Copyright © June Cleaver in yoga pants
Design by Dzignine
Friday, June 29, 2012


Moving with three kids under five...lets just say it. It sucks. It really does. No way around it. I find I go from over-reacting crabby mom "DONT FIGHT ANYMORE! EVER!" to passive mom "Fine, go watch TV all day" to depressive autopilot mom "Juice? Sure. Here. Love you. Now go play. What? You are screaming at each other about who gets to play on the play table? Oh. Um."

I am in depressive overwhelmed autopilot right now, having just done the over-reacting crabby bit (I actually started crying when I had to break up another fight just now.) And the kids are oh so crabby, especially little man, my absorber of emotions. And did I mention baby dear is finally getting a tooth? She is. And she is letting me know it. All night long.

We are getting it done though, slowly, and by we I mean me because that is how moving works, right? Dada is taking off the next few days before the move so, that will help, but we need to go and finish off the attic space we plan to live in at the farm, eating up two out of three days he plans to be around to pack.


Little man just snarled and threw a ball in my direction.

Is it too early to have a drink? At 2pm? Yes, yes, it is.

Yesterday I declared the day off. We would not pack or do a single productive thing. I never lost it. Not once. We went to the lake. Watched tv.

Earlier this week, in another attempt at escape, we went for a picnic, which was lovely and picturesque. Here are some pictures below. Because I promise, you do not want a picture of the insides of my falling apart home, or house rather.

It is sad, when moving, when you reach that point where your home is no longer a home, just a house, with lots of boxes and memories. That is what we are reaching. So many people are saying, "oh so glad you are getting out of that space, that neighborhood, and oh, its so small how did you ever manage?" I have complained about all of this for more than a year, I know, yet I find myself feeling defensive.  It was our home. You know? Our sweet little space. And it isnt perfect now, which is why we were leaving, but it was good for us, what we needed at the time. And my dear sweet baby was born here, breathed her first gasping scary breath here. And I am sad to leave. And I dont know what is next. And my parents farm will be a lovely respite from all these swirling questions but still, the questions are there, waiting.

And my little man does karate chops at the couch and I KNOW this is what is going on with him too.

Just a few more days. We can do it. Right?
Here are some photos.


Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...