The best advice I can give about moving is: DON’T. Barring that…there is no good advice about moving.
Unfortunately, moving house is like going to the dentist. Not only is the ordeal painful, but you get to spend huge amounts of money for the privilege.
If it turns out you absolutely positively have to move, the best thing to do is pile all of your stuff on the front lawn, and set fire to it. Because even if you spend gargantuan amounts of money on Professional Movers, and enormous amounts of time packing everything neatly into clearly marked boxes, when you finally do get to your new location, you won’t be able to find ANYTHING.
I know all about this. I’m still looking for a pair of matching antique mirrors that were lost on a move from Vancouver to Toronto in ’78.
Mysterious things seem to happen to household effects in transit. They transmogrify. Little pixies remove labels and affix new ones.
Another thing: no matter how carefully you looked over the house you’re about to move into, it won’t be the same house you bought. The address may be the same, but between the time you signed the deal and the time you took possession, all sorts of changes will have taken place.
For instance, the dishwasher won’t work. Nor will the stove. There’s an unwritten rule that every household appliance you’ve shrewdly bargained into the offer of purchase will automatically self-destruct the moment you sign the offer.
Ditto the washer, dryer, and the toilets. It’s some sort of symbolic goodbye ritual to the last owners. Your only consolation will be that simultaneously, waaaaay back in your old neighbourhood, the people who bought your house will be discovering similar kamikaze activity among your old appliances.
On a final note, you can try to move kids, but it’s not recommended. Chances are they’re quite attached to the old neighbourhood and won’t be happy anywhere else. Best to leave them with a kind neighbour until the move is over. With any luck, they won’t be able to locate you after.