My Fellas are sleeping soundly in our new house. Everything has been moved from the old house and it is clean and ready for inspection.
I know this is silly, but I feel so unsettled by all the little things.
I can't find my coat hangers, so I can't try to fit my clothes in the weird configuration of our (admittedly large) closet.
I have no idea where the mouse is for our laptop, so I have to use the stupid touch pad. I hate using the touch pad.
The lounge room is great because the couch, lamp and TV are set up, but there's a pile of boxes in the corner, stopping me from putting things away in the cabinet behind them all.
The kitchen is set up, but the pantry is in the laundry, so making lunches for school and work this morning was strange and awkward.
I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to buy this house, and we're loving the pool and outdoor areas (we haven't eaten a meal inside yet). But having no power point in the bathroom is stressful.
When I got to work this morning I sighed with contentment because at least everything was "normal" and I'd be able to find everything I needed.
I know it will all be set up properly soon, and I'll start dreaming about how to make our office/guest room useful and welcoming, or what colour to paint this and that, or how we could re-do the pantry cupboard so that it's an L-shaped walk in from the hall, rather than a deep, dark place to lose everything in the laundry, but right now the mess is stressing me out and I'm just not coping.
The worst thing is that I can't just unpack and clear my way through it all. I look at the boxes that are left and I don't even know where to put half the stuff, like my craft items and extra stationery. Even the cleaning products don't have an obvious place, because I've put half the kitchen appliances in the utility cupboard in the hall.
And now that the weekend is over and I'm back at work, the regular routine things have to happen each night - dinner, homework, bath, bedtime stories, dishes, crash.
Speaking of bedtime stories, the Big Fella and I were sitting outside taking a break after cleaning the old house, and we stopped and wondered where the Little Big Fella was. We discovered him laying on his bed reading a book to himself (for the first time ever!).
I honestly nearly cried!
It has been a strong wish for me, although I don't think I realised how much I'd hoped for it, that the Little Big Fella learn to love reading like we, his parents do. Both of us can get completely lost in a good story until we reach the end of the book (it can be kind of annoying when you need the other person to pay attention to what's going on, and they're absorbed by their current story).
And I'd hoped, SO much, that the Little Big Fella would discover the joy of imagination in print (and learning too!).
I also must say that both of my Fellas have been extraordinary during this move.
The Little Big Fella has been patient and helpful and well-behaved (although a bit too excited on occasion), and the Big Fella has stuck to his promise not to snap or lose his temper at all (traditionally, moving house brings out the worst in both of us). Unfortunately I can't claim the same (sorry honey).
I know you all want to see the house and hear all about it, but I don't have any photos yet, and until tonight I've been way too tired to get myself to bed, let alone write anything. But it's coming as soon as possible!
Thanks for letting me vent my little tantrum of frustration :-)
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