She's got the moves

It's late.  I am sitting at my kitchen table in our new house reflecting on our recent move.  My eye is twitching.  My feet hurt.  My kids aren't obeying...AT ALL.  Many things are going through my mind:  First off, I am thinking about where to hang my big vintage mirror, smiling as I imagine my husband sweating and struggling under the weight of it as I tell him, "no, a little more to the left...no, right, higher...now slightly lower..." I am thinking about painting my girls rooms...well, to be honest, thinking about my husband painting our girls rooms...I have a nursing infant who won't let me out of her sight for more than a minute...I can't risk the fumes causing her to grow an extra chromosome.  I am thinking about how close I am to a mental break, LITERALLY, I'm about one spilled sippy away from curling up in the corner, rocking back and forth and muttering to myself incoherently.  Packing and moving with 4 kids is ridiculous!  There should be warning labels about these things!  Something simple, like, "PARENTS OF SMALL CHILDREN IF YOU HAVE A HISTORY OF:  BEING ORGANIZED, BEING ON TIME, BEING EASY GOING, BEING FRIENDLY, BEING MENTALLY DISCIPLINED...PROCEED WITH CAUTION, THE FOLLOWING MY INCREASE YOUR RISK OF MENTAL IMPLOSION  DUE TO THE VOLITAL NATURE OF PACKING WITH CHILDREN...IF YOU FIND YOURSELF BECOMING OVERBEARING, OVER-REACTING, FLINCHING AT SUDDEN MOVEMENT, FORGETTING YOUR OWN NAME, CONFUSING YOUR RIGHT HAND FROM YOUR LEFT HAND, SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION...
I sincerely hope to NEVER move again...hell or high water, we are staying put.  My brain can't take the stress of mediating arguments, monitoring excessive cartoon watching and snack eating, and track "who started it" while taping boxes, stacking boxes, organizing boxes, labeling boxes...this move broke my brain, I am a different person today...not a better person, just a different one.  I can barely communicate in full sentences.  My thoughts are erratic.  I have forgotten how to spell (If you only knew how many times I have used spell check while writing this post...pitiful).  I keep getting lost in thought...LITERALLY, can't find my way out of each thought, each rabbit hole gets darker and darker...if it weren't for my kids constant fighting today, I'm not sure I would not have had contact with reality...I could be on one of those drug commercials from the 90's...THIS IS YOUR BRAIN (picture of me with makeup, smiling, eyes twinkling looking cute), THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON PACKING PEANUTS (picture of me holding a tape gun that doesn't work, sweating, crying, covered in spit up with a screaming baby strapped to my torso, surrounded by boxes, while a naked 2 year old gives me a dead leg).  The best way to manage moving with kids en toe is to ship them off to grandma's house so they aren't en toe.  Before you break out the tape gun and the new boxes, and the packing peanuts, put their shoes on, walk them out to the car, strap them in their car seats, and drive as fast as is legally possible until you reach grandma's house.  Grandma's house is a magical place where kids can be fed, bathed, clothed, and cuddled for free!  I wish I would have discovered this magical place sooner...I think deep down I always knew it was there, but refused to explore the wonder of it because I am slightly controlling and over-bearing...so to the grandma's in my life, "yeah, yeah, you were right."  There I said it...tell the truth, shame the devil.
The move was hell, as is the nature of moves, but totally worth it.  My kids now have a yard that isn't an ally street, I have a laundry room that isn't in the garage, my husband has an office that isn't our kitchen table...We are blessed.  We are thankful.  We are home.