Here we move again . . .

First, I should introduce myself.  I am MIT Mommy’s BFF from high school.  We have, generally speaking, known each other since the 7^th grade, although we have had quite a hiatus and have recently been reunited thanks to Facebook.   Don’t let anyone tell you social networking sites have no intrinsic value – reconnecting with your BFF:  Priceless.

I am, among other things, the wife of a career Marine Corps officer and the mom of two girls (10 and 6).  I am expecting our third child in early October.  We also have two dogs, a greyhound and a Bouvier de Flandres.   We have a lot of stuff.  I am taking inventory of everyone because it’s moving time.  Again.

As a military family, we move a lot.   I believe the longest we have lived anywhere is about three years, which also means that on occasion, we move really quickly.  This time, we’re moving after 10 months. 

We have moved across the continental US, to Hawaii and back, and all up and down the East Coast.   My first with children move was a solo cross-country flight with a lone six-week old.  Three and a half years later, I had a five-week old, a three-year old and two Doberman Pinchers (one of whom was nearly left on the tarmac at LAX in my full, post-partum, hysterical view) to relocate from Hawaii to northern Virginia in the winter, with nothing warmer than a jean jacket among us.  I have driven from Virginia to Michigan with two children and two dogs, one of whom was both anxiety-stricken and carsick most of the time, while my husband cruised solo in his truck.   Moving is stressful and at times unpleasant, and I have already considered that I picked a bad time to not be able to have a glass of wine. 

All that said, we have been incredibly enriched by all of this nomadic activity.  I have been repeatedly moved (no pun intended) by how kind people have been to us.  I have had near strangers do everything from pick up some milk at the store for me to offer to help me unpack my kitchen when the movers came.  While there really is no act of kindness too small, if anyone ever asks you if they can help you unpack your kitchen, TAKE THEM UP ON IT!!  

This time around, I know that I will be surprised and touched by how nice people are.  They will thank my husband for his service and often, thank me as well.  We are always grateful for those thanks.  They will entertain my kids in a long line somewhere when we’ve been in a car for 8 hours and they are missing the friends they just left and wondering if there’s a chance they’ll meet anyone nice at the new place (they will).  Someone will, someday soon, let me know where I can get a decent haircut and will tell me the name of their stylist, if I am really lucky.  Don’t let anyone tell you that the hardest part of moving is the packing and unpacking.  It’s finding a hairdresser.  Ditto for babysitters. 

So, off we go again.  The packers will be here Friday to help us begin the adventure.  No doubt, there will be some tears and some grumpiness along the way, but in the end, we will laugh and get on with another new chapter in our lives.  I’m almost excited about it . . . almost.