New Kids on the Block

I have moved many times. Seems like I am forever the new girl. And I have had many neighbors, some more enjoyable than others.

This fall, I find myself in yet another new place, with a whole new set of neighbors. I'm getting pretty good at starting over.

Although I have moved plenty of times, I have to say, not once have I received a welcome gift - until now!

Being the new kid on the block isn't always so bad...

Putting Them To Work

Why, oh why must movers insist on sticking an orange, yellow, or blue stamp-sized sticker to EVERY piece of furniture they move? I do realize there is a purpose, but surely the moving industry can come up with something better than that? Some way of organizing and keeping track of things that does not involve stickers that may or may not want to come off in the end?

For those of you who do not list "moving" as one of your regular activities, perhaps you have no idea what I am talking about. I'll tell you: every item that a mover moves gets a sticker with a number. Every box, every piece of furniture, every vacuum, broom, bike, scooter, stroller, rug... anything that they pick up and put in the truck. They don't take them off when unloading either.

Now since I have not always been the amazingly tidy and organized person I am today (haha), I actually have more than one sticker on some pieces of furniture - from other moves! How terrible is that!?

Well, no sticker is going to live long in this house! I have decided to no longer be the kind of person who has moving stickers stuck to everything or anything! I am putting the troops to work! I made heavy-duty sheets of paper with squares all over them (much like a sticker or chore chart) one for each boy. Soon, I will let them loose to fill up their papers! I have promised a penny for every sticker they find.

This sort of reminds me of the time my dad promised my sister and me a penny for every cigarette butt we picked up one time. We jumped on that, thinking we'd make a killing (we were young enough to actually think we'd make a killing) but after spending hours picking them up (nasty), we then had to re-count them! Imagine two little girls with bags of cigarette butts, counting them one by one...

Fortunately, we will be dealing with stickers here, not dirty, smelly garbage! I just hope the stickers come off easily, or I will have to run around even more than they do, trying to respond to all the "Help, mom! I can't get this one! This one is stuck! I ripped this one! Ben is trying to steal mine!"

Oh, To Be A Kid...

Who loves moving? Well, I guess on some level, I enjoy moving. I like seeing different parts of the world and new beginnings, but I am talking about the physical act of moving: the packing, the moving, the unpacking that drags on for weeks, the boxes, the mess, the piles of possessions you wish you had disposed of a long time ago and now have to find a spot for...

Who loves moving? I'll tell you who: my kids! They love new places and new houses and new adventures just like I do, but they love the other stuff as well! Packing up? Sweet! It gets them excited about the adventure beginning and they get a break from cleaning up their room! Boxes everywhere? Rad! We have dedicated one whole room in our new house of too many rooms just for box forts! Packing paper exploding out of every box? THE BEST!

I tell you, these movers must have used 5 or 6 pieces of packing paper for EVERY item in my kitchen. That is A LOT of paper to mess with, and mess with it we have done! I filled my new living room with a mountain of paper and the boys were leaping off couches and doing canon balls into the pile. They were completely burying themselves. They were having fights where they just threw it at each other until they collapsed in laughter.

Of course, they might not love the mess so much if they had any concept of the work involved cleaning up that much mess, but I'd rather they enjoy this as much as possible and not worry too much about how much work it is to move. That's my job.

Staying Connected

As my newest relocation is quickly approaching, I am thinking a lot about friends and loosing contact with them over time, as is inevitable with most friendships in the end. I have recently realized, however, that over this last winter, I hardly actually saw in person any of them anyways! With brutal weather, school schedules, sick kids, and other plans, socially hanging out with people the way I could when Ben was a baby was just not a possibility.

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that eventually, I will just get blog updates every few days from everyone I know, telling me all about daily life, funny stories, disgusting messes, crazy kids, loving husbands...

When else have moms gotten to talk so much without interruption? I tell you, if all you blogging moms are anything like me, your husband can't truly pay attention to you when you are answering his question of "How was your day?" because you loose him in the first, mundane sentence; but write it down on your blog and he will laugh his you-know-what off!

Nothing replaces getting together at the park with your kids or getting a cup of coffee together. Knowing a friend is near by and would be there for you in person should you need them is irreplaceable. A computer is not a friend and anyone who invests all their energy into their FB or blogosphere (did I just make that word up or is it a real word?) relationships is not doing the work required of them as a relational human being. It is certainly not a substitute.

But after I have spent most of my energy out there being "the new girl" yet again and feeling frustrated and annoyed at beginning more relationships yet again (which does not come naturally to me!), and finding a social life for myself and my whole family, I will open my computer to the comfort of reading your blogs and keeping up so easily with your lives. I will miss you, but I'll be watching you!

Sneaking In A Little Change

How many "do-overs" do you get in life? Really, how many times do you, as an adult, get to completely start over - change your attitudes, what kind of parent you are, what kind of Christian you are, what kind of wife/husband you are, what kind of friend you are, what kind of house-keeper you are, what kind of worker you are... ?

For me, it is difficult to change mid-stride. I have people who know me and know how I operate. They know my attitudes and how I handle situations and my style of life. A drastic change in any area invokes questioning and explaining and discomfort. It is tough to change right in front of your friends and family. They know you too well.

What you need to facilitate change more easily is to completely change everything!

Now, it just so happens, I am an expert at changing things up dramatically. It appears I am incapable of living anywhere for more than 2 years. Move number 7 since I married, coming right up!

Now, I am tempted to be sad. Other than the brutal winters, I have absolutely loved Chicago. My friends here are amazing. My neighborhood brings me happiness. I love my neighbors and the streets around me. While I was hoping to move up in the housing department soon, I was not planning on going farther than a few blocks: I do just love these surrounding streets. I love the boys' school and I love how close I am to it. I love that my neighbors and I trade kids for grocery trips and I love that I know almost everyone at the playground in the afternoons. I love this city and I love my life here. I will miss almost everything about my life here - the TERRIBLE winters I have experienced will NOT be missed...

While I am tempted to be sad, there really is a part of me that thrills to the idea of moving. Seriously, when else do you get such an amazing chance to begin again? No one knows me where I am going. No one knows my bad habits or complacent attitudes. No one will hold me accountable or ask questions if I suddenly change things up! I can be a better person and no will ever know that I haven't always been this amazing!

I can't let this opportunity slip through my fingers and take the easiest, most comfortable route, which is to continue on exactly as I am now, just in a bigger city. That said, I won't let Matt read my notes on the subject either, for fear that he will actually hold me accountable to my intended changes!

Cardboard Cut-Outs and Life-Sized Dolls

Have you ever been startled or downright frightened by someone not doing anything scary but simply sitting or standing in a place you least expected them?

When I was a kid, my grandparents had a room for us all to play in. It was a great room, but to get there, you had to race through a dark and spooky part of the house, then up equally dark and spooky stairs before you could turn the light on. Once we got to the top of the stairs and were in the room, we'd then turn the light on, and for a little while, jump right out of our pants. Someone had placed a life-sized cardboard man right at the top! Even after a few times and we knew he was there, he still scared us into giggles!

Matt and I had a similar experience this last week while looking at houses. We were wandering around someone's home with our realtor, pleased with everything and feeling quite happy and comfortable picturing our own family within its walls. We were just beginning our inspection of the second floor and peaking into the first bedroom when Matt yelled, jumped backwards, and swore all at once! I was only a second behind him and mimicked the exact same reaction when I caught up with him!

There was a life-sized doll sitting in a chair, facing the door, just staring at us! She had a dazed, spaced-out look to be sure, but to the unsuspecting visitor, she looked real all right! I can't help but think that family set her up like that on purpose to spice up the house-hunting process a bit.

The fact that the realtor was in the hallway quietly chuckling rather than rushing to our aid betrayed the fact that he was already aware of this doll but gave us no warning.

Once our pulses slowed a bit, we were able to resume our tour of the house, but were a bit more cautious entering rooms from then on. We are thinking of telling the owners we would love to have their house, but only if the scary she-doll stays.