The weeks that followed the March 23rd “door opening” were a whirlwind of timelines and schedules and moving plans, finding furniture and selling furniture, figuring out how to say goodbye to best friends and family, and making the transition as easy as possible for the eight kids involved.
I don’t think we did it perfectly, but the thing that I hope our kids knew and will remember is that we tried. We did the best we could with the information we had, and we really tried to make the move as easy and smooth as we could.
We snuggled when they needed us close and gave them room when they needed space, wiped away tears when they were overwhelmed and provided plenty of opportunities for laughter.
We ate meals together. We did family days at the pool. Our kids organized video game tournaments and wrote a play to celebrate the Fourth of July. We laughed at its historical inaccuracy and ate popsicles in the backyard. We made a playlist with everybody’s favorite songs (including Jurassic Park and Let it Go for the smallest family members). There were water balloon fights, kitchen dance parties, and late-night talks about feelings and hard things over chocolate and peanut butter.
It wasn’t perfect. It still isn’t. (I’m not sure any family is.) There are still hard days, and we’re still doing the best we can. Our kids see it, and when they sit around the table talking and laughing – being their crazy, weird, amazing selves – my heart knows that we’re all going to be just fine.