Where did the month of July go? It marks the longest stretch I’ve gone without sharing our trials and triumphs here at the “Lyons Den” and here’s why — this month has been a hot, hard, horrid disaster! As my friends and family know all too well, when the the going gets tough, well, I’m not that tough; I go radio silent. And the past few weeks have been really tough. Why? Because we moved. And believe me, even though we are beyond thrilled to have found our “forever house”, it hasn’t been easy.
According to answers.com, moving is one of the “top five most stressful things in life;” the other four are debt, work, relationship troubles and loneliness. Which is kind of ironic because, if you ask me, moving brings them all together. The reality is that this move has put us in greater debt; we missed days of work to move and settle in; our relationship has been repeatedly tested as we bickered about what furniture goes where, which pictures should finally find their place on the curb and how much to spend to renovate the kitchen. Thankfully, loneliness has not yet been an issue but if all of this keeps up, I can see how it could be.
According to the article I read on wiki answers, “the very thought of moving can fill people with dread – and experts say that as the most expensive and life-changing financial transaction most people ever undertake, it’s probably also one of the most stressful.” I can attest this is true — and, if you add five kids, one “big red dog”, and an average temperatures of 95 degrees with 100% humidity to the mix, it’s all the more stressful.
But that’s not all. Let me share a bit more about what’s been stressing me out over the past few weeks — with a warning: you may not believe it’s true. If I’ve seen or talked to you lately, I probably mentioned that “when I finally get the chance to write about this, I”m sure folks will think I’m making it up.” Well, I’m not. Here’s a rundown of life in the Lyons Den for the past few weeks…
- July 2nd: Triplet A discovered on living room rug in a pool of barf upon our arrival home from work. The summer stomach virus has arrived.
- July 3rd: Our oldest complains of a tooth-ache at dinner but, as Triplet B starts to burn with fever, he is ignored.
- July 4th: We pause on the packing to enjoy a great day with my sister and her family, my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Triplets A&B are kept comfortable with Tylenol & Advil. Fevers run amok but vomiting has ceased.
- July 5th: Tooth ache complaints continue. We call the dentist. They are closed for the July 4th weekend; the message cites a number to call in case of emergency. We decide it’s not an emergency and spend the day packing.
- July 6th: 3AM: We are awakened by our sobbing 8 year old moaning with pain. Sh*t!! It turns out that tooth is an emergency! 9AM: Movers arrive to take the outdoor furniture, contents of garage and all packed boxes. Mayhem ensues as we track down our dentist, find an endodontist who is working on the Saturday of July 4th weekend and try to keep the kids from being trampled by the movers. 1 PM: Poor kid has an emergency root canal. Ugh.
- July 7th: It’s 100 degrees and we spend the day cleaning the new house (which does NOT have air conditioning) and packing up the old one. I want, I NEED to have our new kitchen in working order before we make the final move. I scrub the counters, line the shelves, stock the pantry. I have convinced myself that if only I have the means and space to feed our family, it will all be fine. Of note, Triplet C spends the day intermittently sweating, drooling and napping on a hardwood floor as his fever spikes. He (and three other kids) have also picked up a nasty case of poison ivy. Things are not looking good. Literally.
- July 8th: It’s Monday. I go to work and try to act like everything is under control. It’s not. At 10:00PM we make a run to the new house to stock the fridge. We notice a drip over the stove. It’s coming from the ceiling. Run for cover! The ceiling collapses. And so too does my morale, my sense of control, my ability to feed our family!
- July 9th: Moving Day. It’s 94 degrees. We still have four kids with poison ivy, one recovering from a root canal and one complaining of a sore throat. We shuttle between the new and old house answering questions of movers and plumbers alike. “Put that there. No, there!” “What? Did I turn off the water on the third floor? No. But I’m flattered you think I’d know how to!” 8PM that night: “Emergency!!! Mom, MOM!!!!! Come quick! There’s water everywhere!!!”
And then, I think I kind of blacked out for a few weeks. There were more plumbers and an electrician. There were numerous trips to the pediatrician. Sinus infections. Strep throat. Poison ivy. There were numerous trips to the dentist. There were busy days at work and long nights unpacking. There were (and are) boxes, boxes everywhere. There is a gaping hole in the kitchen ceiling and just today, it “rained” inside — to be exact, the bathtub water from upstairs rained into the spaghetti pot on the stove. Bon appetit?!
It seems we are now the proud, tired, broke owners of the “money pit.” But you know what? I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because in the blur of the past few weeks, between the endless sweat, exhausted tears and consistent sense of being completely overwhelmed, there have been neighbors on the porch, friends in the kitchen, family checking in and more friends hanging out. Despite leaky plumbing, sick kids and horrid heat, we’ve managed to make this place our home. And while it’s far from perfect, it’s still very sweet. And with that spirit rediscovered, I look forward to sharing more tales, tips and quips in the weeks and months ahead… and maybe, just maybe, we will finally get these boxes unpacked. But if not, well, c’mon by anyway… turns out a box is a mighty fine place to sit and enjoy a glass of wine!