u/butt_butt_butt_butt_

New poster to this community, so forgive me if I miss some context. I’m struggling at the moment.

I struggled a lot with ED in college, but with some medication, therapy, and building strategies for myself, I ended up “getting past it” (as much as that’s possible).

But now…

We own a small house in a fairly sought-after vacation town. But we have kids and have now outgrown it.

We want to sell and move closer to family (we’re currently 3 hours + from our major support network), rent for a while, and then eventually buy something bigger once this sells and we have a down payment.

This means packing up our current place (while managing the two toddlers!) and having contractors in and out, because once we move, driving 6 hours round trip to get things done here is going to be a nightmare.

To add to the mess…

Since this is a vacation town, it’s expected that all houses come furnished when sold.

Not just couches and beds, but turn-key for someone who wants it as a second home, or to use it as an Airbnb. So…Decor. Bedding. Soap and TP in the bathroom. Pots and Pans. Silverware. A blender.

Meaning I can’t just hire movers to box everything we own and put it in storage. (And really…I can’t afford that anyway!)

That means every corner of every room, I have to make decisions about every freaking object.

Do I want it? Would the potential new owners or their guests want/need it? Is it nice enough to leave, or would the small scratch on the end table or the one chip in the one plate in the set of dishes be frowned upon?

The feeling of being judged by people who can afford our very well lived in home for “fun” and are buying it as a a second one is giving me anxiety.

Typically my husband would take a lot of the burden off of me. But he was just in an accident and is in a full leg cast. He can’t bend, stairs are difficult, and lifting anything heavy is out of the question.

I keep reminding myself that we WILL have help from family in two weeks when “moving day” comes, but I’ve helped move friends and family before.

There is NOTHING worse than showing up on moving day and finding nothing is even boxed up yet, and you only have the U-Haul for 72 hours and a whole house to sort.

I have to find a way to start making progress on this.

I’ve been lying to the family and friends who are going to help that we’ve been getting a lot done.

But besides arranging contractors for repairs and talking to our realtor…I’m burnt out already and literally want to cry when I think about how much I have to accomplish, and how quickly time is running out.

Last week I tried to make a list and separate the house into sections. Thinking it would help me get over the mental block, and maybe I could tackle a specific space for a couple hours at a time when I have time after work?

Think “cabinets in upstairs bath”, “linen closet” etc.

Keep it small and manageable, then at least I can feel like I accomplished something, and maybe that will inspire me to keep going and do more.

But then every time I have a couple hours of free time where my husband is watching the kids, our 8-5 jobs are finished for the day, and I’ve promised myself I’m going to start….

…I end up doomscrolling or just staring at a wall, filled with dread, looking for anything and everything I can do to avoid what I need to do.

Any tips? Support? Constructive criticism?

So.

After 10 years of infertility, we adopted a newborn from a relative of mine who had given birth to a severely substance affected baby.

We were foster parents for a bit. But then the biological parents disappeared. We dealt with the hard stuff of fighting the legal system to adopt him. It was a mess.

In his first days out of the NICu, he slept on a bedside bassinet.

I admit that I pulled him into me in bed more often than not, because he desperately wanted physical touch.

Then we quickly transitioned him to a crib.

Not much fuss.

He was just a trooper and if he cried, we would cuddle him for a minute and then put him back. He got used to it. We were good.

Then 6 months later our IVF pregnancy randomly stuck, after a lot of years and miscarriages.

She was in the NICU as well because of my fertility issues, but mostly feeder:grower.

When she came home, we had the same plan - bedside bassinet. Cuddles if needed, but safe sleep as a priority.

But this time, we had a Velcro baby.

She never stopped crying unless she was on me.

She never slept in her bassinet.

I was up all night and exhausted.

I insisted after a certain point and age that we have to put her in the crib and get her used to it. She was getting too big for the bassinet anyway.

My husband agreed.

But everytime I tried, my husband would freak out that she was sad and alone in her crib.

He refused to participate in any kind of sleep training methods.

If she cried in the crib for even 30 seconds, he would get up, bring her to me, and act like I was the jerk for putting her in there; when she didn’t like it.

So I spent many months trying to get her to sleep in our bed and then transition her over to crib. Then she would wake up and cry. And he would get up…and bring her to me.

It became easier to have her just cosleep; because any attempt otherwise my husband would undo.

Now she’s 18 months old and can’t sleep anywhere besides our bed or physically ON me.

And she has a messed up sleep pattern - every 2-3 hours she needs a sleep. But no sleeping through the night. She wakes up and wants to party every 3 hours.

I’ve expressed this to my husband that this isn’t tenable and we need to sleep train; but he insists it’s my fault for being too lenient.

We both work from home and make the same money. But he primarily deals with our toddler while I…deal with her.

Now she is at the stage where she’s tired and actively kicking me in the face every time I try and lay her down; but I have to do it; because those little naps are all I get.

So I decided we need to be firm and do some sleep training and stick with it.

Comfort when you cry; but accept the crib as the bed now. Love, support, but this is where you sleep.

My husband recently had an injury and said she’s “too disruptive for his rest”. So he wants me to keep up with just letting her sleep in bed with us and me staying up all night with her and living off naps.

I am…dying. I’m so tired. I’m not good at work. I’m not good with our eldest.

I’m so pissed at my husband.

He’s saying now that because he’s injured, I’m choosing this time to address the issue.

And it’s all my fault that she has sleep problems, despite the fact that he’s never given her a chance to self soothe.

I’m at at limit.

I’m thinking of taking the kids to my parents, and letting them deal with the sleep problems with my youngest.

I’m too tired to think clearly anymore.

This morning, I took my kid outside to play in our front yard, where he has toys and a play structure.

I’m 33f. White and ginger, because apparently that matters. We were sitting in a chair and reading a book.

There’s an empty lot across from our house that’s been for sale forever. Nothing wrong with it, it’s just a bit overpriced.

A truck pulls up to the empty lot and three guys come out. They are speaking Spanish.

I’m not 100% fluent and I SUCK at forming responses in the language myself without thinking for a minute, but after many years of Spanish classes and living in Mexico for a minute, I understand what’s said without any confusion and I’m working on my spoken. Just bad at it.

These dudes were…Jerks.

They insulted the property, were talking crap about the neighborhood.

Whatever. Not my business. I was only casually listening, because they were loud and 10 feet away.

But then I saw them point at me and heard VERY clearly “Puta”. And then Coño. And then “estupra” and “chingada”.

So I listened more intensely, to make sure I understood.

They were making extremely gross comments about me AND my 2 year old. No mistaking it.

It was disgusting.

So I posted on my Nextdoor group “hey, if any of these jackasses show up looking to buy lunch or look at your house, here’s what they said about a random woman and her kid. Treat them accordingly”.

And shared a photo of their truck. Not THEM. Just the truck.

I got…Mixed responses.

Younger women with kids agreed when they translated the words that it was not cool and they would have been pissed as well.

Spanish speakers agreed that it’s not possibly to mishear multiple words like that, and even if my Spanish was rough, they agreed that I heard what I heard and was fair to be upset.

Then the super white Karens chimed in.

I must be a racist fool.

They never said that.

There’s Ukrainian refugees in the neighborhood, so what I heard must have been folks speaking Ukrainian? And not Spanish, so I was imagining things.

I got called a racist…100 times? Give or take? Because despite never mentioning what these guys looked like or knowing anything about them, the fact that I said they were being assholes in Spanish specifically made me racist.

…Because no white people have ever spoken Spanish.

I super don’t think I’m an asshole for warning my small town that there are dudes making jokes about raping random women and children present in town. I feel like that’s a fair calling out.

But I’ll accept if I’m wrong.