NOT The Hard Work of Writing Part 2

See, the problem with being away from a blog for so long is the idea of writing this post explaining why I’ve been away for so long. This is especially true if your last post is called “Part One” of something. The weird thing is that I finished writing part two the day after I posted part one. But I have to admit I’m a little nervous posting these proclamations about writing. Unless I’m angry and on a rant like I was in part one. I’ve calmed down. Things have happened. But I still stand by my assertions and will post part two later this week.

It’s not just my nervousness about telling fellow writers, most of them waaaaaay better than me, that I think writing is not hard that’s kept me away from my blog. It’s not even just procrastination or trying to enjoy some of the great summer we had. Nope, the thing that’s been keeping me busy is that we bought a new (to us) house and moved.

Moving is nothing to some people but we were in our same house for many, many, many years. Long before the kids came along. And that is a lot of stuff crammed into a small two bedroom house. We really should have moved after Ben came along but Sam didn’t want to move back then and we didn’t want a lot of upheaval for him along with a new brother coming along and… well, you know how I can procrastinate. Staying put just seemed easier. But my husband and I, and my dad and our fantastic former neighbour, Jason, still set about updating the house. And in the back of our minds, Vince and I wanted to have it ready for possible sale. We replaced or updated most everything in the house and there were renos, renos, renos. But moving was always just an idea and not one I took seriously. I just thought the reality of moving all our stuff and preparing for sale and viewings was too big an obstacle.

But one thing led to another and then another and renewing our mortgage turned into talking with a real estate agent and, before we knew it, our house was up for sale and we had found a house we loved. The house was in the same school catchment area for the boys and on a bus route for both their schools. And on a cul de sac. And with about double the living space we had before. Not hard to do when you start with a small house but still, a great big change for us.

We moved on the hottest, most oppressively humid days of the year. Honest. The heat and humidity broke weather records. The papers and books we packed and unpacked were moist with the humidity. You can only imagine how sweaty we, and our helpers, were. The whole actual part of moving is all a kind of stressful blur now that I’ve blocked out of my mind. I think moving is like having a baby. Once everything settles down to a new kind of normal you just block out how bad it was so maybe you might be able to do it again.

But it’s been great too. I encourage you to do it if you’ve been putting it off or trying to stretch your space while knowing damn well there’s just too little of it. The boys are thriving on a cul de sac instead of the very busy street we lived on (the cul de sac is really just off the busy street we lived on so the move was only up the street). They’re loving their own rooms and enjoying personalizing them. We are getting used to the quiet outside our window, the smaller lawn to mow, the fenced back yard the dog is enjoying, and getting to know some great neighbours. There are still lots of boxes left unpacked but most of them have been unpacked and we know where to find our clothes, the winter boots and hats and gloves (because that weather is on its way). New furniture is coming together and I think we’ve finally decided on a permanent place for our garbage bucket. If I stand at the sink, I still habitually reach my right hand out to open the cutlery drawer but quickly realize that’s where the dishwasher is.

The odd thing about the move was how quickly we adapted to all of this. Ben was against moving. He didn’t understand what it meant and at one point I realized he thought he had to leave all his stuff and move into a house with other people’s stuff. Lots of explaining and listening was important to help him with the idea of moving. Sam, the nostalgic, sentimental guy that he is, really wanted his own room but hated to leave all the memories in the house, as did I. But I think helping him understand helped me. When I kept telling him that a house is just a place and it’s the people inside that make it a home, I was telling myself that too. And when I told him we were taking our memories with us and that some lucky people would be making new memories in that house, I needed to hear that too.

It took no time for us to adjust to the new house. It feels like we’ve been here forever. Ben’s first day here, there was a knock on the door and the request for him to come out and play. That was it. He’s been out playing with his friends at every opportunity since. Even when I tell him no, it’s pouring rain out, he’ll tell me he has a rain coat and rubber boots so he can go out. Sam loves his room and the new friends he’s made around here. And Vince and I love this place. The rooms, the layout, the size, everything.

More room, though, means more cleaning. And I don’t like that. Cleaning is sure easier though when you have lots of places to put the things you pick up around. You don’t even realize how much cramming you’ve been doing for years and how much tucking things away and piling things up you’ve done in order to stay in a small space. Until you start moving it out. We filled a humongous storage locker just to be able to make the house sensible enough to put on the market. And the stuff we threw out and donated and sold. Unbelievable!

So that’s where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing. I keep asking people how long I can use “the house is a mess because we just moved” as an excuse. I’ve been told six months and some people have even said a year. But the truth is there seems to be less of a mess now and even when there is a bit of a mess somewhere, it doesn’t quite bother me as much because it’s over there or over there instead of right in my face where I can’t get away from it. But I don’t think I can use moving as an excuse any more not to post on my blog. Or get back into more writing. Especially since I have a desk now. A space of my own where I can close the door. There are little knuckles knocking on the door the second it’s closed but the possibilities are there. But that’s for another post.

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