FYI

Moving with four children = not so much fun. Especially when two of them are nursing, and BOTH parents are required to sit down every so often for a dose of calming, relaxing oxytocin via breastmilk release. . . Seriously, the last thing Lena or I need right now is to be calm or relaxed! We have boxes to pack! We need endorphins and anxiety to keep us going!

This move is really wiping us out in a way that our other moves did not. Or maybe we're just forgetting. Like how you can forget about the nightmare of having a teething baby once your toddler has sprouted his final molar, until you suddenly realize that your 3-month-old (can you believe Leo is three months old today?!) seems awfully teethy, and the horror of it all comes flooding back.

I was trying to be a really organized packer this time around. Our new house is not huge--our smallest yet--and I was thinking how neat it would be to just be able to have everything that goes together packed together. Things we wouldn't need frequently ready to go right into basement or attic storage, only the best of our best art supplies packed separately with other daily essentials. But a couple of hours ago, that idea flew out the window, and once again we're doing things via the clear, dump and tape method. Clear of a surface, dump it into a box, tape the box shot. Write "random shit" on top of the box (since we've moved rather frequently in the past few years, our boxes have gotten a full life's worth of use. It's always interesting to see what they were used for 13 months ago--the last time we moved. "Random Shit" is written on top of possibly 25% of our held-together-with-packing-tape boxes), and add it to the pile. This is why--despite moving every 13 months or so--we have some things hanging around that should not have made the cut FOUR moves ago! But they just keep slipping into a box by the skin of their teeth thanks to the clear, dump and tape method.

I am, at this very moment, nursing Zeben to sleep. In case you were wondering why I'm blogging instead of packing. Tomorrow night, in the new house, I will put him to bed in the kids' room for the first time (up until now he's been going to bed in the family bed every night). He's getting the bottom bunk of the bunk bed. Such a big kid. This evening he said something funny, but Lukas--poor Lukas, hater of all things new and non-routine--was not amused, and I said something about how Zeben was, "small and very funny," (for those who don't know, this is a repeated line of Charlie's in the--much loved--Charlie and Lola show in regards to his little sister, Lola). And Zeben corrected me and said, "no, I'm BIG and very funny, not small and very funny." And Lukas--the grump--said, "you're not big OR funny." And Zeben protested, "but I am cute." Then Lukas--so dismissively--said, "Zeben, you're almost three, you're not cute anymore. You can't be big AND cute anyways." And then Zeben, not easily deterred, not even by his grouchiest brother, pointed out, "but I smell cute." Which of course gave all of us--even Lukas--a much needed chuckle.

And now he is asleep. And I'm off to finish packing for the last time in my entire life. When the day comes, they can bury us in our new backyard. Because we are never moving again.