Change is the constant
It's hard talking about our move 6 weeks later, because it worked out so well that I can barely remember why I was concerned about it. I'm even having trouble remembering why I hated the old apartment, even though it had a poor layout for a family, not enough rooms, not enough storage, and highway noise. The current place is still too small, with less storage (one less closet and smaller kitchen) and an extra flight of stairs, but it's 3 bedrooms further from the highway with a better layout. I think the biggest difference is that we never intended to stay in the old place long, especially after we discovered I was pregnant - I cried when we renewed our lease, but I couldn't contemplate moving with a 5 month old who didn't sleep through the night - whereas I could see staying in our current place for at least 3 years, maybe 5-6, which means we can buy Ikea furniture to organize it.
Jon's ex found this place for us, really. Which was actually one thing that made me more nervous about it than I might have been otherwise: she's clever in ways that my friends and family are not, which scares me because I know her incentives are different than mine, so I couldn't figure out her angle. It's two doors down from her place, with the exact same layout etc. as the apartment where she and Jon moved to Brooklyn when they left Manhattan. Moving here - and deciding to stay for several years - also forced me to accept that Brooklyn was not a temporary stop. I still don't have a single friend in Brooklyn, but I like the yoga studios and being able to see lower Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty when I run. (Ask me again in real winter when the sidewalks aren't shoveled.) I didn't like that Jon intended to buy the exact same Ikea furniture that he had in his old place with his ex, but we've compromised and gotten furniture that better suits our needs.
The move itself was also the most congenial least unpleasant I've ever had. Veteran Movers may or may not have given us a break on the move when they saw the baby, the military history books, and the climbing gear. Or it might be because they didn't need a truck, because we only moved half a block. 5 movers took 9 hours to pack AND hand carry all our things down one flight and up two. Funniest moment of the move was when one of the guys asked if my dad was a Marine, because he was sleeping on a bed frame with no mattress. Unfortunately, they were not very good at packing/moving: they didn't tape things shut, the boxes weren't packed tight (so they can't handle being piled on each other long without collapsing), and I haven't had the courage to unpack the silk rug my brother handcarried from India. Unpacking has been a bitch because many things were not labelled well. Still probably worth it.
The baby doesn't like being in his own room and my stepson still retreats to his mother's apartment for peace. There's still boxes in every room and I wonder if we'll ever able to entertain here. Still glad we moved.
Jon's ex found this place for us, really. Which was actually one thing that made me more nervous about it than I might have been otherwise: she's clever in ways that my friends and family are not, which scares me because I know her incentives are different than mine, so I couldn't figure out her angle. It's two doors down from her place, with the exact same layout etc. as the apartment where she and Jon moved to Brooklyn when they left Manhattan. Moving here - and deciding to stay for several years - also forced me to accept that Brooklyn was not a temporary stop. I still don't have a single friend in Brooklyn, but I like the yoga studios and being able to see lower Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty when I run. (Ask me again in real winter when the sidewalks aren't shoveled.) I didn't like that Jon intended to buy the exact same Ikea furniture that he had in his old place with his ex, but we've compromised and gotten furniture that better suits our needs.
The move itself was also the most congenial least unpleasant I've ever had. Veteran Movers may or may not have given us a break on the move when they saw the baby, the military history books, and the climbing gear. Or it might be because they didn't need a truck, because we only moved half a block. 5 movers took 9 hours to pack AND hand carry all our things down one flight and up two. Funniest moment of the move was when one of the guys asked if my dad was a Marine, because he was sleeping on a bed frame with no mattress. Unfortunately, they were not very good at packing/moving: they didn't tape things shut, the boxes weren't packed tight (so they can't handle being piled on each other long without collapsing), and I haven't had the courage to unpack the silk rug my brother handcarried from India. Unpacking has been a bitch because many things were not labelled well. Still probably worth it.
The baby doesn't like being in his own room and my stepson still retreats to his mother's apartment for peace. There's still boxes in every room and I wonder if we'll ever able to entertain here. Still glad we moved.