Moving With Children

The house is being packed up, day by day I clean out another closet and tape up more boxes. They are stacked wherever we do not need to walk. One son had some issues at school last week, and a call to the teacher reassured me it will be handled to his benefit rather than his detriment next time.
Another son told me ¨Mommy, we used to live in such a nice house and now it is so dirty.¨ I told him to try to look at the room without the boxes in it and it is still nice. But he did not seem to believe me..
My daughter has been reading books and drawing pictures nonstop, talking about her utopia-The Red House, where she eats cough drops all day long and her ¨Pink Mommy¨ gives her great advice about handling emotions. She won’t admit that I was the one who told her what to do when angry, sad, or tired. She does not seem upset, though, about the move.
There is a neighbor boy whom they will miss. He is a few years older and very wise for his age, they idolize him.
I have not seen the place yet. I will next week, when I sign for it. I haven’t got a lot of choices, so I am not worried about it. I have to take it. Nothing else will be affordable for me at this size. I have lived in horrid places, and this house has oversight, so I know it will be workable for me. I have no idea when I have ever lived in a house with new carpet or flooring, as this one has. I won’t have to deal with that filth that cakes into floors at the edges over decades of improper cleaning.
I have been trying to use up our food stores. I am very good at this, I am more accustomed to cooking with what I have been given rather than planning out meals. I found myself with too much white flour. I ran out of wheat. I need bread, so I have been making bread. But for some inexplicable reason, I have become overly interested, and indeed, had I the time, I would indulge and allow it to become obsession. I have made a lot of different kinds of bread this past week. I am going to go out and buy sandwich bread today so that I stop. It will be hard. Right now I have a fantastically easy recipe for sandwich bread that I have not tried. I have to get some control.
I used to make flatbread when we lived in the desert. I kept the dough in the fridge for five days, took out what I needed and rolled it out and baked it. It was hard work, and it was too hot. It would have been harder had I kneaded it, though. Sometimes that was all we had.
I want to make a carrot cake for the children that I have not made in years. It was their father’s favorite, and so I had been avoiding it. I will make it when we move in, and as many times as necessary after that, until the memories of it have a history beyond then. Beyond a time of abuse.
I hope the kitchen is great. I spend more time in there than anywhere else in the house. Last night I forced myself to watch an entire movie with the children. I usually do not sit down long enough to get through a whole movie. I picked two, and the first was not so funny, but the second was hilarious. We are going to do it again tonight. They need the distraction and the time with me.
Today I need to pack the pictures, clear the walls.

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