Thursday, September 29, 2011


This week has been a rough one for our family (packing, sleeplessness thinking about packing, arguing about nothing because of the sleeplessness caused by packing, etc...). I am so ready for this whole uprooting our lives business to be done. Can't I just wake up and be enjoying some warm cider and cuddling with my boys in our completely unpacked and beautiful new living room? Oh, if only.

I will be the first to admit I've been a total lunatic this week. I hate moving in a profound way. I hate going through my belongings (I think I'm turning into a bit of a pack rat...not hoarder...there's a big difference...right?). I hate worrying about the logistics. I hate the physicality of moving couches and dining room tables. I just hate it. And... my hate of all things moving makes me a jerk. 

I know I haven't been the easiest person to live with this week with all of the stress and frustration seeping out of my pores. I have been a wreck and taken it out in all the worst ways. 

And then tonight as I was playing and laughing with Ezra I realized something. 

Who cares about moving? These boys are my home. 



Noelle said...

Moving is tough. There's no getting around it. Even the "fun" parts are tough. We moved about two years ago, and all I remember is saying "I'm sorry" an awful lot of the time. Hang in there, hang on to those sweet guys, and the moving thing will come together.

Tara said...

Thank you, Noelle. It was tough, for sure. I'm so happy and exhausted, but mostly happy. It's all coming together in it's own time and the worst is behind us now. On to the fun part, reorganizing and decorating!