Growing up, I moved once. When I was about 2. My parents moved from our home in Redondo Beach to a suburb northeast of Los Angeles. I don't remember the house in Redondo, only the house I grew up in. My parents sold that house in 1991 and moved to the southeast. Moving out of that house was a shock to me. I had lived there all my life and then *poof*...it was gone. I moved out to go to college and rather than rent my room out to the mailman, my parents just sold the house. At least they gave me the forwarding address.
During the next 7 years, I moved 10 times. THEN MacGyver joined the Army and the real "adventure in moving" began. Our first move was from SoCal up to Alaska. Talk about an adventure. But we were fortunate that Alaska, being an OCONUS (outside the continental United States) assignment, was a 3 year tour. Woohoo - we were going to be able to stay put for a bit! I could actually hang pictures on the wall. What a concept!
But a funny thing happened. About 18 months into our tour in Alaska, I started to get the itch to move. At first, I couldn't put my finger on what the issue was. I was antsy, craving change. But I didn't know why. And then it dawned on me (and made me chuckle) - I needed to move. The girl who had SUCH a hard time with the fact that her parents sold her childhood home was now a girl who CRAVED change. Ah, the irony. So, because moving wasn't an option at that point (the -50 degree weather was the major obstacle), I rearranged the furniture instead. Solved the problem for the time being.
Following Alaska, we moved 4 times in 3 years. So I never had to deal with that itch again. Until now. A few months back, I started to find myself wanting a change. Because moving isn't an option (already did that...don't want to do it again until I have to), I did what any military wife with 2 small children whose husband is deployed would do - I planned a multi-day, multi-state, multi-mode-of-transportation trip. Three weeks, 4 states, 700 miles by car, 7,000 miles by plane with a 3 year old and a 5 year old. By myself. Sounds like a plan to me!
Just remember, folks...there is a FINE line between bravery and stupidity. And I walked that line every day for the past 3 weeks. About 1/2 way across the Pacific Ocean, as Little Man is fidgeting in and out of his seat and driving me up the germ-infested wall of the cabin, I asked myself what the HELL I was thinking when I planned this trip. Didn't get an answer.
In all actuality, the kids were great. And we managed to dodge "The Curse" which was a blessing. But it's not something I would recommend to the faint of heart (or the sound of mind).
What IS it with us military spouses? All we seem to long for is a place to put down roots. Walls that we can paint any color we desire with the knowledge that we're not going to have to paint them back to the institutional beige color they were when we moved in in just a few short months. And yet, before the next set of PCS orders come through, we're already itching to go. Not sure where we're itching to go.
We just itch. Isn't there a cream for that?? Sheesh.
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