We moved here 12 years ago, me, dh and two nursery aged dds. 3 houses away from school/nursery, absolutely perfect. Two days later I find out I'm pregnant, scan goes onto show twins. So 11 years we muddled through this 3 bed with one autistic older dd and the dts with processing issues and other issues not yet diagnosed or sorted by the school, and poor 'normal' dd always sharing. New house just 1 mile away so not far at all.
We absolutely love this house, our neighbours are our absolute everything. Our mum, dad, grandad, friend all rolled into one wee row of houses. Next door lost her husband just two months ago, my locum grandad, the absolute light of my life for laughs and random chat, I fucking loved that old boy. I can't bare/bear (it's bare right) leaving his wife, we need to go confess to her and our next door (catnappers) returning holiday maker neighbours tomorrow.
The husband and dd2 are excited beyond belief, furniture, paint, carpet sorted for her room. Me not at all. Moving is horrendous. Especially with kids that struggle with change and unknown.
He's just had a bum hole removal surgery and me prolapsed l4-l5-s1 discs. I'll enjoy moving.
I'm greatful but by fuck.