We leave tomorrow for our cross country trek. The kids are all set with games, art, music, and dvds. The cats have a two level palatial habitat to while away the hours in, and I have fig newtons and more water than you can shake a stick at.
I will try to keep you updated on the journey, it should be an interesting one.
A day at the beach
cool salt water splish splashing
perfect summer start.
I never thought my heart would grow roots in this foreign place.
New accents, new manners, sidewalks full of cracks, twisty limbed trees, the endless cry of seagulls. These features were not homey to me. They were daunting, intimidating, uncomfortable. I longed for mother, and a glimpse of prairie sky.
Then I met you, Moms like me, trying to fit all your roles, past and future, into a single pair of pants. We made playdates, we drank wine, we ate fondue. We spoke of birth, poop, lonliness, contrary natures, arguments, and the silliness of men.
You opened your hearts to me, and in doing so opened my heart to New Jersey.
Now here I am, tearing up again. I will miss the organic smell of spring, and the patter of heavy rain. I will sigh when none of my parks are near water, and weeks pass without me hearing someone say “Yeah Right?” Most of all, I will miss you.
The saying goes, home is where your heart is, and it’s true. My home is back in Denver, but now, it’s also here with you.
In one day I have handed off all the big items remaining unsold from the yard sale. I listed them yesterday afternoon, and they are all being picked up by various people today. I love, love, LOVE freecycle.
that she would almost rather set all her possessions on fire and start over.
I am going quite mad. For two weeks my kids have been ill while I have been packing the house. The baby screams and cries whenever I use the packing tape, by daughter complains and whines all day long, niether of them are taking naps, and it’s all I can do not to simply sit down and cry.
I don’t ever want to move again. It’s awful.
I have had no time to take pictures this week, so I am tossing up a few classics. I promise, after the move, I will be back to my photo happy self.
Why is it children always act insane whenever you have a deadline?
Gotta paint your toenails before you go out tonight? Your kids will want to play “this little piggy” with your feet.
Gotta pack a house and move in ten days? Your son will play “let’s follow mommy around and pull out of boxes everything she puts into boxes!”
Gotta get to school/work/playdate on time? Your eldest will develop the urge to beat the Guinness Book of World Records for slowest walk.
Like a shark smells blood in the ocean, children can smell a deadline from miles away, and they have evolved over generations into perfect deadline destroying machines.
This morning we had a play date at our free water park. Monkey delayed our departure by eating her cereal exactly one flake at a time, and Otter pitched into our lateness with a bad case of the melting protest. (You know the one I mean, when their limbs transform into boneless tentacles as they collapse onto the floor in a huge rorschach-esqe pile of baby protest. It’s a coat of arms!)
We finally got to our date, late of course, and spent the day splashing with friends in the warm summer sun. Then we went to a pizza party, which we were also late to, due to the fact that Otter likes to abscond with his sister’s shoes. (He hides them in various places.)
Then we came home and Monkey watched the Secret of NIMH while Otter followed me from room to room screaming as I attempted to pack another box. (Feel sorry for me please) He has followed me from room to room screaming for three days. The only time I can get him to stop is when I put him in the Mei Tai and carrying him on my back while I am packing.
On the D-MER front, the effects seem to be lessening now that I know to expect them and understand their underlying cause. I am really grateful to be able to prepare myself for the rush of depair, and then to remind myself that it is chemical.