I have decided to write tonight because I have had one of those painful parenting experiences that you know about, but never really get until it happens to you. My family is moving. We are moving far away, and we are excited—all except for my seven-year-old, who happens to be having some sort of breakdown.
We have known about this move for some time now, and being the mother of two very sensitive daughters, I have talked a lot with them about the move, our feelings on the move, other people’s feelings on the move, our house’s feelings about our move, the dog’s feelings about our move (she’s okay with it), you get my point. My four-year-old will be fine as long as a few key items are readily available the entire time: blanky, horribly ugly dinosaur, me, and fruit snacks aplenty.
We have done this cross-country move before. However, my now-seven-year-old was three, and my four-year-old was three months old. I thought that was a hard move, but I had no idea. Even though I have consistently discussed the move with my seven-year-old for at least six months, and even though she has been excited about the move for six months, now that we are a week away, she is having second thoughts and has decided that this is not such a good idea after all.
My husband has been living in our new city for three months already, and the girls miss him so much. I thought that the thought of being with him again would be enough to encourage them to happily pack their things and head off. My four-year-old just wants to “live where daddy is,” so that is good. But I have failed to realize something crucial—my older daughter is growing up. Please beware, other loving mothers; it can happen to you at any time. You will not see it coming, because that is apparently the way this horrible growing up thing likes to do business. It will hit you right in the face—hard. Because that is how this thing is. Horrible.
Tonight my daughter had a going away party with a few of her best friends. We have planned this move over the summer so she won’t have to leave school mid-year. But I have debated whether it would be easier to just move away quietly, or let her see her friends one last time. I made a photo album for her with all her favorite friends and their phone numbers, addresses, e-mails, etc. But my husband and I decided that maybe it was best to let her say goodbye with one last play date. Everything went well until they left, and suddenly my daughter wasn’t feeling well. She couldn’t tell me where it hurt, but it definitely hurt.
