My goodness, it's been busy around here. Husband had a surprise business trip pop up*, the kids are finishing up the school year, and I'm trying (albeit not entirely successfully) to pack our life into boxes.
The kids are handling the impending move with aplomb. I think we timed it well for them, because we're going the week after school lets out. They'll have a week to decompress (and help me pack, dammit!), and then on to a new adventure. By the time school starts, they'll be settled and ready to go. They seem generally excited, and they're familiar with the new neighbourhood because we've been up there every other weekend for months.
I am worried about me however.
I went out to dinner last night with some of the friends I've made here. And as I looked around, I realised that I've only gotten to know all of these people in the past few years, despite having lived in the neighbourhood for close to fifteen. Largely because wanting my kids to be able to have friends forced me to talk to them. And they're great. And I will get my driver's license for the sole purpose* of visiting them.
It took me a full year of standing around the yard waiting for our children to come out of school together to even chat with anyone above and beyond the current weather conditions, or what
And Beege is almost beyond the age where I'm even going to meet all of her friends' parents. I've still got a couple of years left on Kee, but if my past record holds true, I might run out of time before I work up the nerve to talk to anyone.
Besides the whole friend thing, there's the fact that it took me EIGHT YEARS to get used to the nighttime noises in our current house, and I STILL get startled awake sometimes. I'm going to have to get used to new noises, new layout in the dark (I am blind as a bat in the dark, without the help of echolocation, which I think would be disturbing for the rest of the household anyway), new garbage day, new library, new parks, new schools, new people ...
I'm not good with change. Have I mentioned that? Probably. It seems like something I'd say more than once.
I do this thing. This thing where I know I'm supposed to be doing something, and there's a deadline looming, and I'm nervous about the thing, so instead of doing what I'm supposed to be doing, I seem to pretend that it's not happening and focus on other things instead?
Anyway. I'm supposed to be packing right now.
So I'll probably go read.
*To Bulgaria, of all places.
**Okay, not the sole purpose, but I'm being dramatic here.