Getting our family moved from one home to another one 1,000 miles away had three stages:
3. The "I think we're finally moved." stage
As of a few days ago, our move is complete, since both all of our stuff and all of us are in our new home in California.
Because for a while, it was me, our stuff, and the kids in our new home, and Sean still working, full time, in Washington.
And "for a while," I mean three months.
Yeah. A full 90 days of solo parenting--90 days of bath time, dinnertime, tantrum time, middle-of-the-night puking time. Ninety days of staring at the microwave clock at 5:35 p.m. every weekday, thinking, "Doesn't something usually happen at this time?"
But, that's over now. When Sean arrived home last week for good, I broke into all four verses.
So. We moved to California, bought our first house, and now live within shouting distance of my parents. All in all... I'm not complaining. [Any more.]
So. We moved to California, bought our first house, and now live within shouting distance of my parents. All in all... I'm not complaining. [Any more.]
We left a lot behind in Washington, though. Family, precious cousins and best friends, friends that were family. None of that was easy. You can box up your junk in Uhaul boxes. You can't box up the people you love so dearly.
But coming back to California was a long-standing dream of mine--as is owning a house with a palm tree in the back yard. I can't believe that after nearly seven years of living in the Pacific Northwest, I've finally come home to the sunshine.
Pinch me.