Moving is good. I mean it. It's the only time that you will probably ever learn that you have nine pairs of chopsticks in my drawers.
Also, why do you own five Burt's Bees chapsticks?
You learn all kinds of things about yourself. For example, you weren't aware that you could pack all of the kitchen cabinets up in the time little man took his first nap. Which is only a half an hour now.
And you wonder, as you shove it into the box, why you still own that can of kidney beans from 2003. It's not organic, and the picture makes them look gross. So I skip it every time. (Anyone hungry?)
However interesting or difficult moving may be, you also learn that by filling the living room with boxes, you make THE BEST OBSTACLE COURSE!
Really. He did this four times in a row. He'd climb up, play with John's books, reach over to the chair, dangle for a second (or not), fall, giggle, and start again.
Our little daredevil.
But wow, this is a whirlwind. I kind of love only having 72 hours notice of a move. I don't have time to configure floor plans and plans over and over again. I don't have time to obsess over details and how I would love to order that Room and Board or Hivemodern or Anthropologie something or other. Because, Lord all Mighty, do those things sparkle and shine. Ooooeeee, would I love to have that chair. (Yeah, I know it's $775, but a girl can dream, right?)
But I love that I don't have time to think about the year. I'm a sentimentalist, it's true.
But this is where I prepared for Liam. I didn't work for the last two months before his due date and I didn't have any projects. And we didn't know many people in town, so I mentally and physically prepared for Liam. That means cleaning and recleaning the rooms in the house and watching a lot of bad television. Some may call that nesting. But to me, it was biding my time. I was doing anything I could to get to that due date. To me, it was loneliness.
This is where my water broke. I rocked back and forth, heaving, in tears with pain and excitement.
This is where I sat up and nursed Liam every hour and a half for three days, overjoyed and absolutely exhausted with my new love. We laid on the floor and rolled over for the first time. Crawled. Smiled and played the tongue game with the littlest man. It's amazing he was ever that small.
In these walls, Liam helped me be more me. John helped me be more me. Because of Liam, I was drawn out of that loneliness and into a world where I believed in myself. I became a mother. I joined a Mom group and started pulling myself out of my shell. I started watching a little girl during the week, earning money for us and staying home so I could watch Liam grow. I started taking pictures again. Another year passes and I can do more, be more, and take that next step.
The next apartment will bring many first as well - walking, running, climbing, and yes, kindergarten. Our little man will be reading to us when we leave those walls. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.
I am excited. I am nervous. I am melancholy about change.
But don't get me wrong, I am still happy about the 72 hour notice.
Much love. And many pictures of the new pad soon.