Where Do You Want This?

Everybody knows moving isn't easy. In fact, it's tough. It's downright HARD. Tack on kids (in our case, four) and 11 years worth of stuff and the idea is undeniably daunting. From the day we got the call to come work at Woodland West, a sense of dread came over me whenever I thought about the prospect of packing up our house and all its contents, most of which fall squarely under the category heading "JUNK." It's funny how parents and kids view things so differently: what is a mere trinket to me is a treasure in the eyes of my kids. So we didn't pare down nearly as much as I would have liked while we were still in Ohio. (That part came AFTER the movers pulled away from my curb in Arlington.)

When our actual moving day was imminent our plans had changed several times, but we finally decided on this course of action: Randy would ride down with the kids and me on Tuesday (and Wednesday and Thursday--hoo boy), and then he would go on the annual WW planning retreat with the elders/deacons/staff on Friday night and Saturday. We would worship together on Sunday, and Randy would fly back to Ohio on Monday to fix up the house and get it ready to sell.

What am I forgetting? Hmm . . . think, think, think. Oh yeah, the movers! When would the movers be arriving to deliver our belongings? Well, what do you know? They could be here bright and early Saturday morning while Randy was "retreating!" You've got it--I and I alone was responsible for the placement of each and every piece of furniture, every box, every bin--no wonder the garage filled up so quickly! You MUST know how indecisive I can be! I know that as time goes by and the memory grows dimmer I won't remember the way I felt that day, but right now it's fresh enough in my mind that I still cannot believe I had to do it all by myself!

As I mentioned, Randy left for the retreat late Friday afternoon so I went to bed with the knowledge that I would be responsible for getting myself and the kids up, dressed and ready for the movers, who were due to arrive between 8:00 and 8:30 a.m. That included getting four air mattresses (the girls shared a queen) deflated, sheets folded, and everything moved out of the way in preparation for everything that was about to come in. Having gotten what I thought was a pretty good read on the driver Tuesday, I was inclined to believe that he would be on my doorstep closer to 8:00 than 8:30, but what do I know? And yet there it was, that rap on the glass-fronted door at 7:55 a.m., and before I'd even managed to get the last air mattress folded up I was confronted by Tim and his three Spanish-speaking compadres, all looking slightly like they'd rather be back in bed, and ALL looking expectantly at me. "You wanna walk through the house and show us where you want everything?" Please, oh please, don't let them be talking to me.

You know, any sane couple would have mentally walked through the house long before and at least decided where the major pieces of furniture should go. (Don't deny it Tracy, I know you were thinking it!) Ha ha, ha, ha ha, that is SO funny. You don't honestly think Randy and I are that on the ball, do you?! But here's the thing: We didn't even get to the house until lunchtime on Friday and we were immediately overcome with the sights that greeted us: A huge "Welcome Home" sign taped to the house, along with a cluster of balloons tied to the mailbox; about fourteen bags of leaves resting at the curb of our freshly mown lawn (which Tracy tried to take the credit for--she has already figured out that yes, I'm THAT gullible); and inside, several goodie baskets filled with items both necessary (paper plates, plastic utensils and cups, napkins) and generous (juice boxes, water bottles, cookies, crackers, chocolate), courtesy of both Tracy and Patti, our realtor and fellow Woodland West-er; a beautiful, large Santa figurine (also a gift from Patti) that may turn out to be one of my only Christmas decorations this year, and which is currently residing on my mantle along with a snowman that my sister-in-law made for me one year; and in every bathroom, tied with golden ribbon, a package of toilet tissue and box of Kleenex, as well as a bottle of hand soap (Patti again--how great is she??!).

So, by the time we had taken all these things in, of course the first thing Randy said was, "Well, let's go get some lunch!" Yeah, because we don't have anything pressing or time-sensitive to do. But hungry kids make for cranky kids, so perhaps he knew what he was doing. We ran to Sonic--honestly, where else?--and came back and ate out on the brick wall in our BEAUTIFUL backyard, where it was so warm I wished I'd packed my shorts and flip-flops! Then we did do a very brief walk-through and confirmed which bedroom belonged to whom, where beds would be placed, where the fish tank would go, and where to put the computer desk. DANGER****DANGER****DANGER****DANGER****DANGER****

The next priority on the agenda was for Randy to go shopping. Oh yes, shopping. That's another story in itself but it's worth mentioning in case any of you are planning a move in the near future: When the moving company tells you not to empty out your drawers because they'll just wrap the entire piece of furniture as is, DO NOT BELIEVE THEM. THIS IS A LIE. Randy intentionally left his "good" jeans in our armoire on Monday so that he would have them for the trip on Tuesday. Neither of us even realized until Tuesday morning when he went to put them on that the packers had relieved the armoire of its contents, so Randy had been wearing the same pair of blue jeans for three days, and without a new pair he would have to wear them for another two days--blech! So off to Wal-mart he went, leaving the kids and me at the house.

The kids were having a fantastic time exploring the house and backyard, so I decided to take some time to do what I had neglected to do before we left Grove City--terminate our phone and DSL service. I grabbed my handy-dandy cell phone and--guess what? No signal. Zero bars. Zippo. Are you listening, T-Mobile? Your coverage stinks! This discovery naturally propelled me into panic mode because I realized I would be cut off from civilization for the next two days if I didn't have my cell phone. Oh, except that I don't live out in the middle of nowhere, I live right in the big middle of somewhere! Breathe, Andrea, breathe. I started thinking it was all part of some evil plot on Randy's part--first no Internet service, now no cell phone . . . have you brought me here to die??! You'd better believe that was the FIRST thing I wanted to talk about when Randy sashayed in from Wal-mart. Well, okay, he didn't really sashay, but he sure had a spring in his step that made me irritable! But in about five minutes he went from, "We can't get Internet service 'til we sell the house" to "Oh, just transfer our service from Ohio and be done with it." YES!!!

How in the world did I get this far off the subject? Oh yeah, I was explaining why we had not nailed down some of the more important details before the knock came on the door. So here we are again on Saturday morning, me, the driver and three bleary-eyed, Spanish-speaking guys--father, son and grandson. That was pretty cool. The son and grandson taught me a few new words in between hoisting boxes, and the father blessed me repeatedly when he found out I was a Christian; he also gestured toward the ground and told me that his son was going to hell. I pointed to the cross hanging around his son's neck and said, "What's this?" "Cat-o-lic," he sneered. No lie.

Man, I keep wandering off the track! OKAY, there we were in the bedroom and Tim wanted to go room by room so that I could give him an idea as to where to direct the larger, heavier pieces of furniture. My job was to stand in the garage with a clipboard and inventory sheet and mark off every box and/or piece of furniture as it was wheeled off the truck. Got it. Tim impressed upon me that the guys would be moving pretty quickly, and he was well aware that I was on my own but, I've got to say, that didn't seem to mean much to him. He was all business, although just as nice as could be. You could tell he was itching to let loose the hounds, and was just waiting for me to blow the whistle. And how naive is this? I actually thought I could do it. Isn't that hilarious?! Me?! Right about the time the first load of boxes was being wheeled down the ramp, I suddenly got this nauseous feeling in my gut and went, "Oh man. Oh man oh man oh man oh man." See, I'd suddenly remembered that there were several pieces of furniture--MAJOR, NOT TO BE OVERLOOKED pieces of furniture--that Randy and I had never discussed. And in my mind, once these things were put in place, there was no moving them. I realize now (and indeed, after watching the guys move one piece from one side of the room to the other with ease) that I was worried for nothing, but I have to admit I wanted to get this right. I wanted Randy to be proud of me. Heck, I just wanted to get through it in one piece!

Has anybody wondered where the kids were during all this? Well, I had managed to make sure they were all clothed before the movers entered the house, so they had congregated in the kitchen, where Randy had thoughtfully left a big box of donuts for them to eat for breakfast. Because I need four kids hopped up on sugar when I'm supposed to be giving my full and complete attention to the Three Amigos. I have to admit, there was a moment right there at the very beginning where I did just want to admit defeat. I looked around desperately for a white flag I could raise to indicate my desire to surrender, but there was none to be had. Drat. Sawyer and Peyton buzzed around me like flies, while Darcy made like a defective cuckoo clock, except that instead of poking her head out on the half-hour and hour and saying, "Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said, "When are they going to be done? When are they going to be done?" Calgon, take me away.

Bonnie Cochrum, God bless her, had offered the day before to come and take the kids for the day since she knew that nothing good could come of their being at the house. No, that's not really what she said. But she knew they would be bored (and because she's a mom, she knew they would be in the way, I'm just sure of it!), and I kept eyeing the clock, wondering if she was the type to sleep in on Saturday. Oh, what the heck. "Peyton, grab the phone and give Ms. Bonnie a call." When Peyton relayed the message that Bonnie would come and get them after having taking a shower, I irrationally thought, "How selfish can she be??!" No, I'm just kidding. I didn't really think that, I promise. I was just grateful that she had even made the offer. I don't remember what time she actually got to the house but I don't think it was much after 9:00. Bless you, bless you, bless you, Bonnie!

After the kids took off (actually, Tyler stayed behind to "help" me--not), I was able to hunker down and focus on the task at hand. And you know what? It became sort of easy. I mean, how hard is it to say, "Oh, just put that in the garage?" No, I'm kidding. I really did try to direct things as best I could, but it became apparent as more and more boxes began making their way up the driveway that our packers had gotten a little lackadaisical in the identification of the contents in each box. VJ, the grandson in the operation, got to the point that he LOVED bringing in a box with no label or identifying marks--"I'll just put this in the garage." Yeah, I'll bet you will. That's okay, though--he did his share of heavy lifting.

Terri Pendergraft, the wife of one of our elders, stopped by around lunchtime and came bearing another huge goodie basket with lots of luxury items and, best of all, a pad of paper and some Post-it notes! Also, Brian, Jamie, Chandler, Christian and Carson came over and Brian intended to hook up our washer and dryer (turned out it was missing a hose or something), so between Terri, Brian and Jamie, they TOTALLY helped me figure out what to do with a couple of pieces of furniture and got our living room and eating area arranged in a way that just "works." They hung around until the movers had left and--here's the funny part--either Brian or Jamie decided that this one particular wall needed a bookshelf on it. AFTER the movers had left. I have to give B & J props (mostly Jamie, 'cause she's a girl and all)--they manhandled and maneuvered this big, heavy bookshelf out of a bedroom, around a REALLY tight corner, down the stairs and into the living room where, sure enough, that wall was just waiting for that bookshelf. Meanwhile, I sat on my couch watching TV and eating bon-bons. *Wink wink.*

Randy finally arrived home around 6:00 p.m., long after the dust had settled, and he immediately asked, "Why did you have the movers put the armoire there?" Here, let me give you some cake to go with that PUNCH!!!