Moving House in less than 2 weeks. Stress.

Getting married, having a baby, moving house. All big life events. All stressful in different ways.


And yet, most of us remember the best bits of our wedding day (or laugh at the bits that went “wrong”), have more babies, and move house more than once.


Is it like pain? You know it was, but can’t really remember it.

Is it the clever way our body, or mind, protects us from traumatic events? Sort of a partial, but persistent, specific amnesia?


Whatever it is, I’m in the thick of moving house right now, and it’s stress central. I’m snappy, emotional, and the longer my to-do list gets the more I want to just go and hide in bed. Helpful! (Take this as an example. I'm telling myself that typing this is cathartic, and it probably is, but really I should be sorting the office paperwork out!)


The main source of my premature aging is that we move in 1.5 weeks and we STILL don’t have a house confirmed to move into. We spent THREE days house hunting last week, and travelled back home to Paris with an option A (dream house) and option B "insurance" house. We were waiting to find out if our french dream would come true.


Alas, the the very next day our dream house fell through. 


Nope, I still can’t let go of the perfect French countryside dream, complete with stables, vines, pool, treehouse, range cooker, kitchen island... STOP! I'm just torturing myself over something that isn’t to be. (I skate over the fact that my 6ft4 husband couldn’t stand fully upright in 50% of each of the upstairs rooms or the basement…BUT YET he loved the dream house too).


So, being all out of suitable “roof over our head” options - save for option B which had no proper oven (me: desperately researching microwave baking) and stairs that literally have given me nightmares with my young children - see photo below - what happened yesterday?


Yesterday I did a viewing of a house via FaceTime! Yay for modern technology. But this is a long looooong way from being an ideal way to view the place you want to call home for, potentially, the next few years.


And it was just me on our end of the FaceTime call. My husband being at work and busy in meetings. Actually, that’s not quite true; my daughter popped into view a few times singing “let it go” at the top of her lungs… it’s best the landlord knows what he’s signing up to in advance.


So, we thought we had options (despite my still being able to let go fully of the dream house that can never be). The new option A: The house with no oven and ladder staircase, albeit in a nice location; or B: The house I had viewed over FaceTime, which looked potentially good, but my husband had not seen and we have no real idea what the area it is in is like save that it is not really in the countryside, but more of a residential area.


Then of course, as life often does, (rather than my needing to book flights on my own to view the new option B FaceTime house) the decision was made for us. Option A - which we had considered to be overpriced - actually went UP in price. Yup. Brilliant…


Well at least I will have an oven.


House B it is then. The house we have never actually set foot into. The house that makes my nearly 4 year old son squeal with excitement because when we told him that there were no stairs in the new house (yep, we are moving into a bunglalow - roll on retirement) his mind immediately went to camping and so now he thinks it's all going to be “AWESOME MUMMY”!


Oh to be nearly 4. I need to tap into that! 


For now, I'm going to keep focusing on our new addition - Norbert Bobcat, our Bengal kitten, to be joining our family in the new year. 


 Kate x

P.s. don’t even get me started on the business trip my husband has to do the week we move out... or the one he has to do the week we are due to move into our new house. That’s a-whole-nother cathartic blog to write! Remember to breathe.. 

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