Monday, June 4, 2012

Home Is Where The Heart Is

There is just about nothing I hate more than moving.  When unpleasant tasks present themselves I often say, "I'd rather get a pap smear and a root canal at the same time than do this".

Some people think that's a lie, but it's true.  I'd prefer my dentist keep his hands to my mouth area (or at least do that part FIRST), but other than that I'm up for the slippery salad spoons over lots of other bothersome things in my life.

Actual convo with my OB/GYN:

"You're not due for a pap until November, but we could get it out of the way now.  Or you can wait.  It's up to you."

"Why would I wait?  Just do it.  I already took my pants off."

"Wow, most people will do ANYTHING to get out of or postpone a pap."

"I'm not most people."

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm chomping at the bit to get in those stirrups.  It's just that it seems I get handed the biggest piles of manure to deal with on a daily basis that laying back with my feet up seems a nice alternative.

Like moving.  Did I mention I hate moving?  It's not the change part that I have a problem with.  It's just the actual handling/sorting/finding a home for all the SHIT that you pack around and around and around with you.  It's wrestling with decisions about holding onto something out of sentiment or guilt and deciding the ratio of possible future use to storage cost (which is both financial AND emotional).  Extra stuff means extra room, and the direction we're moving there's NO space to spare.

We're cramming our family back into our too-tiny house, and it's going to get smaller by the end of the year as our family gets bigger.  It's a home that we have loved, put actual blood, sweat, and tears into, that we brought our babies home to, that we first fell in love and got to know one another in.  The house that grew us.

My kids LOVE this house.  They love that their room is so close to mine.  They love that I bought them bean bags to watch TV in their room.  They love the shop.  They have been enthusiastic about this move since we announced it to them.  They haven't yet had the pleasure of weeding out their CRAP (luckily we do that behind their backs) in order to address the absence of a playroom.  They inject just the right amount of sunshine attitude into the situation that all it takes is observing them in all their joy to make me push through sifting through another bag of clothes that our closets won't hold and deciding which of the small appliances deserve a spot inside the kitchen and which will make their homes on a shelf in the garage.

We're not staying here forever, though.  Soon we will begin our quest to seek out our (hopefully) forever home.  The one the kids will all grow up at and leave (sniff) one day.  The one our grandkids will visit.  The one that has room for all of us AND all of our stuff.  But even as the prospect of that day shimmers in the distance, so too does the prospect loom for the ACTUAL MOVE...which I do NOT look forward to.  With any luck, we will have sufficiently pared down and weeded out during this go-round that we won't have difficulty with the next transition, and we won't lose any friends or family members over having to help us.  I appreciate all the ones who did help, and those who offered their help too.  It makes a move one step further away from "I'd rather get a pap smear" when you're surrounded by supportive people, and that's huge for me.

No comments:

Post a Comment