Tricked and Waiting for Treats

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Illustration courtesy of Shutterstock

My wife, Mattie, played a trick on me. “I’ve been offered the job,” she said, turning life upside down for me, our daughter, Jessie, and even the dog. 

Shortly before Halloween last year, Mattie went on an interview for a job six hours away. Though I’m my wife’s biggest fan, we’ve moved several times together in the past, so I’ve seen that trick before. Moving is no treat! 

“I’m launching my first book; the timing is terrible,” I said. For Jessie, 11 years old and strongly attached to friends she had known since she was 2, leaving seemed unthinkable. Jessie’s opinion about moving was an unqualified “No!” Many tears punctuated her words. But we supported Mattie’s decision and she signed the employment contract. 

The last few months, like Halloween, have been scary at times and fun at others, and lots of chocolate has mysteriously vanished from our kitchen. It takes a bagful of patience (and quite a few pounds of sweet comfort food) before, during and after a move.

Jessie’s last day at her old school proved especially challenging. I held my breath that she would hold it together through the end-of-year program. Fortunately, she kept her composure and appeared poised on stage for all of her parts. However, when the program ended, Jessie and her friends had a hug and cryfest that started in the auditorium, moved to the classroom, and continued down the hallway as we tried to leave. Her teacher commented that we might have to take one of the girls with us because she kept clinging to Jessie and sobbing. 

The dreaded packing came next. If there is a positive in moving, it’s the opportunity to get rid of things that haven’t been used in years. “Goodbye, tight pants. You won’t be taking up my limited closet space.” Conversely, for a “hoarder of memories,” letting go of sentimental stuff is painful. 

From preschool through third grade, I dutifully saved all of Jessie’s art and school work. I’m an “organized saver” so I had most things in boxes, labeled with the year and place where she made the masterpieces, plus a big cabinet full of larger pieces that wouldn’t fit into the boxes, like the purple monster she made from a milk jug. My self-imposed goal was to select the “best of Jessie” from seven boxes and squeeze it into one box the same size. With lots of help from my less sentimental wife and daughter, I reached my goal, even though the lid wouldn’t stay on.

By the time you read this column, Jessie will be a middle-schooler and I’ll probably have a new box labeled “6th Grade” hidden under the bed. Speaking of boxes, as I unpacked a wardrobe box I came up with a great idea for a Halloween costume. I could cut arm holes in the sides of the box and stand in it. There would be plenty of room to stash Halloween candy. 

Though the move is technically over, hours of work remain to unpack, organize and hang pictures. In the meantime, I’ll need a boxful of patience (and more chocolate). And when Mattie thinks of something else to add to my lengthy to-do list, I think I’ll hide in my wardrobe box. Maybe she’ll walk right past me, since I’ll blend in with all the other unpacked boxes. I just hope she doesn’t look under the bed. 

Patrick Hempfing had a 20-year professional career in banking, accounting and auditing before he became a father at age 44. He is now a full-time husband, stay-at-home dad and author of “MoMENts: A Dad Holds On,” available at Follow him at and on Twitter @patrickhempfing.


Categories: Dads, Relationships