We are moving this weekend. And it is all kinds of crazy. Emotionally, physically, logistically. I’m completely overwhelmed. But since you can’t watch my kids while I install doorstops, let’s talk about my feelings.
Seven and a half years ago, Alec and I moved into our current 1200 square foot bungalow with a baby bump and a few pieces of mismatched furniture. Almost everything has changed since then. We will be leaving with three children and a big truckload of memories (and stuff). This guy is now a first grader.
When we moved a bookshelf to pack, we rediscovered a hidden stash of pacifiers inside two dusty boxes. Both Holden and Milo used their pacifiers for sleeping until age 3 when the dentist told them it was time to move on. At the time, we must’ve said that new babies were being born who would need these binkies and we were quite firm (Holden asked me this morning if new babies would get them and I said, “No, ewww”). We held a Happy Goodbye Ceremony(!!) for the pacifier and said our heartfelt farewells. But we couldn’t bear to throw them away. Just in case.
I wish I felt only enthusiasm for the coming days of adventure but I’m plagued with mixed feelings. Of course I’m excited to have more space to stretch out so we can separate Sawyer’s nursery from the office from the storage room; but I’m sad to leave the one home our family has known. I’m worried that our new place is too much of a fixer. Will construction dust and materials will be hazardous to my curious children and/or my clueless baby? I’m embarrassed that we couldn’t squeeze in our small place and live green and clutter-free with our small footprint. Do we really need more room? It’s like giving up the car for a minivan (which we also did).
Whining aside, I know I have to ignore my fears and remember what’s great about this. I wish I could put our house on a dusty shelf though. Just in case.
I’d love to hear a little word of encouragement from any of you who have moved house with children.
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