Transition Fatigue...

As of a week or so ago, I have declared (this particular) Big Move complete, with eight phases total, if you count moving into the house as Phase VIII. In my mind it is not a done deal until we have the ability to clean to the point that the house doesn't look like the aftermath of a major undoing (which is exactly what it IS), but technically speaking we are done with the moving part of the Move. Also, the pictures herein depict the parts of the house that make me feel the least unsettled, although I'm posting them less for emotional reasons than for the simple fact that I didn't want to make the effort to walk upstairs & capture the messiest of the mess. But trust me, it's more peaceful this way.

Couch: check. Couch feet: NOT check.

Overall I would call this move successful in that we had few broken/missing things. The Cat Daddy would point out that some of the things they did break/lose will be a little tricky to replace, which is a valid point. On the to-do list: figure out how to match a new bench to the 30-year-old piano.

We're settled to the point that we have sheets on the beds, curtains on the showers, places to sit & watch TV & surf the interwebs, and a kitchen full of food & 'wares. This leaves the remaining task of sifting through all the things and keeping (and finding homes for them) or tossing as appropriate. This is the hardest stage to be disciplined about.

The tidiest place in the house, even with snack remnants.

This is also where Transition Fatigue sets in. Transition Fatigue is when you're not quite settled, and you're a little tired of being not quite settled, and you maybe lose perspective a little bit. Transition fatigue is different for everyone, but it could be marked by a strange devotion to rules which may or may not be enforceable, an irrational desire to control that which is not actually within one's jurisdiction, and possibly general irritability at things which are different, such as home and grocery store layouts. It evens out over time, but in the moment the Transition Fatigued soul finds it unthinkable to stock the peanut butter next to the salad dressing, and where the heck are the craisins??

Transition Fatigue also produces muscle memory issues. Some are minor, like reaching right while the silverware drawer is now to the left, and moving toward the wrong corner cabinet to get the pasta strainer. Others are more major, or at least more painful, such as moving laundry from the washer to the dryer and smacking one's face into the post that is now between the two machines.

I haven't yet found a way of getting through a transition without the fatigue, but I'm learning to talk less and put more effort into keeping myself peaceful. I take most thoughts after 8pm with a grain of salt, and I don't write blog posts until after a run (you're welcome). I keep lists in my bullet journal so I have things to check off, and I remind myself that we're working HARD and accomplishing things each day. And I tell myself peaceful things, like "it's a bigger mess because you emptied more boxes," and "their brains will be OK, even with all the screen time."

All in all we're moving right along, getting settled and ready to send the Cat Daddy back to work next week (amen and amen). It's good to remind myself that I'm not the only one going through Transition Fatigue, and I do think that within a few weeks all of us will be more settled and certain individuals will maybe be following the wearing-underpants rule a little more consistently.

I'd also like to think certain individuals will also stop strewing things about like walking tornadoes, but I'm almost certain they did that even before the move, so there's that...

Phase VII: The Home-ish Stretch...

OK, by my count we're at Phase VII of (this particular) Big Move. We are in Massachusetts. We are living on base. In temporary lodging. Until our house is available at the end of the week, and our stuff arrives at the beginning of the next. And then the unpacking will commence in all its glory. So we might be in the home stretch, or perhaps the not-quite-the-home stretch; I haven't decided...

...I have decided, however, that no matter how much fun one is having, a month is a long time to be without a home base. The Littler One, my guy with so many feelings, is having a volatile time of things, and during his more unpleasant moments I keep saying to him in my head "I know, transition is SO hard!" It's a bit of a trick I think, understanding how difficult it is, and yet needing to teach how to express his difficulty. Because you know, Mommy's right there with you, Kid...

...I will now take a moment to talk about a pet peeve of mine: slow drains. Over the past month we've stayed in a HomeAway rental, several friends' houses, no fewer than three separate hotel brands, and now government lodging. I'm not sure if it's some sort of relic of modern building codes, or the simple result of people like me (long-haired types) bathing all the time and clogging up the works, but every hotel tub drained slow and made me feel sad, and a little gunky on my feet. Let me recommend right now to all hotels to please install the strainer-type drain covers in your tubs. Yes, there's a bit of an ew-factor in watching one's hair pile up at the drain, but this means that the hair is not going down in the drain, getting tangled in the structures and creating blockages with, like, a 10-times ew-factor to deal with later, while people are trying to shower while the grey water is stuck at their ankles and the maintenance guy, after 10 trials of Draino, eventually has to suck it up and snake the thing, and pull out that blockage, dry-heaving as he flops it into the trash with his shirt over his nose, because there are no words for that ew-factor.

On that same note our particular government lodging, where perhaps a little vintage and practical in function and form, does not mess around with the drains. Don't take anything in the tub you wouldn't want to lose forever, because if it goes down the drain it is gone. My feet thank you, government drains...

...But oh Good Gravy, government lodging. The wireless. Something has got to be done. There are people who are professionals at knowing how to keep things up & running. Can we please find them? And have them take a look at things? (after the 3-day weekend, of course)...

...The Cat Daddy makes fun of all my loyalty club key-tags, but at least one is still useful here. To be fair, when I went to Shaw's I asked if they still used them and the cashier said, "We haven't used those in a long time, Ma'am." I said, "That's alright, I haven't been in town in a long time." The Stop & Shop one is still apparently useful, though. So there's that...

...The greatest thing about this move is going back to a familiar place. This is the first move where we've had such a privilege, and as we've driven around getting reacquainted, I've had many moments of "Oh, I remember!" It makes me think about heaven, and wondering if at least parts of it might be like that as we greet old friends, and maybe parts of it will look similar to things we love(d) about our life here. Who knows. I do know that six months from now I may be updating from under several feet of snow, so I feel like I need to mark this time in early July and remember that being with dear friends and among familiar places is a gift...