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Across town move

North Carolina February 2012
Moving... again. This was a self-induced move. When my husband and I first got to North Carolina, we found an adorable 2-bedroom apartment on the third floor. The rooms were large and we happily anticipated bringing a new baby home to our cozy little place. Then we found out we were having twins. How would I leave the house with two infant carriers and a toddler? I tried imagining the scenarios, carry one infant carrier down the stairs to the car, lock the car, go back upstairs and get the second infant carrier and the toddler, walk down the stairs in front of toddler to catch him if he falls (can't hold his hand while going down because then I'm carrying an infant carrier and a toddler with no handrail). Two flights of concrete stairs, 19 on each staircase. Ugh. I could make this work. Diaper bag. Purse. Diet Coke. Two infant carriers. Toddler. Groceries. Newborn appointments. Yeah, we decided to see if we could move to a first floor three-bedroom.

Luckily for us, a resident in our complex broke their lease, leaving a first floor three-bedroom apartment. We paid a minimal transfer fee and were able to move in the following month. Pregnancy, bed rest... The apartment worked. Then the babies came with their Excersaucers and baby swings. Then we got a puppy. Suddenly there were five people, a puppy, and an angry house cat living in 1300 square feet. Our entry way was dedicated a double stroller; our living room consisted of two Excersaucers and a wooden train station; our couch was covered in laundry: burp cloths, blankets, and tiny t-shirts. To take D outside to play, I had to bundle the babies up, load them into the stroller, strap up the dog, drag the bike along behind me (training wheels clipping my heels the whole way), as D pleads to let me ride in street (behind parked cars at the busiest intersection in the complex? Hell, no). My husband sought solace at school, the only place he could concentrate on his homework. He left in the morning and came home after dinner. And then we received a piece of paper in the mail that changed everything: a notice to renew our lease.

We got a realtor and rented a home. Backyard, play room, garage, driveway. Happy.

Move day!
Buying drinks for the guys and organizers for the playroom.
North Carolina February 2012
 But the moving process was a beast. The weeks before our move a nasty cold descended on our home. As with any large family, it was passed around between us. I would manage to get over it only to catch it again. Packing a home is a chore. Packing a home with sick children is an uphill battle. I worked like an ant getting things in boxes, each day looking forward to when W would get home and help out. At our new home, the bottom fell off a bookcase I was moving, crushing my foot underneath. Thankfully I hobbled away with a horrible bruise-- no broken bones. Of course life still goes on. W has class and homework to complete. The babies have naps. D has his needs. And I have boxes to unpack. Here I am trying to make the house livable, nothing for the babies to pull down on themselves, a kitchen for me to cook dinner in, towels and sheets when we need them, while chaos reigns around me. Last night D let the dog out to run in the mud. I let the dog in to find O having a level 10 meltdown. Scooping him up, I see C crawling around the house with a stinky (and possibly leaky) diaper. I settle O on the bathroom floor next to me with a baby toy and wrestle the dog in the tub, only to turn the shower on instead of the bath, soaking my head and shoulders. The dog is now thoroughly spooked and fought to escape the entire bath. O discovered how to open the bathroom cabinets and proceeded to pull every towel out onto the floor. Grabbing the nearest towel, I attempt to dry the dog off before he shakes-- ah, too late. O army crawls down the hall to find out what his brothers are doing, when I remember C's filthy diaper. He's happily pulling every dog toy out of the bin while D shakes the baby bottle upside down, drawing pictures on my new rug with the milk. Looking around the room I see the microwave blinking (my meat has defrosted), the dog once again managed to get let out of the house (need to teach D not to let the dog out), diapers need to be changed (priority), and the rug needs to be cleaned (brand new). I hand D a rag, grab the diaper caddy, let the dog in and wipe his paws off, and get all the kids happily entertained before tackling dinner. After getting the babies to bed, I go to move the laundry to discover that a diaper got mixed in with the load of blankets (as far as I could tell it was clean), exploding inside my washer. Life still goes on; it may take us a bit longer than expected to unpack.

You can be sure that the next time we move, we will make sure that the place works for the whole family the entire time we are living there. No more across town moves.


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