Unintended Consequences

The Stuke family is moving. Never before, in all of my moves, has moving been this. much. work.

I moved in college what seemed like every semester. Throw it in the back of a friend's truck, half-unpacked. Find out who to write the rent check to. Done.

I moved into my first "real" house by myself - no husband or baby or trappings therein. It was pretty smooth going, and I had plenty of time to pack and prep, seeing as I only had myself and my one job to be concerned with.

This time, I'm juggling several jobs, a move to a bigger and more complicated house, a husband, a toddler, and the myriad of financial dealings that go into a deal like this. Needless to say, I'm stressed. I'm happy, excited, chomping at the proverbial bit to move into this new casa, but I'm also exhausted, nervous, and strung out.

There's a lot to do: banking, insurance, inspections, decorating, projects, purchasing of new stuff, the list goes on. But the thing that is stressing me out the most, at least right now, is day care.

Right now, we live right next to our daycare and it's a no brainer to drop Johnny off and pick him up before and after work. But in relation to our new house, his current daycare couldn't be more out of the way. Continuing to take him there would add minutes onto both of our days, and extra gas, and even earlier mornings than we're already enduring.

There is a daycare right by my work. It is run by the same folks who run his current place, so I know he'd be in good hands. It would be both financially smart and efficient to take him there.

And yet, and yet, I'm dragging my feet. He loves his teachers. He never cries in the mornings. When I ask if he's ready to get dressed for school, he brightens and says "Gogo?" which is his way of saying "Jojo" - his teacher's name.

This is one of the unexpected consequences of our move. We are moving so he'll be in a safer neighborhood and have a home that allows plenty of room to grow and play. We tell him all the time "Mama and Daddy bought you a new house." Really, this his house. We're just living in it.

But with that (good) decision, came other decisons. Would he get used to a new school? Yes. But he's going to be getting used to a new house, a new bed, a new yard and a new street. Is it fair to make him upend it all when I don't absolutely have to? Or, is this a case of Mama Frets Too Much?

Usually, I am ridiculously decisive. I usually know exactly the best course, what makes sense, what will be healthy and safe and best for us. Or, at least, I think I do. I don't much dither over plan A or plan B, and I don't usually struggle to see the forest for the trees. But on this one, I'm waiting. Maybe the best plan will come to me, or, maybe I'll take my favorite band, Split Lip Rayfield's, advice: "Sometimes you gotta do something, even if it's wrong."

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