After months of looking and a million yes, no and maybe piles not to mention the lists, relists and short lists we finally found our Brady bunch bunker.
What seemed like an eternity of house viewings, bubble wrap and constant stubbing of toes on packed boxes we upped sticks and moved ourselves in April. At the time I was dead set against us not having removal men and looking back I still am; it was a nightmare but we got through it learning that next time I’ll get the professionals in and even get them to pack too!
I moved into our old house when I was six months pregnant and He was away on tour; it was our perfect little townhouse castle, which we couldn’t wait to welcome Boo into. With the sudden addition of the Stinkies in September it quickly went from being a dream home to the house from hell. Let me tell you – open plan living does not work well with pubescent boys especially if you want to keep your sanity and to go longer than a day without developing a migraine.
The biggest issue was that Boo had been albeit lovingly evicted from her nursery to make room for bunk beds, dirty socks and that unmistakable pong of stale Lynx.
Six weeks into our new residence and we’re starting to feel settled – and despite getting through a good thirty litres of paint there’s still the living room, kitchen and our bedroom to go; I fear poor He shall cower when he sees the overalls come out in the future.
The best room is Boo’s, simply because she has one. Sometimes we go up there in the afternoon for no reason but to sit and look at all her pretties; including the five foot life like Giraffe who goes by the name of Gerty – a nursery must!
The biggest downside to the move was being without internet for three whole weeks – how is a Mummy to survive without the virtual key to the big wide world, no online food shop – so apologies if you saw me in the supermarket and I ignored you, I blame it on the two brimming trollies I was trying to navigate towards to the checkouts.
We all know moving house is stressful at the best of times, so throw into the mix a Boo, three Stinkies and a disorganised He and you’re heading for gin o’clock!
