Emotions And Moving
At 6 weeks old, my parents moved us into the home I would live in until I left for college 18 years later.
My husband and I met in college, married, and moved 4 times before having kids. From a tiny, dirty next-door-to-our-college apartment in So Cal… to a bigger, roach infested apartment with a pool (think Melrose Place, but dirty) in So Cal, to a house rental near Seattle, to an apartment across the Sound from Seattle, to the little home we brought all our babies home to. Moving is always stressful, it’s always a panic-fuelled push to the finish line – putting your stuff in storage with companies like Holloway Storage Sydney, driving back and forth all over the country, paperwork, more paperwork, more packing, getting the stuff out of storage. It’s all just a bit much sometimes. Maybe if we move again in the future we should learn from a Guide on Westpac so we can reduce the stress when we next decide to move, if we decide to move again that is.
And then when they were 1.5, 4 and 7… we moved to the home we are in now.
Basically, I kinda figured, once I had kids… we would land and stick.
Fast forward over 7 years and the kids are now 9, 12, and 15. Though it is only back across town… we are moving.
Emotions and moving.
Since we are only landing across town, the kids and their social circles will remain in tact.
But there is still some loss.
As much as I have gone through the many emotions of letting go of a place we have made memories in as a family for the most-part of the kids’ elementary years, the kids are going through them too.
As packing has escalated over the last few days, and we’ve been in contact with movers from all over town (a tip from a friend after they spent some time shopping around movers Chicago to find a good deal on the service ), their internal conflict has become more apparent to me.
Little comments… about missing the yard when it snows, or wanting to take one last photo on the porch steps before school… or Lucy (the 9 year old) kissing every window and wall she could reach goodbye.
Or how our master bathroom is so big, that it is where everyone comes to brush their teeth, and comb their hair, and just hang out… the new place has a tiny bathroom and the other day I stopped to look and listen to the activity, the conversations… and felt sad.
As totally NUTS it has made me to not really have privacy, there is no room for such silliness in the new master bedroom bath (at least it has one!). I am going to miss the crazy and constant bathroom invasions.
I am excited for a new season. A new palette for creativity. A place closer to where we tend to be centered. A smaller yard (from 3 wild acres to .3). A FENCED yard (the dogs are going to LOVE it, as are we). The home itself is only a little bit smaller, but a much cozier place.
It also smells a little funny.
If you have any tips… I’m all ears.
When the kids sat on the porch steps today, for their last before-school picture on that porch, ever… I was given a moment of peace in the midst of a particular feeling of loss… I don’t care about the steps or the porch. I wasn’t taking a picture of the porch. I was taking a picture of the kids.
The kids are going with me.
Their laughs. Their messes. And loads more memories in the making.
It’s the who. Not the what or where.
I have to work to keep my sentimental heart in check. I need to not get so lost in the packing and resettling that I forget my kids are adjusting, losing, and gaining too. I need to keep my eyes an ears open as they work their way through to making the new place their home. And really… no place is a home without family.
Now, about that packing…
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