We’re moving.  Maybe you didn’t know that.  Here’s a brief run down…
July 30: house on the market; 8 showings in 4 days, 3 offers, sold August 3; 3 weeks of packing like crazy, then a bad inspection and a buyer backing out.

Oh, and we were preparing for a 13-day cross-country vacation.

On the day we left for vacation, we put the house back on the market, show-ready, and let our realtor do his thing.  We just drove away with headaches, stomach aches, heart aches.  We came back on a Tuesday, house sold on Saturday, September 10.  Back to packing.

So here we are, all moved out, living with very gracious and generous friends for 5 days.  The kids are doing pretty well, we’re all excited for what’s next.

Or that’s what I was led to believe.

Last night around 10:30 (way after parental clock-out time), the children were fighting.  You see, they’re all used to having their own room, but in this transition they are in the same room.  All three animals, same room.  Fighting is expected.  I went down to sort it out, had a seat, and asked, “What’s going on here, guys?”  Then tears.  All three animals, crying.

I want our old house back.
I want my room back.
I want my stuff back (some of it has been in storage for 3 months).
I don’t want to move anymore.
I want to go back.

This thing, this thing we’ve been so excited for, suddenly is not so appealing to them.  It’s been hard – cleaning the house to perfection for every showing, for two inspections, for an appraisal, packing all of their belongings, seeing the only home they’ve known become an empty shell – it’s hard.  And they aren’t equipped to deal with this brand of hard.  They are feeling things that don’t have words, and it’s manifesting itself as fighting.

“We’re a team guys.  And at the end of this, when we’re in our house with our stuff, in your own rooms, it’s still going to be us.  We can’t hate each other when we get to the end.”

Have a cry, and I will hold you, I will listen, I will do my best to help you understand what you’re feeling and how to move forward.  And you can grieve what you’ve lost because you have lost something.  But I promise you, sweet animals, it will be good on the other side.  Hold my hand, and let’s go there together.