Moving Things Around

In my book, PLAY WIT ME NANA, I wrote about my early days of caring for Kenz at her Mom's house.

"Throughout the loads of minutes watching Kenzie at her mom's house, I got acquainted with--- every nook and cranny (maybe this is where they get the word ---nanny. ) There'd be days I'd be crawling the cool floors with Kenzie, studying the room above from different angles, then suddenly decide to move a knick knack or plant or picture. The next thing I knew, I was rearranging the furniture (I call it redesigning), still a quirk of mine, an impulse which usually hits me out of the blue; a means of combating sameness and a great way to burn off calories and adrenaline. During these redesign adventures, the stereo would boom out soundtracks from either Mary Poppins, The Sound of Music, Annie or Peter Pan. Kenz and I usually ended up sailing across the room, of course after Peter told Michael, he can't keep saying --"candy." Drenched in magic dust (not the stuff on the furniture) and with a smiling girl in my arms, I'd twirl through the living room and into the kitchen flying into starry space. Shelley was accustomed to returning home (after being in the real world) to find her maroon leather couch on another wall, the direction of the throw rugs turned, and her modern style framed art--living in new spots. She'd tell me, almost a hundred percent of the time that ---she didn't mind my domestic reshuffle, but that she "liked the changes."



Four years later, I'm still at it, but now I include Kenz in the 'moving games.' Yesterday we rearranged her room. There's such a grand feeling of accomplishment that comes from making new spots for old things. Although her 'bedroom set' is fairly new, it's been living on the same wall since it was delivered from the furniture store some months ago. I wish Kenz had taken a picture of me moving her platform canopy bed. (She's pretty good with the digital). In my endeavors at rearranging, will power rules over strength and I will do just about anything to move a 'couple hundred pounds.' Sometimes it takes getting on my knees and inching the load to it's new place. Maybe this is where the successful feelings come from, betting yourself that you can't do it but proving yourself wrong! (Hmmm.. That might work in other areas of life, too!)