Tag Archives: making a move

Day 13: And then my heart broke {#write31days}

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To say I’ve been emotional and overwhelmed lately is an understatement! We’ve had two nights in our “new house” and I desperately want it to feel like home, but I know that will take time. I’ve made pretty good headway in the way of unpacking and putting away–focusing first on the boys’ room and all their things. I do wish someone had given me a little more of a warning in how much a move can really affect little ones. I tend to think they’re so resilient and forget that changes can be just as difficult for them.

Our first attempt at nap time was yesterday, and my strong-willed red-head flat out told me he wasn’t going to take a nap…after a lengthy back and forth conversation he finally said “it’s hard because it’s different.” I couldn’t agree more. He’s carried his basket of choo-choos everywhere–I’m sure he’s afraid it’s going to be packed away or put somewhere he won’t be able to find.

different is hard

 

Then, last night at bed time he said some words that made my heart break a little….“I want to go home.” I wanted to say, “me too,” but instead I explained that we were home, but it was new and hard. I explained all the positive things about our new house–closer to Dadda’s football field, closer to Nana & Papa’s, Lolli & Pops’, has a much bigger yard, and a really cool park and “ducks’ pond” nearby. He just responded by saying he wanted to go to his “red house.” We talked a little more about our move and all our toys being at the new house, and when I asked why he wanted his “red house,” he replied he wanted his dirty garage. 🙂 (our new house doesn’t have a garage)

We finished our conversation, and he asked me to hold him and fell asleep in my arms. And I cried. And cried. And cried.

I “know” we’ve made the right decision, and I “know” my strong-willed red-head will barely remember his “red house” in a few years, and this new house WILL start to feel like home, but in the meantime, my heart may continue to break a little. Any tips on making the transition happier for my boys?

Day 12: Up-Hill {#write31days}

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Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
   A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
   You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
   Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
   They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
   Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.By Christina Rossetti

Day 11: Let’s DO THIS! {#write31days}

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  • Contract pending–check
  • Inspection–check
  • Repairs–check and in progress
  • Rental found–check
  • OU vs. Texas game–check (and Boomer Sooner!)
  • Invited family and friends–check
  • Reserved U-Haul–check
  • Boxes packed and labeled–check

move

New address, here we come! Let’s Make a Move! 

Day 10: In Mourning {#write31days}

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Last night, I sat on a blanket in our backyard watching the boys play, the sun set, the stars appear, and I let myself grieve.

I realize I haven’t lost a loved one, but this is a very hard change, so I’m taking the advice of a fellow #write31days blogger and allowing myself to grieve. I’m mourning the end of an era–I openly admitted this to my man and told him I know I’m being overly dramatic. However, that is how I feel. I sat in our backyard as planes flew over our heads and thought of how my boys have grown up in this house–I can remember bringing C outside on a blanket before he could even sit up and laying under the shade of a tree that’s no longer there. We’ve played catch, chased each other, played in the water, mud, caught bugs, chased frogs, laughed, and cried in our backyard. I will miss it. I will miss the boys pausing their play to watch a plane fly overhead. I will miss them running circles around the hot tub we rarely used. I will miss Izzy running back and forth, back and forth along the fence barking wildly at the neighbor’s dog.

airplanes last night sandbox

I am fully aware that great things are in store for us–and I wholeheartedly trust that we are doing the right thing, but that doesn’t make it any less difficult. I will do the next thing. I will continue packing boxes, and as I do, I am certain I will shed more tears. I will mourn.

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Photos: these are far from technically perfect–iPhone photos taken as the sun was setting–however, they make this Mama’s heart happy. The first is my little man watching “airplane” fly over us, the second was taken on accident by C, and #keepinitreal, I had been crying both from sadness and great gratitude about our times in our backyard, and the third is where C would often sit when we came outside to play. I will forever remember our last night in our first backyard.

Day 9: Gripe or Grateful {#write31days}

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I am reminding myself that I have a choice to make: I can gripe or be grateful. Today I choose grateful. (tomorrow might be an entirely different story)

I’m grateful for, in no particular order:

  • my husband–he gave me a sweet card and some of my favorite chocolates last night
  • the fact that we HAVE a roof over our head
  • boxes to put all our stuff in
  • plenty of friends and family who will help us (and already have helped us) move
  • the funds to rent a U-Haul
  • a new house to move into–we won’t be homeless!
  • running water
  • jobs! They help us pay for the new house and running water.
  • my Savior–He knows the number of hairs on my head, and He knows how crazy and overwhelmed I am, and He still loves me and wants me to cast my cares on Him.

Today I choose grateful.

Day 7: Pinterest Saves the Day {#write31days}

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I wish I could take credit for all the packing tips I’m using, but alas, I’ve stolen 99.9% of them off of Pinterest. I think Pinterest should adopt the slogan, “Pinterest Saves Lives.” I used to believe Art Saves Lives, now, I’m choosing Pinterest.

This board has been a handy dandy source of tips, tricks, and o-my-goodness-why-didn’t-I-think-of-that?!?! ideas.

Today, I plan on pulling trashbags up over most of our clothes. I’m also using a pretty handy labeling system (paper and duct tape–yes, I’m an Okie) and keeping track of it all in a spreadsheet….more on that in another post perhaps.

If you have any of your own packing tips, I’d LOVE to hear them!

Day 6: Cry me a River {#write31days}

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Pardon me while I spill my guts…

For the past 48 hours, I have cried at the drop of a hat. A nail went into a board crooked: sobbing. My baby fell asleep while rocking: sobbing. I looked at our pitiful dog: sobbing. Our three-year-old decided he needed to jump on my back without warning me: sobbing. Stared at piles of boxes in garage: sobbing.

It seems that e v e r y t h i n g has hit me at once. It’s as if I didn’t realize until a couple days ago that this moving thing is actually going to happen–granted something could fall through last minute. {Please spare me your horror stories of closing day catastrophes}, but it seems things are actually falling into place and we are moving in FIVE days. We don’t have to be out until the 17th, but this coming Saturday is the ONLY one between now and closing. AHHHHHHH. So for the past 48 hours, anything I see triggers a memory or some thought that leads to tears. Thoughts about how we are leaving the only home my babies have ever known, or all our Christmases as a married couple have been within these walls. These walls have heard the first giggles and first words of my boys. They’ve heard my cries of desperation during middle of the night feedings. And I am suddenly scared to death to leave them.

C.S. Lewis quotable

I know the wise words of C.S. Lewis, “There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind,” but if I’m being perfectly candid, that doesn’t help me not want to just curl up in a ball and cry. I don’t do well with change, but in the next five days, I’ll have to put my big girl pants on and “do the next thing.”

Any words of wisdom or encouragement regarding change/transition/moving?

Day 5: Do The Next Thing {#write31days}

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From an old English parsonage, down by the sea
There came in the twilight a message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend, deeply engraven,
Hath, as it seems to me, teaching from Heaven.
And on through the hours the quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration–“DO THE NEXT THING.”

Many a question, many of fear,
Many a doubt, hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment, let down from Heaven,
Time, opportunity, guidance, are given.
Fear not tomorrows, Child of the King,
Trust them with Jesus, “DO THE NEXT THING.”

Do it immediately; do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence, tracing His Hand
Who placed it before thee with earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence, safe ‘neath His wing,
Leave all resultings, “DO THE NEXT THING.”

Looking to Jesus, ever serener,
(Working or suffering) be thy demeanor,
In His dear presence, the rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance be thy psalm,
Strong in His faithfulness, praise and sing,
Then, as He beckons thee, “DO THE NEXT THING.”

-author unknown

Day 4: Izzy {#write31days}

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The only other female in our house, is our dog Izzy. She is my husband’s “daughter.” He loves her like a human being–they cuddle every night, and she craves his attention. Also, if the boys or I are messing with him in any way, all he has to do is say, “Izzy!” and she’s on the attack. I got her from a shelter six years ago as a Christmas gift for the hubby. For two years she was our only “child,” and she slept on our bed with us every night until baby boy two came along. She’s highly intelligent, fiercely loyal, active, loud, and loving. She also has lymphoma.

Izzy2008

We’ve known for a month now, and she’s on some medication to see if it will send it into remission–there’s a 50% chance. I dread the day–be is soon or far away that she is no longer with us. The boys LOVE her, and every time we walk in the door after being away, they say “Izzy!” and try to find her. Moving will be a HUGE adjustment, but losing Izzy will quite possibly be harder. Harder to explain, and I’m certain, will bring many more tears than packing boxes does. For now, hopefully we will fiercely love our crazy dog a fraction of the amount she loves us.

Izzy2014

 

Edited to add: On October 18, 2014, Izzy passed away in the arms of her “daddy.” We will forever miss her and are grateful for the way she fiercely loved us.Â