Getting My Move On

At long last, we're moving home. It's been almost two years since we left our house in town, and I've missed it for most of that time. We were able to find a tenant for our mountain house, and so early in June, we'll load up the truck and move back down the hill.

It was a hard decision for us as a family, because A loves the mountain house. He loves the solitude and the scenery and the space (both inside and out). But for me, things changed when Valentino was born. I don't want to put him in his carseat for 40 minutes at a time, twice a day, just to drop him at the nanny's. I don't want him to be limited to visits with friends and family to only those times we come down the hill with specific plans. I want to be able to plan days at the park or the pool and be able to come home for a nap, instead of having to plan my day around being gone from home the whole day, because it's too far to go home for a nap and leave again. I also want back that hour of commute time each day, so that I can spend it with my boys.

To say that I'm thrilled about the move would be the understatement of the century. I'm not even stressed about the actual move event (although for me, that part is trivial, I have lots of practice - this will be my 21st move in my 37 years). We have wonderful friends who've offered all manner of help with getting ready and the actual lifting of my furniture.

All of this reminds me is that things usually work out for the best. I was getting miserable in my home in the mountains, and I truly knew that I needed to move back. We were able to make that happen. I'm forever grateful to my husband for knowing just how badly I needed to do this, and helping to make it happen.