This is it! Moving week.
Saturday a moving truck will show up and grab our entire lives and transplant us to the ‘burbs. I’m feeling surprisingly fragile and emotional about the move but simultaneously counting down the minutes until we can finally wiggle our toes in grass that we own (okay, fine, the bank owns it but they let me say that).
In stupendous timing, new neighbors have moved into the apartment below ours. Best I can tell from their very loud conversations it’s two dudes and a chick who either lives their officially or in all practicality. They’re up until 3 and 4 am. They’re either smoking weed or burning incense at all hours and I have an unreasonable rage towards them considering we’ve never met. I have taken to getting Luke to hop like a bunny in his bedroom and ours in the early mornings as my revenge. For pot-smokers, there is a lot of fighting going on and, as Eric and I often wonder when encountering a couple like this, is the sex really worth it? From what we’ve heard thus far (which is nary a mattress creak), I’m going to say it’s not.
Such are the joys of apartment life that we’re about to leave behind.
But, this apartment has been home in a way that other places haven’t. Some of the hardest and greatest moments of our lives happened here. This is the only home Luke has known. It’s where we paced the floor for months trying to get him to sleep at night. Where we heard his first laugh. And where we still watch him run gleefully back to the bathroom each bath night.
This is also the apartment where I carried our first baby. And, there are very few physical manifestations of that life. Stepping away from the space will be good, I logically know that. It’s another chapter and it’s time. But, it’s hard to remove one more connection, even a bittersweet one, because it’s one further step away from a child we had so little time with.
Our new home is on the same street as an elementary and middle school. We’ve already exchanged phone numbers with the neighbors. I used to work a mile away and most of my favorite coworkers are still working there, meaning lunch dates and hangouts will be monumentally easier. Luke will have space. Most restaurants in our zip code will have high chairs and probably another child eating there at the same time we are. And, we’re close enough to the city that we still have the diversity and crazy we love—just at arm’s length.
This week and next, are sure to be messy, tiring and will probably include some tears. I’m eager to start showing updates of house transformation. Eric is ripping up carpet and painting as I write so there will be lots to share on that front.
Next time I write, I’ll officially be a suburban mama. But you have to promise you’ll publicly shame me if I ever consider a minivan. Wish us luck!