Yesterday was a weird day. We had had a relaxing couple of days relaxing in South Wales at my in laws and we were leaving the children there for a couple of days as both my husband and I were back in work today. We packed the children begrudgingly into the car in the morning to spend a final bit of quality family time on the beach and drove to a beautiful beach around twenty minutes away.
It is one of those car journeys that is fairly uneventful and then you catch sight of the sea in the distance and then you can see it all the way to the beach, meandering in and out of sight. When you finally arrive, it is stunning, really stunning with a backdrop of sheer craggy cliffs and laden with pebbles of all different sizes and colours and as I stood there with the children running around me excitement whipped up by the fresh sea breeze, I realised that I didn’t want to go home.
I love my house. We have lived here for ten years, not long after we go married and for my three youngest children, it is home; the only home they have ever known. My home town has always been my home town; not necessarily through choice, but after a brief respite at university, circumstance meant that I really had to stay.
It’s not an awful place to live and it is not a bad place to bring up children, but just lately I have had this overwhelming desire to move on and it is eating away at me. Coming back yesterday without the children probably didn’t help as I am rattling around on my own. I am missing the laughter, the shouting, even the arguing.
They will be back tomorrow and I hope that I will feel a bit more settled again, more grounded. Maybe I won’t. Maybe it is time to seriously think about moving on, making a fresh start. But then that might mean moving the children to a new area, new schools. How would that affect them? The teen is off to university in a years time, so I don’t think he will be bothered, but if we moved away I wouldn’t see as much of him.
Then there is the cost of moving and the uncertainty, the fact that we would have to do some serious work to the house to make it sellable.
Just thinking about it makes my head ache, but the thought of staying makes it worse. I think that maybe, just maybe it might be time to find a new home.
Ah, I know that feeling (I have a blog post brewing too lol) I actually hate my house, entirely unreasonably, but moving is not an option. With all my children now at school, I’m just going to move things around and hope that helps my irrationality 😉 Good luck with whatever you choose xx
Sorry to read that, but I know you’ve had itchy feet for a while. Home would never feel quite like home with the kids away.
It sounds like you’ve got the pull of the sea, the same as my friend.
Sometimes I think people make a home.
But it’s tough making that step.
I know that feeling, it’s the one I had when I knew I couldn’t stay in London any more and the same one I had when I knew I had to move back. Go for it, if it’s right for everyone – nothing ventured nothing gained 😉 xx