Just call me Mrs. Crabby Pants

Remember last week? I do. Last week I went out with my girls (and by "girls" I mean a group of 30-something-year-old moms sans children! Totally fits the definition of girls, right? Right:)). One friend asked me how I was doing - in regards to packing and preparing to move. And before I could even answer she told me how impressed she is that I am handling it all so well. Ha! After I controlled my snorting/cackling, I informed her that I am CRABBY. Pretty much all time. 

Moving does that to me. Especially in the final weeks leading up to the move. I have this sense of not belonging. Wishing the move was DONE. And at the same time not wanting to leave. Trying to enjoy every "last" here AND getting our plans for there solidified. Feeling stuck somewhere in the middle. 

But LOOK! I had a fun, not crabby night with my girls. And I painted a picture of a tree!!! And it looks (mostly) like a tree. I was shocked. Because while I am a little bit crafty, I am not in the least bit artistic. 

(Apparently these paint-a-canvas places are all the rage these days. Who knew I was so trendy? Not I.)

So I thought crabby was bad. Then today happened. As in the moment when I went into full blown PANIC mode. As in I was looking around my house and realizing that it still looks very much like we live in this house and NOT like a house that is boxed up and ready to move in a mere 18 DAYS!!!! As I looked around I was overwhelmed with the realization that every thing we own needs to be dealt with. Either packed or tossed or distributed elsewhere. 

It's daunting. Everything! Every tube of Chapstick. Every mismatched (and matched) sock. Every Lego. Ever Polly Pocket. Every paper, pen and pencil. Every book. All the kids' artwork and "treasures". Big things like picnic tables and kayaks. Medium things like dollhouses and scooters. Small things like shoes and hats. Everything we own. 

And it's not just as easy as throwing it in a box mindlessly. First I must evaluate the item. Do we need this? Do we want it anymore? If not, then what? Sell it. Donate it. Or pass it along to someone else who can enjoy it. All of which needs to be done somewhat covertly otherwise my children tend to UN-do all my sorting and packing. Let's just say our definition of what we need varies greatly. 

(We are equal opportunity diaper buyers and users. Apparently. Oh and duck tape across the box = not storage!)

One would think that since this will be our TENTH move, that I would be good at this sort of thing. One would think wrong. I loathe moving! Sure I now realize that packing paper is pretty much unnecessary - that's what towels and sheets are for! And a packing tape dispenser-thingy-majig? Yep I own one of those PLUS six spare rolls of tape. Who doesn't?! And I keep my boxes (broken down in a storage room) between moves - saves a lot of work. But I still really dislike the whole process. This move seems to be especially challenging as I am trying to sort stuff into three categories as I pack it. 1. Storage. 2. Need at my parents house (at some point throughout the next year). And finally, 3. bring on the road with us this summer.  It's complicated. 

And I am probably predicting our needs all wrong. Something we NEED will inevitably be buried somewhere deep in the storage abyss while something we could totally live without will be taking up precious real estate in our Town & Country. It's gonna happen that way. I just know it. But what I really hope happens is this...in a year when we move for residency and finally open the majority of these boxes that I realize I did a good job of purging the junk and we are pleasantly surprised to find items we love and need and will use in these boxes. I really hope it goes down like that. Because I am working really hard at being selective of what makes the cut. I am tired of packing, moving and storing junk over and over again! This is finally the move in which I say NO MOVING JUNK! (Which is hard since I have hoarding tendencies. I am just too sentimental and attached to stuff!)

All this to say, moving is hard. And it's making me crazy! But I know we are going to make it. History has proven that fact 9 times over. The getting there is just no fun.