I know it was a lot to expect of my children, a move so far from all that was familiar, the place that to them was home. Ever found the transition relatively easy. Her view was more simplistic: for her, home did not so much concern the surroundings as it did the people in it, namely, Mummy, Daddy and brother.
For Moth it was harder. Moth had begun to grow familiar with his surroundings. He was in a comfortable routine and had established relationships beyond our home. Moth was old enough to know what he was leaving behind. We tried to prepare him in advance, but it's hard to explain the unknown to a child with delayed speech. We tried, but he didn't understand.
We had a long drive ahead following a day that involved a lot of hanging around while two strangers loaded our belongings into a removal van. I don't remember the children being difficult though, despite the change that hung forbodingly in the air with the potential to infect their behaviour and wreak further havoc on the day. In fact, they seemed to welcome the adventure, the lack of routine, and the novelty of their grandfather and uncle's presence to help oversee our preparations for departure. We visited the little park around the corner a couple of times, but mostly watched the comings and goings of the removal men, the furniture gradually diminishing around us.
It was a relief to finally close the door, leave the spare key for the new owner, and get into the car, adrenaline pulsing through us and temporarily postponing the sheer exhaustion of the last few days. Moth and Ever were happy to sit in their car seats and watch Charlie and Lola and Stuart Little, on the DVD player, while we put miles between us and our first family home.
Moth's cries on our arrival, just before midnight, pained me. We had turned the DVD player off at his request an hour or two before, and he went to sleep, blissfully unaware that his world was about to change. He stirred as we were unloading the essentials from our car, his howls drawing attention from the open window of the flat opposite. I carried him into the house and he seemed to resist. "Back to car! Back to car!" he repeated over and over again, until, too tired to protest any more, he let me settle him to sleep in his new bedroom.
Everything was different the next day. Moth and Ever were refreshed after a good night's sleep. I'm afraid the same can not be said for myself after an uncomfortable night on a damp mattress with no coverlet, and then the arrival of a small army of removal men at dawn. The adrenaline rush from the day before was ebbing, but my two small children were unrelenting, so I pushed onwards.
Moth and I ventured to the local shop, a two minute walk away, and we restocked our fridge and freezer. His face lit up when he saw the community garden opposite, a place that would soon become a favourite haunt of his. After lunch we walked to the big park, just half a mile down the road and as beautiful as I remembered from our first visit nearly a year before, when we went to view the house that was now ours. We played and explored for the rest of the afternoon.
While Moth's behaviour proved to be a challenge over the next few weeks, he didn't express any further distress towards the move, but seemed to settle in his own way, and by the time he joined the nursery class at the local primary school, a few weeks later, he was familiar with his surroundings and comfortable with his new routine.
What he will remember of our former home is uncertain. When we returned to visit family two months later, he did not show any recognition, especially when we attended our old church which had been a big part of our weekly routine. Now he seems completely at ease with life as it is, and we have received more support than we could have hoped for from his school who recognise his need for additional help.
Moving Moth was never going to be easy, but I believe it was a move that came at the right time, and I am confident this place has so much more to offer him and Ever than the town they were born in. For the last eighteen months I have watched them flourish and grow into themselves and I am so incredibly proud of them.
We had a long drive ahead following a day that involved a lot of hanging around while two strangers loaded our belongings into a removal van. I don't remember the children being difficult though, despite the change that hung forbodingly in the air with the potential to infect their behaviour and wreak further havoc on the day. In fact, they seemed to welcome the adventure, the lack of routine, and the novelty of their grandfather and uncle's presence to help oversee our preparations for departure. We visited the little park around the corner a couple of times, but mostly watched the comings and goings of the removal men, the furniture gradually diminishing around us.
It was a relief to finally close the door, leave the spare key for the new owner, and get into the car, adrenaline pulsing through us and temporarily postponing the sheer exhaustion of the last few days. Moth and Ever were happy to sit in their car seats and watch Charlie and Lola and Stuart Little, on the DVD player, while we put miles between us and our first family home.
Moth's cries on our arrival, just before midnight, pained me. We had turned the DVD player off at his request an hour or two before, and he went to sleep, blissfully unaware that his world was about to change. He stirred as we were unloading the essentials from our car, his howls drawing attention from the open window of the flat opposite. I carried him into the house and he seemed to resist. "Back to car! Back to car!" he repeated over and over again, until, too tired to protest any more, he let me settle him to sleep in his new bedroom.
Everything was different the next day. Moth and Ever were refreshed after a good night's sleep. I'm afraid the same can not be said for myself after an uncomfortable night on a damp mattress with no coverlet, and then the arrival of a small army of removal men at dawn. The adrenaline rush from the day before was ebbing, but my two small children were unrelenting, so I pushed onwards.
Moth and I ventured to the local shop, a two minute walk away, and we restocked our fridge and freezer. His face lit up when he saw the community garden opposite, a place that would soon become a favourite haunt of his. After lunch we walked to the big park, just half a mile down the road and as beautiful as I remembered from our first visit nearly a year before, when we went to view the house that was now ours. We played and explored for the rest of the afternoon.
While Moth's behaviour proved to be a challenge over the next few weeks, he didn't express any further distress towards the move, but seemed to settle in his own way, and by the time he joined the nursery class at the local primary school, a few weeks later, he was familiar with his surroundings and comfortable with his new routine.
What he will remember of our former home is uncertain. When we returned to visit family two months later, he did not show any recognition, especially when we attended our old church which had been a big part of our weekly routine. Now he seems completely at ease with life as it is, and we have received more support than we could have hoped for from his school who recognise his need for additional help.
Moving Moth was never going to be easy, but I believe it was a move that came at the right time, and I am confident this place has so much more to offer him and Ever than the town they were born in. For the last eighteen months I have watched them flourish and grow into themselves and I am so incredibly proud of them.
