Being MVP stinks.

There are things, I guess, that you never thought you'd say aloud. The things that you don't want to say aloud, for fear of jinxing yourself. And then, the things you should have said aloud the whole time but didn't, for one reason or another.

And it turns out, of course, that the things you should have said are the ones that haunt you. The thank yous, the I love yous, the pats on the back. The grievances you really should have aired instead of taking one for the team, the honest answers that you knew he didn't want to hear.

So we've moved to Mayberry. And I've taken about 78 for the team, and I'm finding myself still crying into my coffee most mornings. It's not that I hate it here. In fact, I sort of like it here, minus my ability to get my consumer fix. But the UPS man likes me, and I like that I can depend on him to come, unlike my mail, which is an entirely different story. (Apparently the mail motto of constant service is optional here.)

But honestly, I didn't have a choice in the matter. Well, I mean, I did, sort of, but when your husband decides that this current locale will fulfill his dream come true, how do you turn that down? How on earth do you say no? You don't, I tell you, you just start packing. And take one for the team. And become, in his words, the "MVP of this household."

Wa-stinkin-hoo, I tell you. Wave some banners already.

I should have said something, I know, but he was so darn excited, and he was about unemployed, and the dream house was waiting, and I didn't really love those neighbors anyway, come to think of it.

Ahem.

Apparently I did love my neighbors. And my pool, and the too busy street, and the intense insistence that if you don't request every last teacher your child has, social services should be called for neglect. And heavens, do I miss the weekly breakfast. And the fact that I didn't feel on display, and if my child got suspended from camp for hitting (ahem), or, say, offed a gerbil, my social life didn't depend on it. Because they were honest about it. Brash, unfriendly, opinionated, but honest.

I know we have some growing to do in this place, and my absolute hatred of change and lack of social skills is going to make this a learning process of the worst kind. But honestly, I can't decide if I like these people. First impressions are fine and all, but it's forcing me to relive being the odd-one out at a deep south college, the lone child who didn't have 3 first names and a set of hair ribbons. An even deeper horror ensued when I cut my hair - there were seriously 3 of us on sorority hill with hair above the collarbone, and although we didn't know each other, we nodded and smiled each time we saw each other in a show of solidarity.

Honesty wasn't king in college. Back then it was all about the right look and feel - did she go to high school in the right place, wear the right hair bow, have the right band party connections. It took me 3 long years to find my place, and even then, it was fleeting, as the people I found left for other more diverse pastures. But this isn't a place that will be temporary, one that I can count down to leave.

We are here, for good, or until the kids graduate high school, we said. No more stress about jobs, moving, making the next thing work. This is it. We're here.

I should have said something.

But in my efforts to make the best and make my way, I'm trying to think nightly about 10 things that I'm grateful about. Some of these will be fluffy, for sure, but I'm hoping that over the next few weeks, I'll find that my lists have more to do about being here, and less about just surviving. So here's tonight's list:
- The cable guys fixed our cable without breaking my internet.
- My sister came for lunch and we actually enjoyed it.
- My husband is coming home early from his conference, and "has a small gift."
- My friend is healthy, even if her sisters are not.
- I have far away girlfriends who keep me sane, and one step away from taking myself too seriously.
- The quilts are ready to be quilted. (Who knew?)
- That my daughter couldn't wait to call me and tell me all about the HP movie.
- That my boys are still the best of friends.
- I have enough food choices to be baffled as to what's for dinner.
- I fixed the sprinkler system without making it worse.

And most of all, that I have a family to crown me MVP. Even if it means taking a few for the team.