Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Today is the day Omayra gets to move! I say it like the process can be a pleasure. Maybe with unlimited funds and some wildly attractive pool boys. I mean, movers. Topless movers. But other than that, it's always a struggle. But hers is especially interesting. Her two and half year old son is really exuberant about moving. In fact, Julian has been more than helpful with throwing things into boxes and temporarily parting with his toys. But a two and a half year old with pent up adrenaline is almost a deadly weapon. And Liam, at eight months of age, can only react with screaming with the packing tape is being used. Which is, like, always! Packing staples get way too bloody, buddy.
Then there is the cherry on top of this move, which is that her fiance recently underwent knee surgery, is limping in a leg stabilizer and just really cannot help the way things need to be assisted. Then, there is the fact that they chose this day, Wednesday, to be out of their current place. 100 percent moved out. With two kids, an injured partner, friends and family at work, one rented truck, three hours' time for two paid movers, a full set of stairs, an awkward catty corner to try and shuft furniture through, tons left to pack because packing with toddlers can only be so comprehensive... Phew! Did I mention she is tiny? We were joking last night how she may be strong, but throwing the couch on her back isn't going to happen. She would get a few steps further than her original starting point. Quickly get closer and closer to the ground. We'd find her napping peacefully under the couch hours later, smile on her face.
And still, with all of that clearly happening, I can't help but laugh at her "Radom" box. I carried it like it was a cross between a radioactive box of Radon and items that probably should have been thrown out. So radioactive tchotchkes. Makes me laugh every time. Because if you are not laughing, that couch on your back might actually start to hurt you.