We moved!
We moved. New city, micro-climate, home. And new ants.
It is harder to unpack than pack, that is my conclusion after this move. Unpacking requires more deep thinking on the placement of things, and chaos of random junk that I should have tossed a while ago. Unpacking creates a running list of things to purchase for the space to feel more comfy, practical, and livable. There is always something. Some hooks, a rug, a lamp, a shoe rack and I should probably replace the ugly placemat we brought with. Unpacking takes heart, packing just takes energy.
We moved from a semi-furnished home to an unfurnished one. What this means is that we needed to purchase the big appliances this time around. Washer, Dryer, Refrigerator, couches and bed. In a foreign language, different currency, and within a short amount of time. Transport not included (spoiler alert: we had a cousin of a friend drive his truck around with us for a fee, of course). Oh how our decision wheels were spinning.
How important is the brand? What about surge protectors? What if we pay in cash, could we get a discount? Mother’s day deal? Size, color, resale value? We are learning that the “fixed” prices at the stores, aren’t the actual price, and you need to barter a bit. You need to have a game face that explains, yes, even as a gringo, I understand, it’s overpriced. Help me out here, aren’t we all human?
It was a wild ride, and I’m happy to share, that appliances are in place, installed properly, and for the moment, functioning as they should. We saved the receipts.
Three days after our move in, Emma was running around the kitchen when she fell, perfectly landing a little bit too hard on her left wrist. Loud cries, a different tone than usual, and a sincere cupping of her little arm were just the clues that kicked full momma instinct into gear. “We are going to the hospital, everyone in the car!” Rather than spend a day unpacking, we spent a day in the ER. Among a random few sickly-looking people with Phoebe and Emma running around, wasting paper cups. It was fun.
A fractured wrist. An arm length cast. And Michael’s infected toe. That’s a whole other story that I wish not to recount.
It’s a funny mixture of excitement and dread at the mounting tasks. Our calendar for the rest of the year is filling and once more I can feel the rhythm of a new season beginning. One moment at a time. It seems I always need more patience; I always want more grace. And so it is a dance.
I walked into the kitchen yesterday morning to the drying rack overflowing with our passports and 20 dollar bills - all drenched. In what? I asked Michael why all four passports were drying on the dish rack. “It is hard to give Emma milk.” he answered in exasperation. And I understand. The demands of raising a one year old and three year old mixed in with a full life is hard. More messes and wet passports and we’re learning a thing or two about putting everything in its proper place. So this is my update, we did it! We moved! And it was hard.