This is a story about moving.
First though, it’s kind of been a while. I had surgery (I’ll write about that later) and life has been hectic with getting ourselves sorted out to move. We aren’t going far – just a bigger house for our big little family. Right now, I am sitting in my kitchen surrounded by piles of boxes that could cave in on me at any moment, listening to my 3 year old son talking to his toys, and sipping a can of Coke. Avoiding packing more of those boxes is why I’m writing today. And also because I have a growing list of things to write about and people have been asking where the heck I went and did I quit blogging. No really. 3 actual people wrote me to ask if I’m going to write again. In response to this huge demand I am making my return. 😉
So. Moving. Who doesn’t love moving? I mean, apart from everyone rational who hates it on grounds of moving sucking.
I tried to do the good mommy thing and communicate with my kids about what is going on. We have been reading books and reminding them that all of their toys and games and
crap prized possessions are coming with us. We have been letting our oldest be sad and mad about leaving his school, and talking it out with him. We have been telling our second son that we are indeed bringing the video games with us every single day that he asks. We have been keeping the little two occupied despite most of their stuff already being in boxes.
The only thing I didn’t think to do is like, tell all the kids that they are coming to the new house, too. Because apparently a 3 year old who asks, “are we bringing the doors?” also needs to be told that we are bringing him. Since the boxes have come out, my sweet, wild third-born son has been peeing his pants several times a day. He’s been toilet trained for a while now and the wet pants thing is annoying me to no end. So the other day I ask him, “Son are you afraid of moving?” And his little eyes got big with surprise and he answered me, “yes.” The next morning he asked me something like, “am I coming to the new house too?”
I didn’t mean to make my little boy think we were all moving away without him, and taking the doors with us, leaving him not only alone, but without toys and a bed AND doors. I really didn’t. But there I was staring into his dirty little face realizing that he’s never moved before and he has no idea what’s going on. I’ve been so focused on my older two boys and their anxiety over a new school, that I kind of figured my little ones would just roll with it. Mommy fail.
So we’ve been talking about how not only are we bringing all the toys and stuff, (but not the doors) – we have also been affirming that we are indeed bringing each and every person in our family as well. It’s like an episode of Lilo & Stitch over here. Ohana means family and family means nobody gets left behind. Including but not limited to my 3 year old, who has pretty much stopped peeing his pants. (yay!)
Now we just need to finish the school year and finish packing and remember not to forget anybody.
Pray for me.
copyright (c) 2013 Jenna Pelias // all rights reserved