O, my beloved house

Evan and I just spent an hour or so discussing moving. The money issues, the social issues. O my friends, it is really, really hard.

I've spent the past seven years whipping this 100+ year old house into shape, always thinking that we'd be here to host a passel of kids for lunch when our kids are at Columbia. I became a leader in our local Cub Scout troupe thinking that I was laying the groundwork for years of family friends and activities. I've spent the past summer or two looking forward to moving up to the big pool, and not parking the stroller and the towels and the snacks under the shade at the kiddy pool.

I write this listening to Neil Young on vinyl, something that I would never have done even two years ago. But it's been a whole new hobby for Evan and I, to search out our sentimental favorites on vinyl. If we can adopt this new hobby, certainly we can adopt a new lifestyle in LA, right? Right?

The kids are on edge. The temper tantrums and the blowouts have increased. Oscar has a good idea of what's going to happen, but the little guys know that we are moving sometime soon -- but that means nothing to them, since they've never lived anywhere but here. There are plenty of changes going on around them -- a closet when there was none, bunk beds turned into twins -- how to keep them calm around all this change? In a couple weeks, the movers will come and take away 90% of our stuff, and move in the stager's stuff. How do we keep them secure during all of that? Advice would be lovely.

I can't quite verbalize how much I will miss this community, and the family that I've made in the past few years.