moving day

Grey and tangled.

For months I have been anticipating/dreading the moment when the moving truck would rumble up my street, and when it finally came, it felt like the judgment day and I was a sinner. In typical fashion I had prepared the house and packed everyone else's things before my own, which meant I was literally throwing things in a suitcase in my room as the movers were waiting outside in the hallway. And they were not amused. All day I ran up and down the stairs, all around the house, fielding questions as the five stone-faced movers plowed through.

Up until this point I made it a priority to be meticulously organized, but this day was like an ink splotch on my careful caligraphy. I managed to lose my cellphone charger, my ipad charger, and my car keys, all in one morning. By the end of the day I was so drained physically and emotionally I felt ill.

The image that keeps returning to my mind is of the proverbial wheel of time. I'm like a pebble caught in the treads; I've been picked up, and I'm rolling forward, ready or not.

What an ordeal it is to move! By the end of day two as I waved them goodbye with the last of my worldly possessions I felt like I deserved some kind of award, and yet people do this all the time. How?

Home for Christmas

A Christmas miracle: snow on Christmas Eve.

Naturally the children rush outside to jump on the trampoline,

while I bake cookies inside.

Decorations are provided,

dinner is prepared,

and we share our last meal together in our home.

Provisions for Santa were not forgotten.

Christmas morning dawns,

and a childhood rite of passage is shared with our newest member.

sorting spools and such

As our final days draw near we do a lot of sorting. While I work, my little one scours his eye level for things to unhinge at a pace that rivals my rate of organization. This week, to his delight, he discovered spools of thread.

When my paternal grandma (can't imagine calling her grandmother) passed away a number of years ago I inherited one of three sewing kits. Now when I say "kit", what I mean is a generously-sized three-tiered tackle box with every compartment filled to the brim. I guess she did a lot of sewing, but that was before my time. In any case, she was famously organized and along with the kit I also got this bin of spools. I've added to it over the years, but other than that it has remained unmolested until this week when my little guy emptied it's contents on the floor. As I was gathering and rewinding the thread I saw, for the first time, something on the bottom of the bin that Grandma had written years ago. In bold black permanent marker in all caps it said, "PANTY HOSE". Anyone who knew Grandma knows this is so classic, and I've been chuckling to myself about it ever since.

I love that I'll be bringing this little piece of my past to our new life abroad. Life is both a physical and emotional journey, and while I'm doing everything I can to be physically ready, the emotional part is harder to manage. I'm so grateful for these little gems of experience along the way that enable me to process and proceed in this bittersweet transition.

the end of the road

The first thing we did in 2009 was buy a Honda Odyssey. Most young families see
the purchase of a minivan as a delightless inevitability. We included ourselves in this camp.

However, in short order we found ourselves enamored with the space,
convenience, and family-friendly design. We grew to love our minivan.

We carefully shoveled it out from many a blizzard.

We trusted our minivan to carry us safely and comfortably on more than a dozen cross-country trips.

But mostly it was always there for us, in the background of life,

witnessing many impromptu front porch picnics,

providing a protective buffer for little ones,

 and guarding our family space.

This summer it carried our closest friends away to the airport to live abroad,
but it will not do the same for us because last week we sold it.

As we looked on our beloved van one last time at the dealer parking lot, I would have sworn at that moment, though composed of glass, rubber, and steel, that our van had a soul. And it was definitely female. The girls were sure of it.

We were told to bring a vehicle with four-wheel-drive and a high clearance to Georgia, and the van failed both requirements. So we traded it in for a sporty number in gold. It is definitely cooler than our old van in every way, but let's just say it has a big parking spot to fill.

'tis the season

Woe is me.

We are weary. Every night we collapse into bed after another long day of preparation and promise each other it won't always be this way. I decided to compose a Master To Do List, and it's up to 5 yellow legal pages long. In the beginning when something would fall through I'd be momentarily exasperated, but it's happened so many times now, I've learned to just add it to the List. I missed commemorating the one-month-to-go landmark, but since even that date is still (sadly) subject to change, I'll leave it be.

We've had many positive developments too. We sold our van and bought a new car, that deserves it's own post. We're halfway done getting the house licensed for renting; and we found a tenant for our home and nearly signed a contract. We're almost done with all the medical visits and immunizations - the rabies shots were brutal. Overall we're on our way, we just can't slow our pace. There are still endless forms to fill out, phonecalls to make, contracts to sign, things to buy, things to sell, things to pack, loose ends to tie up, and farewells to bid. And somehow we have to squeeze in Christmas. Just under 4 weeks to go.