Too Old For This

A little more than 13 months ago, I told myself I wouldn't do this again. And then, just two days later, I made a liar out of myself.

Only to do it again, a month later.

I will do anything I can to help Kid 2 out. She's a very independent young woman, living as a struggling artist: barista by day; musician by night.

Living in Toronto is not cheap, and she essentially lives paycheque-to-paycheque. And that means finding the cheapest but liveable apartment she can find. As such, she has moved five times in three years.

Last November, she thought she had found a perfect unit that she would share with four other musicians. But as soon as she moved in—with the help of DW and me—she discovered issues that would make the apartment unit unsuitable for the group (in fact, it was downright dangerous). She was able to break the lease and get her money back, but she had only 24 hours to vacate the place.

Now, I've helped her with every move. I'm happy to do it—she's my kid, after all. But last year, when I moved her into that unsuitable apartment, I was exhausted by the end of the move and I told her that when and if she moved again, she'd have to find help from within Toronto.

"Make friends with strong people," I said, "and with someone with a driver's license who can rent a truck. I'll pay for the truck but these hauls are getting tough for me."

Of course, a day later, when she called me in a panic and said she needed to move out of that place right away, I was there for her. I reserved a moving truck and a storage space (BTW: the U-Haul depot on Weston Road, in Toronto, is staffed with awesome people and getting a vehicle from them—when you book in advance—is a breeze), and less than 12 hours later, I was back in Toronto to help move her out and store her belongings while she waited for another apartment to be available (luckily, she and her roommates found another unit while I moved her out; though, they couldn't get it until the first of December).

Kid 2 couch-hopped for a month, and on December 1, I was back in Toronto to help get her things out of storage and into her new place.

"Okay," I said, as I was about to set off for home, "like I said last month, find strong friends for your next move. I'll help where I can but I'm really getting too old for this."

You see, it's a very long day when I drive from Ottawa to Toronto to help Kid 2 move. I'm out of the house early and it takes more than four-and-a-half hours to get to the U-Haul place. It then takes about four hours to move Kid 2's stuff from one place to the next. When we're done, I usually take my daughter out for food before dropping her back at her new place and driving home.

When all is said and done, I'll have gone for about 14 or 15 hours, from the time I've left home until I pull back into the garage again.

Kid 2's lease ended on Sunday, and she asked me if I would help her move again. "Do you have someone who can help?" I asked in response. She had one person who could help but said she didn't have many strong friends.

I knew it was going to be a gruelling day but she's my kid, I love her, and will help her out as much as I can.

A week ago, I threw out my back. I don't know how I did it but when I got up, one morning, I found myself in a lot of pain. Because I had already rented the truck for the move, I knew I couldn't let my kid down, and I spent a good part of last week resting and doing careful stretches to get my mobility back.

DW called Kid 2 and told her that I had hurt my back, and that she had better do whatever it took to get some help with her moving day. Neither told me about that conversation, nor the outcome.

I didn't relish the drive on Sunday. I awoke to snow on the ground and flurries in the air. I made the decision to leave as soon as possible, giving myself a couple of extra hours to get there, in case the road conditions slowed me down.

I drove through a couple of snow squalls and some pouring rain, and I had visions of the move being a nightmare. I thought it could take me all day to move my kid between apartments, in crappy weather, and I'd have to find a place to stay on my way home.

In Toronto, the weather improved. It stopped raining and even the sun poked out from time to time. I didn't need the extra time but because I was way ahead on my pickup time for the truck, I stopped somewhere for lunch.

I called Kid 2 and was pleased to hear that she had acquired four strong friends who could lend a hand. It was at this point that she told me that her mom had told her about my back. She wanted to make sure that I didn't have to lift anything heavy.

One of the helpers was my daughter's boyfriend, who I had only heard about when we were introduced. She also got someone from one of her former bands to help, plus two of his friends. I was needed to disassemble the frame of her bed (it's a nasty piece of work that requires power tools that Kid 2 doesn't have), and while I did that, everything else was loaded into the truck (which I was miraculously able to park in front of her apartment, on a busy street).

It took less than an hour to load up the truck, and her new place was less than five minutes away. It's on an even busier street, and through more good luck, there was a vacant parking space in front of it.

The lads brought her bed frame to her new room and I assembled it while they brought everything else up. I did carry a few garbage bags, filled with clothes, but apart from that, Kid 2's friends did all of the heavy lifting.

I ordered everyone food, and once the order was placed and the truck was emptied, I gave my thanks and said my farewells. With luck, I was able to arrive back at the U-Haul depot just as they were closing for the day. An attendant took the key as I hopped out and said, "You're good to go." I was back in my car and on my way home.

The drive was mostly uneventful (a trucker pulled in front of me with little warning, causing me to slam on the brakes at 120 kph) but I was absolutely exhausted as I stepped in the doorway and was greeted by three cats. My back was killing and my shoulders were sore.

Even though I didn't do any heavy lifting, the day took its toll on me. Sitting behind the wheel of our Niro and of the rental truck for more than 10 hours was hard on my back. Even climbing the stairs to her apartments, carrying bags of clothes, put strain on my shoulders.

I'm getting too old for this.

Kid 2 has now moved in with one of her best buddies from high school and I hope this apartment works out for them. It's a good size and is in a good neighbourhood, and even above a very appealing restaurant. I hope they stay there for at least a year.

But by the time Kid 2 is ready to move again, we'll have to make arrangements well in advance. She'll need friends who can help her move, including driving the truck, which I'll still pay for, to help her out.

Driving to Toronto and back in a day is just too much for me. This latest trip has shown me that. I'm no spring chicken anymore. I'm not as strong and I don't have the endurance.

The mind is willing and my love of my daughter has no limits. I'm just limited by what my body can do.