Packing, Again

We are... in transition.

We have to move out of the Lake House this month. Where we'll go, we're not sure. We had planned to live with Trevor's parents for the few months it'll take to get into the new house, but we've been considering renting a house from friends a few blocks from the remodel. I love this idea, as it'll keep us where we want to be (downtown, and just a stroller ride from Trevor, who'll spend every extra second at the new house, and we'll miss him), but it's not free and I know that makes a difference. Especially since our summer jobs have recently morphed into fall jobs (which is not making the remodel any smoother, let me just mention).

So we don't exactly know where we're going, but we do know that it's another temporary living space. I'm not that kind of girl, so every night as I pack one more portion of we-won't-need-this-for-awhile stuff, I talk really quickly to Trevor, wringing my hands and darting looks around like I'm a confused preteen.

So I've scheduled trips for practically every weekend; I'm pretty sure it's some psychological effort to run away from the impending move into uncertainty. I should be planning trips for June, July and August, to keep us busy while Trevor works on the house and to be independent from the in-laws' house (assuming we do live there; of course we love them and they love us, but anyone would get tired of having an entire family living in their house for that long).

Trevor has taken the girls to the park so that I can work on packing, but I wish I were with them instead (another effort to pretend we're not moving again). Marta keeps asking if we can go "home to the Cedar Creek house," and Berit comes up with stories all the time about what we did there and how much she loved it. I miss it; I miss the girls having their own rooms with their own beds and their own things (even if the furnishings here are far more lovely that anything we'll be able to afford for at least another decade). I miss the security of knowing what was ours, and what we could do with it. I don't like hiring cleaning people to sweep up behind us as if we were never here.

The thing is that we are so lucky to be moving on, to have been here, to have places to go, that it seems wrong to feel strange about it. It's just the children, that's all. I want their lives to be flawless, to never know adjustment or change, though I get it that those things make them into better big people. I know we're lucky that this is all we have to worry about. We are infinitely blessed, and looking at the dark side just makes it easier to do what I want to do today -- be with the kids at the park instead of packing, for instance.

Anyway, onward and upward (or somewhere, at least). And clean sweeps behind us to make room for messy little girl bedrooms ahead.