We like to move it, move it... no we don’t. Nobody does.
Moving from a cruddy apartment that we hate to a Tuscan villa is still going to put a solid dent in our peace of mind and fill us will all kinds of angst. Something about our home, the familiarity and the predictability, that makes us woozy when we see it half-packed and disrupted.
Start by writing it all down. Your poor noodle is trying to remember so much right now, let the lists begin! Heck, even start a Google Doc folder to keep your list of lists!
But if Post-its is how you roll,
those work too.
A schedule will be your friend. Your actual BFF.
Map out the when, where, who and how’s, and keep it handy.
It’ll change every 47 seconds.
And speaking of friends? Call in the troops!
“If you need help with anything...!”
Yep! Yes I do, Cindy. And Brad. And Aunt Carol.
Yes. I. Do.
Recruit and do not apologize.
Taking your kids for a pizza/sleepover is way less difficult than visiting you at the “hospital” when you’ve lost your crackers during the ninth hour you spent on hold, trying to get utilities turned off, while you accidentally packed up Nibbles, the guinea pig, with the kid’s soccer trophies.
Moving is tough on everyone. Forgive yourself. Ask for help. And let your schedule do the remembering for you. It’ll all get done.
I promise, it always does.
And, for the love of all that is good- breathe! Hydrate. Maybe eat a vegetable.
Because, somehow it all will get there, get unpacked, unloaded, and be fine. And so will you.