11. The Truth Comes Out

We have now completed the move to Texas. It is now that I can be at least honest with myself, and those who don't really know me.

I hate living with my mom!

Not just this thing here and that thing there, and in good humor, but all of it. I hate it and wish that there was some other way...but there isn't so, I must live with it all for now.

We moved into a two bedroom apartment (what we could afford and find in an area where housing is short). That puts me and my husband in the master bedroom and my mom in the slightly smaller bedroom. It also puts our 11 month old son in our closet. Which we had hoped would be bigger since it was a "Texas sized" closet, but it isn't that big. Sharing a bathroom with my mom was the worse, so here she has the second bathroom, which only stinks for our company since she has a toilet riser. However, all of this means she has a large walk in closet where she can put stuff and clothes and we do not since Marcus is sleeping there and we have learned that hanging clothes is difficult due to sleeping schedules and space. She also has the hall linen closet. This means we have no closet of anysort. We also have the smallest bathroom, so there isn't any storage space for anything in there. In fact it is so small that the toilet brush, plunger, and a small bathroom trash don't all fit. The brush and plunger now abide in the bathroom, and the bathroom trash in our bedroom.

We are unpacking the few things that we Fed Exed from Wisconsin, and of course she has a lot more. We have six boxes and she has forty-six boxes. We did this because it was easier then fighting her about it, but paying for it is turning out to be a huge deal since it cost more then we planned.

However, now she has all this stuff, and it is crowding me out. I feel as if I have no home, and will never have a home again. I don't know how to look at it from a positive point of view. I am tired of living with her, tired of having her in my house, and tired of dealing with her and her problems every day. I know that I should be thankful that at least she is alive and being taken care of, but I don't really know how to be thankful for that when it hurts me and makes me feel crowded and unable to be myself.