Category Archives: moving

Slowly but surely, we’re getting unpacked. Boxes still litter every room, the boys’ rooms need to be painted, our playroom/den reminds me of poop (the color, not the smell), there’s no TV in the kitchen (the horror!), and I have no bedroom furniture except for a bed and bedside table, but we’re making progress. Here are seven signs that our new house is finally starting to feel like home:

1. Fresh flowers. Fresh flowers on the kitchen table are evidence that (1) I have a kitchen table, (2) I’ve unpacked a vase, and (3) I’ve been to a grocery store that sells flowers, which means I’ve begun cooking instead of having food delivered every night.

2. Roasted Brussels sprouts. It’s a true story that I’ve started cooking. Once Brussels sprouts have been roasted, order returns to the universe.

3. Artwork on the walls. Almost! Hanging a picture on the wall suggests permanence in either wall color or furniture placement (or both). As soon as Mike finds his level, which is buried somewhere deep in the garage, this sucker is going up.

4. Owls. An owl sighting means I’ve transitioned from opening boxes with items that meet immediate essential needs, such as bed sheets, Dylan’s Homer Simpson slippers, and wine glasses, to boxes that contain less vital but still indispensable items, including but not limited to chip clips and owls.

5. Riley’s artwork. Glue sticks, pipe cleaners, stickers, markers, and popsicle sticks are within reach (and every Sharpie we own has been hidden), which means Riley has resumed his art regime. This (phallic) masterpiece is a dinosaur. Obviously.

6. Camp arts & crap crafts projects. I’m no longer obsessed with whether or not I left my cookie sheets and cooling racks in the oven drawer in the house in Florida, but rather with how to make these arts & crap crafts projects made at camp disappear in the night.

7. Effing Legos. Same mess, different zip code.

How did you know your new house was becoming a home?

It hit me in the shower while piping hot water ran down my aching back and tears streamed down my face. I was bone tired and fearful that I’d never feel normal again. Everything was different, and even though I knew it was coming, it was still a slap in the face. I craved normalcy, but every day was a crap shoot. Moving, I realized, was a lot like new motherhood. Here’s why:

1. My body is wounded. Everything hurts.

2. I haven’t slept well in weeks.

3. I forget to shower.

4. I cry at the drop of a hat.

5. I’m desperate for routine!

6. I long for adult conversation!

7. I’m an emotional mess. I alternate between “This is amazing! I’m blessed!” and “Why the fuck did we do this! This is fucking crazy!”

8. I’ve been wearing same shirt for three days because it’s the only one that fits I’ve unpacked.

9. I want to take off the baby moving weight, but I’m too exhausted to cook healthy meals and the Chinese delivery is fast and delicious.

10. My clothes and shoes furniture and décor don’t fit like they did before.

11. I haven’t watched a single episode of the new season of Orange Is The New Black.

12. I’ll probably never read a book again.

13. I have no idea what’s happening in the world, except that Jen and Ben are getting a divorce, and I can’t help but wonder if parenthood moving had something to do with it.

14. I’m too worn-out to talk on the phone or respond to emails.

15. I’ve forgotten several birthdays, including my sister’s.

16. I need to make mommy friends.

17. The simple act of getting an eyebrow wax made me feel human again.

18. The house is a flipping mess.

19. I never sit down.

20. The following thoughts run through my mind daily hourly: I love my new life. I miss my old life. Who am I? I can do this! I CANNOT do this. I can’t catch my breath. I need to do yoga. I’m too tired to do yoga. I wish I had a babysitter.