Friday, October 1, 2010

I Suck At This

This moving thing. Maybe its because I moved around so much as a kid. Not just house to house but also state to state. Maybe its the physically draining process. Maybe its a ghost in my mind that hasn't presented yet.

I do know this though, I am sitting here on our couch, in our new living room, holding back tears for the old place. I want to just pack everything back into the truck and drive back to our home. The one that brought us so many memories. We actually lived in three seperate apartments in the same complex but each one holds a special place for me.

The first, we moved into a couple of weeks before Tommy and I got married. We spent our first days home from our honeymoon there. We laughed and learned and grew together. It was the place that secured our marriage.

It was also where My D was conceived and brought home to. It was on the third floor and if you have never lived up that many stairs while pregnant in 110 degree weather, you have never truly been a miserable human.

The second, we moved into two weeks after D was born. That was a suicide mission in itself. I had post partum hypertension and he had done quite a number on my lady bits coming out so it was not fun trying to get all that moved. I remember taking breaks to nurse him in the floor and not wanting to stop snuggling and keep packing.

I do have good memories of that apartment though. For one it was on the ground level so no more freaking stairs. I remember painting D's room a pale yellow. The thing I had been so excited about doing while pregnant but waited to do until we moved. We had company there a lot and my big boy had all of his early milestones in that house. This one was also the one where we conceived and brought Kai home to. It was the place that my boys met that first time and that moment makes me cry to this day.

The last one was where we really became a family for me. Again, two weeks after K was born, we moved into the three bedroom. We needed teh space desperately even though K slept in our room until he was almost ten months old. Its amazing how much stuff comes with that second kid.

K grew up so quickly before my eyes and D went from awkward toddler to big kid overnight there. We learned to work with and for each other. We hit milestones as a family, we had highs and lows, we enjoyed every second of it.

My Dane learned to swim in the pool this summer there, both of my boys had their first go in the swing there. The both learned to walk, pushing their little toy around and around and around the breezeway. We got to play in the snow this past winter and participated in an impromptu complex wide snowball fight that only ended because we all collapsed on the ground exhausted and laughing. The staff and our neighbors knew us by name and always greets us warmly. The atmosphere was more like a dysfunctional, weird- ass family than anything else. 

I know this place will have its own set of memories, good and bad. I know that my boys will love having a yard and neighbor kids their age to play with. I know in my head that this place is where we need to be but why is my heart screaming at me to pack everything and everyone back into the truck and run "home" before they realize we left?

I don't know what it is that makes feel so utterly lost. Panicky. I know it will pass soon and I will look back on that old apartment complex and wonder how we ever lived that way. Right now though, I mourn the loss of the familiar. The comforting. The ease. The memories. I also look forward to making new with my boys. It should be an adventure anyway.

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