Bitch and Moan

Is all I wanna do and stick my cracked Granny hands into a vat of vaseline. It has to be said again: Moving sucks. Finally got my ass stationary for a few minutes and even as I'm typing I'm nodding off.dkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkaakhhhhhhhhhh...sorry bout that.

And as for the diet, well surprisingly when I find time to eat, I'm eating sorta what I'm supposed to. But I'm not eating enough of it so my system is on sleep instead of burn.

Oh well. Dreaming of sitting in a "home" again instead of this half-empty, extremely messy house.

2 more sleeps...

I.hate.moving

But yet in the past 4 years, we've moved..let's count:
- From our home in Ontario to my parents house for 2 months while we waited to move to (doesn't REALLY count, transition)
-Montenegro, apartment #1, 2 weeks (sort of tourists, transition)
-Apartment #2, a few months (transition)
-Me @ my parents for 2 months waiting for the baby (transition)
-Baby arrives and off to live at sis-in-law's for a month until I can go back to Montenegro and join hubby in (transition)
-Montenegro Apartment #3
-Montenegro Apartment #4
-Sweden House #1
- And now, Sweden House #2

so that's 9 abodes? A total of 6 for the 3.5 year old. To be fair, we're really talking about 4.

Boxes, staring at shit you know you should be throwing out but pack anyway, newspaper, cleaning, more cleaning, buying, more buying, calling every company imaginable to transfer services, changing addresses, unpacking, settling into a new area..oy...

And when we first made the move overseas, we sold a lot, gave a lot away, loaned some stuff out and stored a lot of stuff. I miss my stuff. Just wondering when we'll ever "get settled" again and get our stuff back.

I am grateful for these wonderful opportunities life has placed in front of us for sure. But it's hard to feel blessed with masking tape stuck to your butt, a zillion "must-do-that's" in your head, worrying about another transition for the little guy, trying to find quick Atkins-approved food, cracked hands and no time for a shower.

Moving Sucks

For so many reasons really. I mean there's the usual crap associated with any move.
1. Boxes: finding them, begging for them, buying them, never having enough
2. Thinking you really don't have all that much and it shouldn't take all that long. Then discovering you have triple what you thought you had and it takes you twice as long as you thought it would.
3. Shaking your head at the junk you accumulate in such a short period of time. I mean, who needs 3 balls of string? How many more shish kabob sticks are there in this drawer? I should have gotten rid of A, B and C years ago. How did this useless gadget make it through the last move?
4. Realizing at the last minute that things would have been sooo much easier had you decluttered PRIOR to the actual packing.
5. Finding a new place to live. That part is sucking hard right now.

In the past three years we've moved to two different countries, neither of which is an English-speaking country. So on top of all the general boxing up our lives crap, we have all these cultural adjustments to make. In Montenegro, it took me weeks to figure out exactly where and how to pay my bills (at the post office, through a very mean old lady who refused to even attempt to communicate with me). In Sweden, it's back to online banking, all in Swedish, and with the added security of this little doohickey that you have to type codes into in order to access codes to input into the computer in order to login, pay and confirm bills. It sucks.

But eventually, we get the hang of it and it's never as big a deal as it is the first few weeks.

The suckiest part about yet ANOTHER move (same country, same city this time at least), is having to explain away another upheaval in our three year old's life. In less than a year, he has lost his nanny and the 2nd language he was learning, moved, started daycare, had to go to a new daycare in the summer and started a new daycare in the fall. Just when he's finally seemingly adjusted and blossoming (turning into quite the little Swede), here we go again...

But our little man is a real trooper I tell ya. My hope is that all of these life-shaping experiences in his youngest years are building up his little character so change is never a frightening thing. As you can probably tell, it is for his Mommy.