As an Army brat, I grew up with the idea that moving was a great thing. There were new adventures to be had. Items that had gone missing (possibly under or behind large pieces of furniture) were rediscovered. New friends were waiting to be made. Moving was a wonderful thing! As a result, I was profoundly disappointed when we reached a point where we stopped moving as a family. It took me quite some time to realize this had happened, though, as I kept expecting to move for years.
Then, I married a Marine and I thought, "Oh, I can handle this, especially the moving part!" And to be honest, the first few moves really weren't too bad. I couldn't complain when it only took half a day to pack us and half a day to load us onto the truck!
But then we started having children. For those of you who don't have children, they come with an insane amount ofjunk stuff. As babies and toddlers, the general rule seemed to be that the smaller they were the more luggage I had to carry for them. Now that our girls are older, I don't have to schlep as much on a daily basis, but they have way too much crammed into their rooms.
Of course, Stretch and I have continued to add to our belongings from our travels, various duty stations, and other unnecessary stuff. As a result, this last move involved a 3-day pack out. Also, we moved from a 5-bedroom, 2-story home with a 2-car garage into a 3-bedroom apartment with a small basement storage room. And for some reason, our unit doesn't have any closets outside of the bedrooms.
This last PCS has been a good one for our family. But like any move, it has had it's challenges. Since arrivingin the "land of milk and honey," as Stretch has dubbed our home for the next year, I've spent a good chunk of time trying to figure out how to make everything fit and how to organize items without any bathroom cabinet space to speak of or a linen closet. For the first week, I felt like I was buried under an insane amount of boxes. Eventually, the boxes were emptied and removed and our home began to take shape.
Now that is what Stretch and I were doing. The girls, on the other hand, had another project. They were meeting other kids and getting to know the Army post that will be their new home. For the first few days, we barely saw our 9 year-old except when she stopped by to tell us where she was going or when she'd be back or when it was time for a meal. It was the most freedom she's ever had (and, yes, she lost her mind a bit). She loved it! Eventually, the 6 year-old realized she could also go out and play. She found that she was in heaven withlittle girls in the apartmentson both sides of oursclose to her in age. In fact, we'd only been in the apartment 2 days when she informed one neighbor that "everything is unpacked and all the boxes are gone." Um. In HER room.
And that's when I had my moment of clarity. No wonder I thought moving was great as a kid! While my parents did all the work part of moving, I was out making new friends and having adventures.