Moving...!!...??!?!
Dearest Ollie,
Your Mama is freaking out. She was given the gift of time tonight and pretty much spat in the face of the giver. Or, rather, Giver.
Your daddy is off on a boys retreat and we were supposed to spend the night with Ems, but we had a couple really nasty thunderstorms this weekend and she lost power. I was relieved to sign that raincheck because even though I really wanted us to all spend time together, I was getting anxious about packing.
Packing?!? YES! We are moving next weekend to a new house! Our own house! One that we own! It's a big deal. And we haven't packed anything. Not one single thing.
See, I thought about it, made a list of to-dos and got all raring to go. I went upstairs and got a box, tape and Sharpie in my hand. I packed one box that I thought would hold much, much more and thought about the rest of the stuff (2 baths, 2 bedrooms, living room/play room, kitchen, garage)...
and I got overwhelmed.
So I opened a beer, grabbed a handful of M&Ms, cranked some Har Mar and started a post.
While I'm ecstatic about this move, I'm also really worried about it. It's everything all rolled up in one: Pre-closing - did the storms do anything to the house that we couldn't see when we drove past it? is the seller going to skip off into the sunset with our money because we bought a lemon? Closing - will we have all we need to sign the papers? will the seller bow out? Pre-moving - do we have enough boxes? have we underestimated yet again? will we have enough time to pack everything? will we remember to keep this and this? will we look under every nook and cranny? will we remember not to pack your favorite things away from you which would screw you up emotionally for this whole move? Moving - do we have enough people? do we have enough time? do we have too many people and not enough stuff? what if we don't get enough packed and people are bored, waiting around, pissed off that they took the time to do this? or what if we don't get enough packed and people have to help? Post-moving - will we be able to buy a bed and get it delivered in order to "make our deadline" of being able to sleep in the house on Sunday night? will we have been clear enough so that we can find our necessities? when do we have time to buy, like, a shower curtain? since the linoleum is such that can't be mopped, how quickly do we think I'm going to forget and ruin it? what if we unpack and the bedbugs that we thought were gone were actually just biding their time in our storage facility and they come back? OMIGOSH.
And I'm extremely nervous about your bounce-backability, sweetheart. You love your daycare - the routine, the students, your friends and the teachers. And they love you. You tell me who you're going to see each day, who you played with, who you bit and vice versa. All the teachers know us by name and welcome us every morning. Yesterday, when I dropped you off, I overheard one of the teachers tell the director, "She just makes my morning." And the director replied, "I think she makes everyone's morning." How nice is that? While we have had our problems, for the most part they are thoughtful and communicative and I will really miss all of them, as I know you will.
The new daycare is big - much bigger than we're used to. The classrooms aren't wide open with gates like the other one - it's more like a school. Which is fine, that's 99.9% of daycares, I'm sure, but I loved the openness of the old daycare - they knew you and your allergies, you knew them and felt comfortable if someone different took over the class for the afternoon. Plus, the bigger the daycare, the bigger the student body and the more students in your classroom. Which means that a) you and your allergies may get overlooked and b) your biting trigger - overstimulation - may get you into lots of trouble. You've come home this week with a bitten-up back because the masses are building up a revolution against you, I think, and I try not to think of the possibility of 19 other kids (who are, I'm imagining, 2 feet taller and wider obviously) holding you down while the teacher tearfully looks the other way.
I'm also worried about you not getting to see Bapa each day. You ask me everyday if Bapa's awake, where he is, what he's doing and when you get to ride that m-effing tractor again. I think Bapa is going to have a hard time with it, too, though he's not admitting anything.
I know a lot of this is under our control. And I recognize that a lot of it isn't. We can pack everything ahead of time and we can make sure we do things to help you adjust. We won't know, however, how long it'll take you to adjust. I know that's okay. My head knows it, but my heart is FLIPPING THE EFF OUT. (My brain, I like to think, is very sensible. My heart is the intense one.)
The only things that we can think of to do for you is make sure that a) you have all your favorite toys with you throughout the whole time, b) we get out that winter vest again, and make sure you have all the silky lovies you can find, c) we read you "Moving Day" from the Berenstein Bears over and over to get you used to the idea, d) we continue to tell you how exciting this new adventure is, and about your "new howss!" - how you get to have your own room, and all your toys in one spot, how you'll get to make new friends and have a new school with new toys and new teachers, how you'll have a swingset in the backyard to play with as much as you want, and how it'll all be glorious and wonderful and enchanting and everything you ever hoped and dreamed and e) we distract you by buying you a new toy and painting your room bright blue.
We should probably think about getting Bapa some new toys, too.
Argh. We've got a lot to do in less than a week, huh? If I start on it now...
It's 10:30pm. There's always tomorrow.
Your Mama is freaking out. She was given the gift of time tonight and pretty much spat in the face of the giver. Or, rather, Giver.
Your daddy is off on a boys retreat and we were supposed to spend the night with Ems, but we had a couple really nasty thunderstorms this weekend and she lost power. I was relieved to sign that raincheck because even though I really wanted us to all spend time together, I was getting anxious about packing.
Packing?!? YES! We are moving next weekend to a new house! Our own house! One that we own! It's a big deal. And we haven't packed anything. Not one single thing.
See, I thought about it, made a list of to-dos and got all raring to go. I went upstairs and got a box, tape and Sharpie in my hand. I packed one box that I thought would hold much, much more and thought about the rest of the stuff (2 baths, 2 bedrooms, living room/play room, kitchen, garage)...
and I got overwhelmed.
So I opened a beer, grabbed a handful of M&Ms, cranked some Har Mar and started a post.
While I'm ecstatic about this move, I'm also really worried about it. It's everything all rolled up in one: Pre-closing - did the storms do anything to the house that we couldn't see when we drove past it? is the seller going to skip off into the sunset with our money because we bought a lemon? Closing - will we have all we need to sign the papers? will the seller bow out? Pre-moving - do we have enough boxes? have we underestimated yet again? will we have enough time to pack everything? will we remember to keep this and this? will we look under every nook and cranny? will we remember not to pack your favorite things away from you which would screw you up emotionally for this whole move? Moving - do we have enough people? do we have enough time? do we have too many people and not enough stuff? what if we don't get enough packed and people are bored, waiting around, pissed off that they took the time to do this? or what if we don't get enough packed and people have to help? Post-moving - will we be able to buy a bed and get it delivered in order to "make our deadline" of being able to sleep in the house on Sunday night? will we have been clear enough so that we can find our necessities? when do we have time to buy, like, a shower curtain? since the linoleum is such that can't be mopped, how quickly do we think I'm going to forget and ruin it? what if we unpack and the bedbugs that we thought were gone were actually just biding their time in our storage facility and they come back? OMIGOSH.
And I'm extremely nervous about your bounce-backability, sweetheart. You love your daycare - the routine, the students, your friends and the teachers. And they love you. You tell me who you're going to see each day, who you played with, who you bit and vice versa. All the teachers know us by name and welcome us every morning. Yesterday, when I dropped you off, I overheard one of the teachers tell the director, "She just makes my morning." And the director replied, "I think she makes everyone's morning." How nice is that? While we have had our problems, for the most part they are thoughtful and communicative and I will really miss all of them, as I know you will.
The new daycare is big - much bigger than we're used to. The classrooms aren't wide open with gates like the other one - it's more like a school. Which is fine, that's 99.9% of daycares, I'm sure, but I loved the openness of the old daycare - they knew you and your allergies, you knew them and felt comfortable if someone different took over the class for the afternoon. Plus, the bigger the daycare, the bigger the student body and the more students in your classroom. Which means that a) you and your allergies may get overlooked and b) your biting trigger - overstimulation - may get you into lots of trouble. You've come home this week with a bitten-up back because the masses are building up a revolution against you, I think, and I try not to think of the possibility of 19 other kids (who are, I'm imagining, 2 feet taller and wider obviously) holding you down while the teacher tearfully looks the other way.
I'm also worried about you not getting to see Bapa each day. You ask me everyday if Bapa's awake, where he is, what he's doing and when you get to ride that m-effing tractor again. I think Bapa is going to have a hard time with it, too, though he's not admitting anything.
I know a lot of this is under our control. And I recognize that a lot of it isn't. We can pack everything ahead of time and we can make sure we do things to help you adjust. We won't know, however, how long it'll take you to adjust. I know that's okay. My head knows it, but my heart is FLIPPING THE EFF OUT. (My brain, I like to think, is very sensible. My heart is the intense one.)
The only things that we can think of to do for you is make sure that a) you have all your favorite toys with you throughout the whole time, b) we get out that winter vest again, and make sure you have all the silky lovies you can find, c) we read you "Moving Day" from the Berenstein Bears over and over to get you used to the idea, d) we continue to tell you how exciting this new adventure is, and about your "new howss!" - how you get to have your own room, and all your toys in one spot, how you'll get to make new friends and have a new school with new toys and new teachers, how you'll have a swingset in the backyard to play with as much as you want, and how it'll all be glorious and wonderful and enchanting and everything you ever hoped and dreamed and e) we distract you by buying you a new toy and painting your room bright blue.
We should probably think about getting Bapa some new toys, too.
Argh. We've got a lot to do in less than a week, huh? If I start on it now...
It's 10:30pm. There's always tomorrow.
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