Making Our Social Debut

Hey y'all -

We're not making much progress with our unpacking. Well, that's not technically true. We've moved everything out of boxes marked "MISC," and have instead pushed our belongings into piles of actual miscellaneous. This was a mistake, which we should have learned from every B horror movie ever made; when the contagion escapes the lab and is allowed to roam uncontained, that's when people start disappearing and all hope dies.

Your dad and I are overwhelmed, but you two seem to be loving the change of scenery.

Laney's bed is directly under a skylight, which she loves. She can wile away the afternoon lying in the sun and making dramatic declarations like, "Did you know there are seven continents?" And I reply, "No! That can't be right. Is it? I thought there were 9. No, that's Supreme Court justices. Don't hassle me. I'm moving."

...and there's a deck perfect for an afternoon spent eating Fudgesicles.

Both kids have gotten to help out with projects. Laney asked if she could fold all the towels and put them away, which she did. Hagen likes to sit next to his dad while Thor assembles furniture and "help" by banging the hell out of things with an assortment of sharp objects. So far, all of our beds are on frames and no one has lost an eye. I've decided I don't need to watch how the sausage is made; I can just enjoy the hot dog.

At the closing, our real estate agent asked me how my family felt about our move into town. I told her it had been a topic on the prayer lists of several fine, upstanding Methodists for years, but they also needed God to find a new coach for Auburn, so it took a little longer than expected.

Our first night in the new house, we went out to dinner at Outback, and Hagen got to eat most of his sister's sundae. It was such a giddy experience for him that he stood up on his side of the booth and giggled the whole time he was eating. It was so much fun to watch that we looked up and discovered all of the families in the booths around us were also watching and laughing. Your dad figured out how to use his new iPhone just in time to capture 7 seconds of video:

How Hagen feels about that ice cream? That's how I feel about living in town.

Love,
Mom

Set To Pop

Hey y'all-

Your school is owned and operated by two lovely, fun women. One of them - Correy - also happens to be super pregnant. At a school function a few weeks ago, I asked her if I could take some maternity photos of her, because it's something I'd never tried. I forgot about the conversation for a while, and then a few days ago, Correy called and said that the doctor was predicting she might go into labor early, so if we were going to do pictures, we'd better get a move on.

There's this great scene in Raising Arizona where H.I. is trying to set the timer on his camera for a family photo, but his wife won't stop talking and as he's trying to warn her the shutter's about to click, he says, "We're set to pop here, honey."

I thought about that a lot the other day, as I grabbed my camera and headed out to take Correy's picture, because she is - quite literally - set to pop.

Thanks to Correy and her daughter Abby for the practice, and best of luck with the arrival of baby #2. 

Love,

Brooke

Head 'Em Up. Move 'Em Out.

Oh blessed internet, how I have missed thee. 
I know we have lots of catching up to do. It's possible this has been the busiest week in the history of my life. We sold a house. We packed a house. We moved our belongings into a storage unit. We moved the family into Grandma Sue's cozy (read: small) cottage. We bought a house. We moved our belongings from storage to the new house. Both children got pinkeye. I got a stomach bug. I gave Thor the stomach bug. We still haven't found our forks or underwear.

Hey y'all -

We spent most of last week packing to move, which, like every other move ever, was overwhelming. You always start out with the best of intentions - putting related items in a box together, padding them appropriately and labeling them clearly. After a few days of that, you start to think, "Well, if something breaks, that's one less thing I'll have to unpack." In the final throes, you start hurling completely unrelated objects into boxes or bins and labeling them "Misc." Ah, Misc. How I loathe you.

Brooke and Todd came over to help us on our next-to-last day, and brought along Brooke's mom, who was visiting. I know that when I go on vacation, my list of Relaxing Things To Do includes: sitting by a pool, drinking fruity rum drinks and helping some yahoo pack her things and move.

Brooke and her mom remind me a lot of Peg Peg and me. Boxes that were packed by Janie contained items from the same area of the house, and were labeled in minute detail: 2 Cups, 1 Mug, Stoneware Bowl Wrapped In Blue Napkin. Ceramic Bunny In Dish Towel. Be Careful When Opening. Sometimes, they even had additional instructions on a sheet of paper inside the box. Boxes packed by Brooke could include one snow boot, a bath toy, a wall clock, a sippy cup and a hammer. Let me be very clear: I am NOT complaining. I am eternally grateful for the help, because without them, I'd probably still be sitting on that living room floor, crying and wondering whether I should keep that Tupperware bowl.

These are the pictures that Brooke took on move-out day:

Packing up and leaving Ed's Creek was an emotional process for me. Thor and I moved there before we were married. We brought two children home from the hospital to that house, and Gus is buried in the yard. I don't know why, but I thought a lot about Gus that week. I thought about Laney as a baby, learning to walk in the driveway. The hours we spent on the swings. The parties and play dates and new teeth and old friends.

As Brooke was walking Cedar out the door that afternoon, she told Cedar, "Say goodbye to Laney's house!" Cedar said, "Bye, Laney's house!" Ugh - that was a killer.

Sue came out to help that day, too, and volunteered to take Laney to a birthday party in town while we finished packing. Laney put on her party outfit and hopped out the door, saying, "Bye, Mom! Bye, house!" and she just looked so damned grown-up. Hagen's still young enough that we'll make a whole new set of baby memories, but I really felt like leaving that house, I was driving away from Laney's babyhood. Sue pulled out of the driveway with our big girl AND all of my boxes of clothes, which meant I was left at the house in only my pajamas.

After I finished cleaning and packed the last box and closed the door behind me one last time, I met Thor in the driveway. "Thor, isn't this a little heartbreaking? Aren't you going to miss this house?" He said, "I've driven 19 round trips up and down that potholed road in the last two days. No."

Behold the logical mind.

As for me, I got into the Subaru, took one last look at the house in my rearview mirror, and cried all the way to town in my pajamas.

Love,
Mom

I Love Missoula

Don't Hassle Me. I'm Packing.

 Hey y'all -

In the movie "What About Bob?" Bill Murray plays a fun, mentally-askew patient who follows his psychiatrist on vacation and gets himself a shirt that reads, "Don't Hassle Me. I'm Local."

I want one that reads, "Don't Hassle Me. I'm Moving." In fact, this morning, our whole family was riding into town together, and I asked your dad what was on his agenda for the day. "Well," he started, "I have a meeting with the Department of Environmental Quality, then..." "THOR!" I shrieked, "You're wearing a shirt that advertises BEER." "Leave me alone," he said, "I'm moving."

Exactly.

We got a call that our buyers want to close a week early, meaning that we have seven fewer days to pack and move than we'd thought. I spent some time running in a circle in the living room, flapping my hands and squawking - but isn't that how everyone deals with extreme stress?

We're making good progress, so it's not quite the Code Red that I'm making it out to be, although we do seem to get derailed sometimes when - say - you and your dad discover there's a game to be made out of blowing on each other's faces:

 You guys have been helping us pack, deciding which are your most important possessions that should be handled with care. For Laney, it's these six horses ("but Hagen can have that cow.") For Hagen it's the lid to a sippy cup and a Tonka truck.

We got to visit the new house for a few minutes yesterday to do some measuring. Laney laid claim to her closet, while Hagen enjoyed roaming wild.

But this sums up how we all feel by 6pm every day:

Love,

Mom

Moving

Hey y'all -

Before anyone sends me a "Have you given up on the blog entirely?!?" e-mail, allow me to explain the month of April thus far.

Laney and Hagen's school was closed for the first week of April for "Spring Break." I put "Spring Break" in quotes, because that's the school's euphemism for what it really was: Teacher Mental Health Week. So I had both kids home all week - the same week my company was shooting a new television pilot, and I was trying to pack everything I own into boxes.

We've had some pretty funny conversations with Laney about the big move. She's asked her dad and me some great questions like, "When the people buy our house, where are they going to take it?"

Last week, she said, "Well, I'm excited about the new house, but I'm sure going to miss Ella." "Laney, we're bringing the dog with us." "Oh. Okay." A few nights ago, she woke up in the middle of the night, sobbing. "Laney! What's wrong?" "I don't want to move!" "Why not?" "Because I don't want to leave my TV!"

So we've tried to reassure her (times a million) that everything she loves - and the dog she only sorta likes - is coming with us. Her new concern is that she doesn't want kids she doesn't know playing in her house. This one I understand, because I'm an only child and I hate it when people touch my stuff. 

I'm amazed at the paperwork involved in the home-buying process. I have provided our mortgage woman with a copy of every piece of paper I have ever touched. 

The yellow Post-Its are places that Thor either needs to sign or explain to me. I didn't actually fill out the paperwork with the crayons that Laney left on top of it, but for as much as I understood it, I might as well have. Three sheets in this packet are used to explain that if our mortgage company sells our mortgage to someone else, that hypothetical new company might want us to get additional flood insurance, so you need to agree to the possibility of new insurance for a potential new company should the need arise. Sign here in triplicate. 

Thor and I rented a storage unit in the neighborhood where we'll be moving, so we can start to move things out of our house in manageable chunks. For example, this morning we got up and moved a bunch of beds we had out in our guest house. Thor sang the "Sanford and Son" theme song, and thought he was so funny. 

I've always been prone to a certain low-grade anxiety, but this selling-moving-buying-working-parenting is really dragging it out. Now, instead of having an Anxiety Attack!, I'm having one long Anxiety Attaaaaaaaaaaaaack.

Thank God for Hagen, who doesn't care where we go, as long as there's applesauce.

Love,

Mom

Killjoy Was Here

Dear Hagen -

Until we move to our new house, you and your sister are sharing a bedroom. I could use a million adjectives to describe your sister: brilliant, outgoing, verbose, etc. Two words I would never use to describe her, however, are quiet and contemplative*. She does not like to be alone, and she always wants something exciting to do.

Her latest maneuver is to wake up at 5:00am (heck, sometimes 4:45am), realize she's the only one awake, and go trolling for adventure. Typically, she pushes her play kitchen next to your bed, climbs up on the wooden stovetop, launches herself over the railing and into your crib and wakes you up to PLAY!!

Like most normal people, you would prefer to sleep. So as your sister bounces around your crib like she's the grand finale act in a Cirque Du Soleil show, you cover your head and cry.

Then, Laney cries and yells, "HAGEN DOESN'T WANT TO PLAY WITH ME!"

No kidding.

Most mornings, your dad wakes up to a child who's crying because he wants to sleep, a child who's crying because she wants to play, and a wife who's crying because IT'S FIVE IN THE MORNING AND WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!?

I guess that's another word I'd never use to describe your sister: boring.

Love,
Mom

* I was packing the house this weekend, and Laney talked so much and so loudly and in such a sing-songy voice that I thought my head was going to pop. I said, "Laney, I will give you some serious cash money if you can be quiet for just five minutes." She thought about it for half a beat and said, "Nope. Can't do it."

Birthdays Out The Wazoo

Hey y'all -

We've been to SO many birthday parties in the past week or so for kids who were born at the end of March. This suggests that for some couples, the Fourth of July is a very romantic holiday. Fireworks, indeed.

We went to Cedar's birthday at the hot springs:

Cian's birthday at the gymnastics place:

And Jojo's princess party at her house:

 It's hard to pin the tail on anything when you're just a few feet tall.

On Thanksgiving last year, you might recall that your dad and I went to Walmart for their doorbusters. Whipped up into a primal frenzy, I bought a ton of toys (board games were $3, people). I brought them home and wrapped them and hid them away in the basement. As Christmas approached, I took a look at the pile and realized it was a crazy/stupid amount of gifts to give to you two on Christmas. Instead, I left them down there, wrapped, and every time we get invited to a birthday party, I pick the most appropriate gift off of my pre-wrapped pile and put the birthday kid's name on it.

I didn't intend to be so brilliant; it was just a happy accident... not unlike when Alexander Fleming looked at that petri dish in his trash pile in 1928 and noticed the mold that would become penicillin.

A lifesaver, I'm telling you.

Love,
Mom