Been a wee quiet around these parts lately. This is what happens when you decide to change just about everything in a matter of weeks and toss yourself into a state of … waiting.
The house is on the market. I’ve torn through the house removing almost all the superfluous (for now) knowing full well there may be even more editing to come. Truth is, I could get rid of more than half of what’s left if only for the sense of “unloading” and the promise of a “reset”. What I have found is that once you let go of some things the sense of FREEDOM that comes with it is addicting – and it becomes so very easy to do more.
The thing is, it’s hard to write about new things when all you want to do is simplify. STUFF has become a weight of sorts. Normally this time of year would be like my Olympics. I train all year for this! Shopping! Special discounts! All the pretty things…
But my now solid philosophy of seriously considering purchases and really only making investments gets in the way of that. I should be sharing all the pretty things and all the fun opportunities I stumble across, but this year it doesn’t feel (pardon my use of this very overdone word) authentic. (Oooh, I may have gagged a little as I typed that.)
This is an extreme position. I know this. I think that’s what happens when you make major changes – you stake yourself in the ground on the side of your great change because it’s the equivalent of making a full-on commitment to your decision. WE ARE MOVING. EVERYTHING MUST GO. Because when you subtract, you cannot add.
It’s not logic.
But there is no logic in limbo, and that is where we are right now. A house on the market, we live at the whim of lookers and buyers. We don’t know when it will sell or what house we will move to. We have a preferred timeline, but our preferences mean exactly nothing. Managing this as an adult is really rather challenging, but managing this for kids? I don’t think awful covers that.
Benjamin is really struggling. His tiny world is being uprooted. He’s changed schools twice in four months since we moved him to a private school last month. His stuff has been cleaned out and he has no idea what “moving” really means. He asks what will come with us, what the new house will be like, why we decided to move. He worries that everything is “different”. His little head needs things to be “the same” and predictable and “regular” and because it isn’t his heart is breaking wondering what he will lose next.
What he can’t see yet is what we will gain – and we have no way of explaining that to him or making it real and it is killing me. Kids don’t get the “it’ll get worse before it gets better” part. It just stays “worse”.
And so, we try to keep things as normal as we can. After school routines stay the same. Bedtime routines stay the same. Extra hugs and kisses are plentiful. Patience wears thin, but persistence is key. And for all the things that feel “lost”, there is Hanukkah just around the corner full of gifts and “new” and promises that he can take it all with him.
Because sometimes while you work on the hard stuff, the shiny distractions are life savers.