I feel like I have been in a state of transition for months. Packing and unpacking. Loosing and finding. The feeling probably exists because we have been in a state of transition for months. On the 11th of this month we will have owned our little piece of the pie for 4 months, paid 3 mortgage payments, by the time this is published, slept there for 2 nights, and I’ve probably had at least one meltdown. If my husband is lucky.

In all the hubbub around our very own fixer upper project I got a little behind in turing the calendar page. I got around to it 3 days ago and the quote for May is by Edwin Way Teale. It reads:

“The World’s favorite season is the Spring. All things seem possible in May.”

I stopped for a minute and stared at the words. Reading and rereading them, letting them sink and soak for a minute. My first reaction was “Well, isn’t that cute!” Second, “How timely.” Third, “Shut up calendar.”

Right now my house is in disarray, not how I normally keep things. Our home and life is in boxes. My daughter is sans pants and I’m cooking a gourmet meal of pancakes. Possibilities Teale? Really? Any other May, maybe. Probably.

I really want that quote to give me the kick in the butt to finish packing and get excited about this change for our family. Excited and open to possibilities but currently I’m examining the possibilities of who can come finish my packing and where I can go until all the things are moved, unpacked, and set up. I’m not sure that’s what Edwin Way Teale quite had in mind when he said “possibilities.” I hardly see myself frolicking in a field of May flowers brought to fruition by April showers.

Moving is rough in every way shape and form, and for someone who quite likes the safe space she creates for herself and family, the thought of packing up and relocating (even just down the road) is draining. Especially with this being the first home my husband and I lived in together, the place we brought our baby home, and the place we started rearing her. I think moving is a drag for everyone so I really need to suck it up. I’ve recently read, though I forgot where, that when a big change happens in your life to throw three months at said change. Work through it, live your life, and then see where you are in three months time. The writer said that at the end of three months you generally find you have adjusted and you are still you, your family is still your family, and you are still living your life. Even thriving many times. It’s kind of a psychological game, but I’m good with that. 

This resonated with me as I’ve always had a hard time with transitions. As I thought back to all the large transitions I’ve endured I found this three month rule to be accidentally true. College. By three months I had found the class I liked, maybe the spot I liked to sit, and the person I liked sitting by. Marriage. I finally started to like the guy I lived with…KIDDING. But by three months we had seemed to find our own daily rhythm and being away from my own family (who lived 4 miles up the road) wasn’t so bad. Pregnancy. By three months I wasn’t feeling so sick, tired, and terrified. I could actually process and get excited about the sweet little life inside me. Baby Girl. I actually vividly remember around her third month thinking “Ok, I think I can do this.” I loved her instantly but that newborn fog is HARD. End of Downton Abbey. Well, I’m still throwing three months at that, but I’m starting to see the light…

So I’m packing our stuff in boxes. I’ll unpack them in our new house. Place things where I want and hopefully get rid of a few things. I’ll plant flowers, a garden, and hang my laundry on the line. I’ll hoe my own rows, grow my own daisies, keep raising my baby and all that jazz. But all the while I’ll be throwing three months at our new home. And if three months doesn’t cut it I’ll more than likely throw another three in just for good measure.