Moving

People who know me know I love anything new.  I like dramatic change.  This does not sit well with Mr. routines and transition difficulty (that's putting it lightly) whom I have for a son.  Poor thing.  "Mommy I hate your new hair"  "I hate my new hair"  "I don't want to go to the store"  "we have to stay at the store!  I don't want to leave!"  and so on.  

Moving has always been hard for Jonas.  He remembers living in lots of different places and gets fired up when we talk about it.  It's traumatic for him.  However, mama doesn't make much money, so little improvements have to happen in baby steps.  When I get a chance to live in a little bit nicer house, a little bit more reliable car I take it.  But I always feel bad for him.  I wish his world could be the same forever - he's already dealing with so much as it is.

So I'm making a huge leap here and moving again - hopefully for the last time for many many years.  the longest I've lived anywhere in the last 7 years would be not quite two years.  But I've had a growing family and we've quickly outgrown ever place we've been in.  I have a big grown up boy on my hands and he needs some space!  Not to mention miss mess maker.

So, next weekend we'll be moving into a home that will at some point be ours.  Big back yard, quiet street, 4 bedrooms (yes, you read that right), usable attic and basement, a newly rebuilt front porch, central air, dishwasher, nice new efficient washer and dryer, nice appliances.... I could go on and on.  It's too good to be true.  Well, almost.  It's a lot more monthly than what I'm paying now.  I mean, a lot.  But I will be making more money, so it will even out, but I'm still unbearably nervous.  I keep getting butterflies every time I think about it - the good happy kind, and the omg what have I done kind.  But I'm nervous by nature, and my gut tells me this is good, but stomach just needs to catch up with that.