We moved home and survived!

January was filled with cleaning cupboards and decluttering, finding new homes for unworn clothes and neglected toys. February was much the same, as it turns out it is quite difficult to declutter when your children attempt to put everything back. Amidst the cleaning, we tried to keep some normality and plodded through with read alouds and math workbooks, history texts and science. March was coming and I knew we would be taking a break. Not the holiday variety but a much busier time was to come. Our family was on the move, a whole 200 miles south, to a quiet country village. March came all too quickly and before we knew what was happening the packers were in and in a blink of the eye our possessions were disappearing into boxes.It really was quite something to watch...having only ever packed myself before it was quite a spectacle to see two men make very light work, completing in a day what would have taken me weeks to do, then again I may not have packed the salt into the same box with my crockery (a gritty disaster) nor would I have hidden my essential undergarments in a box with photo albums (too many hours spent searching), but joking aside it was helpful as I am sure my children may have made it hard work keeping those boxes closed before the move. Then came the removal van, the children were fascinated and Mr Cheeky was angling for a job. Undeterred by the lack of payment he dug deep and got to removing the contents of our house causing Mr Smiley to attempt the same despite the boxes being taller than him. Mr Cheeky didn't succeed in attaining employment (employment laws were prohibitive) but he was satisfied with his efforts.

This was no time for school. The boys' surroundings were changing, their friendships were changing. To begin with, the boys enjoyed the adventure. The new house was like Aladdin's cave to them as they explored their new home and attempted to discover in which box their favourite toys were hiding. I, however, was a woman on a mission. With Mr Faithful due to start his new job in a week from arriving at the new home I was determined to get our home looking like a home. So many late nights, so many early mornings...box after box, flat pack furniture after flat pack furniture, I set about transforming our new home, albeit fuelled by chocolate and coffee (not recommending this approach). By the end of our first week, I was placing the last of our books on the shelves, hanging up the last pieces of laundry in the wardrobes, placing the last game in the cupboard. I'm fairly certain the boys must have thought I had lost the plot or my senses sometime during the move, they had a crazy woman for a mother (could have been the excessive chocolate consumption). The poor lads were tired and grumpy by the end of that week, desperate for their Mummy to sit with then, play with them, interact with them meaningfully. A cafe hot chocolate and smoothie treat cheered them up somewhat and some hugs later we came home to a home that I felt comfortable in and ready to resume our normal activities. I know we could have spent longer unpacking but it would have driven me to distraction living around boxes.

We resumed our educational activities the second week in our new home. We started off slowly, introducing each subject and activity every few days, not wanting to shock or overload the children. Also, we were having glorious weather and it was the perfect time for exploring woods and parks and being outside making the most of our notorious British weather. Each time we stepped out of our front door we were greeted with some beautiful scenery.

Isn't it beautiful! I keep pinching myself and at times think we are on holiday and that soon we will have to return to the big city. We are now well into May and we are really enjoying our new home. The boys are beavering away with their work and relish our times in the afternoon where we go outside and find new places. The house isn't quite finished, there are still a few curtains to be made and pictures to be hung on the wall but that I am happy to do in time. But we survived the move with very little scars, Mr Social achieving the biggest scar by peeling his thumb with a vegetable peeler consequently giving to a rather panicked mother trying to stop the bleeding whilst discovering that her network coverage was useless and her knowledge of local walk-in centres was lacking. I did eventually manage to stop the bleeding but in the chaos, I then failed to notice the large hole the movers had made in the top of my washing machine...and I'm glad to say that even at 9 years old, the washing machine took the major dent on the chin and is persevering. Time to put my feet up...oh wait, the baby is crawling, there goes my rest.