have been bopping around my head for the past 14 days. It's not working. Quick Summary: the move was trying. The kids were difficult. The Chef was aloof. I was mean.
I do not handle extreme amounts of stress well. When I am overwhelmed at every which way I look, I tend to get a bit dicey. Bitchy if you may.
This move may have shown me in a less than perfect light to my husband. Ok. I came off as a complete asshole. I lost my mind. I just couldn't handle all the packing and the kids and the dogs and the bills while he went off to work.
I am used to our life. I get the hours. I know he works he ass off constantly. I understand that if he is not in that restaurant 15 hours/day we will not do not have a future. I understand that to my soul. But sometimes it is just so hard and I get so tired.
This move broke me. At least for a moment. And in that moment I thought about all the what if's...
What if he wasn't a Chef?
What if we didn't own a restaurant?
What if I was single?
What if I never had kids?
What if I lived in Key West and drank Hurricanes all day and taught scuba?
And then I slapped my self, drank a glass of Cantillon (my ale of choice) and listened to some Tori (cause girl always cheers me up).
I love what the Chef does. I love our life. It is fucking hectic and sometimes when I close my easy it's too easy to picture a different life. But that's the thing. It would be too easy to have a different life. I don't want easy. Even though I bitch when times are tough, I like it when times are tough. It shows me that the man I married three years ago (this week) and I can get through anything. We may not like each other for 5 minutes and we may yell but at the end of it all I know that I will be proud of our life. Our life. The life we somehow created between two crazy kids who dated in high school, became best friends in college, and fell in love in New York City.
Happy Anni (#2) Chef. 3 down. 100 to go.