Ch-ch-ch-changes

This past Friday we found an apartment we loved. We went to view said apartment, got approved for said apartment, and you guessed it. We moved in. All in a weekend. Correction, all on Sunday and Monday. I needed Saturday to get out of town before the mayhem began.

We don’t have to be out of our apartment for two weeks but my very determined husband wanted to get it done immediately. I on the other hand, would have take the two weeks. In hindsight, he made the right call.

We are pregnant with our second little one and knew we would need more space. We also knew we could make it work in the large one bedroom, but we found a gem–much sooner than anticipated. So, we got to packing.

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I forgot how tiring moving is. It is way different moving with a one year old than it is as a couple or single person moving out of a studio. We thought, “We don’t have that much shit. It’ll be easy.” WRONG. Oh, we have all the shit. Stuff we’ve totally forgotten about. Things that have just stacked up over time. And no, we are not hoarders.

We didn’t even think about the logistics! You definitely can’t just leave the door open and take turns bringing stuff in and out of the apartments with a child around. Someone has to watch the tornado of a child. Naturally, twas I who was left to attempt to pack as the tornado did her damage and my husband did the heavy lifting. It easily took five times the effort, not twice but at least five times.

In all the madness, I didn’t even think about how it would effect our girl. It didn’t hit me how her world is completely turned upside down in the process of moving and getting adjusted. We were so wrapped up in our determination to get things done it didnt even hit me–until I saw how crazy she became. She was yelling, laughing, crying, so full of excitement and confusion. There were times where she looked like a chicken with it’s head cut off.

We’ve been back and forth and back and forth and we are still picking up scattered pieces.

The first night was hell at the new place. We now have two bedrooms. Naturally, one is the kid’s room and the other one is the rent’s room. This leaves little miss tornado to her own room. She was not having it. She woke up a ferocious beast. Confused and probably  scared. Frankly, I’m learning so much and am completely lost when it comes to my daughter’s sleep. Please note,  I don’t say this to invite pointers. She just doesn’t like being alone when she sleeps. She has always slept with one part of her body touching mine. How can I expect a one year old to sleep alone when as adults, we don’t even like it much? (A whole other topic coming soon).

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Here we are approaching the third night of sleeping in our new home. We spent the better part of the afternoon getting comfortable under this new roof. My cousin and I sat in my bedroom as Kanga slowly made her way to the hallway, then to her room where she would play and soon return to check in and share laughs. She would peek her head into her room then waltz into the bathroom, return to her room then run back to us. We did this for a couple of hours. I’m going to go ahead and say she walked a marathon. She is clearly excited and happy to be here but this is still a BIG change. It’s a big change for all of us but most of all, for her.

As time goes on, though we are only just starting our second trimester, the amount of change happening slowly creeps up on me. We moved into a beautiful two bedroom we never thought we would find, while being pregnant with our second child we doubted would happen anytime soon due to exhaustion and health issues. Here we are and our little girl is growing so fast, she is so expressive, so full of attitude and smarts. She is only one, yet already one. We will blink and she will be a big sister and we’ll be loving and lugging two shorties around. Honestly, the feeling is bittersweet.

This is fucking awesome and completely exhausting all at the same time. My legs feel like jello and my heart wants to explode.

Oh, the roller coaster ride of parenthood.

Cheers to “ch-ch-ch-changes”,

Raffaella

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