Our life now consists of two itsy bitsy teeny tiny hotel rooms connected by a door. Each room has one itsy bitsy teeny tiny bedroom, one itsy bitsy teeny tiny bathroom, one itsy bitsy teeny tiny kitchen and one itsy bitsy teeny tiny living room.
We are totally making it work but the logistics -- especially factoring in a mobile eight month old -- are a bit interesting. Currently we have JB or me sleeping in one bedroom as the bed is entirely too small for two larger-than-normal adults. The three older kids are in one living room, Dad is in the other living room, and Mom is in the other bedroom with Hannah. We have to keep everything up high enough so that Hannah cannot grab it or get into it and have our sixteen suitcases and eight carry-ons stashed in every corner imaginable.
Thank the Good Lord that I found a different place to put the dozens of boxes we are going to mail until we mail them. (We couldn't mail them too early or they stand a chance of beating us to Tennessee.) No idea what we would have had to do if those had to stay with us. These boxes house the items we used to live with during the two months since our stuff was packed out.
No one is sleeping great. No one is feeling great. Everyone is a bit out of sorts. Isaac has been stuttering (and even "clicking" his tongue a bit) when he talks. His speech teacher noted the regression at his last appointment. Abigail has been having accidents, nightmares, and difficulty going to sleeping. Sidge has been also having nightmares and is incredibly emotional about the changes he witnesses. While Abgail can't vocalize the change, and Isaac doesn't vocalize change, Sidge says what everyone else is thinking and feeling and then cries about it.
My itsy bitsy teeny tiny children are feeling the fact that they are leaving the only life they have known and the only house they remember. My itsy bitsy teeny tiny children are completely out of sorts.
You read and are instructed how to prepare kids for what is coming, and then, in the midst of all the stress and time pressures of what is upon you, you end up springing stuff on them.
Example. Me, announcing, that we are going to give away Isaac's falling apart red bike. What was supposed to be a sit-down discussion about how the bike was old and needed to find a new home, was just sprung on him. He took it, badly, and JB began to think we might have to mail the bike instead of giving it away. However, shortly after this discussion, JB and Isaac were able to come to an agreement that our good friend Judah could now take care of and love the red bike.
And Scrubs. Another example. The TLF (hotel) here on Base doesn't allow pets. So he has to stay in the kennel on Base. We get a key to his kennel and can go get him out whenever we want. But I just showed up at the kennel without discussing it with the kids. Suddenly I am leaving Scrubs somewhere and the kids are in complete shock. I get back to the van sans dog and Sidge is sobbing. And each time we have gone to visit with Scrubs and take him for a walk and play Frisbee with him and then we have to return him to the kennel, he starts crying again.
Scrubs is his dog, and in the midst of all this change, why are we leaving him somewhere? Why can't Scrubs be with us?
We said good bye to our Chapel on Sunday. We are slowly saying good bye to friends. We are saying good bye to our house. This all may sound dramatic, but when you are in it, it really isn't. It is a lot for a grown adult and little kids. Just a lot of change.
It will all be fine, of course, but right now we are all a itsy bitsy teeny tiny bit sad and an itsy bitsy teeny tiny bit stressed and an itsy bitsy teeny tiny bit ready to get all of this behind us and on to our new life in Tennessee.
Less than a week to go!