So, I didn’t get my post uploaded yesterday for the October Blog Challenge. I was a little bit busy yesterday, busier than I thought I would be, anyway. We closed on the purchase of the acreage we’re moving to, and it involved a lot of driving – to the boys’ daycare and back (an hour round trip), to the acreage for the final walk-through (forty minutes round trip), to the bank for the closing (an hour round trip), back to the acreage to drop off some things (another forty minutes round trip), then back to the boys’ daycare to pick them up much later than I had thought I would be (another hour round trip). In between all of that driving, the closing took about an hour, we had to eat, there were errands to run…By the time we ate supper, it was after 8:00 p.m. It was a very long day.
Seymour was planning to take another load out to the acreage today, in addition to buying some things to start working on the basement right away. Since we haven’t yet sold our house, we won’t be moving right away, which gives us time to do some remodeling and painting before we have all of our stuff in there (and it’s going to be a tight fit – we’re moving to a smaller house than what we currently have, and we have a lot of stuff). That’ll be nice. But I’ll be glad to be finished with remodeling.
So, how does this relate to memoirs and backstory, or even to relationships?
Well, it got me thinking about my childhood. As a kid, we never moved. I lived in the same house from the day I came home from the hospital till about two months before I turned eighteen. There were a couple times that I lived elsewhere, but those were never intended to be permanent situations, and they never lasted much longer than my dad’s stints in rehab. When I was seventeen, though, I moved out for good, and it seemed like I was on the move for a long time after that. I moved twice before college, then to college and back, twice before Bubbles was born, and then again when his dad and I got divorced. Then I moved in with Seymour and we moved again a week before we got married. By the time we settled in our own house, I had had it with moving.
Seymour, though, grew up moving from farm to farm. His parents were dairy farmers, and I’ve lost track of all the different places they lived while he was growing up (though he’s told me all about them – I just can’t keep them straight for the life of me). I wanted to give my kids a more stable childhood than the one that I had, and for me, part of stability is putting down roots in one place.
In other words, no more moving!
The kids are excited, though. Bubbles already lives in the country at his dad’s, but Miss Tadpole is in town with her mom. Cricket and Thumper really aren’t sure what to think about it yet, but Cricket keeps talking about his “erin house” (his other house), which I find hilarious because I think he’s been out there one time and he got sick on the way home, so I don’t think he really even remembers the trip out there. Our current house has very limited yard space, so it will be nice to have room for the kids to run and play. And fruit! There’s rhubarb and raspberries and apple trees, and we have plans to install some mulberry trees, too. Yum.
And now I’m thinking about fun summers spent on my grandparents’ farm…but I think that’s a good topic for Wednesday’s post. 😀
Did you move around a lot as a kid, or did you stay pretty much in one place?
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