“Moving out…”

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Shared by Breanne Smedley

When I was five years old, I got in a fight with my mom and told her I hated her.

As the story goes (it’s a favorite one for my family to recount), something massively upset me.

I probably was forced to use the orange sippy cup, when really I wanted to use the pink one.

Or maybe I had to share one of my toys with my four-year-old sister.

Whatever it was, I remember my five-year-old world was crashing down.

And from my perspective, my mom and little sister were the cause of it.

So, I made a plan to move out.

A couple months prior, my parents got us a tiny play cabin. It was set up outside on our property, about 50 yards away from the house.

This would make the perfect place for my new home, I thought.

So, I started packing.

I took every piece of clothing that I had, and stuffed them into brown paper grocery bags.

It was a bit of a challenge, so I decided to ask my mom for help.

That didn’t go over very well.

I learned quickly that people don’t really want to help you when you tell them you hate them and are moving out.

But, Lauren hadn’t learned that lesson yet, so I recruited her.

“Here, Lauren. All the underwear go in THIS bag!”

Finally, I had all my clothes packed. And I mean ALL my clothes. Piled into paper bags, stacked a good six inches over the top.

I started walking the bags out, one by one, to the playhouse.

It was hard to see as I walked because I piled the clothes so high over the bag.

Soon, there was a trail of dropped shirts, pants, and dresses leading from the back door of the house to the cabin.

But finally, I made the last trip and could settle into my new home.

I remember sitting in the playhouse by myself. All that was in there was a chair and all my clothes.

It dawned on me that eventually, I might get hungry. I didn’t think to bring any food out.

Nope, just my clothes, so that I would be able to dress for any occasion! Logical…

Then, the rain started.

I quickly realized that the cabin’s roof was not leak-proof.

From what my mom tells me, I was out there for a total of five minutes before she saw me emerge from the playhouse.

My plan had failed. Sitting in a cold, wet cabin by myself with nothing but my wardrobe didn’t solve my problems like I thought it would.

Time to move back home. To my mom that I actually don’t hate.

Five-year-old Breanne learned a few valuable lessons that day.

-Running away from your problems doesn’t work

-The unconditional love of my mom (and her willingness to let me go through my “process”)

-Paper bags don’t work in the rain

 

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