Vacations are exhausting

So the movers showed up on Monday and boxed up our house:

(That guy, over on the right? That’s Darin, working throughout the chaos. He has focus.)

The movers came back on Tuesday and took everything:

Sophia, Simon, and I were not there through this hilarity. We were at Disneyland:

Darin stayed at home and—yes, you guessed it—worked through the entire nonsense of movers taking all of his stuff away. How he does that, I have no idea.

We’ve spent the last several days working our way up the coast, stopping in Santa Barbara and Monterey. Now we’re in the Bay Area and I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet. As in, we’re here now. Every so often I find myself on the verge of crying and I find myself shaking it off. Crying about what? Yes, we’ve left a lot of friends and a great area to move to a great area with a lot of friends.

I’ll save the crying for after a few days of having the kids all to myself with no breaks.

I also saw the house today—Darin drove me around the neighborhood and then we stopped at the house. The owner was there, washing his car, and he gave me a tour while Darin stayed with the kids. (The guy’s a career cop, and he’d noticed us driving by before, on a day when there were lots of cars driving around because of the incredible number of yard sales. Spooky.)

I love the house. I love the neighborhood. Darin did good.

But I’m completely knackered and this is the easy part, because Darin and I have gotten to tag-team the kids all week. What happens on Monday, I ask you, when it’s me and two kids and Darin’s off in the office taking it easy?¹

Well, we have plenty of errands to do, that’s for sure. I just have to remind myself that this is a big adventure.

¹ For some definition of “easy” that encompasses “Suddenly becoming a manager of a giant, high-profile project at a high-profile company.”