The photographs on the walls of my house came down this weekend. My mom, in town again for what seems like the hundredth time this summer, wrapped and packed them for me while we ran the moving sale (we made almost $400!).
As I stared at the bare and lonely hooks and nails on my living room walls last night, it hit me hard: we really are moving.
And it made me very sad. I am a big emotional mess lately. Stressed and overtired Kristi = weepy, melodramatic Kristi. You've been warned.
I've been so insanely busy with training for my new online teaching gig (the last day of my month-long training was yesterday), dealing with all the annoying paperwork needed for our mortgage commitment ("please provide retinal-scan proof of identity along with the past 14 years of bank statements -ALL PAGES"), preparing for the garage sale, plus childcare, plus, plus, plus, and staying up until midnight to get it all done that I've had zero time to slow down and realize what's happening around me.
My life is essentially in boxes. I can't find a thing. And more than likely, in a month's time, I won't live here anymore.
You know I don't really want to move. Our house is essentially where we began. The hubs and I lived together in an apartment for two years before buying it, but we moved into our house and got engaged in the same month: July of 2000. Our married life started in our house. Our kids were conceived in...a lab about three miles away but still in the same general vicinity of...our house. It is where we began, and although we never talked about staying here forever, we never thought we'd leave it this soon either.
Life had other plans for us.
I'm thinking perhaps we should have renovated: added a first-floor bathroom, enlarged the kitchen. Although I know it would have been beyond our means to do so, and we would have destroyed the character of our 1925-built beauty.
I'm thinking perhaps we should have toughed it out and tried to create additional play space for the three kids. Maybe in the basement? Maybe knock down the wall between the family room and my "office"? Although I know that even this would not give them the room they need.
I'm thinking perhaps we moved too quickly, made a decision on the other house too rashly. Although I know we got an amazing deal and had to act quickly on it because someone else might snap it up, and in fact, did.
I emailed a friend in a panic last night, questioning my judgement, my sanity, my decision to move at all, since I love my current house so much. She talked me down from the ledge and reassured me that I was doing the right thing, that the space in our new house would make my life so much easier, and that deep down, she knew that I knew I had made the right decision.
And she is right. I know I made the right decision. I know the house we're moving into soon is the right house for our family. It is the right house for the right price at the right time in our lives.
But knowing this doesn't make leaving any easier.
As I stared at the bare and lonely hooks and nails on my living room walls last night, it hit me hard: we really are moving.
And it made me very sad. I am a big emotional mess lately. Stressed and overtired Kristi = weepy, melodramatic Kristi. You've been warned.
I've been so insanely busy with training for my new online teaching gig (the last day of my month-long training was yesterday), dealing with all the annoying paperwork needed for our mortgage commitment ("please provide retinal-scan proof of identity along with the past 14 years of bank statements -ALL PAGES"), preparing for the garage sale, plus childcare, plus, plus, plus, and staying up until midnight to get it all done that I've had zero time to slow down and realize what's happening around me.
My life is essentially in boxes. I can't find a thing. And more than likely, in a month's time, I won't live here anymore.
You know I don't really want to move. Our house is essentially where we began. The hubs and I lived together in an apartment for two years before buying it, but we moved into our house and got engaged in the same month: July of 2000. Our married life started in our house. Our kids were conceived in...a lab about three miles away but still in the same general vicinity of...our house. It is where we began, and although we never talked about staying here forever, we never thought we'd leave it this soon either.
Life had other plans for us.
I'm thinking perhaps we should have renovated: added a first-floor bathroom, enlarged the kitchen. Although I know it would have been beyond our means to do so, and we would have destroyed the character of our 1925-built beauty.
I'm thinking perhaps we should have toughed it out and tried to create additional play space for the three kids. Maybe in the basement? Maybe knock down the wall between the family room and my "office"? Although I know that even this would not give them the room they need.
I'm thinking perhaps we moved too quickly, made a decision on the other house too rashly. Although I know we got an amazing deal and had to act quickly on it because someone else might snap it up, and in fact, did.
I emailed a friend in a panic last night, questioning my judgement, my sanity, my decision to move at all, since I love my current house so much. She talked me down from the ledge and reassured me that I was doing the right thing, that the space in our new house would make my life so much easier, and that deep down, she knew that I knew I had made the right decision.
And she is right. I know I made the right decision. I know the house we're moving into soon is the right house for our family. It is the right house for the right price at the right time in our lives.
But knowing this doesn't make leaving any easier.
As someone who just experienced all of the moving drama (and still questions the sanity of the move daily) I just want to let you know that everything you are thinking and feeling about the move is totally normal. If you didn't feel this way there would be something wrong with you.
*hugs*
I wish I could hug you.
I know it's the right decision, but moving is stressful and it's going to be.
You probably read how shell-shocked I was when I had a signed the offer on my new home. I think you're going through something similar, but at a different time.
The new house is going to be different and better and you'll have wonderful memories of your house forever.
I would bet it is the right decision, that doesn't make it easier though. Moving is tough. Physically, emotionally, in every way possible. Be as good to yourself as possible during this time of transition.
Wait--childcare? Are you going to be hiring someone to watch the kids while you work? That would be another big change for you.
Thinking of you and praying for peace during this wonderful but scary time.
Thank you for the belly jiggling laugh (what your belly doesn't jiggle?) that you gave me when I read the line..."Our kids were conceived...in a lab 3 miles away..." it was so honest, so ironic, and well, just funny. Nothing funny about IVF or whatever you had done, but in amongst all your angst this morning, it shows me that you are very definitely fine with the whirlwind (hurricane) that is going on all around you (are you an aquarian?) even though it feels like you're in the whirlwind, you are in fact bang in the center, in the 'eye' and that's why it feels crazy, but you're coping. Don't second guess your judgement, because everything is falling into place for you guys. As soon as the last moving box is unloaded from the truck, you will feel right at home - and OH SO GRATEFUL for all that new space.
Home is where the family is.
Packing up does that to a person, as does watching other people walk off with your stuff at a garage sale. It's great that you will have such fond memories of your first house. I understand completely where you're coming from, but hopefully once you are all settled into the big new house, you will be much happier.
We are putting in an offer on a house today. I was already getting sentimental and after reading this, I'm worse. I know how you feel. It sucks now, but once you are in your new house, you will love the additional space. That is what I keep telling myself.