I’ve learned a few valuable lessons over the last couple of days…and mostly the hard way.
The first would be the value in copying and pasting one’s blog onto another document before closing a browser. That would account for the lack of blogging yesterday. Oh and also the fact that time has been of the essence the last few days.
This past weekend we set out to paint our current home. We figured that most tenants would not particularly want bright pink and bright blue rooms, and it might be more marketable if it were more neutral. After hours, I mean HOURS, of hard labor, we had virtually nothing to show for it.
As you remember, I have embraced a pinkalicious lifestyle. I didn’t realize that would mean that Gabby’s room would remain pink until the end of time. Three coats of primer, two coats of white paint and there are still little places where pink is peering through. I tried to reassure the pink that we will be relocating it’s beauty to our new home, but it wasn’t convinced and fought the good fight.
Somewhere around 5:30am Adam and I both decided that we were in desperate need of professional painters for our next home. Lesson learned!
During our painting venture, our house was in disarray. Pictures, accessories, and toys have been removed to accommodate the changes. I’d like to say I’ve begun packing, but that would be a lie.
The dissembling of our home, however, has been upsetting. In some ways I feel like this house has become my baby. I have nurtured it to become what it is today. Especially since we are the original owners, we have memories of every step of it’s “birth.” We remember when it was a skeleton of a house, blossoming into a vacant building, turning into our abode, becoming our home and ultimately the place we took our children home. Dismantling our life here is emotional, even if we are moving onward and upward.
Now this is sad for me who is able to articulate and understand my feelings. This is sad for me who has only lived here 6.5 of my 30 years. Drew, on the other hand, is having his entire world torn upside down. And despite that we are actively discussing the excitement and pleasantries of moving forward, there are still residual behavioral problems that have blossomed.
It’s not easy comforting his discomfort and disciplining his bad behavior. And although I’m sympathetic to how traumatic this must be for him, I’m also frustrated and feel like every day I’m walking into a war zone. For goodness sake, even the pets have been skiddish about the changes in our house. So the moral of this story is that moving is never easy (especially with kids). Lesson learned.