i hate moving. the whole process. i hate packing the most. it’s not just packing, though, is it? it’s the purging, deciding what goes and what gets donated and what gets trashed. it’s also the deep cleaning that probably should have been done long before now but wasn’t, so it’s even worse that it should be. it’s the arranging for shipping and loading and unloading. then the unpacking. then the organizing and the list of more things i have to get because i decided not to bring that other stuff and realized too late that i actually needed it.

but what i’m finding the hardest at the moment? the whining. not even my own whining (though you can probably tell i have quite a bit of that). it’s the kids’ whining. they, too, hate the whole process, you see. and i, being the adult, have to try and make it look good. point out all the positives. have a good attitude while i’m gritting my teeth and scrubbing the grease off of the counters and stove. “it’s going to be great, guys!” “you’ll get to meet new friends and see new places.” “you get a completely clean slate at school and can reinvent yourself to be whoever you want to be.” blah blah blah. and the nagging at them to have better attitudes themselves as they pack and purge and clean (hm…couldn’t think of a good alliteration for that one). i have discovered that half of good parenting is the attitude you portray.

so i’m whining only in my head (and on my blog…so, with my fingers), while i smile and sing and…something else positive with an “s” sound. because i’m a good freaking mom.

#parenting is hard.

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