How awesome is the movie The Incredibles? Totes awesome, that’s how, just like my grammar. There is a nugget of truth in the movie (depend on Disney for that) when Mrs Incredible tells Mr Incredible that they are finally moved in because she finally unpacked the last box.
Husband and I moved for the first time with a then 8 month old, from a tiny apartment in North Sydney to a seemingly warehouse-sized apartment in California. We had a laundry room that we used mostly for storage of some unopened boxes, until we crammed laundry machines in there as well. Then we moved to Oregon (and the weather was crap and Husband travelled like a fiend on an endless cycle of “h & g”s). We had some extra unopened boxes in the study, along with the unopened from the first move. Cue the itchy feet and we move again to the south side of our town, into the countryside, and after 2.5 years we have whittled the unopened down to one half-unpacked box and old paperwork strewn around on shelves. I haven’t made the call to Husband telling him we are officially moved in, because of that half-unpacked box, and it will probably remain so for another 18 months, until, in a fit of over-zealous tidying, I turf the lot into a smaller box and put it in a cupboard. The point? Life gets in the way. We don’t stop doing the school drop-offs and pick-ups, then making snacks, lunches and dinners, then inevitable and pointless clean-ups afterwards. And in between the meals, the playdates, library trips, and naps, those precious naps, perhaps some fun and interesting family activities on the weekend. And then the glasses of wine and grown-up television shows when the house is actually quiet. So there isn’t actually very much time to unpack and set out those dusty moving boxes. And don’t forget the vacations as well.
We have gone away every year, somewhere or other. Plus a few trips to the beach as well. That is a lot of packing (but I have my trusty list) and unpacking just for the vacations and haul-our-asses-away weekends, let alone moving countries, so when is there time for unpacking moving boxes?
Husband is adamant that vacation-unpacking is far more pressing, and I agree with him (gasp). When we get home I pull out the dirty washing, and frankly, what else is there so pressing? The chickens need tending to, and the grass is a foot high, so after all the school runs and snacks and naps, when there is (was) a little ray of sunshine outside – besides my totes adorbs nearly 3yo – I mowed the lawn in the garden. And the kitchen is my never-tiring nemesis and Husband’s eternal bone of contention (might I point out that ‘kitchen’ encompasses our main eating area, large actual kitchen plus a pantry, and a large play area for the boys as well) so I spend most of my cleaning and tidying time in here. When I am putting stuff away or doing goodness-knows-what, I will walk from the kitchen to and from the laundry then through the dining room and into my bedroom and then see the leftovers that need attention. So I will grab a few things and take them hither, thither and yon on my way back to the kitchen. But 2 weeks later there are still little boy suspenders and bow ties on the floor – the little boy shoes have moved to the floor of my dressing room so they don’t count, there are a few CDs and button-up shirts, then there is a basket of new washing plus different blankets for the bed and a toddler mattress plus odds and ends that I can’t recall but know darn well they are there, cluttering up the place. And after all that, I think we have a box or two in the truck garage, come to think of it, which blows my 18 month theory way out of the water. Doh! Husband won’t be getting that call anytime soon.