Shelli Mader: Though family moving again, hopes are high for different experience |

Shelli Mader: Though family moving again, hopes are high for different experience

It may come as no surprise to longtime readers that my family and I are moving again.

I think this makes five moves in the last seven and a half years. Since I started writing this column I’ve lived in two towns in Kansas — Hays and Scott City — Granbury, Texas and then our current location in the middle of Colorado Springs.

If it seems a little bit crazy that we are moving again, and I agree — the last move was less than 6 months ago. Right now I am in the middle of the crazy, why-are-we-doing-this-to-ourselves mode of moving. Boxes are scattered all over our living room floor, laundry is piling up in every room and I’m busy trying to run around and buy school supplies for my sweet kids who will be starting a new school the first week of August.

In addition, I’ve been trying to find a good and cheap, but not scary, hotel to stay in for 10 days. Not only are we moving, but we have a 10-day gap between houses and will have to stay in a hotel for that time. That means we are basically moving twice this go around. We are putting all of our things in a storage unit and then moving them to the new house in the middle of August.

My friends are always commenting that my husband and I should be real pros at moving by now, but somehow, even after all of this practice, we are still really terrible at it. As I have thought about it more I have realized that though we are not good at moving, we do have a routine we consistently go through each time we move.

I promise my family that this move will be different. I will be organized and everything will go smoothly.

We’ll start neatly packing boxes by room. We’ll use fancy masking tape labels describing all the important items in each box. We’ll Make a detailed list of all the things I will need at the last minute. We’ll Make a menu plan and vow not to pack a single utensil that I will need to cook any of those meals.

Pack a few more boxes. Stuff a few things in each one from various rooms. It really won’t matter. I will totally remember what is in there. It is completely acceptable to have a few “miscellaneous” boxes.

I’ll Realize I don’t have enough boxes. I’ll Spend a couple hours driving around town looking for good boxes. I won’t find any since I am looking at the last minute, so I go to Wal-Mart and buy some totes. I’ll head home and start to make dinner and realize that I packed the pan, spatula and spices I need to make my recipe. I’ll Order pizza.

We’ll start to panic, only a couple more days to move and there is so much left to do. We’ll frantically throw things in any bag, box or trashcan I can find. At this point, even family heirlooms are not immune to being thrown away. I hate all my stuff at this point and just want it all gone.

I’ll stay up until 2 a.m. the night before we have to be out of the house. I’ll Feverishly clean walls, floors and carpets while I pray for forgiveness for yelling at my husband and kids.

We’ll get on the road toward the new house and promise myself that the next move will be different.

Right now we are somewhere in the middle of those steps, so hopefully this time really will be a little less stressful. Moving 15 miles to Falcon, Colo., will be a lot easier than moving 13 hours from Texas. ❖

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