Thoughts On Moving With A Toddler

Helping dad disassemble furniture...
Helping dad disassemble furniture…

We are moving this weekend. It’s actually our second move in Cullen’s short lifetime, but this one feels a lot more complicated than the first. When we moved last spring, Cullen was six months old. He was crawling, but not quickly, and he could still be confined to pretty small spaces. I was reflecting on that move a few days ago, and trying to remember what we did with him on moving day to keep him safe and occupied. I think there was a lot of jumperoo-ing, and my mom spent a lot of time just walking around holding him. Of course at six months, he was pretty easy to entertain. (And carry around all day!)

At nineteen months, this move feels a lot more complicated. My husband and I tried to pack this past weekend and quickly discovered how difficult it is to pack with a toddler’s assistance. For every item that went in a box, two more came out. And when he wasn’t busy helping us unpack, he was finding loose screws, tools, and other dangerous items to play with. We quickly had to switch gears and trade off babysitting duty while the other one of us continued to work.

Luckily, we’ll have my mom with us this year again on moving day. She’s flying out to spend the long weekend with us and to help keep Cullen and the dogs occupied so Casey and I can focus on directing the movers, last minute packing, cleaning, and other exciting moving day tasks.

I’m also finding myself much more emotional about moving this time around. The funny part is, I’m actually really really excited about this move (we love our new house!) where last time I was much more apprehensive and unsure.  But unlike last time, I feel like Cullen is really connected to his space now. At nineteen months, he knows every nook and cranny. He has favorite spots, windows he runs to when he hears certain noises. He knows our afternoon neighborhood loop, and the playground across the street is favorite outdoor spot. He knows exactly which drawer holds his cups in the kitchen, and he runs to the backdoor when he hears the dogs scratching to come in.

I know he’ll learn all of these again (and more!) in our new place, and I know he’ll likely never remember this house. But I will remember the way his little feet pitter pattered down the long slate hallway, and I’ll forever hear him splashing and squealing with delight from our big master bath tub. I know he’ll love his new sunny backyard, all the parks we’ll be able to walk to, and most importantly – how close we’ll be to dad’s office for lunch visits! But I can’t help but feel sad that I’m changing some things that he loves, for better or for worse.

Either way, come Saturday we’ll be sleeping in new bedrooms and praying that it’s a smooth transition for all!