When Mom Guilt Strikes

I don’t have a catchy title for this. I can’t give a shit about SEO. I just have a metric ton of Mom Guilt sitting on my chest and I desperately need to get it off because I can’t breathe with it there weighing me down.

We’re moving. In 12 days.

Yes, that’s right. We sold our house. This summer’s hard work and my home staging skills paid off and after being on the market for 6 weeks, it will no longer be ours.

That’s the amazing part, really. We’ve dreamed of the day we could sell our house for quite a while, never expecting the housing market to rebound here so that it would be possible. And now the market has rebounded and the house is sold and we’re moving. Officially.

But the Mom Guilt is eating me alive.

Moving now means switching schools. And then switching again. I knew this would be a possibility, but I didn’t expect it to be this hard.

“He’ll only be a month into school! No big deal! He’s adaptable!”

He is adaptable. I, as it turns out, am not.

See, we’re not going from here to our forever home. We’re going from here to living with family to our forever home. Because that’s what happens when you want to build a home of your dreams and you have people who graciously open their doors to you and the timing for everything is all weird like this.

I cried this afternoon when I realized that my son probably might not exist in a yearbook.

I know this is more for me than it is for him right now, but one day, it’ll be for him. School pictures at his current school were today. They’re probably taking place soon at his new school if they haven’t already. There’s a good chance I’ve missed the boat and the only record that he attended in either place will be in whatever I can cobble together.

I cried at Joshua’s curriculum night on Monday when I told his teacher that he only had 8 more days with her. I wiped my eyes as she talked about the times she needed classroom volunteers when I realized the available times are perfect for me to have been there, helping with the art center, or working on reading, or doing whatever she needs done.

I know there’s a chance I’ll have this same opportunity at his new school, but I also know there’s a chance I won’t.

I cried when she talked about the ways she engages the kids in activity to help them work off excess energy throughout the day and when she relayed some funny stories about their interactions with one another and the ways she sees the class coming together.

I know there’s a chance he’ll have that elsewhere, but I also know there’s a chance he won’t.

I cried when I listened to the PTA president talk about the school and community they have there and how they help one another and are able to do the things they’re able to do not because they’re the fanciest school but because they’re a family.

I know we’ll have many, many years to become part of a school community when he gets to his final destination, but it seems like so far away before we get there.

I feel stuck.

We’re stuck. Moving, but stuck.

I’m worried and I’m sad and all these little things are piling up and I feel like the entire first year of school is a wash with all the moving. We can’t put down roots and get comfortable. He’s going to be spending the next however long adjusting while the rest of his classmates are established.

All of this just means a lot of change. And a lot of feeling like I’m not doing the right thing right now while simultaneously doing the best thing for the future.

I just don’t want to screw up.