Moving House with Children

Moving house is a stressful act in and of itself. There is the searching and the bidding, the sourcing of the solicitor, the mortgage application; and that is before any sale is guaranteed. We bought a new-build house, so then there was the waiting (oh, the waiting) and the delays (oh, the delays); before, finally, the big day arrived. I never realised how much goes into a move logistically: we had to make time to pick up the keys before signing the final agreement once it was determined that everything was in order, and we had to arrange for a day that the family could help us out with a van. Then came the packing (oh, the packing), the loading, the unloading, and the unpacking (oh, the unpacking). Perhaps at the forefront of the logistical planning, however, came in the figuring out of what to do with the kids; where were they going to go, and how were they getting there?

In the end, they went to my nana and grandad’s house for the day. As good as they are, they made a two-hour round trip to pick them up, and that was without the hour they spent being shown around a place that they’d been to a multitude of times over the decade that their daughter and son-in-law had lived there. That was perhaps the easiest of the issues that we had to face, however, as around the move itself the packing (oh, the packing) and the moving of items into more convenient spots for loading and unloading became far more complicated than if there was just the two of us. Completing such tasks with small children around quickly became a fool’s errand, with each of the terrible twosome providing their own unique challenge. Bless her, my little girl tried her best to help as she insisted on assisting me with carrying items, filling boxes (that would need to be rearranged afterwards) and using triple the amount of tape to close a box. This all took place as my littlest girl was doing the exact opposite: she’d be emptying the boxes, ripping the tape and generally toddling around under our feet the entire time. This culminated in the operation being dramatically slowed down or reversed.

Because of the above, we had to do much of our work around the children (as has been the case with many everyday activities for most parents I’m sure). I’d be using my dinner times while working from home to fill boxes and we’d be taking advantage of them being distracted while eating tea and watching TV; but the majority would be done while they were sleeping. Albeit, the time we had for such would depend on how long it took them to achieve slumber and whether either or both of them awoke. This was even more difficult at the other end, where excitement, a new bedroom and a new sleeping routine meant that time, at least initially, was short of an evening.

Back to the logistics. Being in a new house usually comes with a plethora of other headaches. Changing the address with the bank, insurance companies and on the driving licences, as well as setting up things like council tax, bills and putting household furniture together are all typical migraine-inducers; and the girls just add to the pile on. There's also the setting up of a family doctor and, for the girls at least, a dentist, while we’ve had to find a nursery for the youngest and I don’t even want to get started on getting my little girl ready for school (although this was as much of an issue previously). This was all before we looked at getting the baby to nursery and setting up the little lady in the nearest school for her reception year, both of which I will be tasked with delivering them to on foot (my fault for not passing my driving test I guess). Although I suppose the school issue would have cropped up wherever we were to live. With so much to do, I don't think I'd have gotten anywhere without my wife.

No matter the stress that moving house with children has brought, there is very little that I have been happier about. I can’t wait for the house to be fully decorated and for us to be truly settled, I am loving the thought of seeing our girls growing and developing here and I’m looking forward to sitting in our living room as the girls play in the garden, to taking them to the local park or the playcentre and to hearing them run around in their bedroom. It’s going to be stressful, it's going to be messy, there will be screams (mostly mum's), there will be tears (mostly mine); it's going to be great.

By Calum Dewsbury