Moving on

I worked out last night in the past twelve years, since 2000 clicked over, I’ve had 12 different addresses. From moving within my home town; to living with my first husband; his consequent Army career; our break-up (got to love the caring, compassionate British Army, “Yes we know your marriage has gone phut, but you’ve got 90 days to get out your home) consequently I moved in with The Bears; to moving in with Hubs for my Australian Visa requirements; to moving back in with my parents for three months before I emigrated; to the three houses we’ve lived in over here, frankly I’m sick of it.

Both of us had hoped this house we’re in would be our home for at least five years, we’d settled down properly, see Peanut sorted out in school and give ourselves some time to re-evaluate what we want to do with our long-term plans. That went out the window when we discovered mould and rising damp in the living room. The sickness issues all three of us have had over the past six months have worried us as new parents, and worried our employers as we frantically juggle child care and working, which when it works is great, but when the baby is poorly, it’s not so great.

We seriously started looking last weekend, after working out a date to move and working backwards from there we need to hand our notice in at our current property within the couple of days. To try to get two different rental properties to line up with minimum disruption is always a frantic juggling act. We try to hand the current one back a week after we take on the new one, giving us time to clean the house thoroughly and tie up those nagging loose ends.

The spanner in the works is the baby. As much as we love him, for our lives to function, we need full-time child care. We do not have the support network over here to ask for help to look after him during the week (a whole other controversial blog post which is rattling around in my head at the moment). While he is now older, so finding a space for him somewhere new should (in theory) be easier, child care spaces are like rocking horse poop, non-existent. Because as soon as one becomes available, it is gone near enough the same day. We made a decision not to move from the area where we live now, because frankly, I could not face another six months of trying to find him a space somewhere else. I had to return to work six weeks earlier than agreed with my employer, because if I didn’t we’d lose the only space we’d been offered.

Commiserating about this with a colleague, on Monday we started talking about house moves in general. He is relocating down to the Geelong area, and needs someone to rent his house. He wants to leave the week before we want to move in. Are you seeing where I’m going with this? Yes, we might be moving into his house at the beginning of next month. I say might, because, we’ve only ever seen the outside of it. He lent us the cot we’re using for Peanut, which he’d put out on his deck for us to collect. On Sunday we’re driving up there to view the inside of the house and sort out the nuts and bolts. Apologies that this map image is huge, but you’d never see what I want you to see otherwise!

The blue hoop is where we are now, the stars are where we work, Hubs in North Melbourne, me in Malvern East. The red hoop, that’s where the house is. Why are we even considering it? Because Tuesday I found two childcare spots for Peanut, viewed them both, and enrolled him in one yesterday.

My office is being relocated to the CBD at the end of the year, I had already decided to travel in on the train, it takes the same time for Hubs to get into work as it does now, because he goes in early to avoid the traffic. The more we think about it, the better it is sounding, despite us being further out.

Crazy isn’t it?

I’ll keep you posted about what we decide to do. Either way, some serious packing is going to be happening shortly.




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