One of those days

I don't just allow chaos in, I invite her to stay and have a coffee. This morning, she decided to REALLY involve herself in our family. And I kid you not, if this doesn't make you think your chaotic morning was a walk in the park, nothing will.....

The first thing to go missing was Master Seven's school bag, which isn't a hard concept to fathom given how many boxes and how little lounge room we have at the moment (four days till move day). We looked... no bag. Maybe it was in the lounge room amongst the boxes, and we just couldn't see it? Looked again....no bag. Of course, this game of hide and seek happened to be kicking off right at the time we needed to leave the house. In desperation, I picked up a bag that was already packed with overnight items for the move, emptied it so it could be converted to the school bag for the day. There must have been something in that process that triggered my memory (annoyingly so, why not before I undid some of that precious packing?) for it was then that I remembered where the real school bag had been hiding.

Retrieving the school bag from under the pile of washing, I realised that the clean washing (unfolded, of course - you didn't expect me to have that done, did you?) had been tipped out in the boys' frantic expedition to locate clean socks for the day. Phew, now are we ready to leave?

Not quite yet! All in the car and ready to drive, and my phone has now joined the game. Miss Nearlyfifteen rang it from hers and I deduced, with my amazing powers of investigative deduction, that the absence of ringtone meant I'd left it inside.

Only 10 minutes late now, I dashed across the front lawn, opened the door and then tried to recollect the last place I remembered having it. (Seriously, on a day like today I'm trusting my short term memory??) Light bulb moment - I'll call it. Ba-Bow. Landline has no dial tone so either the provider has had a momentary lapse of service or there was something unplugged. No time to deal with it now, so I made a mental note to have a look later that day. (Seriously, on a day like today I'm trusting my short term memory??)

In the pacing I discovered a tiny fragment of fluro green in, yep, you guessed it - the washing pile. Where all good things go to hide. I must have left it when we were hunting for socks, or the school bag, or both. I grabbed it, made a similar mad dash to the car. Get into the driver's seat....um, where are the keys?

Locked in the house! Thankfully we had a spare so I went on the fourth hunt for the morning. Where were the keys? Yep,  you guessed it, IN THE WASHING PILE. (Well, actually they were on the kitchen bench, but that made you laugh, right?)

Thankfully, after the keys were retrieved, the phone restored to its rightful place on my dash and all things (including children because you never know) were present and accounted for. Driving down the road and another thought sprang into my head. (No wonder my short term memory is shot to pieces! It is being pushed out of my brain with all these random thoughts.) I ask Master Thirteen if he remembered the plastic cups that he had previously begged me (and emailed so I wouldn't forget) to buy for a class party. Of course not!

Around the block, back in the house (I double checked the keys this time), cups retrieved, bag/socks/keys/phone verified and we were on our way....for good this time.

I wonder if Chaos would mind if she's now uninvited? Or maybe I should just ask her to fold my washing?

Stress or Strength

Watching myself cope with high levels of stress is an interesting exercise. I'm not having any weird out of body experience or anything, but I have noticed my behaviour toward certain things is affected by the anxiety of the task we have before us.

Moving house is always traumatic, and having moved four times since getting married I can say that with all certainty. In actual fact, one move I comment to my husband that he was taking me out of that house in a body bag because I was determined to never to go through that process again. That was two moves ago.

However, moving house AND moving away from the people that you respect and love is one of the most excruciating processes. The idea of a tree change is very romantic, and the promise of relief from the financial pressure of city living encouraging....but saying good bye to dear friends is the toughest part of all. 

As we get closer to the move day (five days away), the enormity of our journey is starting to reveal itself in an ugly tug of war. Excitement of a new beginning in a picturesque part of the country is being pulled by a deep sense of guilt at leaving everyone behind. Relationships have been forged over years, in some cases decades, and as each day passes it becomes harder and harder to say goodbye.

The school community are increasingly aware of this. After resigning from my position in the School Office (a decision I made with tears), I have frequented the school almost daily since - unable to make that last good bye. These are people I love dearly and I am moving away? Just one last conversation, one last coffee, one last farewell hug.... I think they are wondering if we are actually really going (I think I am in denial myself). Even though I know the decision to move is the best one for our family, and one we've been wanting to do since the beginning of our marriage, the parting is the most stressful part of all.

Which is why I went out yesterday to buy shoes. I don't really like to spend money ordinarily (one pair of men's boots, and regular visits to the shoe repairer, kept me in shoes for about five years in the early days) but for two days in a row I have felt the desire to spend money on specific items that I might need in a cooler climate - totally out of character for me. It's as if my big picture brain is taking a leave of absence and I now am surprisingly concerned with the finer detail. 

Like the paper shredder that stopped working last night. With the length of the TO DO list like the one I have, most people would just toss it in the bin. But no, I needed to take it apart, screw by screw in attempt of a surgical resurrection with a pair of tweezers and a bamboo skewer. After an hour and feeling completely satisfied that it was cleared of all jams, it still didn't work so I had to toss it anyway. 

Sometimes the realisation of a character trait is half the battle to help overcome it. An American philosopher, William James, once said "The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another." (Read more quotes here)

So I choose now, not with my own strength but with the strength of a Creator God who I know loves me intensely and is just waiting for me to ask for help. Just like a father, watching his daughter trying to battle it out; waiting for her to remember him and ask for his help which he is delighted to give. So I choose to put aside that natural instinct of avoidance and I will face the task before me, with His strength. "As soon as I pray, you answer me; you encourage me by giving me strength." (Psalm 138:3)

After all, there are only about fifty-something boxes to go....

Embrace It

Today's chaos is brought to you by 'News'. Not the informative, six pm kind but the presentation a seven year old gives to his class once a week. The presentation that is heavily influenced by peer perception and incredibly important to get right. So when our young man mentioned that his friends hadn't met our dog before, of course I volunteered to bring our dog to News.

Take one step back and let me give you the background. In case you haven't seen my earlier posts You've Got to Laugh and Six Days and Counting... we are moving house. And getting a deck built (three months later than expected). Sounds like I need this extra task of taking a dog to school drop-off like a hole in the head, but keep in mind one question - when on a roller coaster do you 1) grip the safety rail till knuckles whiten, or 2) throw your hands in the air and embrace the stomach churning experience?

If only embracing the extra stress was that simple! Hang on a minute, I hear you say, it's just taking a dog to school, how hard can that be? Well, in the process of having this deck built, our side gate had to be removed, though we were promised a solution so our yard would remain fenced. What they didn't explain was this process would take three days (and counting). While packing our life into boxes and trying to keep track of clean uniforms (unsuccessfully), I have a dog that either keeps escaping or we have to renege on our 'dogs belong outside' rule and keep him in. For the last few days, in addition to everything else, I have been either wandering around outside looking for him or tripping over his 30kg frame that somehow always ends up right where I need to step. And trying not to grip the safety rail till my knuckles whiten.

Back to 'News'. Of course, in the excitement of his escapades, pooch had somehow lost his collar (I am tempted to put up Lost posters for it, but then I really will be put in a straight jacket). In searching for the usual missing socks, shoes and other school paraphernalia, I am also searching for a dog collar. Life never gets boring.

Creativity won the day and Miss Nearly-Fifteen worked out a way to use the lead as both collar and lead, so 'News' was saved. Master Seven's friends were able to meet and adore our dog who lapped up the attention (sorry, couldn't resist that one). Meanwhile, I'm off to throw my hands in the air ....and have a stiff drink.

Six Days and Counting...

If ever I wished I lived in a hut in Africa, now is it. Packing boxes are deceptively small and if I was superstitious in nature I would believe that little elves are in the bottom, 'short sheeting' my box so I can't put in as much as I want. Either that, or we have overshot our 'stuff' quota by a mile. Actually, I think if we lined our stuff along a street it would fill a mile, or maybe more. Maybe we'd leave a trail of our stuff all the way to our new house....

All this stuff seemed like a good idea at the time. Unlike my 'hut in Africa' idea, I have a blender for milkshakes and quilts for each bed and for each season. I have glasses for wine and glasses for kids, Tupperware containers with colourful lids (Dr Suess can use that one with permission!). The point is, we have items for every occasion that are supposed to make life easier and more comfortable. We get used to our 'stuff' and it then takes on such an important place in our lives that we think we can't live without it. Until we start to try and fit all of these things into boxes, then we wonder why we have so much.

Packing seems to be a humbling experience for 'stuff' just as much as it is for the person doing the work. All of a sudden, our 'important' things are reduced to the common denominator of which sized box it fits in, or in which category it should be packed. Our things that have been so useful are hidden away and maybe won't see the light of day for several years (just ask those who still have boxes they haven't opened from the move before the last move). Will these things be useful or perhaps a better question to ask is - could we live without them?

Peter Walsh, a declutter expert, says

"You only have one life to live. How you live that life is your choice. As far as I know, no one has ever had 'I wish I had bought more stuff' inscribed on their tombstone. What you own can easily blind you to who you are and what you can be." (For more declutter ideas, checkout his website http://www.peterwalshdesign.com)

Moving house does give us the opportunity to start afresh and re-invent our relationship with our stuff, but I'd like to think that it didn't have to take a move to prompt that kind of change. I would love to work out a vision for each room of our new house and only move what fits into that vision. Just because it's useful, doesn't mean we need to keep it. If everyone lived with this adage then charities would have nothing to pass on.

Having said all this however, with six days till our move, I think I am a little late to be having this ephiphany! So for now I will continue to shove whatever I can into boxes and be ever grateful for a double lock up garage on the other side. And maybe one day, I might even get to park a car in there.

You've just got to laugh

Moving house - there's no attractive way to portray it. It's messy. It's chaotic and it's uber-stressful. Those who've done it are nodding; those who've done it with kids are recoiling at the recollection. So here I write, amidst a thousand boxes and packaging paraphernalia, I have the burning desire to share with you our journey.

My husband and I have always desired a tree-change from the fast-paced Sydney suburban life to the beautiful Southern Highlands in New South Wales, Australia. We thought it would be after our youngest finished school, but here we are - two teenagers and a seven year old, packing up our entire lives and filling out enrolment applications for a new house and school. As I write, I have exactly seven days to fit all of our lives into boxes before the removalist arrives (gulp).

So you can imagine what my tiny three bedroom house looks like right now. A single pathway from front door to kitchen, sideways only down the hallway thank you, and oh, when you get to the bedroom door, you'll have to do a ninja move around the other pile of boxes to actually get into the room.

Stressful enough, wouldn't you say? Well add into the mix the back deck that is currently under construction at our back door (three months overdue), half our yard dug into a mud heap, the necessity to complete several house repairs to be able to put our house on the rental market while still trying to run a household of five, three of which are still at school.

Today we reached a climax of catastrophic proportion. In our rabbit warren of a house, finding uniforms and trying to get lunches made was already a challenge of detective skills and multitasking prowess. Then the electrician arrived to talk lighting for the deck. Then the alarm guy arrived to talk about resetting the codes for tenants. Then the dog got a bit nervous about the strangers in the house and starting pacing, so I was having to dodge tradesmen, husband, dog, children trying to find uniforms. We had slept in so were already running late. The seven year old knocked over a cup of juice by accident in the only thoroughfare from front door to back door. I am cleaning while tradesmen are waiting to get through and somehow I managed to get everyone together and out the door. Juggling an armful of recycling and trying to find neighbours bins that had more room than ours, I dropped a glass jar and it smashed all over the neighbours driveway. It was then that I heard the approaching recycling truck from the next street.....

....and I laughed.