moving


I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! HOORAY! This move is almost ready for the history books! After a week of stress and things not going the way they should. I’m almost done completely. There are a few more things that need to be brought to the new house from the old, and a bit more cleaning to do. Other than that, it’s done. Now comes the unpacking…remember how I said before that I didn’t think unpacking was as bad as packing? Well, that’s only because I was so blinded by the fact that I had to pack everything up, I couldn’t see how bad it was going to be to actually do it. It’s daunting, that’s for sure. All these boxes, and where on earth am I going to put all of this STUFF?

But anyway…right now, this very second, I’m just happy that things are almost over. I don’t know how much more I can take. Moving is a pain in the you know what….and I’d say that I’m never going to do it again, but there is a pond to cross at some point. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Until then, I’m just happy to have THIS move over and done with…..almost.

My kids are deprived. Really…they are. There are just things in their lives that they don’t know, which is a shame. I’m not sure they’ll ever know these things, in fact. For example, I was talking to my older children about music that I used to listen to, and how I had such and such album and this 45. They were absolutely clueless. Utterly. It was quite hysterical until I told them what it all meant (“You mean you didn’t have CD’S???”). Then I was told I was lame. Oh well…can’t win them all. At least I can say that I had cassette tapes. But that conversation was some time ago…here’s what happened today.

My little ones tend to like to play house. It seems to be a popular game among the 4-7 crowd, at least here at Casa Izz. Maybe it’s because I play it so well, they just want to be like me? Maybe I flatter myself too much…besides, I swear I don’t sound that mean when I yell at them to be quiet (“I told you to SHUT UP!!!”). So there they were, playing house in the living room, while I was trying to pack up the kitchen before the littlest Izzlets saw what I was doing (boxes filled with newspaper are a lovely thing to tear into and throw, I’ve come to find out). I had piled quite a bit of stuff onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, thinking it was pretty safe there. One of the things that I had placed on that island was a telephone. But not just any telephone…a telephone with a cord. Unbelievable, I know. It was this item that was instantly noticed, and whilst I was looking the other way, it was the item that was nabbed for their game. I can only imagine what was going through their little heads…”What IS it?” “It LOOKS like a phone, but what is this THING on it?” I’m sure it would have been fun to know.

So there they were, playing with the phone, unbeknownst to me for quite some time. When I finally looked over to where they were, to see what they were doing, I saw what they had taken. I would have instantly told them to bring it back (apparently in a really mean, rude way too), but when I noticed how they were playing with it, I almost fell off the chair I was standing on in hysterical fits of laughter. There was Victoria (she’s 5, by the way) and Finbar (the 4 year old from previous posts), and they were talking on the phone; Victoria had the receiver, and was talking on that part, and Finbar had the cradle, and was talking on that part to Victoria. Apparently, the cord was the means that their voices got to the other part of the phone. Their conversation was irrelevant, because the sight itself was so comical. I don’t think we’ve had a corded phone since they were born, and so this was really the first time that they had even seen one. And I guess it seemed logical to them that is the way one used such a thing. Plus, they were standing right next to each other (because as you know, one cannot go very far on a corded phone), which made it even funnier for what was the point in using the phone to begin with? But they were having a blast…until they all started fighting over the darn thing and Mom had to step in and shrilly scream at them and tell them to put the stupid thing away, in a really mean voice, because that’s the way moms sound. Until that time, however, I was in silent hysterics whenever I looked at them. It was quite a show, and one I won’t forget for quite some time.

My poor, deprived children who don’t even know how to use a corded phone. And while technology marches onward, it makes me wonder what else will become obsolete, and what my children’s children will look upon with wonder and amazement that seemed so common and ordinary to their parents. Time will tell, I suppose.

Amidst a flurry of activity, running around, getting the things in order that needed to be in order, and other things that have contributed considerably to my stress level in the past couple of weeks, we have closed on a house. I’ve been doing somewhat of a happy dance about it…it is going to be wonderful to not have to pay rent or a mortgage, and to be able to do whatever I want to the place. For example, I cannot wait to get into the garden and just start digging around…it’s my way of slipping back into my childhood of mudpies and sandcastles, and no one can tell me to stop because my digging will be useful, as it turns into tomatoes, lettuce, or green beans (although the latter might not be as appealing to the Izzlets). But my happy dance isn’t quite as happy as it could be yet…I still have to get this place packed up, which is something I’d much rather be able to wiggle my nose (you know, like on Bewitched) and then the house can magically pack itself up. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen, so begrudgingly I’ll get it all done the mortal way (I may still try to wiggle my nose a couple of times…just to see).

It’s nice to have that one thing over and done with. It’s one less thing on my plate, and less stress in my life is always a positive. The house itself isn’t all that much to look at, but Mr Izz wants to build something himself, with his own hands… all of that “Y Chromosome” type stuff. I swear there is something genetic about men and their need to do things like this. Women are so much simpler. But because of his testosterone driven urges, I should have a nice, newly built house to move into soon enough. No, I wasn’t being sarcastic with that remark….well, not too sarcastic.

The next couple of weeks should be interesting. At least the kids won’t say they’re bored! Loads of packing to do (and why did we unpack so much to begin with, when we knew we were leaving in 6 months anyway?), and then unpacking (which always seems to be easier than the former), and then getting used to a new place (again….SIGH!). But at least it’s my place. That’s pretty cool.

As some may know, I have a few kids. 11 to be exact. Yes, I did say 11…no, I’m not crazy (well, not entirely)…yes, I do know how that happens. Any more questions? Good. Let’s move on. As I was stating, I have 11 children. My oldest is now 17, and the youngest is 15 months. Just don’t ask me full names and birthdates all at once. That will more than probably short out my brain.

Having so many kids has a lot of benefits…I have loads of people to wash dishes for me, or change diapers, or vacuum, or watch little ones. This is a nice advantage…personal minions at my disposal day and night. Other times, it’s not quite as convenient, like when all of them are sick all at once, or talking all at once, or running around the house all at once. It’s those days that I feel like running away to some deserted island in the middle of the South Pacific (or maybe some island not so deserted in between the Irish Sea and the Atlantic Ocean…).

Today has been a bit different for many reasons…our landlords are selling this house, and so we had to prepare for a showing. Not much fun because preparing for a showing means mega-cleaning which involves all who live in the house. So, we all scrubbed, cleaned, and readied the house in anticipation of the real estate agent and the potential buyers. Moods were a bit more foul, and tempers a bit shorter than usual, but we still worked like little bees to get the place in tip top order.

By lunchtime, I think that everyone had pretty much had it. The place was clean, but I still needed to get a few more things done (clean out the closet that one well-meaning child shoved the contents of his entire room in to for one….”No one will see it in THERE” he proudly told me). I was hesitant to tell them what else needed to be done, because quite frankly, despite all of my talk of minions and slaves, I don’t like to use the kids all that much. Besides, they just looked to be of a mean temper. Luckily, a rather small incident helped the over-all mood of the dining room where we were having lunch. My 14 year old son was asking my 4 year old son some questions, just to see how he would answer. 4 year olds, in case you are not aware, are notorious for giving rather interesting answers. The 14 year old was aware of this fact, which is why he was interrogating the poor soul.

“Where does maple syrup come from?” asked the 14 year old.

“Maple syrup? That comes from Maple trees!” stated the 4 year old, in a very knowing voice.

“Where does honey come from, then?” was the next question.

“Honey? That’s easy, from BEES!!” came the reply.

One more question from the 14 year old, a bit dejected at the correctness of the answers thus far:

“Where does MILK come from?”

The answer was this:

“MILK???? Everyone knows that! Milk comes from the STORE!!!!”

We all erupted into fits of laughter, the 4 year old joining in heartily despite the fact that he didn’t know why we all were laughing. The good thing about the whole incident was that it lightened the mood a bit, which made it easier for Mom (which would be me) to get them all going again to finish getting the house ready, which we did, in time (including the closet). The showing went off without a hitch I think and hopefully the potentiality of the buyers will become actuality. So, thank you to my wonderful 4 year old son, and his wonderfully incorrect answer, for making the day a hopeful success all around….our moods improved, and because of that, the house was clean. Kids are wonderful beings, aren’t they?