Operation Relocation

My friends. My friends. It has been a long week. As in long long. Yawn.

February 11, 2008, Carrie Miller worked her last day here:

And came home to these guys.

Sigh of bliss.

It’s been a long 6 ½ years. I’m so glad to stay home with my little ankle biters. My yelling, running, whirling, careening, drooling, giggling, ticklish, sometimes maddening, kissable, huggable, loveable boysies. Sigh of bliss. (I’m narrowing my beady little eyes at all of you staring at the screen skeptically wondering how long said sigh of bliss will last. Don’t care. Still prefer it.)

February 12, Mama Carol zoomed in on the Amish bus to Florida to help our belabored family pack. It’s an ordeal packing with aforementioned anklebiters, seeing as how there are approximately four billion highly undesirable diaper changes in one day (what on EARTH are my children eating???!!!!), hungry mouths to feed, and necks to wash.

And then.

February 13, a Budget truck screeched up to our house, two hoss boys jumped out and on the noon of February 14 I was suddenly left wide-eyed and benumbed in an echoing house watching that Budget truck burn rubber toward our last meal in Kentucky. How this was possible included a large exercise of sheer brawn on the behalf of my beleaguered male family members and the patient packing, scrubbing, and kid directing of my mother and Carol. It happened far more quickly than I had envisioned and included far more previously unpacked items than I had realized. So then. Treasures in heaven, guys? Hopeful look.

The beginning of the end.

Carol working hard in the kitchen.

Mom working hard in the living room.

Dad and Quentin working hard....pretty much everywhere.

Gabe churning up the ramp of the as yet unfilled second truck.

Box o' Sweetness.

The final check.

Anywho. We said a final goodbye to our neighbors Bud and Jean who we will miss dearly,

and that was that. We had a lot happen in that house. It was a good old horse. Pat pat.

After a final meal at Golden Corral (belch), Kentucky faded away in our rear view mirrors as we trundled down the road. We all arrived in Virginia around 10 PM or so, and the next day was spent on van repairs and laundry. Loads and loads of laundry. Loads. All ours. Errrr…thanks again, family. Wide-eyed look.

We arrived in Bridgeville, Delaware on Sunday, February 16, around 1 PM. We had a houseful of helpers from Cannon Mennonite church to unload our two trucks in record time.

There were busy ladies in the kitchen, putting food and dishes away, and two quietly buzzing worker bees who stayed until closing time sneakily doing helpful things like setting up our beds and putting up curtains, as I stared dazedly around me at the massive pile of boxes and furniture.

Nana Carol stayed until Wednesday to help unpack and help with the boys. Thanks so much, Carol.

The boys have settled in pretty well. The last few nights they have slept all night. Israel couldn't really care less where he is, as long as there is plenty of food involved. Which there has been. Wowsers. Check out this peanut butter pie we received the other night from some generous people. I’m pretty sure I have never seen a huger pie in my entire life. I had to document it for posterity. It's just an example of all the luscious eats around here these days. :)

And it was – and still is – ABSOLUTELY. DELICIOUS. As have been all of the meals that have streamed our way. Waddle. Pat the belly.

Gabriel is still adjusting a bit, though. When Tim and he returned from a basketball game tonight, he said “But I thought we were going home!” Tim said “Gabe, this is our home now.” And he said “But I thought we were going to the red house.” He has asked several times if we can go home. I’m not sure exactly what he misses specifically, but of course everything here is new. He slept better after we put a blanket over his window at night, since we don’t have mini blinds yet. Tonight he asked again, and then he said that our “house in Kentucky is empty”. Poor little guy. The “red house” was the only house he has known. The idea of relocation seems a bit unsettling and not quite welcome.

Personally, I LOVE our new house WAY better than our “red house”. There are all sorts of things I could wax poetic on, such as a pantry, and a large closet, and the boys each having their own bedroom, and plenty of room to run around outside…but I’ll save that for another time. Meanwhile, we’re thrilled to be here, and have greatly enjoyed our snow and ice that we brought along with us. I love snow.

Unpacking has going pretty smoothly - all of the boxes in the house are unpacked, now I just have the garage to tackle. I notice that I have little mini helpers everywhere underfoot, busily unfolding items I have just folded, emptying the refrigerator doors of the mustard and other items within reach as I'm putting stuff on the higher shelves, and transporting shoes from one end of the house to the other. Here they were working diligently to apply lotion from a bottle that apparently had a few extra ounces. :)

Thanks so much to everyone at Cannon who helped us move in, and for the gifts and flowers that awaited us, the stocked refrigerator and pantry and bathrooms, the freshly painted house and freshly carpeted back bedroom, the freshly graded driveway; for all the work that went into preparing for us and helping us on moving day…and for the meals that continue to stream in everyday. We are so overwhelmingly grateful. And to our family who spent so much time and exerted effort in getting us packed and on the road and unpacked….we love you and appreciate you so much and know that we were more than a lot of work. You can come visit us anytime, we love you all so much.