I'm going to be upfront and be completely honest with you. It's extraordinarily exhausting to unpack belongings with a demanding baby and inquisitive, excited toddler. I've made many jokes about mommas needing coffee through an IV, but today was one of those days where I realized coffee was and is my life's blood. After over exerting myself in a morning workout (Guess what, running outside is wayyy different than running on a treadmill. It's probably been over 6 years since I've attempted it. It just might be another 6 years before I consider doing it again.); anyway, our stuff arrived. Our stuff finally arrived.
Our simple life of essential living abruptly ended. And as much as I am beyond thankful for our plethora of earthly treasures (my husband's handmade dining table and benches, entertainment system, toddler bed, our daughter's work in progress crib, our wedding canvas and myriad picture frames, and books), I already miss my clean and uncluttered home. Because the truth is, an uncluttered home is an unfettered life. I have become more organized in my routine and in pursuing my goals, both with working out and writing, when our excessive junk wasn't present and clamoring for attention.
Though our outfits have been limited, our laundry has been a finite chore. That's right, it could and has been actually completed, not a never ending cycle (pardon the pun). Though our dishware has been lacking, we have had no trouble eating (our scale came today and reminded me of that juicy fact). I have kept up on dishes with relative ease. In the month we've lived here, I've read 4 books and am almost finished with a 5th. I've even binge watched several TV shows on Netflix.
But after one day of unpacking, I have learned a few things. I can never stress eat enough pizza. Between a growling crawling baby monster (I really do love her- she just really sounds like a monster when she growls.), and a fussy toddler who wants to "help," or move things out of his way and into yours. . . Or get stuck between things and behind boxes that tower over him twice his size. . . It's easy to feel overwhelmed.
In one day of unpacking I have come to realize I am probably going to keep about half of the stuff that was shipped here. I am not going to let these boxes stack against me. I love the freedom of not having everything. Sure, I've missed things. I loved finding my cowboy boots. My son's face lit up at the discovery of his giant blue and yellow plastic truck. And the joy of having a stroller again is not lost on me. I'm thrilled to embrace summer with a propane tank and my husband's grill. I can't wait to make memories biking around our new scenic hometown. All month long I have been looking forward to decorating and arranging my kids' bedrooms. I have definitely missed things, and I can't wait to pick up our red Ford Fushion, the unpredictable and often unreliable dear old Peaches. (Yes, we named our car Peaches.) But as much as organizing, decorating, and claiming this as our home, it truly isn't.
In 2.5 years we will move again. This process will start all over, and I'll be left staggering in the wake of four people's possessions wondering how we accumulated so much junk. I'll realize yet again, sometimes we just need to clean house so we can have a clean house. And a healthy mind
In the midst of my complaining, in my overwhelming need to carve a path for us to walk on the floor and find a way to get all of the spices to fit in the cabinet, I'll be reminded of the same thing I was today.
My kids will pester me and follow mine and my husband's every move. My brain will start to shut down with each new emptied box, and my husband's patience will shorten with each new piece of furniture he finagles back in place. We will wonder what we got ourselves into. We will get frustrated with our dog's barking and our children's whining. We will make decisions about what to keep and what we would rather live without. We will set up another home, but it won't really be home our home.
It will be the place that we dwell for that season of our lives. It will be the place where our children become potty trained, learn how to make their beds, and tie their shoes. It will be the place we stay up late watching a movie together as a family. It will be the place we bake cookies to bring to school. It will be the place we sleep nestled together under warm blankets, only to wake and soothe our babies. It will be the place where training wheels are taken off of bikes and our kids learn to venture out on their own. The walls will know the flash of the camera and the weight of a happy memory framed. The windows will look out on a boy digging holes with a dog who just wants to come back inside. It will be the place we come home to everyday, but it won't be our home.
Because our memories aren't in our things. Our home isn't this place. Our home is in heaven, but until then, our peace, our happiness, all that is good, is found in each other. These people are my tribe. But more than that, I get to wake up each day and kiss my husband and change dirty diapers and brush tiny pearly white teeth. I get to wake up and unpack my HOME.
