How to Move with Children Underfoot

Change is stressful, and you can't get much bigger of a change than moving, now can you? Add a few little kids into the mix and you could be looking disaster right in its face. But before you freak out (or allow them to) there are some things you can do to quell the panic right from the start.

1) Put them into the process from the get-go.

When we were looking for places, out of necessity, I had to take my twins with me for some of the tours. It's actually because of my children that we found the house we're living in.

Sure, after five tours with four-year-old twins, you're ready to claw your own eyes out, but then when you find that perfect place, they feel like they chose it, too. Because they were there. And getting a child to do something she thinks she has chosen is a lot easier than having to surprise her, like, "hey, so, you know this place we've been living your whole life? Say goodbye and let's go to a new place you've never seen!" It's like this new house was an old buddy of theirs since they saw it first. Instead of being more like a weird guy mumbling to himself who said hi to them at the grocery store and creeped them out.

2) Let them help you pack.

Okay, so I know you're staring at your computer screen in horror right now, thinking that what I've suggested is akin to shooting yourself in the foot in five places, but hear me out. They're only going to be up your butt anyway, whether you "let them help" or not, so may as well be organized about it. Let them help with the small things in the beginning, so that they feel like part of a group. For instance, I let them smooth the tape down as I made the packing boxes. Then give them the some of the boxes that they helped make and have them throw all their crap into it. Sure, it will look like this:

But, honestly, are you even doing that much better of a job? And once you unpack all that stuff you carefully molded to fit just right into the box, they're just going to throw it all over the floor anyway. Plus, this way the boxes aren't too heavy, and if something breaks, well, you have an excuse to throw out one of their beloved-but-rarely-used toys, right? Most importantly, though, they're busy. They're busy packing up their lives as you pack up yours. It involves them in the process and keeps them out of your hair at the same time. Winning.

3) Get rid of stuff. Listen, you just don't need it, okay? I can't tell you how much stuff I'm getting rid of now as I unpack. I just didn't need that bent plastic french fry, or the painted popsicle stick. Turns out I actually don't need the 70 pairs of undies I have somehow acquired throughout my life. I only learned that after having survived for two weeks on just ten pairs (I mean, I do laundry every week anyway, so this should have been logical). The others are still in a box somewhere, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I just haven't needed them. Knock me over with a feather. I also have no use for the mismatched dishes and mugs I was so sure I couldn't do without. Get rid of stuff.

Now, to our credit, our house is smaller than our apartment, so we did downsize in some ways. We got rid of a ton of books, for instance, bringing only about two-thirds of our library with us, and leaving this to a used bookstore owner who basically did a back-bend in glee as we cried our literary tears.

I also parted with my impressive collection of pantsuits from the 1990s which I had used to get jobs in my early 20s and also whenever I had to go on camera (in my former life as a television reporter...days long gone now. Time to give up the ghost. And the Godawful suits.)

4) Have friends take your kids for a day while you clean. (If you don't have friends, make them right now for this specific purpose.) The only reason I even did this (I'd have just barreled through, making them suffer in boredom in an empty house while I cleaned) is because our landlady decided she needed to replace our downstairs carpet due to "excessive" wear and tear. And that I needed to have it professionally cleaned with receipt in order for her to consider not doing that.

Yeah. Right.

This is the carpet in question:

Replace it on my dime? I don't think so. But I couldn't have cleaned it like this, or gotten the fridge and cabinets like this:

without someone taking my kids from me for a few good hours straight. Thanks, Laura and Jackie!

5) Make the differences into cool things your kids will want to be on board with. For us, this was easy. The house has an ice-maker for crying out loud. That's like a child's dream. And the girls are back to taking baths without complaint because we totally have a jacuzzi tub.

Now, not everyone is as lucky as us / can move into a house with a ton of cool toys already set up, so you may have to get a little creative. Does the new place have sidewalks? Emphasize rollerskating or bike riding.

This is the first time they've been able to use their bikes for real since we bought them two years ago.

Do you have a yard? Does it have sprinklers? Instant fun.

How about wildlife? Anything different about it that you could make interesting?

We've lived in Florida for a while, so it's not the first time they've seen geckos. But it is the first time they've seen one on their toy house.

This is also a great time for transitions. For example, our children have a fear of a "witch" that comes at night, apparently. I told them she stayed at our old house, and they believed me. Miracles of miracles.


And there you have it. Five ways to make moving with kids slightly less painful. Good luck!

 

Epic Shoe Adventure

Sometimes, when you move, things get lost. They get tossed out, or you're sure you packed them, or suddenly you're just down a couple dozen books you were sure were in your bookshelf (me.) Sometimes, you have helpful spouse tying up loose ends, and they simply tie them up too tightly. And that's where our scene begins.

The weekend before last, my husband rented a big, old UHaul truck, and we stacked our larger furniture, paintings, beds and bookshelves inside. We hadn't packed beforehand, so after we brought the truck back, there was still plenty to do, boxes to tape, things to give away, you know.

Over the weekend, my husband had said something along the lines of, "I got rid of half my wardrobe! We don't need to bring all that stuff."

And that's what was running through my head as I looked quizzically at the expensive brown shoes in the middle of our almost-empty master bedroom.

Surely he didn't leave them behind on purpose? But all the other shoes were gone, and these lone survivors were out in plain sight...right near the donation pile. I looked again. But I would never donate these, I thought. Of course, I took all my clothes (save my excessive number of 1990s pantsuits).

You know, it's hard to give away suits that got you your first few jobs after college, right? No? Anyway, they're gone now. Along with those shoes. I threw them right in the bottom of a 30-gallon trash with all his other clothes on top, and hauled it off to the Goodwill.

Three days later...

"Oh my God, where are my brown shoes? I can find every single pair of shoes, except the ones I want! I'm sure I packed them!" At t-5 minutes until he had to leave for work, I thought it might be a bad time to tell him that perhaps he didn't, after all, pack them. I stayed quiet, earning a confused and slightly distraught look from him as he most likely wondered why I, shoe-queen, did not feel his pain. As he walked out the door in his definitely-not-brown shoes, I posted on my phone to Facebook:

"That awkward moment when your husband is very clearly looking for shoes he's sure he packed, but you know he left behind...and you brought them to Goodwill two days ago. Operation shoe recovery to commence at 12:30."

And it did. As soon as I dropped those kids off at school, I picked up more stuff to donate, and drove right back down there.

Hairied and in emergency-mode, I pretty much scared the pants off the poor guy taking donations. He'd dealt with me the other day, and so kind of already knew my New-England-talking-way-too-fast-and-intensely-for-you ways.

"I brought in a bunch of stuff the other day! Do you still have it?"

"Out...on...the...floor," he answered in Florida-slow-drawl-style.

"There were some nice shoes in there, did you see them?"

He shook his head.

"If they were nice, miss, they're prolllllllly gone." So. Slow. When. You. All. Talk. Seriously.

I finish unloading and rush into the store. I find the women's shoes, and a woman working on them. I ask her my questions and she looks at me like I've lost my mind, and points me to the men's shoes. I run over there. The shelves are nearly empty.  But there, on the third row down, a pair of nice brown shoes!

Huzzah!

I shout out loud, and a man who's looking at the shoes startles. I pick them up. Man, it must have been a few days since I saw them because they look just slightly different. But it was meant to be. Armed with my husband's shoes, I walk proudly up to the counter and tell them my sordid tale of woe.

And would you believe it, they even gave me half-price. Best $5 I ever spent.

With the blessed shoes in hand, I texted my husband in jubilation. The conversation is too funny to leave out.

"Just bought your shoes back from Goodwill. Hahaha!"

"OMG, really? Wait, bought or brought?"

"Yes. I had a feeling you had left them behind because when packing up, I remember thinking damn, he went crazy getting rid of stuff. I loved these! So when I dumped today, I asked about them. They'd already made it to the floor. So nice, even Goodwill marked them for 10 bucks."

"Haha. You had to buy them back."

Over the course of the day, he told his brother, who, of course, blew my cover.

"She knew this morning!" he said.

When my husband asked me that, and I said yes, he was shocked. Hah. It was just a bad time to say anything, know what I mean?

Where were the shoes, he wanted to know. And I proudly pointed him over to his chair, where they sat in a plastic bag that said "Thank You" on it.

Grinning from ear-to-ear he opened it up. And the smile faded. And the shoes clattered to the ground.

"These are not my shoes." He was totally disgusted. Other people's shoes don't really do it for him, I guess.

And I was like, yes, of course they are not. They are far too pointy, and too dark in color, and there was no scuff on the top of the toe on his shoes.

I knew all those things. I knew them. But I ignored them, so excited was I about being able to be jubilant.

And so our shoes are gone. Long now on the feet of someone who doesn't mind other people's shoes.

My Facebook status, of course, after that, read: "Oh my God. Just kidding. Those were not his shoes."

To everyone's delight.

Who wants a happy ending anyway?

Moment of the Week - 143: We Moved!

Well, it's been a while. We moved and I had an entire week without internet. Like, a whole one. And during that time, I learned that...well, there are people who live like that all the time. Amazing.

Anyway, the whole week was made up of moments and stories. For now, here's the pictorial overview!

Our new home!

The back and inside...before we put our stuff in it.

The girls especially love the jacuzzi tub!

And their playroom. (It's filled with toys now.)

And the neighborhood with its sidewalks where they can ride their bikes.

And even the wildlife!

This has been a really great move. I can't wait to talk about every aspect of it and bore you to tears!