Jack was home sick today - a horrible stomach bug that had us up all night. He's doing fine now - a classic 24-hour "ick" as my neighbor would say. He really hasn't been feeling great since the massive dumpster and Pod arrived at our house on March 28th -- our big, little guy got catapulted into the reality that we are, in fact, moving. We've never moved with kids before and despite our best efforts to talk to the kids, prepare them for the move, I don't think you're ever prepared to face the fear and anxiety of a 5-year old. Especially, when I haven't really dealt with it myself.
It's ironic that of all days to be home sick, Steve was home helping the contractors make decisions about various repairs we needed to do before putting the house up for sale. I think my face turned a shade of green - maybe because I'm getting sick too, but I think it's because for the first time since making the decision to move, I really felt it. I looked around the house thinking, this is really happening, I AM leaving BU and we ARE moving to (back to) Fredericksburg, Virginia.
The thing is, I hate moving. I don't hate the adventure of moving to a new place. But, getting me to pack is like trying to herd cats. Steve, because of necessity to keep his sanity, has always taken over the whole moving process because he knows I take my baseline level of craziness and kick it up a notch or two. Looking back at all the moves we've done in the past, I've come to recognize that my anxiety was about the amount of stuff that needed to be moved and my emotional attachment (whether valid or not) to the things we accumulated both as individuals and as a couple. Also, and this is where I get so frustrated at myself and my controlling behavior, I didn't like how Steve packed or cared for his stuff -- what wasted energy!
When I got home that Friday evening when the dumpster and Pod were delivered, Steve was getting right to the task at hand of packing because that's who he is, that's what he does. I, of course, had a flash-flood of emotions right there on the back porch and before thinking, accused him of not telling me this was "on the schedule." Then, I realized we weren't by ourselves, the kids have to see me be part of this process so that they feel safe and secure about it. It wasn't easy making decisions in that moment about what we are packing away, throwing away, and donating - and I'm now confronted with making these decisions on a daily basis. These past 8 years in Boston, at BU, have truly taught me that things are just things and the quality of life that we are striving for with this move is far more important than any material possession. Through this process, I've felt really good about contributing to an upcoming yard sale and donating to our local library and Veterans' association. I imagine Steve is in a bit of shock to see me be this helpful - of course, I did tell him he had to save some of our old cassette tapes. There's nothing like a little Erasure to get you moving!
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