Oh, how I wish I could say that after last week’s progress, this week we’re on the verge of being completely moved.
I feel like I made almost no forward movement on the move this week. I packed some boxes. We took another van load to the thrift store.
And we made the decision early in the week that this move wasn’t going to be completed while my husband is working a 50-hour week, with 10 hours of commuting, and two kids in the house who think we’re moving tomorrow and just want to play outside with their friends.
So, on Monday, we’re meeting my parents in Ohio and sending the kids to Illinois for extended family time. In the meantime, I’ll be packing every.last.thing in the old house and moving it to the new house. It’s a decision that seems selfish and mean sometimes (get these kids out of here!) but really, I know it’s for the best. Because Phil and I are basically walking zombies right now, fueled by caffeine. (One day this week I found a loaf of bread in the drawer where we keep the sandwich bags. At least it wasn’t the lunch meat.)
But the kitchen at the new house is getting unpacked and the more time I spend at the farmhouse, the more inspired I am to be creative with the arranging of the furniture and what we’re going to put on the walls. I’m ready for us to be in one place, not two. This week, we’re planning to make great strides toward that goal.
And, oh, it was hot this week. If I’m ever going to move again in summer, I’m going to find a way to have air conditioning in both places. I don’t know if it’s the heat or a plague but we saw three dead birds on the ground this week and I learned what the phrase “dropping like flies” literally means. Flies were dying in and around my kitchen sink all week. Grossed. Me. Out.
So, what keeps me sane, or maybe it adds to my insanity and I don’t know the difference, is the stuff my kids say.
Here’s a sampling.
While packing boxes and marking them with a Sharpie, Izzy comes into the room. “Is that the marker that smells? That smells better than a hundred elephants.” Later I’d find her with purple dots on her nose because she was sniffing it.
One day, while she was doing her business on the toilet, she unrolled half a roll of toilet paper. I asked her not so nicely, “Why did you do that?” She shrugs and says, “Well, there was a full moon yesterday.” Way to pass the buck.
We snacked outside one day and when I asked Corban what he wanted he said, “Can I have cheese curls so I can have white pee this morning?” Besides the fact that it was already afternoon …
And on our way to Chick-fil-A for breakfast on Friday, he was telling us a story about a tractor that went down our street. “I’m serious!” he says in all seriousness. “There was a tractor on our street.” Okay, we believe you.
One night at dinner, just before we prayed, Phil asked Izzy why we pray. She shrugged her shoulders and said she didn’t know. The next night, I asked the same question. She said, “Because we love Jesus.” Then she let out a breath and said, “Whew. That was hard.”
It was a week full of ups and downs. Izzy took clothes off the line by herself without being asked and put away dishes all on her own, surprising me with her helpfulness. But there was also a moment when all was quiet. Silence, in this case, really was golden. The kids had used gold glitter glue on their window sill, convincing me that we will probably never be able to restore this house to the way we found it when we started living here.
We’re tired. We’re stressed. But so thankful for the option to send our kids to their grandparents.
It’s almost over. And it’s almost just beginning.
Pray us through?
Living Echoes 