Okay. See the above ramble? Does this make any sense? This is how I've been talking lately: wildly long-winded, confusing, fragmented, emotional/dramatic.
We are moving.
There. I said it.
It has been so difficult to talk about the move. When I 'fessed up to Bode and Gianna's teachers over a month ago (yes), I rambled so much that Bode's teacher looked completely perplexed. And when I (finally) finished my long winded narrative with the simple, declarative, "We are moving," she actually looked relieved, like, "Oh! Finally! I understand!" With Gianna's teacher, I walked up to her and couldn't even speak. She could see the emotions all over my face. Luckily, Miss Amy is a dear one, and treated me much like her 3 year old charges. She gave me a big hug, sat me down on a nearby bench, and told me to tell her everything. I told her everything, tears brimming, while she nodded sympathetically and rubbed my back. We both cried.
Sigh.
There is so much I have come to love about here, that I am going to miss so much.
And everything is just moving so fast.
I have had a really difficult time talking about it (see above).
Today, the movers came and packed up our house in record time. They arrived at 7:30 and left at 1:30. They still have a lot to do, but they got the majority of our precious life belongings stuff boxed up and ready to go. Tomorrow, they will return to find that I have opened 3 boxes, removed the contents of 2 boxes, and have added a considerable amount of stuff, in piles, to be boxed (things I thought I'd donate/toss, but emotion prevailed).
Since we have begun this move discussion with the children, we have made a conscious effort to be very slow, very forgiving, very informative about life these days, what we are doing and what is happening (and not happening). But today, when they came home and saw our walls lined with boxes, it must have overwhelmed them. Oh, so this is what it means, I can imagine them thinking. But what can they understand, really? We've tried to talk about things from moving our stuff in a big truck to flying in an airplane. But they won't get it all ("moving") in one piece. It will be a long process for them. So we are trying to take it slowly and explain everything. Sometimes we have to have the same Q&A each time we do something. But that's okay. I can't imagine how this must seem to them, when I am so emotional and confused myself.
This afternoon, Gianna was incredibly screechy and moved to tears over seemingly random things. Bode, since Thanksgiving, has been very quiet, off to himself, but then also squishy about hugs and love. He will announce, "I want a hug," and come over to me for one.
This morning, Bode asked me what he was made of and I drew a blank. "Um, you're made of...Bode." I answered as I buttered his toast, and thought about the million-and-one things I needed to do before the movers arrived. "I don't want to be made of Bode!" he sputtered. "I want to be made of love!" I dropped the knife and ran over to him, "Oh honey, of course you are! You are, you are, you are! You are made of love! Absolutely!" We hugged, sitting on the kitchen floor for a long time while I repeated, "You ARE made of love. You are, you are..." When he was convinced of my answer, he asked me what love is made of. I told him that it is a golden, twinkly light that shines all around us and lives in us. "Is it weak, or is it strong?" he asked. I thought about this, and then answered, "It is gentle, like when you are sad and you get a hug. It is soft, like when you are sleepy and cozy in your bed." Then I thought of my mom and a recent dream I had, and added, "But it is also strong. So strong that you feel like it could knock you down. It is like a waterfall, just pouring over you."
I have to remember to love these babies, love RWF, and love myself through this.
The deets:
We are moving to Portland, Oregon.
We are moving soon.
We have a rental house.
We have a school.
We are excited, nervous, hopeful and...sad.
Happy week to all.
xo
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