The cabinet door opens and slams shut.
The pantry door opens and slams shut.
The refrigerator door opens and slams shut.
And then I hear it. The wail of a hangry 9 year old: “I HATE EUROPE!”
And we haven’t left yet.
I get where she’s coming from. We have spent the past several weeks packing up the house. Not just for the trip, but for the renters who will be living here for the next 4 months. We’ve hauled at least 6 bags to Goodwill; given over 100 books to the local library; and had to use our neighbors’ garbage can because ours was overflowing (thank you, Stacey!) We have cleared out so much that simple things, like trying to find a decent snack, have become impossible.
And, as is typical in this family, we’ve all had different ways of responding to these events.
Missa B: Completely and utterly ticked off that there is no food in the house. Keep in mind that she doesn’t bother to search until she is beyond the point of reasoning. So even when I offer this vegetarian things that will work for her, “Would you like some black beans with cheese?” I invariably receive a resounding “NO!” at the highest decibel possible for a pre-adolescent. Not sure what she is complaining about; this is one of our snack cabinets at the moment:
JJ: This is my sentimental one. The one who gets teary-eyed as he crawls into bed at night, insisting that he doesn’t want to leave the house. He is, however, also practical, popping up from his bed between sobs to ask, “But it would be really awkward if I stayed in the house with the renters, wouldn’t it?”
As we packed up his stuffed animals, he gave each one (we’re talking over 100 of them) a kiss, whispered in their ear, and made sure the right animals were next to each other in the box. And, of course, he wrote them a note to be placed in the box as well.
Hubs: Beyond ecstatic. Rejoices at every garbage bag filled, every bag headed to Goodwill, every book going to the library. Constantly asks me how I cannot find this process completely invigorating. Asked that I give him this type of cleaning/purging as his only birthday present each year. Vows that we will do this each spring. “Absolutely, dear,” I respond. “As long as it means an extended trip to Europe.”
Me: Just plugging along. Finishing some projects; half-finishing others. Doing whatever strikes me at the moment. Then remembering something and going to do it instead. I do have lists, and I’m using them, but I find I am adding items as opposed to crossing them out. I have packed up so much stuff that it feels good, but there is always so much more to do. And, the food thing is getting to me too. There is only so much grocery store salad bar and sushi that one can take. So, when I mentioned to my mother-in-law that we were pretty much out of food, she came up with a meal plan for the week…at HER house. Have I mentioned that I have an amazing mother-in-law? Yep, that’s where we’ll be at 5:30 pm today, and I’m not the least bit ashamed to beg. And when I asked her what we could bring, and she texted back, “Nada,” I didn’t argue. (To my own wonderful mother — don’t worry, you raised me right. I never go anywhere empty handed, except for tonight.)
So now it’s down to the wire. We’ve got 2 days to finish packing the house, start packing our bags, get the cars out, let friends raid the fridge and freezer, and turn over the keys. Yet, this is what the office looks like:
I keep reminding myself that Saturday is almost here. Or, as we like to count in our house: one baseball game, one softball practice, two volleyball clinics, and one softball tournament to go!