200 Days

Those of you who are observant and in to details may have noticed that I’ve added a countdown widget to my page today. (Those of you who didn’t notice don’t feel bad.  I recently discovered that one of the clocks in my house had not been working for a week or so.)  I’m kind of bummed that I couldn’t find one that actually shows days instead of months at this point but I had not the time, energy or savvy to mess with it for too long.  The occasion for adding a “ticker”?  Today marks 200 days to go before we move.  I know I probably seem obsessive about moving but that’s only because I mostly am.  A commuter marriage is novel for the first few months or so but it loses some shine after that.  It might also be that I am not wired for single parenting.  At all.  My respect level for those who do it has risen tremendously in the last 397 days.

Last night at supper we all realized that we have hit the 200 day mark. It might have something to do with the countdown sign we have written on the whiteboard on the refrigerator but I can’t be certain.  At any rate we began talking about moving.  It occurred to me that none of my children who currently live at home remember much about moving. Our oldest daughter was 4 and our youngest daughter 1 when we moved into this house.  Our youngest son wasn’t born yet. They really have no clue what is coming at them. I decided that in order to properly prepare them for the task ahead I should clue them in on a few things.

I have been in “purge” mode for a while now.  If we don’t use it or don’t need it any longer it is going away.  In the process of purging I began posting some things on a local exchange page.  (Kind of like a virtual garage sale without the stickers or having to sit in your garage all day.) It’s a little addictive to have people pay you for stuff you don’t want so I kind of switched into “sell” mode somewhere in there.  Walking around the house looking for things to sell.  That is a little scary for some reason.  My oldest daughter noted a fear that I would sell her bed soon (click here for that conversation).  I may not be quite that far over the edge yet but I did inform them that it is in their best interest to take care of their stuff and not leave things lying around looking useless.  It could be posted and sold before they even notice it isn’t in their room.

Boxes have become a precious commodity. There are never enough boxes to pack in and I hate paying for the professional ones.  I don’t hate it enough to make myself dumpster dive however.  Moral to my children: check before you discard a box or you may end up dumpster diving.

When we finally move there will be some key players and things they should know about them. This information is based purely on past experience. These people have helped me move before.  They are as follows:

• My mother will probably come up early to help me pack.  I adore my mom and she has a lot of experience packing from the years she spent as an Air Force wife.  She wraps everything well in layers of newspaper.  What’s in that huge box? 2 casserole dishes but there isn’t a chip on them!  We could roll the moving truck and nothing is going to break because my mother packed it.  Note to self: start saving newspapers.  In fact ask the neighbors to start saving newspaper also.  Oh – and stock up on dish soap because it’ll take a lot to get all the newsprint off of stuff when you unpack.
• My father and his tape measure.  With his engineering brain my daddy knows the exact slope, angle and speed at which something will fit through an opening.  He measures twice and moves stuff once.  Between he and my brother-in-law who also has an engineer brain we know exactly how each thing should exit and enter the building so as to alleviate scratches or marks.  We also know what isn’t going to fit and will need to be disassembled.  Or just left in the old house.  Note to self: stock up on Advil because that is going to  be paired with….
• My brother.  He, much like my husband, honestly believes that anything will fit as long as you shove it hard enough.  They are the man handlers of the family.  Note to self: remove door frames and buy touch up paint.  Also good to note with my brother is that it better be packed and ready to go when he arrives because it is going in the truck anyway.  I fondly remember one move across town.  My hanging clothes, which I was going to put neatly in the back seat of my car after most of the other things were moved, made the move under the china hutch I think.
• My oldest son.  He’s the muscle.  I fondly remember when we needed to move a refrigerator from the garage to the basement.  He invited two of his football buddies over and they picked it up and walked it around the yard and down into the basement for us. (No dolly.)  It really is odd to watch appliances walk through your back yard.  All it cost me was some homemade cinnamon rolls.  Note to self: see if he still has those boys’ telephone numbers.
• My sister.  She is the cheerleader.  On one move I distinctly remember her saying, “Look at the bright side: if they break that you can go get something new to replace it.”  She has good ideas, my sister does.  Note to self: keep her away from the family heirlooms.
• My mother-in-law.  This woman has more energy than five women half her age.  Give her a room full of boxes and she isn’t coming out until the boxes are empty and the room is organized. She also remembers the details like, “hey people might be hungry” and takes care of it. The woman is amazing and a huge blessing.  Note to self: stock up on five hour energy drinks so you can pretend to keep up with her.
• My father-in-law. On previous moves this man could carry more boxes than anyone I’ve ever met – and put them in the right room I might add.  Time and some health problems have made that not possible but he will still contribute his biggest asset: the man is funny.  He keeps us all laughing and lighthearted.  On our last move I remember him walking in, laughing,  and saying, “This box is marker ‘tall stuff’.  Is that a specific room or…?”  My laughing reply was, “Yeah….we were a little loopy by the time we got to that box.”  He grinned and said, “I guessed that.”  He’s also the one who can keep my husband calm.  Just like girls need their moms sometimes boys need their dads.

Yep. Those are things I know are coming and the crew who I know will be around to help when the time comes.  And it’s coming fast: 200 days to go!