We survived moving! I don’t know where anything is, the dishwasher keeps leaking sheets of bubbles all over the kitchen, and eight-month separation anxiety coupled with a strange environment has made Moose a wee tiny barnacle, but we’re here.
We’re feeling so good about the new place. The real estate market in Toronto is sort of crazy, and has been for awhile. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time to buy a house that needed some very minor changes and that had not been marketed well. The house had been recently entirely renovated, but with some very strange design choices. Featured included two full bathrooms directly beside each other on the second floor (one complete with a naked goddess tile mosaic in the shower), some truly awful tile choices, and a stairway that leads to a door on the roof for no reason whatsoever (there was originally a terrace planned but not built). We pulled out a bathroom to create a third bedroom/office, changed some colours and fixtures to suit our tastes and it’s great.
Poor Moose was very unsettled by the packing, both because of the changing environment and because she has developed an intense fear of the sound of packing tape. It was hard to decide whether it was better to seal the boxes one at a time and comfort her after each one, or do them all at once, make her hysterical, and then calm her down. Fortunately, pulling the tape off the boxes doesn’t seem to bother her at all! We hired the moving company to come in and pack the kitchen the night before the move to make things easier and I ended up feeding Moose her dinner in the bathtub just to get her away from the noise. Which is a photo for her wedding slide show for sure.
I was surprised how sad I felt about leaving our house in the weeks leading up to the move. I was pregnant with Ezra in that house (Moose too, of course), and it’s the house we planned to bring him home to. I expected to raise him there. Leaving the house behind felt like letting go of one more piece of that life, the parallel reality that didn’t come to be. Maybe that’s not a bad thing, because we’re here and we’re raising a baby we adore – fresh places, fresh starts. It just held a quality of grief that I didn’t really expect.
Now that we’re here I feel excited. We have a porch to sit on and tons of families on our street to meet. There’s a great school across the street and I can imagine enrolling Moose for kindergarten in a couple of years. We can make home here.
Now if only I could find my pants…