Growing up, we moved around a lot. I remember packing everything into ABC Store boxes and turning around to quickly unpack within a matter of days in a new home, a new bedroom. My mom would instinctively know where everything went –the couch goes here, the dining table there, dishes in this cabinet, etc- and like clockwork, we were settled in. Things seemed to run much smoother. Perhaps it’s the kid in me that doesn’t remember the stress of reestablishing ourselves in a new neighborhood or the financial aspect of relocating or the aching muscles from lifting furniture and 50lb boxes. But the adult me has seen, understood, and experienced every bump on the road over the past few weeks. This move has been hands-down the toughest transition I’ve ever experienced in my life. There have been more than a few times where I found myself in a puddle of tears, thinking how this move was a huge mistake and praying to God for a re-do button.
Well I didn’t get a re-do button, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it appears promising. Things are slowly coming into shape and day by day we’re establishing new routines and settling into our nest and overcoming our Alison’s Relocations Disaster.
And when the chaos thins out, I regroup by digging deep into my pocket of pulling out a sliver of calm and adding water. Water can make almost anything better -an overheated car, a dying plant, a fish out of his bowl, a parched marathon runner- it also fixes my soul. It gives me a sense of clarity and renewal, and I can see that water is naturally engrained in my children as well. I love that. Whenever they get out of hand, we drop everything. I clap my hands and say, “Alright kids. Bathing suits. Outside. Now.”
I just love his faces. Wills seems to come alive whenever he’s around a body of water--big or small. His laughs and happy squeals are endless.
Sprinklers on the other hand, not so much --very very unhappy squeals.
Wills has always been Mr. Independent, strong willed, and headstrong, but lately he has climbed to a whole new level. His confidence and bravery is much bigger than his little body can hold. He’s rolling with the big kids, climbing the playground equipment as high as he can go, and attempting to keep up with their running pace --which is extremely comical watching him run as his diaper butt twists from side to side.
One of our new routines is going to the park at dusk. If we’re lucky it would have cooled down to say 97*? Anything under 100* is a breath of fresh air. Hot. Hot. Hot.
And when I’m not pulling Wills down from high playground equipment, I’m pulling my other two babies out of trees. Ron wanted to show Krysta how he used to climb a tree as a kid. He made his way up, twisting and turning around branches until the tree limbs became too thin to proceed any higher. When his inner 8 year old was satisfied, he looked down and proudly said, “Look Krysta, this is how you climb trees!” Only one problem --he couldn’t remember how to get back down. Minor setback, minor setback.
As much as we’re digging running around under the summer sun in triple temp digits and getting stuck in trees, sometimes it’s nice to have an indoor tea party. You know, with AC. Krysta decks hers out--a white ball gown, a porcelain tea set given to her from her Nana, a tea pot filled to the rim with water and tiny saucers piled high with trail mix. My girl lives it up.
As days turn into weeks, the light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter. After all is said and done and we’re settled into a new rhythm of life, the anxiety and distress will taper off, and the moment I’ve been waiting for will come -the moment that makes all of the stress worthwhile- the moment of “awe” where everything falls into place and the weight is lifted from my shoulders, and I can just be.
On a side note: we've been having some pretty wicked skies! (currently obsessed with clouds and light)
Until next time, happy midweek!