Well, it finally happened. We left the ranks of the settled and established and are on our way to living like grad students in a foreign country. Except right now we're crashing at my parents' house. The closing was at 9am, and as soon as I find my camera cable, I'll be able to upload pictures of the moving chaos.
Only, we'll see if I find the cable before the move becomes such a distant memory that the pictures aren't relevant anymore.
My amazing husband pulled an all-nighter getting the rest of our belongings moved while I went to my parents' to put our baby to sleep. Now I've got that weird sense of dislocation as my mind processes how we'll never return to that house as our home again. It was a great house and I hope the new owners fill it with even more happy memories.
Emotionally, it wasn't all that hard to let the house go, though I did get a little choked up as we disassembled the furniture in the nursery. Trevor's mother and sisters painted it in February, just before we learned that going to Britain was going to be economically feasible. My in-laws put a beautiful starry sky mural on the ceiling (yes, I took pictures), complete with some aurora borealis and a moon, both of which they painted with glow in the dark paint. Last night, while we were getting boxes moved, I cuddled my son to help him sleep through the chaos. His crib was already taken apart and his mattress was on the floor.
Since, I had always had at least a dim light on when I'd gone in there before, this was the first, and the last, time I saw the moon and auroras glow.