Adventures in Moving

Moving Day

We'd been planning our trip to Disney World for several months. We helped clean a local park and got free tickets through Disney's Give-a-Day, Get-a-Day program. Finally, we were heading to Orlando over Labor Day weekend. Coincidentally, Steve landed a job interview with Disney, so he coordinated it with our trip.

I enjoyed Magic Kingdom as much as I could, being eight months pregnant. I have actually never been to that park not pregnant, so I am used to swollen feet, aching back, etc. etc. of being at a theme park all day with an extra passenger.

Steve had his interview, and I didn't think much of it, as he'd had many interviews this past year. Maybe it would work out, maybe not. Whatever happened, I'm sure it would happen way after the baby was born.

Steve got a call from Disney only a few days after we returned from Orlando. He was offered a job. I was in shock. Didn't the company have a bunch of red tape it needed to cut through, a number of people to consult, many other tasks to do, taking a month or two, before they could just hire Steve? I was going on nine months pregnant! We didn't need another life change. I told Steve I was OK with moving to Orlando, but I was having the baby first, and the kids were finishing the nine weeks period at school.

Steve accepted the job and gave October 11th as his start date. Our baby was due the third, so he thought he was in the clear. Dear Steve forgot that our babies tend to be late. If our little one was two weeks late, that would put her birthday on the 14th. However, I had a good feeling about this one. I really thought she was going to be a forty-weeker. The one constant in all my pregnancies is that I start having serious pains two weeks before the birth. The pains started at 38 weeks, so I was hoping 40 weeks would be the time. Thus, I agreed to the start date of the 11th, and moving date of October eighth, after the kids got out of school. Disney did say Steve could start later if the baby didn't come in time, but he was really hoping to get a good start at his new company without having to ask for time off right off the bat.

October third came and went. Then the fourth, and the fifth... We had painters coming and going, cleaning crews, packers (who packed our stove knob by mistake), and movers. We were slowly closing up our Georgia life. One thing remained "open." Our last little Sullivan still had not arrived. We were getting nervous. We knew we weren't able to make the eighth as moving day. Maybe the ninth, or maybe Steve could go ahead without us. We were trying to figure it out, when I decided maybe I would have an induction.

A semi truck worth of stuff

I don't like inductions; I learned with my first pregnancy that Pitocin is not my friend. I realized that an induction may not even be an option, anyway, because I had had a previous c-section. We were getting desperate. We went to talk to my doctor. He said, "come in tomorrow morning, and we'll get you out of this pickle." Elated, but also nervous (I'd had all of my babies except the c-section, without medication or interventions) we left the doctor's office to prepare. Steve's mom came down to help with the kids.

As the evening went on, I told Steve we were probably going to the hospital that night. My "pains" that started two weeks prior, were organizing themselves into regular, consistent contractions. Sure enough, little Delaney Grace was born that night, October sixth at 10:33 PM. I suppose we just had to threaten her with the induction to get her to come out.

Eli, Sawyer, and Delaney

We were released to an empty house on the eighth, our original moving day. I slept on an air mattress. We decided Steve was going to Orlando on the ninth with or without us. We just had to decide if I could make the trip, or come later after resting up. Well, this being my sixth baby (and ninth pregnancy), I just didn't feel that beat up. It was an easy delivery, and she was sleeping a lot still. The house was empty, and so I decided to go ahead to Orlando with Steve the next day. Yes, you are reading this right. I birthed a baby on the sixth, and took a roadtrip on the ninth. Yes, for those of you who haven't caught on yet, we are crazy. Did you miss the fact that we now have six kids? We are still waiting on Amazon to deliver our straight jackets.

We loaded up the vehicles and said good-bye to Kilmersdon Lane. I went to use the bathroom before we left. I heard a plink and a small crashing sound. I looked down in horror to see my cell phone in the toilet. It had fallen out of my back pocket. I grabbed it and dried it off the best I could, but it was ruined. Now, I wouldn't be able to keep in contact with Steve on our road trip.

I go outside to share the news only to find that our van won't start. We had left the doors open all morning. Steve jumped the van and told me he'd meet me at Chipotle for lunch. I left him and his mom and got a head start for my burrito.

I turned the corner and drove through a big pile of glass. Great, now I could get a flat tire and not be able to call Steve. Steve and his mom would drive through this pile of glass later. So Steve's mom could get a flat on her way back to Indiana by herself.

At Chipotle, the kids and I wondered what was taking Steve and Baka (my kids' name for her) so long. Finally, they came in and told us Baka's van wouldn't start (this is a problem with Dodge minivans). We were off to a terrific start (pardon the pun).

All's well that ends well. The rest of the trip was uneventful and the baby slept through most of it as did I. Just kidding. We agreed that if I got tired we would stop. We broke the trip up into two parts. Four hours each day. Not bad for a sleep-deprived mama.

We're sort-of settled here in Orlando. We're in temporary housing and the kids aren't in school yet. We are ready for our new adventure in Florida. We'll sell our Atlanta house (hopefully), get a new one, make new friends, explore the state, but we miss our old life. It is painful, but exciting. Just like giving birth, no pain, no gain!

Eli and the view from our new balcony

We began our married life in Indianapolis. Seven years later we moved away from our home state of Indiana to the foreign land of Georgia. I was pregnant then too. New house, new job, new state... Another seven years later, here we are again. Who knows where the next seven years will take us?

Lately

Cumming Country Fair:

Myrtle Beach:

Little boys do not think fish heads are gross...

My three-year-old (or a wild boar) got into the cupcakes for my daughter's party.

I should've used gloves. No, I didn't kill the three-year-old. This is food coloring from kneading fondant cake icing.

Birthday cake for nine-year-old vampiress.

Kids Love this Place

As part of our summer vacation this year, we visited Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado. We had gone there two years before, and the kids loved it. It was last on our trip, so we were worried we'd be able to fit it in. The delight on our children's faces says it all. It should have been a priority!

There is a creek to get dirty in.
The footprints blow away in minutes- nature's Etch-a-Sketch.


It is like part desert, part beach, part flying.

Seed of Christine?

I didn't like the Nissan Pathfinder the moment I saw it, but National Car Rental was all out of minivans and large SUVs. I shouldn't blame the vehicle, actually. The happenings I'm about to describe were mother nature's fault.

I don't recommend a Pathfinder for a family of seven. I couldn't even fit my stroller in the trunk, let alone our six pieces of luggage, five backpacks, baby backpack, laptop, and cooler. After an uncomfortable, but thankfully brief, ride to Walmart, we purchased some bungee cords and put most of the stuff on top. It would then go on to rain several times during our vacation.

We took up every inch of the vehicle. There was no room to climb in the back to buckle kids in or settle Leapster disputes. I told everyone to pretend we were on safari. The vehicle had no shocks, apparently, so this was easy to pretend.

If someone rolled a window down while all the others were rolled up, a hideous noise similar to a flat tire's thumping (magnified 10 times) would enter the vehicle. Many times I thought for sure we had a flat (which is a fun thing to get in the middle of nowhere).

We were in the Rocky Mountains, so it was fitting that a rock flew up and dinged our windshield. There were already two dings in it prior to our renting it, so we weren't that concerned. Then the ding turned into a bigger ding, and then a inch-long crack in a matter of minutes. Every minute it grew another inch. We were in Grand Lake, Colorado, just south or Rocky Mountain National Park. We pulled over as soon as we got cell phone reception and called the rental company.

The agent told us to return the car to Denver and trade it in for another one. While I would love to get rid of this sardine can, Denver was two hours away, and we had been driving all day. We had five hungry, tired kids in the back who were ready to scarf down pizza and jump in the hotel pool. We were going to be driving through Denver in four days, so we decided to trade it in then. That was settled, but we still needed to file a claim with our insurance company. We found out we would be basically paying out of pocket because the damage didn't meet our deductible. OK, at this point the windshield can still be repaired, we thought, so it wouldn't be that much.

We started driving again, and the crack started growing again. As soon as we entered the park, the wind picked up and blew branches from a beetle-addled dying pine tree onto our window. Great- probably helped the crack along. We then entered a hail storm. Fabulous. What else? An elk want to charge the windshield with his antlers?

After all that drama, we had about a ten-inch crack in the windshield. It would have to be replaced for sure, now. Ah well, at least no one ended up in the hospital on this vacation (I think this was our first vacation in which no one "toured" the local hospital). Better the car instead of one of us with a ten-inch crack in the head (that may or may not have been threatened to the pinching heathens in the backseat).

Growing up Grandly

My little boy is growing up. He hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon with his Daddy on our vacation last week. They stayed at Phantom Ranch at the bottom and, after a $50 breakfast, hiked back up. When the food has to be taken down by mule, it's gonna cost ya.

They took all their food except the breakfast. They had their handy dandy backpacks with built-in water pouches. At ten, he's a bona fide hiker.

Now, fifth grade starts Monday. Next year it's middle school! I am not one of those moms who celebrate the start of the school year. Instead, I start weighing the merits of homeschooling (still afraid that might end in bloodshed). Still, I don't want to see him go!

He made it through the canyon without me. Next he may climb some peaks with Dad. I'm sure he'll do fine then too. He doesn't need Mommy for everything anymore. Fifth grade is no different, but it's all bittersweet to me. I don't want to watch him hike into the canyon without me; I am still proud of him when he does.