We’ve moved. On Saturday, we threw C3’s first birthday party – and it was great. It didn’t feel like too much. Wait, who am I kidding? It was a bit much. The fact that we still had lots and lots of stuff at our old house meant there was plenty of room at the new house – and that it looked like we had a lot more together than we really did. #fakingit
And now we’re living amidst the boxes and bags. I wish K and I were better movers – there are lots and lots of places where our strengths/weaknesses compliment; moving is not one of them. He’s been a little stressed out (a lot stressed out) so I used the remaining points I accrued a gazillion years ago to send him somewhere on the beach. I told him to sleep through the night, get something good to eat, read for as long as he wants. He looked a little shocked, but I’m sure that somewhere down the line he’ll do it for me. I travel a bit more than he does anyway.
C3 lurves it. The whole house is safe (just about all of it) – furniture is bolted to the walls, drawers are protected, the flooring won’t cause splinters. The giant sunroom in the back makes it easy to work and play – which is just what I wanted.
Now it’s time to figure out where everything goes… which is no small task. We had a full attic in the old house, not so much here. Where do we put Christmas decorations (and the growing collection of Easter, Halloween, and Thanksgiving stuff)? Oh, and none of the closets have shelves or rods – so even though there are four bedroom closets, a linen closet, a hall closet, and a pantry – I have a lot to do in order to make them functional. Isn’t unpacking just another challenge?
I’m practicing my deep breathing. A lot.