I typically fare very very poorly during times of transition. HOWEVER! I have not once ugly cried during this moving process. Nary a tear has been shed!
James is thanking the Emotional Stability Gods.
And I’m thanking our dear friend, Tine, for all of her support. From the use of her truck and husband and babysitting skills and organizational expertise and rogue supply of prescription pain killers, we survived Saturday’s proceedings and James slept very very soundly despite a very very sore back. Also, Courtland’s babysitter is single handedly responsible for boxing and sorting and organizing the entire house in preparation for this weekend. And my mother, who is always my rock, and entertained my children and dug up plants and berries and flowers and schooled us on how to manage our perennial garden beds. I don’t know what I did to deserve these amazing women in my life, but lord knows I owe them my sanity, my marriage, my gardens, and a stiff drink.
While James and I are typically a great team, our first born personalities take hold during tasks such as say, moving an entire household, and we have very different ideas as to how and in what order such tasks should be accomplished. It was best for all involved that we had friends running interference on the power of birth order. Admittedly, James and I were left unattended for a brief hour Saturday morning and during that time there was one altercation involving a couch and a doorway built for a family of twigs. The couch suffered some tearing, but both our egos are still intact. And by that I mean, I told you that the door was too narrow, JAMES.
I’ve reached a point of exhaustion, so I’ve been anticipating a meltdown of epic proportions as is typical when I am in a state of flux and physically and emotionally drained. Fortunately, I have yet to exhibit any 3-year-old-esque behavior. Given that meltdowns are of a frequent nature in our household thanks to a one Miss Addison Weeks, James is well-equipped to manage the impending fall out. We’re both hopeful that I won’t require a 15 minute time-out and some “thinking” time in my bedroom.
I’d like to believe that’s because despite all of the madness, and the disorder, and the upheaval, and the busy, demanding kids, I know that all of this is absolutely worth it. Somehow, even when I’m up to my eyeballs in bubble wrap and packing tape, all I need to do is step outside on the back porch and listen to the stream running through the property, and everything just relaxes. I feel all the tension fall from my face. My eyes soften. My cheeks slack. And I know. And that’s all I need to then step back inside and keep going. I absolutely know how disgustingly and nauseatingly lucky we are. I carry that gratitude with me everywhere I go.
In fact, I feel so fortunate that I find the corners of my mouth breaking into stupid grins of delight while performing the most inane of tasks, like say spraying bug repellent down the poop hole as a wasp makes his way up the shitter. I kid you not. Good news? Toilet is now reinstalled so there is no risk of wasp intrusion via the plumbing. Whew! We can all breath a sigh of relief and go back to grinning like the stupidly lucky idiots that we are.
Last night James and I lay in our new bedroom, our heads tucked up under the slanted roof, gazing out our sky light at the rising moon…
I feel like I’m sleeping tucked inside the bow of a sailboat.
I feel like I’m camping.
And there we were. Reliving our childhoods as we laid the groundwork for our children’s.