Really and truly

My name is Tracy and I am never moving again.

Ever.

Really.

12 times in 23 years and that's that.

Let's hope the neighborhood doesn't go to seed.

Because I'm gonna be the little old lady hobbling up the same front steps FOREVER.

Although if the contractor doesn't stop touching up the #&%^&*&^#($^(*^(#*^$)^)@#^%)^#%)*^ paint and start finishing some other stuff I am going to club him like a seal and then I will have to spend the rest of my days in jail.

I hear you can pack pretty light for lifetime imprisonment.

standard issue king size beds

They need to start giving out King sized beds to anyone with a child. Okay, maybe to anyone with more than one child.

This morning Stu arrived in our bed at 4 something. Julia followed at 5:50. When the cat showed up too Marc escaped (with a huff and a puff) to Stu's room. It was actually an improvement on the last couple of nights.

I love them all. I understand their need for reassurance this week. But I need to get more than 3 hours sleep without someone on me, nudging me, or not being able to move my limbs in my bed. Ditto on the 5:40 am proclamations of "Mama!!! I have a joke for you!!!"

(the non exhausted cranky part of me - who is pretty small right now... hello? non cranky part? You in there? - feels pretty special that they all think I can make things better when I feel like my head is going to explode.)

I need a Timmy's run. They need to start delivering. Or hooking up an IV to my bedroom.

steam to spare?

Ooof.

I am running out of steam. 3 sleeps until the move. We are mostly packed. I think. Sort of. Not so much. This is what happens when you move 2 blocks away is that there are a lot of things that don't need to be well packed and you think you are doing okay and then you open your storage room and wow, look at all that stuff.

My house that was supposed to be painted and new kitchen counter and backsplash installed and basement ceiling finished etc etc in 2 weeks (yes I thought it was very optimistic) is on week 5 of work. And my counters, the ones my contractor seemed to find me stressed about 2 weeks ago (since they were only supposed to take 2 weeks to arrive - I didn't ask until we were at 3 weeks... that's relaxed for me!!) are in Home Depot terminology "Back Ordered" with no idea on potential arrival time. I have a dismantled basement ceiling and for some reason seem to be getting 4 coats of paint of the walls? And ceilings? I've now hit the "just finish it" stage. Fini. Basta.

I've taken measures (WHEN is the world going to listen to me when I suggest in a nice, polite CALM- really it was calm - voice that we follow up) to get us countertops in 10-14 days - or rather I've made the calls and the contractor is insisting on placing the order.

I may follow up with the counter place this afternoon. I'm not taking any more chances. I am approaching KATN Mode (kick ass take names). Marc loves this mode (as long as it's not his ass of course...)

Marc is down with a bad bad bad case of a stomach bug that has put him out of commission for the last 2 days. Poor guy, new job and moving. But this type of things is quite common for us.

It would help if the tenants weren't moving in the day after we move out. But such is life.

I have no clue where I am going with this post. To bed is not an option, thought the grey, rainy Luxembourg-like weather is conducive to afternoon napping. Unfortunately my kids are not of the same opinion.

This time next week this will all be over. Yeah!

Deja-vu

A year ago today men arrived at my house and began "packing" our belongings for our move from Luxembourg back to Canada.

I use the word "packing" lightly, as it was (I hope) one of the worst packing jobs ever. After 3 days I thought the hell was over and boarded the plane to visit friends in Stockholm with happy thoughts of vacations.

Of course that came back to bite me in the bum a month later when the container arrived and the real hell began. (I have to admit, I hadn't been impressed with the packing and feared the arrival, but denial was a better vacation companion than worry). I failed to see logic in most of the packing - bubble wrap around quilts, but picture frames tossed into boxes? Our laptop unceremoniously tossed in the top of a box that wasn't even marked fragile?

The "day-helper" that the movers hired on this end didn't help - he stunk of stale cigarettes and looked like he was sporting a bad hangover. And he kept hollering at me. Ugh. I don't do drunks well (and yes, I can confirm that my drunkdar is usually about 99.8% accurate).

I have moved a lot in my life. At least I think it's a lot. My parents split up shortly before my 15th birthday and I have moved 12 times since then. My poor kids are on their 3rd move each at the tender ages of 4 and 6.

So you'd think that I would be a pro at this by now, right?

I used to be. I used to rock at moving. 2 moves ago I had charts and rooms numbered and lists. Seriously.

This time? I can't get going. This week was supposed to be my "big" packing week, and I have got very little accomplished. And the sitter is leaving in 10 minutes to go on vacation until after we move.

I could blame a lot of things, trouble getting boxes (I know, sad, so sad), to the teeny tiny-ness of this house which really isn't conducive to boxes. Or that the contractors who are doing a great job at our new house have not yet got to a stage where we can put too much in the house (which would facilitate things, as it would mean not tripping over boxes) and that the carpets are only being laid next Wednesday.

But what I really think is : you only get so much moving mo-jo in your life and I've used mine up.

And now I will go and find a rock to crawl under - if I can even get out of the house in the mess I've made.