Hot Water, Iguanas & Too Many Moves: A Single Mom’s Nomadic Life in Belize

Since August, my four kids and I have moved every three weeks. Every. Three. Weeks. By now, we’re practically professional movers — we should honestly have our own TV show. “Four Kids, One Mom, and a Million Boxes.”

We name our houses like pets — The Tower House, The Beach House, The Off-Grid House — and the kids remember them all. Sometimes they’ll ask, “Can we go back to the pool house?” like we’re picking vacation spots, not recounting our survival saga.

So here it is — the chaotic, ridiculous, and surprisingly heartwarming story of how we’ve lived in more homes than most people visit in a lifetime.

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The Hotel — The Breakfast Buffet Dream

It all started in February, when we landed in Belize. We spent three weeks in a hotel in Belize City while I tried to figure out where on earth we were going to live.

But you know what? It wasn’t bad. The kids were in heaven. There was a free breakfast, an arcade, and a pool. And right next door, a park would light up every weekend with bouncy castles, trampolines, and electric cars for rent — five bucks American for ten minutes of pure joy.

Every night, I’d collapse into bed after a day of entertaining toddlers and think, “We need a bigger room."

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The Off-Grid House — Solar Power and Cold Showers

Our next stop was 3.5 miles south of San Pedro — an off-grid home that sounded dreamy in the ad. “Comes with A/C,” it said. Sure, but only if you enjoy living dangerously. The A/C would run for four glorious hours before killing the entire power supply, leaving us in silence and darkness.

No power means no water. No water means no showers. And when you’re living with a 1-year-old, 3-year-old, and 4-year-old in a tropical climate, that’s… bold.

But honestly? The kids didn’t care. They loved it. We’d go to the beach and the pool every morning, and they were completely oblivious to the fact that the TV didn’t even work. I, on the other hand, was mastering the art of boiling water on the stove for bucket baths and pretending it was a spa treatment.

Lesson learned: I am grateful for power and hot water.

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The Tower House — Stairs, Chickens, and Slip ’N Slides

After that, we moved into The Tower House — a three-bedroom, two-bath apartment that might as well have been perched on Mount Everest. Four stories up, no elevator, and guess who refused to climb the stairs? My heaviest child.

Every day, I lugged her, groceries, and sometimes water jugs, up those stairs like a Sherpa with a stroller. I’ve never been so fit and so tired in my life.

But there were good times, too. We turned the tile porch into a slip and slide on hot days, and next door, the kids made friends with a flock of chickens that became their unofficial pets. We even had a partial ocean view — as long as you squinted between the palm trees.

Eventually, I realized the stairs and parking situation were too much, and I decided to sell my house in Canada so I wouldn’t have to juggle renters long-distance.

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Canada — Barbecues and Boxes

Back we flew to Canada in July to pack up our entire life into a storage container on my dad’s farm. I thought it would be stressful, and honestly, it was.

We stayed near family, and my sister-in-law threw her legendary weekend BBQs — complete with cousins running wild, laughter, and food that didn’t come from a tropical mini-mart. It was busy, but comforting. The kind of chaos that feels like home.

Once everything was packed, we said goodbye again and headed back to Belize — because apparently, I thrive on jet lag and cardboard boxes.

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The Beach House — Sand, Sunrises, and Pools.

We stayed three weeks at Caribbean Villas while waiting for a friend’s newly renovated house to be ready. The kids nicknamed it The Beach House, and I loved this one too. We took morning walks on the beach, swam at 7 a.m. every day, and lived on smoothies and sea breeze.

When the renovations were finally done, we moved into the new place, the Casita house— pool and all. But surprise! No water. It took 24 hours to get it running, and when it did… cold. I started boiling buckets again like it was déjà vu with steam.

The plumber laughed when I asked about hot water in the kitchen. “No,” he said, like I’d just asked for a jacuzzi and room service.

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The Casita House — Frogs, Iguanas, and Hope

That brings us to where we are now — The Casita House. We haven’t given it an official name yet, but it’s growing on us. There’s a pool two feet from my back door, and in the mornings, we feed the iguanas that hang out in the trees. The kids are obsessed with the frogs that hop around the yard, and I’ve made my peace (sort of) with our constant unpacking.

Every weekday, I take the 3- and 4-year-old to preschool from 8:30 to 11:30. Some mornings it’s a fight, some mornings they skip there — but they’re learning and thriving through all this movement.

It took 2 weeks to get hot water in the bathroom. My 13 year old cried after the plumber came and we were still without hot water. There are cock roaches, and we recently learned the private pool is actually shared with 2 men who live behind the house. Surprise! So it seems we might have to move yet again, but this time I know to check the water situation.

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If I’ve Learned Anything From This Nomadic Mom Life…

Hot water is a luxury. I am grateful for hot water

A/C is optional — for about four hours.

Kids can find magic anywhere — as long as there’s a pool, a frog, or a trampoline.

Moms can handle more than anyone gives them credit for.

Every house, no matter how temporary, becomes part of the story.

We’re still on the hunt for that just-right home, but until then, we’ll keep naming our houses, chasing frogs, and counting every warm shower like it’s a blessing.