THE MOVE...

After doing a post about fond memories of California, here I will make a documentation about a California memory I would like to forget...

... but I'm going to write a post about it that is way too long, anyway...

Sorry.


This is the only picture I really got... and I'm not really sad about it.

Observe: the remainder of our belongings sprawled on our front yard while two Yayhoos from an Orange County moving service assisted us in trying to fit our stuff into a huge truck. This was the beginning of the end of a move that didn't quite happen the way Paul and I had scripted it.

What we had planned:

• Kiddos would be, miraculously, whisked away for a few days by an angel mother-in-law to leave Paul and me to finish packing, load up and clean, and drive to Utah. (This part definitely happened... and it was miraculous... and you are an angel Mom F!!!)

• Use the moving allowance from Paul's new job to hire movers and cleaners to help us load the moving truck and clean the house. (I would be indoors helping direct cleaning and the carrying out of boxes. I would sip a bit of water when hot, scrub a few walls and windows, and perhaps take a few personal moments to reminisce the wonderful memories of my family in our California home. Paul would take a shady spot by the truck and be sure everything was loaded properly, assisting as needed, and sign the check when the job was done. Isn't that was a moving allowance is for??)

• The driving service would pick up the trailer and we would give a temporary goodbye to our belongings.
  

• Moments later, in the early evening... without kids or moving cares... we would drive into the sunset to the beach where Paul had reserved a (great deal on priceline!!!) night at a resort hotel. Enjoy a wonderful meal by the ocean, and perhaps take a leisurely walk on the shore.
  

• Sleep in, wake up refreshed the next morning, and drive east to greet our kids and new home.

What actually happened:

Without giving too many details, our picturesque ideals didn't quite come to fruition...

The moving and cleaning service was a pair of husband and wife neighbors who happen to "do this together every once and a while." They showed up late and angry with each other, bickered with each other and used some not-so-nice words, took lots of smoke breaks, and we ended up pushing back the pick up time for the truck several times and several hours.

It didn't take us long to see that this wasn't going to be the most efficient "moving service," so Paul and I got busy and carried out most of our boxes with the help of our friend Brian Rowley. (Thanks again Brian!!)

The, likewise, less-than-efficient cleaning service (the wives of the two men) cleaned about 1/8 of what I had thought would get done in the time allotted. Instead of paying for overtime, I frantically whizzed through the house to clean up my own messes :)

Our hotel check-in time came and went, and so did our dreams of a nice relaxing evening together.

When the truck driver came after 9pm, we stuffed in whatever else would fit, and were left with more than several odds and ends that didn't fit. There was still some cleaning to be done, and we weren't sure how we were going to load the odds and ends into our car. We were beat. We were dissheveled. We were done.

Thanks to some encouragement from my friend Missy, we decided to bag it for the night and make a mad dash for our ocean retreat... come back the next day and scrape up the leftovers.

And I'm so glad we did.

We debriefed and laughed about the experience the whole way to Huntington Beach, where we checked in before 11pm... just 10 minutes before the jacuzzis closed. Luckily, they didn't kick us out once we were in, and the steaming bubbly saltwater made everything better.

We did sleep in. And we enjoyed a happy morning eating a great breakfast and walking through the beach shops. We were rejuvenated and in great spirits.

After throwing out some odds, we puzzle-pieced the ends into our car, cleaned the rest of the house, said our last goodbyes, and drove off into the sunset.

The Utah end of our move went quite a bit better, as it was not quite so inefficient. Although the moving service we used in Utah sent us some SLC gangsta teenyboppers, we were grateful for the help and the job seemed much less cumbersome. Paul's family helped so much with the kiddos, and Paul was able to do many of the "manly" things before he returned to California to finish his remaining 3 weeks of residency and moonlighting shifts.

Thereafter, Paul and I decided that we don't want to ever be apart for 3 weeks again (as long as I have 4 children 5 and under with me), I found out that I would not make a very good single mom, and family help and visits helped get me through a surprisingly difficult transition without Paul. Thanks to all of you for your thoughtfulness, encouragement, and help.

Really... thank you... to everyone. Thank you for having sleepovers with the kids, giving us fun things to do, and listening to my worries. Thank you for dropping everything to make the trip, staying to help me in church, and bringing my brothers for some comic relief. Thank you for sweeping the basement, unpaking my closets, and hanging the curtains. Thank you for staying late to screw in bookshelves, setting up our wannabe entertainment center, and being a listening ear. Thank you for taking me to Miss Utah, listening to the Paul and Amy dating story--extended version, and love love loving my kiddos. You know who you are, and I'll always remember. You all helped me feel so supported and loved.

I am so glad to be close to family again.

And I am hereby vowing to never move again. Where we landed is where we shall stay... forevermore.

And I'm happy about that.

The end.