Timeline

Every time we move, there are new ropes to learn, but it's almost always the same timeline (at least for me). I find that in general, for about two weeks prior to the move and then two weeks following the move, I'm possessed with an almost manic energy. Sleep is hard to come by because my mind won't turn off; food is optional; coffee is sometimes even forgotten as I plow through my To Do list (and sometimes try to take on everyone else's) like a juggernaut. The Man and the children have gotten to the point where they mostly just get out of my way, although the Man does occasionally put his foot down and make me quit to do fun things or just go to bed. During this time, I also try to implement my new cleaning, writing, and exercise schedules because this makes total logical sense to someone who is borderline insane with sleep deprivation.

After the two week post move mark though, I crash. Hard. There are naps. There are long hours sitting in the recliner re-reading comfort books. There are early bed times and over slept alarms. There is utilizing persistently meowing cats to get myself out of bed in the morning (and once they've been fed, there's no going back upstairs to get back in bed so I might as well curl up in the recliner and stare off into space while pretending to write). There is no energy to go run, so I take the dog for a walk, and since he thinks he's still a puppy, he might drag me behind him for a mile or so while I ask plaintively every few steps, "Are we done yet? Can we go home now? Is it time to stop?"

I'm seeing empty spaces on the boys' bookshelf,
which means it's time to find a used bookstore.

Meanwhile the actual settling in continues. The girls' bed doesn't arrive, and I find myself glued to the window watching the UPS guy like a hawk. I put in groceries at the nearest grocery store and instead of giving me four bananas (which I thought I ordered), they give me four bunches of bananas. I make banana bread and take it to a meeting I have for our homeschool co-op, building relationships over shared facepalms. I find a chunk of dried rice on the base of our farmhouse table that has been sitting there since before the hurricane (I think I've pin-pointed it to the cilantro lime rice we ate before we evacuated). I find a piece of elbow pasta sitting in the middle of our kitchen counter after nearly three weeks in the house during which time I have not once cooked elbow pasta. I manage to get bleach spots on the knee of my one pair of nice pants while doing an emergency clean of the refrigerator because we'd run out of ziplock bags and the meat I'd wrapped in saran wrap had leaked everywhere.

So many bananas...

We learn to navigate our new neighborhood, which in these times means spending a lot of time rubbing antibacterial hand sanitizer into hands that are covered with tiny cuts from moving boxes and setting up furniture. The stinging sensation helps keep me awake on days I don't get naps. I also spend a lot of time wondering if masks are going to be the death of the spoken word as I pick up pizza and talk to hardware guys and ask questions in the plant section and repeat myself often.

Comfort books for all.

This tired phase where I sit in the car in the driveway because I don't have the energy to walk into the house will last until the six week mark, and then there will be a return to some semblance of normalcy. I will be normal adult tired instead of moving adult tired. New relationships will have been kicked off, and there will be the now familiar sensation of having settled in somewhat. It helps to have done this before so that there's less freaking out that I'm going to feel like this forever. It also helps to know that this is normal. Other military wives tell me that they have the six week to two months timeline too.

Blythe is my recliner nap buddy.

And then it passes. And we'll be doing school and meeting new friends for playdates and putting in what has become a regular grocery order and feeling the comforting structure of routine settling around us...while waiting on news for our next move. Because this is how the world turns. And honestly, in a world where you can go from one place to the next and meet interesting people and try new things and move furniture around to make a snug home and learn and grow and stretch (and sometimes take naps)...even with masks and missing bunk beds and mystery pasta...it's a pretty great life.