Stealing Some Fun While Moving

The unpackers arrived the day after the movers unloaded our belongings into our new home. Although they title made them sound like something out of Pulp Fiction, they were more like a cross between family therapists and room fairies.

First they settled a decade-long debate with my husband by telling him they made it their policy to only listen to the woman of the house, forever anointing me as the big boss. Then they went room to room, emptying boxes and carting them away to their waiting truck, never losing the beaming, reassuring smiles amidst our chaos.

A few hours into the day, when the piles of paper and empty cardboard boxes had completely taken over the house, they called the kids over to ask for their "help" jumping on the paper. Even Bella wasn't too old or too cool to get in on the action.

Seeing the wide grins on all three of their faces brought a tear to my eye, the first happy one of the day.

Check out the Wordful, Five Minutes Wordless, not so Wordless and Way-back wednesday fun! 

Picnic in an Empty House

There was no furniture, so we sat, criss-cross apple sauce, on the hardwood floor to have our first meal in our new home. So much sunlight was streaming through the window that the dust bunnies in the corners seemed like decorations. The kids could not sit still, even for the time to take this picture, much less eat any of the food at their feet. There were just too many empty rooms to discover, filled with mysterious tiny doors and strange little corners. The empty house echoed with their happy shouts to each other as they explored.

It was just three weeks ago, and although we've filled the house with our belongings, there are still unopened boxes in most rooms. But yet the kids still talk about the day we ate on the floor as though it was a distant memory, laughing about it around the dinner table.

Happy Wordful, not so Wordless and Way-back wednesday! 

Reconnoiter Mission is Now Complete

In a tough, no-nonsense voice, I gave the kids three simple rules before we toured our new home:

1. Don't touch anything.
2. No arguing over rooms.
3. Be polite.

I think I projected a cool and collected aura, but inside, I was a jamble of nerves. They were jet lagged, confused about another move, and exhausted from flying out that morning. How could I possibly expect them to behave?

But yet, they made me proud, shaking the hands of the current owners, answering questions about their names and their grades in clear and polite voices. No hair was pulled and no voices were raised in early negotiations for the big front bedroom. They walked with me from room to room, peering into nooks and crannies and dreaming of the hide and seek possibilities.

And when we stepped back out into the sunshine, they were unanimous in declaring,
"We love the house!"

Step 2 of Operation Move to Chicago: Reconnoiter the Area is now complete. Wish us luck with Step 3: packing.

Happy Wordful, not so Wordless and Way-back wednesday! 

Chocolate Balm for Raw Wounds

The house we left behind.

Three months later. The house standing in its place.

The wounds are still raw.

93 days ago, Bella and I walked through the deserted rooms of our house and bid them goodbye one by one. We held hands and told stories of the special event that took place in each, recommitting to memory the sight of the Christmas tree half-hidden by presents, the breakfast for dinner feasts, and the popcorn movie marathons. We wiped our tears and drove off to Ohio.

Thirteen weeks later, we headed back for a visit. We couldn't wait to reunite with all our friends. all our Our three day weekend was packed with plans to see as many friends as possible. There were sleepovers, birthday parties, lunch dates... But under all my excitement, I was worried.

I worried about how the kids would react to seeing our house invaded by strangers. And to be honest, I worried about how I would react.

But our house was gone. Not torn down, but so transformed that it was unrecognizable.

And when the new owners peeked out the front to see who was staring so intently at their home, I simply waved and went on my way. The house that they stood in was no longer mine.

That taken care of, we were able to move on to the less emotional parts of the visit:

• Chocolate feast at Chocolate by the Bald Man in New York.
• Bagels every morning.
• And reunions with beloved friends and babysitters.

Missing the Kindergarten Bus

These three boys grew up together. They shared birthday parties, trick or treat loot, and spent hours playing cars, trains, and eventually Star Wars.

All the while, I stood with their moms, my neighbors and good friends, and planned for the big day when all three would board the bus for kindergarten together.

That day was today.

Of course Jack was not on the bus with his friends, he was helping me clean out the garage of our new home and watching me wipe the tears that kept sneaking out and wetting my cheeks.

I knew that today would be a day full of tears, but I didn't think they would be lonely ones.

This is my Wordful, Wordless and Way-back wednesday post! Please excuse my teary post after an emotional day.

This is an original Chefdruck post. Please don't copy without my permission.

A Complex Game of Hide and Seek

This picture feels like it was taken months earlier, instead of just three weeks ago.

The kids had been running around, reveling in the hundreds of hiding places to be found amidst the maze of cardboard boxes. Hide and seek had never been so exciting before. But behind the thrill of the adventure and novelty lay sadness and fear of so much change. Bella's face, caught in a rare still moment, reveals the storm of emotions brewing within.

Happy Wordful, Wordless and Way-back wednesday!

This is an original Chefdruck post. Please don't copy without my permission.

A City Girl Greets the Midwest

I've been a city girl for most of my life, first in Paris, then in London, Washington, and New York City. I was in denial that we had outgrown our New York City apartment for over a year before we finally moved to New Jersey. And it's taken me close to five years to really embrace being a Jersey Girl with tomato plants and Little Tikes plastic toys in her backyard.

I still read New York Magazine cover to cover every month and devour the New York Times Dining Section every Wednesday, taking notes on all the newly opened restaurants. Just so I can pretend that I'm still in the know, that I can still pass for a New Yorker. It's a reach with my beat up minivan and my mom clothes, but a girl can dream, can't she?

When we landed in Ohio on Sunday and started driving around and spotting all the main streets already decked out in full 4th of July regalia, I realized that we would soon be living in a completely different America from the one I've come to know. 

Change is scary, especially as you get older. Everything seemed so different to me: the landscape, the houses, and even the highways!

But on our last night in Columbus, I caught a glimpse of something great. We went to a Columbus Clippers game in downtown Columbus. We had never taken the kids to a baseball game before. They were all proudly wearing their Clippers hats. When we reached the top of the stairs, the field lay below us filled with players in red and gray uniforms, lit up by spotlights. The crowd was cheering and Michael Jackson's Thriller was playing. The next player came up to bat and hit a home run. The crowd went wild.

We all stood under the lavender sky, mesmerized by the action at our feet.

Somehow, in all our time in New Jersey, we had never made the time for a Newark Bears game or a Yankee game. At the beginning of each summer we put it on our list of things to do and at the end of each summer we said, "well, next year..." 

Two hours later, our bellies full of barbecue and popcorn, having done the wave and almost caught two home run balls, we walked out of the stadium with our first Columbus memory. After just a few days here, having cheered for the Clippers as they lost 4 to 12, we got a glimpse of life away from the big city. And we liked it.

Guerrilla Warfare Replaces the Tears

When the tears stopped flowing, and the doors stopped slamming, I thought the storm had passed. I thought the kids had accepted the news of the move, swallowed the bitter pill, and chosen to focus on enjoying the rest of their time here. Truth be told, I was a little surprised at how easily they got beyond leaving behind the world as they know it.

It turns out that they traded in the tears for a more subtle form of expressing their anger and confusion.

I went to Columbus earlier this week to find a house. Ever since my return, each child has been acting out in their own way. And life around here has been absolute hell, exhausting my patience and making me question whether my skills as a mother will get us through these next few months.

Bella's default expression is anger nowadays and even the sight of peas instead of broccoli on the kitchen table is enough to send her stomping up the stairs, making the entire house shake. She's talking back and rolling her eyes like a jaded teenager and I can't imagine that any of the other 1st graders can cop that level of attitude.

Jack, uncharacteristically, has been the worst. He alternates between calling me the worst mother in the world and covering me with kisses and begging to be allowed to stay home from school next year. He's been biting and hitting his sister for no reason and randomly hurls toys across the room.

Juliette has been increasingly creative in her choice of locations to void her bowels. She squatted in the side yard like a dog the other weekend and squeezed out some little round pellets in the green spring grass. Today she threw a fit when I suggested she go to the bathroom when we were leaving to go pick up Jack from school. Minutes later, she was leaning up against the pollen-covered minivan with pee running down her legs. I had no change of clothes, not even a spare diaper, so I had no choice but to put her in her car seat naked on a blanket. Instead of looking contrite, she looked pleased as punch and commented, "Wow! This is cozy!"

This evening, we attended Jack's preschool annual Fun Fair, an event the kids had been looking forward to for weeks. There were pony rides, soft bunnies to pet, and a multitude of prizes to be won. I even saw a few fleeting smiles on Bella's face as she shoved hordes of bean bag stuffed animals and other loot in her pockets. Immediately after the fun fair, we headed to dinner to our favorite restaurant, a family Italian restaurant that promptly brought out heaping plates of butter bowtie noodles for the kids.

But the night went rapidly downhill as soon as we sat down. There was fighting, crying, and even falling off of chairs. By the time the check came, I was ready to start crying louder than the kids. I hurried to get them into bed so I could crawl onto the couch, utterly defeated.

At this point, I think I preferred the crying over this guerrilla warfare.

Decluttering: My Own Twisted Home Makeover Show

Every once in a while, I get sucked into one of those home makeover shows on TV. I shove the toys off the couch and pile a few deflated blue pillows behind my back to settle into its beat up pillows to laugh at the pathetic slacker family living in a sloppy home, completely overwhelmed by their clutter and chaos. Then the makeover team arrives and while the harried mom is whisked off for a massage and makeover, the team goes to work fixing up her home. In an afternoon, without breaking a sweat, they turn it into a sparkling showpiece and the mom returns delighted and relaxed to tearfully inspect her new home.

Yesterday I got off the couch and became that woman I normally scoff at. Our real estate brokers came at 9 to walk through the house and give me some "advice" to stage the house for sale. It took about an hour for them to point out every poor decorating choice, every spot of peeling paint, and every picture in the wrong place. They "suggested" that I remove most of my kids' toys as well as my desk and my computer until the house is sold, which will probably be at least three months from now.

And that was that. No miracle team to transform my home while I get a makeover and new clothes. Just a long, long list of tasks and no massage in sight.

Happy Wordful, Wordless and Way-back wednesday!

A New Day, a Better Outlook

When I woke up this morning, I took advantage of the school holiday to linger in bed a little longer, bracing myself for more stormy sessions with Bella. I tiptoed downstairs to find all three kids snuggled up together on the couch under a blanket watching the Backyardiggans peacefully.

I sat down on the couch and they happily draped themselves over me. Bella gave me a big kiss on the cheek and said, "Mommy, I'm so excited about my Yorkie. Thank you so much for letting me get a dog. You made me the happiest I've ever been in my life." No more tears, no more, "I hate you." A good night's sleep and the promise of a dog enabled her to swallow the bitter pill of our move.

I then began the next part of my Go Ohio campaign, a campaign I have subtly called, "Let's Make Every Day We Have Left Here the Greatest Day Ever!" I scheduled Bella's first ever sleepover in our house with her best friend. Soon she was dancing in the kitchen, singing about how this was the best day in her life.

Now she's sleeping soundly in her pink polka-dot sheets, with her friend nestled in next to her. They colored eggs, danced to Hannah Montana, and watched a movie with popcorn, and giggled about their stuffed animals. Her laugh rang through the house, reassuring me that she would survive our move.

Meanwhile, Steve and I sat in the dining room as one team of real estate brokers and then another delivered the crushing blow that our house is now back to the same value we bought it for five years ago. One broker even tried to spin this as a positive, "Just think of it this way, your stock portfolio may have gone down by 40% or more, but your house value only went down by 20% from its high so it was really a better investment."

I didn't know if I would be able to endure another day like yesterday, so chock-full of tears and anger. But in the light of the morning sun, things seemed a little more tolerable to Jack and Bella. Hopefully a good night sleep will work its magic on me tonight, making me thankful that at least we haven't lost money on our house!

Kids, We're Moving

When I reached over and turned off the TV, I still didn't know exactly how I was going to break the news to them. I just knew that it was time, that I could not hold our secret in a second longer. I had wanted to tell them separately but I worried that if I waited any longer they might find out and feel betrayed.

As soon as the words began to come out of my mouth, tears started flowing down my face.
"Kids, I have something difficult to tell you, something that I don't know how to tell you. We're going to be moving."

I had full expected Bella to be upset at the news but I still was not prepared for the depth of her grief. Her sobs came hard and fast as she crumpled onto the couch in a heaving heap. I opened my arms and she leaped into them. We rocked back and forth, both of us crying freely. Jack wormed his way onto my lap too, and we sat swaying and wailing loudly for a bit, nothing like the controlled soothing speech I had imagined delivering. It seemed enough to just let the raw emotion flow for a bit.

Once I was able to pull myself together, I began my Ohio sales pitch, selling myself in the process. Just imagine, I said, we'll be so close to Daddy's job that we'll see him at breakfast and when he comes home at night, we'll be able to still play in the yard with him! And we can find a big house that you'll help me pick, you can even choose your room! We won't be so worried about money anymore and we'll be able to eat out in restaurants whenever you want!

With each new point, Bella's tears would slow for an instant but she would soon start wailing again about not wanting to leave her friends and not wanting to move. "I don't want to move! It's going to be so hard! I'm so angry with you right now! Why do we have to do this! You're the worst mom in the world!" I just rubbed her back and said over and over again, "I know. I know. I understand. I'm sad too to leave my friends."

The sales pitch started to work its magic on Jack though. He looked up at me and asked, "But why do we have to move to another country?" Once I explained that Ohio was actually part of the same country as New Jersey, his tears dried up and he was content just snuggling up next to me, ready for our adventure.

Bella seemed inconsolable. Her cries just kept increasing in intensity, and my tears were dripping in her hair, an even mixture of guilt and my own grief over leaving. Finally, when I had run out of energy and silver linings, she made her demand. "In Ohio, could we get a dog? Just like Sasha and Malia? They got a dog when they moved to Washington. Please???"

Desperate to see a smile on her face, I nodded and said we would talk to Daddy. Although she still had bouts of crying for the rest of the day, it was balanced with some optimism and excitement. We turned a corner in what is sure to be a long few months until we get to our new home this summer.

But really, Obama, did you have to make your puppy quest so public?