Packing...

Last night I officially started packing. I hate packing. Its so frustrating. If you have ever had to pack with small children around, than you know my frustration.

 

Abby likes to help. It doesn't matter what I am doing, she wants to help. This includes diapering Rachel, making dinner, laundry (which is counterproductive), training the dog ("sey" for stay and she can very clearly say "out!"), and of course packing. Now I have yet to recruit her services for this round, but I remember how helpful she was last time. She would put dirty laundry in boxes, and take various items out when I wasn't looking. Needless to say, I had to ship her off for two days, to the delight of her Grandma, so I could get something done! Even with Abigail not around, the emotional toll on a 4 month pregnant woman was great. Thankfully, that is not my current status.

 

I have resolved to pack a couple of boxes each day, in hopes that this gradual approach will avoid the need to evacuate the babies. The trouble with this is that it prolongs the emotional processing that accompanies packing, and honestly, trying to evaluate the items that I won't need for another 2 months is quite difficult. Stephen's family will be visiting in mid-February, so I want to keep out all of my nice dishes and glasses. You know, the stuff I only use for company. And all of that stuff is usually the first to get packed. I would pack all the extra linens, but we need those. I did manage to pack half of the girls toys, and immediately I started to worry about the girls' cousins having enough to play with. 

 

Abigail noticed that there were toys missing this morning. She walked around her playroom like she was lost. Rachel didn't care. She is too little to care, and I left her favorite toy out. She is content. Rachel doesn't have the attention span that Abigail does, which is none. Abby truely is Stephen's daughter. Its like the additional space gave her even more of a reason to run around screaming this morning. And she decided to include the puppy in her game. Not to helpful, if you ask me. 

 

I have given serious thought to packing clothes. But I live in PORTLAND! When we first moved here, someone told me that if I didn't like the weather, wait 10 minutes, it'll change. And they were right! It's not like we own a lot of winter clothes anyways. Our winter attire consists of layering our summer and California "winter" clothes creatively, so that we can stay warm. I actually layered 3 tank tops yesterday with a sweatshirt. I'm doing the best I can without buying a new wardrobe. Abigail is also going through a "naked" phase. The more layers on her, the more likely she will stay clothed. We are starting to fid her completely undressed in the morning. Oh, the joys of parenthood!

 

Thankfully, we were not too eager to throw out or redistribute our moving boxes. I had told Stephen that we spent a lot of money on those boxes, and you never know when we might need them. Oh brother, if I would have known, I would not have unpacked... Ok, maybe I would of. I definitely would not have spent all that time painting downstairs when I was pregnant... Ok, I probably would have. (There are very few things you can talk me out of when I am pregnant.) But even with all the boxes from last time, we still need more. Adding a child to the family immediately increases the clutter. And we have two daughters. Girls by nature come with accessories.

 

ARGH! I hate moving. Stephen is sending me like 20 emails a day. Each with links to a Craig's List post of possible rentals. I have actually considered blocking him. It is starting to look a lot like "spam." (I love you too, honey.) As awful as it sounds, nothing is what I want. (I am such the consumer.) I keep looking at these places going "Do I really think that living room can handle a screaming Abigail with a Havana chasing her?" Or how about the fact that I want space for when our families come to visit us? And being out in the middle of nowhere isn't conducive to youth meetings either... Does the perfect home exist?

 

I drifted from my normal reading guide and stumbled upon Psalm 84. Its amazing. If I would have read this on the date scheduled, it would be in September. But here we are in late January and I am finding myself strengthened by words about birds and their nests. Its not like I haven't noticed the verse before, I have. It's just this time it was personal. I want a place to raise my kids. And as much as I want to cater to the needs of a hostess, I really just want to be close to God. I want the peace that comes from constantly being in his presence. I want the security of being within the walls of his house.

 

The cynical part of me doesn't care where we move to. We would have to leave it within 13 months anyways... But the hopeful part, just wants someplace where we can get settled. A place where my family can find its rhythm. Where the girls can go to a nearby school, and God willing, have more kids. (A boy would be nice.) A home that we can welcome our community into, and a place that reminds us of God's hand on our lives. Too bad that's not a post for Craig's List, right?

 

All that to say, please keep the Gomez Family in your prayers. Its hectic over here...