It's so exciting. You get so caught up in all the rush of adrenaline and new home potential that will be the final step in the chain of decisions.
And then reality bites hard and suddenly it's all very, very real.
I am now sporting a wonderful, beautiful ring on my appropriate finger on my left hand. We're not just moving home, moving together and moving on, we're getting married. Which whilst being incredibly wonderful also brings its own challenges, persuading the kids, in particular, that this doesn't change the relationships they have with their 'other' parents, that moving to another town isn't the end of their lives, that there is life outside of the small big of the world in which they currently reside.
And as of right now, today, immediately, my house is on the market, available for sale.
That brings its own interesting challenges, not least is persuading the kids that they really do have to put their dirty undies in the washing basket and not leave them in a heap on the floor, that they should rinse their spit out of the sink and put their dirty dishes IN the dishwasher and not just in the vague vicinity of it.
I (actually we all do but you know how that's going to work out) have to keep the house clean, tidy, neat and viewable. Which isn't necessarily a bad things because suddenly I have a minimalist home that is a pleasure to live in but unfortunately we can't find anything we need or want (that isn't already in every day use) because the garage is piled with boxes of things we thought were excess to requirements so the house could be presented as a buyers dream and not the place that we're all trying to leave behind.
And then the final nail in the enthusiasts coffin.
The paperwork. I have already scanned read in detail (of course) several pages of small print that allow me to ask the estate agent to market the house for me and now I am presented with pages of forms to complete, read and electronic missives and I'm about ready to give up.
All I want to do is sell the house that I own (along with the bank) but the only thing they haven't asked me yet is my inside leg measurement and the date of birth of my first grandchild.
But I'm sure that's coming.
Of course, all the best planning and patience in the world can be gone in the merest blink of an eye when kids and animals are involved. Who said you should never work with them? They were wise beyond their years, for sure.
We had a great weekend. The kids all but bedded down in some of the places we saw, fighting over whose room was this or whose view was that.
It felt like home. Oh how misguided we can be when the rose tinted spectacles are placed over our noses.
Perhaps I'm being over simplistic. The girls in particular are conflicted, struggling with the huge changes that are being asked of them. I sort of get it but we've been explaining all the reasons why change is good, why change is necessary and how good we can make it and there seemed (ney, WAS) a level of engagement and interest. But this week, at least, it isn't enough.
It seems that the brakes have, temporarily at least I'm hoping, been firmly slammed on, minds closed down and excitement reversed.
I'm not changing my mind. I've made an offer on a house we can't really afford but am hoping (fingers crossed) that a market reasonable (though hugely below asking price) offer will be accepted.
And then we'll worry about what comes next.
We kicked tyres, or bricks in our case. We tested waters, we felt our way in the dark. We weren't wrong. It's a good fit. It's comfortable and safe and, for me at least, it's home.
We are in agreement. This isn't a huge error of judgement or a mistake or something we're wavering about. We are going to do this. We're going to make the move.
So, what do we do next?
We have to plan schools, estate agents, find properties to view that meet requirements (it's amazing how, "we don't have any specific requirements except enough bedrooms for one each" becomes a longer list of "well, we need this, and that, and oh, yes, this thing here, and some extra bells and whistles and, while we're at it, I really need this thing" without you even realising that you have this longer list of not just wants but in some cases, needs).
And then we have to speak with the kids. We have to explain, listen, talk, explain, explain and reassure them to the ends of the earth that, making this move is not going to ruin their lives, change the way we feel about them (nor them us, although I'm not so sure on this point), how 'different' doesn't mean 'bad/evil/mean/nasty/scary (although it does mean that a little bit)' and is, in fact a huge opportunity that we can't wait to share with them.
I've spoken with my boys. I talk to them about pretty much everything, as I always have. But that's probably what it's like for boys with their mum. Girls with their dad have a different communication set and that's a challenge that we are both going to face.
There have been hints, discussions and mentions of possibilities, but as yet no definite discussion around 'this is what is happening'.
It's (probably) happening this weekend. We've already taken two huge steps forward. Now let's see how many we take back the way we've come.
