Deleting the naughty....painfully.

If I've learned anything about moving in the last year, it is this: moving should be done like the removal of a Band-Aid...quickly. Painful, but quickly. Just rip it off. Don't do it millimeter by millimeter while pausing and waiting for the sting to subside.

I could have possibly made the situation harder to deal with by delaying some of the inevitable, but in truth, it all works out the way it is supposed to. With the husband being relocated so quickly, there was no way I would have been able to get the house ready for sale in the beginnings of winter. Then those days called Holidays came. After that, it seemed silly to move with the school year being nearly half way through. And let's not forget snow storm after snow storm either stranding us here or there.

Oh, but then, spring came and I realized now is the time to start doing all the outdoor/painting etc things that didn't get done.  May arrived and guess what - the husband was shipped off to California for two and a half months. I would have been living in a new town, in a very small apartment, by myself with the kids anyway. What was the point of moving when we were still going to be separated...at least I would still have our families to support us. 

The end of May brought us a stroke of luck when a friend mentioned her friend had been looking for a house for months and just couldn't find anything she liked. Hmm, I thought. I've been listed for months, so something tells me this house was not on her interest list.  However, it took two looks and a couple negotiations and this family felt our little home was just perfect for them.  After all, it was a blank canvas and she had painted visions in her head. Potential.

The husband and I were not back in the same household again until nearly the end of July, where we had one week to pack the rest of the house, schedule moving, and clean up. In that third week of July, he put in more than 2,000 miles and two round trips in two different sized moving trucks, unloading them into two storage units.  We were a pair again, a set of two, which seemed to be the resounding number for everything we were trying to accomplish.

We spent nearly three months in that tiny hovel, trying to live new lives, driving back and forth between communities for school until our house finished.

Then came October 31, which in retrospect, has become the day of many major events in our lives. In years past, I recall my dad having what may have been a heart attack when I was in high school - the details are foggy; as a child I was denied a toilet by a nun when trick-or-treating. I went into labor with my daughter on Halloween. Last year my husband flew out of town for this job interview. This year, we closed and moved. See what I'm saying?

We are now settling in, finding a routine and adjusting. Life has been as scattered as the writing above. I believe now, that we humans are resilient and adaptable. The kids are enjoying school and their activities with new friends. I am finding friendships and motivation. My prayers are less of desperation and more of thanks. We are whole again.

The pain of the Band-Aid has healed. This is probably the lesson I have learned about the quick and painful ripping - The husband and I operate better as one team, not two separate teams and I am grateful for him. These decisions are hard and without him being around I learned to rely on him more, and not be so independent. 

Deleting the naughty...with my chin-up and my roots deep.

Monkey and I (with Peanut in my belly), 2008, 

picking Daylily's from my garden together.

Chin up...it's only going to get better. Those are the words my husband said when I was starting to feel anxiety and doubt about this move, this new start. That's hard for someone like me, who is bound and determined to plant roots. I am a farmer's daughter, mind you. The earth runs deep and the soil and I get along. I am lonely for my husband, and what makes it wose right now is that I can't get outside, into my garden, the dirt and watch things grow.

We are now starting our third month apart in this new adventure of ours. He's all settled into his apartment, although sparse and tiny. It's only temporary. But I miss him terribly. Going it alone with the kids, doing all the running, cooking, cleaning. I am growing weary.

Blessed be Skype, and all the accessories like web cams and instant messaging and Internet. Last night we ate supper together. We placed the laptop with Skype running on one end of the table. He ate his supper there, so far away, and we ate ours here, the three of us. But with magic, we ate together.

Since the house is listed and the signs are up I am like a human vacuum cleaner, following Monkey and Peanut around picking up every little thing they drop along the way in the hopes of keeping the house clean just in case someone calls and wants a showing. While liberating, it is also exhausting having the magazine house I always wanted. You spend all your time wiping things down, doing dishes, putting them away, hiding papers, hiding dirty clothes, hiding....hiding, hiding. Then, your house looks perfect. The only problem with the perfection is the sudden realization that you don't want to sell it anymore. All that work to get it to look livable and now you really want to live in it. The emotional toil adds to the exhaustion and then...it makes you sad. Because you relive all those golden moments...the first night in the house, the baby's first steps, the door you slammed on that one big fight, the nights spent in front of the fireplace just talking...those are the things that cause roots to grow.

I like roots, hence the reason I love to garden. It's hard to leave behind all the seeds that have been planted and survived. Our first house was the one my husband grew up in. He bought it from his parents before we met. Once married, I moved in and, well, started growing roots. After 10 months, the market was good and we decided to trade up while the getting was good. I asked "Are you sure about this? I mean, this is the house you grew up in." He was fine with it, he said.  I didn't believe him. At all.  How could he not have an emotional stake in this house, all his memories were there. In 10 months it was almost like I had dug deeper into the soil than he had in his whole life. I mean, really...what about that big tree, didn't he play in that tree?

One of my favorite photos of Peanut, 2010, with a 

flower from my garden tucked away in her hair.

He made me painfully aware of the fact that I hate moving. In fact, he said I was a train wreck. I don't recall it being that bad, but think about it...I was having my roots ripped out of the ground. It wasn't a simple cutting. I am going to have to leave behind that big maple tree, the one we planted and decided was Monkey's tree. I was going to have to leave behind that big, beautiful, blooming rose bush. I was going to have to leave behind that gorgeous, fragrant blossoming crab apple tree that died and somehow grew a new little sprout out of the dead middle. I was leaving behind my life.

So now, we are officially owners of some dirt. This dirt is going to have a home built on it with a new yard, new trees and new grass. So I vowed to myself that I wouldn't leave all the plants behind. I was going to dig up parts of my garden and take them with me to our new house. Plant them there, grow new roots with the old ones. After all, I am not leaving behind a life, I am continuing to grow the one I have, one I am very blessed to have.


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Deleting the naughty...with a brand new year.

As we rang in the new year last night, I couldn't help but think about all the changes we face in 2013.

2012 started out like a normal year, with no inkling how the year would end. Really, life was just beginning to stabilize. Our kids were all transitioning to the year's changes in their lives...Monkey growing up into such a fine, young boy starting Kindergarten. Peanut leaving toddlerhood behind and becoming a little lady and in Preschool. My husband and I not facing any health challenges or work challenges. Really, it was looking up.

October came and it seems like everything has been a whirlwind since then. Husband has taken a new position with his company and we are moving to a new state. A new community. A new experience.

It has been 22 years since I left home to attend college in a new town, where I ended up graduating, staying, working, marrying and started a family. I am unprepared. I swore when I graduated that I was going to go South, where it was warm, where there was a beach.  But I didn't as an opportunity came my way and it was important to take it. Then as the years went by, and boyfriends came and went, jobs changed, I got restless again.  So, at 30, the search for the South began again. A job interview popped up and I flew to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina to seek a new life. When I came home from that, an Email from a co-worker in another department popped up. That Email changed the course of my life forever. Little did I know, it was from my future husband.

Now, as I reflect on all the coulda woulda shoulda's, I though about how one decision made differently would have changed my path completely. It makes me grateful. So, after thinking hard, I decided to take the risk my husband was asking of me, and follow the new path in front of me. Scary? Yes. Defining? Absolutely.

My wanderlust has kicked back in, my love of travel and new adventures is in high gear. I am searching for schools, homes, experiences, a new church, a new set of friends to make. It's certainly enough for one to do, let alone do it with the kids in tow and the husband already relocated.

I am going to miss him terribly while we work on selling our home, finishing the school year and our activity commitments. But, I know that he only has our little family's best interests at heart and we will make 2013 our year.

It will all work out and next New Year's Eve, we will be toasting again, but hopefully not another move. Cheers to you and yours, and thanks for taking the time to read my stories.

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