Boxes

Everybody moved into a new house
within days of moving into a new
house.

It's amazing how much of our life fits into boxes--and how much doesn't. Nevertheless, over the past year we crammed it all into boxes and a truck, and moved it all a couple hundred miles away. Now that it's been a year-ish, here's how that's gone:

First, Matt acquired a super-awesome dream job (second only to professional fishing, which wasn't available).

Then, we devastated told the kids. Number 3 was probably only upset because the first two were, but the news wasn't easy on anyone as it sank in. "Will I have a new Grandpa when we move?" Naomi asked in a tremulous voice.

The final step, then, was to actually make the move, the only fun part of which was picking out a new house. So that's what we focused on. Here was the (partial) list of demands:

Naomi making beds for her stuffies in
in the new, open space.

"Doorframes for climbing"
"A stream in the backyard"
"Climbing trees"
"A pink room"
"A tree swing"

And so on. Obviously, many of these would be beyond our (reasonable) control, and therefore our kids insisted they liked the old house better and never wanted to move. Great.

For the first time, all three girls began
sharing one room! They all still love
it.

Nevertheless, we took a house-hunting trip the only weekend it snowed that winter. The kids started calling it a "vacation" since we were traveling by car, staying in a hotel, swimming in a pool and eating in restaurants, and Matt and I were delighted to find that we'd kept our kids' standards and expectations so low that they entertained such a high opinion of a trip that was certainly no vacation. Fortunately, our realtor's stand-in (he was working with other clients) was a grandma who seemed to genuinely enjoy our kids, and even babysat them in the van for us while we quickly scoped out a house or two.

We soon noticed several themes: houses that seriously needed updates (wood you like a wood-paneled living room?) and houses that seemed to use strict fencing to carve out any yard they could in a sea of suburban backyards. Or they were just too far away from the rest of the city for this city-girl's liking. One may have fit the bill, but already had several offers, not to mention a potentially weird neighbor.

When life gives you boxes, make a
reading nook.

Bummer! So the next week, the girls and I stayed home while Matt did some solo house-hunting. A few phone calls later, we were bidding on a house I'd never seen in person, but in a neighborhood I definitely liked. Correction: with trees and a stream I definitely liked!

Apparently, a lot of others also liked the house/trees/stream, because if you believe the realtor(s) involved, several offers came in after ours. Nevertheless, we were first, and had a good story (three charming children to raise), so we won!

Six weeks later, we were the proud owners of two houses, and Matt moved in to house #2. The girls and I, of course dying to see our new digs, made a weekend trip to the area. It began with a huge thunderstorm and lots of traffic. Fortunately, the traffic ended--but not the storm. Our stream turned into a raging river (okay, pretty cool) and we could barely see the trees through the rain, so the weekend was hardly representative of what we expected our Kansas experience to be like. We camped out on the floor, ate from folding chairs in dimly lit rooms, tried to imagine where our furniture would go, and ventured outside whenever there was a break in the rain. I freelance wrote because freelance work is never convenient. We also ventured to a local indoor ferris wheel for some fun, and ate delicious barbecue.

Lots of help! Elise likes quick
transitions between biking
and not biking sometimes.

The girls were thrilled with the stream, the climbing trees in the front yard, the balconies and other structures to climb in the living room, the soft carpet, the cul-de-sac to bike in and the two playgrounds we could walk to when the weather would be better. In fact, as the weekend ended, they lamented having to leave, and very honestly felt torn in two for the next couple months.

Selling our house in St. Louis, while painful for at least four of us, nevertheless went as easily as could be. We sold it on Facebook, after two showings. The only hiccup (or maybe we should compare it more to a ruptured appendix for impact?) was that the rain that annoyed us on our trip to Kansas actually destroyed us in St. Louis. As near as we can tell, shortly after we arrived at our new home for a visit, rain started building up in our basement and turning into a small stream under our carpet. With Matt 4 hours away, I borrowed my dad's wet vacuum and started vacuuming up gallons of water. For hours. And the next day I did it again. It took us until the end of that day to realize that water was continually leaking into the basement. Fortunately, the buyer didn't back out and we were able to alleviate this and several other concerns. Whew!

Naomi covered whole sheets of
packing paper with drawings.

Meanwhile, Matt was getting the new house fixed up, with a few updates that would be miserable to try to do after we arrived and sleeping in the dog-hair-covered basement in the meantime. My job as a single parent for four days a week seemed a lot easier than that.

And it actually was. While we wouldn't have wanted the single-parenting arrangement to go on for too much longer, we actually survived the phase rather well. We held a movie night every week, stayed busy with activities, talked to Matt individually every night on the phone and did way fewer dishes. And we tried three new types of pancakes (the strawberry pancakes were pink!)! On the other hand, I got a bit tired of pancakes, quesadillas and pasta, and Naomi developed nighttime fears. Plus the water in the basement would've been a great problem to hand off to "the one that doesn't mind dirt and smells," at least for a few hours.

The move, while no picnic, also progressed smoothly. We arrived while the painters were still finishing, having convinced them that no, really, our stuff would be arriving the next day, but managed to kill some time, partly by watching a baby owl be taught to fly in our yard. So really, it was no trouble. The next day, our things arrived bright and early and were unloaded by afternoon. And the neighbors were nice, and not weird.

Ever since the first big move to North Carolina, I've noticed that it takes a year to move. You move in, you start to get comfortable, you start to meet people, and you start to finally feel at home. But it doesn't really gel until you re-move in (rearranging all the stuff you unknowingly put into the wrong places) and welcome a season for the second time. Matt didn't believe me, but I think our goals diverge sometimes.

Elise is queen of Paper
Mountain. She was annoyed
when her kingdom
was eventually dismantled.

To the kids, a year sounded unfathomable. And I get it--when you've only lived a few of them, years are a long time. It's like saying, "Kids, this will feel normal after about 1/6 of your life has gone by." For me, that would've been 6 years, and  I would've been less than thrilled.

So we began the long, slow process of unpacking and moving in, knowing that getting the stuff in place is only half the battle, but was one we could reasonably conquer. At first, the new house + tons of boxes and paper wrapping were such a huge novelty we needed little else to keep our minds and bodies occupied. The girls quickly moved into box homes, complete with garages and paper food, and cheered every time something familiar and loved was unpacked. Everyone helped with unwrapping, and especially Kalina, who really made a dent. We slowly figured out what new furniture we needed and what we could do without, so that by early fall we were finally done with most of our boxes and piles. Still, a year later, pictures are sitting around waiting to be hung and an entire room seems kind of up in the air, but that's what this summer is for, right?

And then we began getting to know our surroundings. Walks in the neighborhood, and occasionally even just walking out the back door, introduced us to tadpoles, turtles, fox kits, owls, herons, rabbits, squirrels, cool bugs, fish, snails and plenty of other wildlife, if not to human neighbors. We're still waiting to see a deer in our yard, and still hoping to meet kids in the neighborhood Kalina's and Elise's age (we've met two 4-year-old girls, however).

We admittedly haven't seen as much of the actual city and its attractions as we should have by now, not really being the city types. But we'll get there. We're enjoying barbecue for sure, though. And we've had our share of setbacks: such as the water in the basement, twice, two weeks after we had our fluffy new carpet installed, and when water had apparently never made it into the basement before. Bummer. We added berry bushes and fruit trees, replaced a light fixture and our garage doors (plus added an opener!), painted, replaced the basement carpet, and made a few other improvements to the house. Like a sump pump.

Kalina's box home has two
levels.

To help ease the potential of too much boredom, loneliness and disconnectedness we were all likely to face, we signed up for a million activities. Homeschool co-ops, ballet, gymnastics, AHG--you name it. This possibly wasn't the best idea, and at the same time, the girls will actually have friends to invite to their birthday parties. We've also enjoyed lots of new experiences we wouldn't have even known about otherwise, from puppet making to alpaca farming to an actual PE class.

Even with all those activities, it's Naomi who's made most of our friends for us. Seeing as she's the only one of us with few enough inhibitions that she's willing to walk up to any random girl at the park and hand her a dandelion to blow, for instance, we can trace at least three family friendships, plus one more in the works, to the social skills of our four-year-old. Maybe the rest of us should learn the lesson that any random stranger can be our new best friend, as long as we give them a hug and a clover flower right off the bat.

We've enjoyed Kansas' relatively big skies, farm influence and the fact that even the teenagers are polite. And we like being in the west. The nature is everything we hoped it would be with a yard like this, and it's been a happy year despite all the change. Or because of it? Depends on who you ask... :)

Escaping the chaos of moving. Half a
couch is really all you need, right?

And here we are, a year later, still thinking a lot about people and experiences in St. Louis. But our backyard is broader, and so are our horizons. And thank goodness that first year is over.