The Art of the Move

There seems to be a special recipe that must be in place to orchestrate the perfect move. I’m not talking about dance moves, because we know I need no assistance in that department; I mean the art of moving all your belongings from one living space to another.

Here are the key components that I have identified: planning, adequate supplies, friends, quality furniture, and no unexpected developments.

Yes, once all these things come together, a move can be smooth and seamless. On the other hand, if you are a member of my family, not one of the critical components will be in place and the result will be a disaster worthy of federal aid.

Let’s start at the top: Planning. In my defense, I thought I was packing at a good pace. Each day, I would get home from work, feed the family (they would laugh at this statement), get the kids in bed and then put in some solid packing time. I had boxes lined up on the walls so things looked productive. It wasn’t until two days before the move that I realized we were in bad shape. All the drawers still had items in them and there were stacks of odds and ends in corners. Worst of all, we were out of boxes.  It was like being at Sam’s Club and buying a million tiny things and having to pack it in your car, item by item. So when the day of the move came upon us, we were able to carry the big things out into the truck, but had literal mountains of clutter in every room. This is not a Martha Stewart approved move approach.

Adequate Supplies: As I stated before, we ran out of boxes quickly. So when I had a closet full of clothes to transport, there was nothing to pack them in but a giant box that once housed pieces of chairs (about 5-1/2 feet long). We had two such boxes, so Mark’s clothes went in the other one. The size and weight require a “Team Lift” and they now sit in my new closet, unpacked and completely in the way.

Friends: You never realize just how much anti-social behavior can negatively affect your life until you need to move and you have to search your mind for someone to help. Unfortunately, of the small number of people that actually do like us, many had prior plans. Mark and I were actually laughing at the fact that we have moved a number of times in the last 8 years and it has either been just he and I or my sister, my mom, and me (save one time, where we were moving back to town and people didn’t know they didn’t like us yet) So, once again, Mark, my sister, and I grunted and shoved couches through door frames and were crushed under the weight of a floppy, king size memory foam mattress that is impossible to carry. My sister and I tempted fate by attempting to use a dolly (is this how you spell this?) to carry 200+ pounds of solid oak shelf, only to learn later that we were actually using it on backwards (oops). Then a ray of sunshine: one of Mark’s coworkers stopped by for some heavy lifting/unloading. It was fabulous. We felt bad that he had to carry a face-full of cat hair covered couch when he was in fact, allergic to cats.

The morning after the move, I was not surprised to find that my legs were covered in bruises. They are indeed so plentiful, my bare legs look like I’m wearing rare white leopard print leggings. Maybe I should just add an extra-long t-shirt and belt to complete the look.

Quality furniture: If you buy nice furniture, then you don’t have to worry about tearing fabric sounds while you are jamming your couch through a door frame or your bookshelf literally falling to pieces once you set it down in the moving truck. Although, if you can afford nice furniture, maybe you can afford movers, and you wouldn’t have this problem in the first place…

Unexpected Developments: Things like children’s soccer games in the middle of moving day, and finding out you have to pick up more furniture miles and miles away (when you are paying per mile on the truck), or realizing you have a forgotten supply of storage at someone else’s house can upset a moving day. Again, all these things could have been avoided if I would have focused on the planning stage a little more. Also unexpected is having no window coverings in the new house, even in the bathrooms and bedrooms. So you can pretty much be guaranteed to be on display to the whole neighborhood, no matter what you are doing in our house. Why not purchase new ones? A combined shortage of time, measurements, and money. I wonder if my neighbors like my leopard print leggings.

Fortunately, I'm Fortunate

There are certain seasons in my life where I feel like I’m operating exclusively from the “Bad Mommy
Rule Book” (such a book surely exists; if not, I may be authoring it soon).

If you’ve ever read that book, Fortunately you might understand the following
statements.

Fortunately, I “cooked” dinner on Friday night.
Unfortunately, it was Tuna Helper.
Mark was actually thrilled at the thought of not having to eat Cheetos and a piece of cheese for dinner
(insert judgment on the bad wife here). He ate two platefuls. Eli, on the other hand, asked me, “What’s
this? Soup?”
Me: “No, it’s noodles and sauce.”
Eli: “What’s in the sauce?”
Me: “Butter, milk, and a powder packet of mystery spices.”
Eli: “Well, it’s disgusting.”
Me: “Thank you. You’ll be finishing all your disgusting noodles before you leave the table.”
[Sigh] from two parties.

Fortunately, I am a stickler for teaching my child grammar.
Unfortunately, I may overlook some other failings in exchange.
For example:
Eli: “Bang. Bang. I just shooted you!”
Me: [sigh] “No, Eli you didn’t just shooted me, you just shot me.”
Eli: “I’m going to shot you.”
Me: “Repeat after me. You shot Mommy yesterday. You shoot Mommy today. You are going to shoot
Mommy tomorrow. Get it?”
Eli: “Yes, Mommy. Bang. Bang.”
Should I address the violence or the poor grammar? I opted for the grammar; that seems to be more detrimental to society.  I can't have nobody think my boy's ignorant!

Fortunately, I attended my son’s second ever soccer game.
Unfortunately, I acted like a psycho while I was there.
For whatever reason this week, Eli decided to look at the ground and the clouds while jogging back and forth on the field, managing never to make contact with the ball or anyone else. I stood on the sideline yelling, “ELI! LOOK AT THE BALL! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU LOOKING AT OVER THERE? THE GAME IS IN FRONT OF YOU!” Yes, I was that mom.
We are fortunate to have a large family represented in town. So, each time Eli plays soccer, he has a cheering section 15 strong. We also are a bit unruly. More than once we have laughed loudly when someone shoots the ball into their own goal (luckily not Eli). This week, we were watching a girls game where one girl threw the ball in, directly at her teammate’s face. It ricocheted off and she screamed. I don’t know which was louder, her scream or our hooting laughter. We simply do not know how to behave in public. But let’s be honest, watching a bunch of 5 and 6 year old play soccer is ridiculous fun.

Fortunately, I address my children’s constant bickering.
Unfortunately, I nag them and annoy everyone around me.
Marina has decided she is a parrot. Everything I say, she follows me and repeats it. So, when
she and Eli are fighting over a toy, I swoop in and stop it.
Me: “Quit it, you two.”
Marina: “Quit it!”
Eli: “She started it!”
Me: “Both of you. Sit down.”
Marina: “Bof of you! Quit it! Quit it!”

She is stealing my nagging mom authority. Who can take me seriously when I have a mini-me behind me mimicking my every word and movement (and not following any of my instructions)?

As I was typing this, I was eating my yogurt with a fork out of sheer laziness. Predictably, the yogurt fell through the spoon and glopped all over my black sweater, conveniently on the chest and again on the stomach. I would think of Fortunately/Unfortunately statement for this, but it seems to all lean to the unfortunate. And the stupid. I’m glad I won’t have the chance to change this shirt for six more hours. Any attention is good attention, right?