Today, a strange realization struck me. My baby will be turning two in just over three months. As I laid there, running my fingers through her tiny wisps of hair and watching her eyelids dance in her dreams, I found myself in such a state of disbelief, I think I could have convinced anyone - including myself - that she was most definitely still a baby. Far from two.
We filled our week of Thanksgiving with family, joy, and relaxation. Looking ahead, I would have thought we'd be in a sheer state of panic. Realistically, I probably should be, but Jimmy and I both have some degree of denial about the big move. There was some sort of sadness this year as I felt the pummel of being another statistic. Dividing time between numerous households is a rough feeling; explaining the dynamic to a curious four year old is even harder. I masked the hurt with brownies and some Black Friday shopping (which was actually more like Gray Saturday shopping, not that I'm complaining), despite multiple insistences that I wouldn't even go there this year due to the amount of stuff we have to move. I managed to score some amazing deals on new bedding and other assorted house things, so I went for it.
shades down while we eat our apples; because this is how we roll.
The countdown continues with 15 days to go. I'm actually unbelievably calm before the storm that I know is about to hit. Boxes are everywhere, I know where absolutely nothing is, and the garage itself has not had a single thing packed. Also? My really awesome plan of using up things in the freezer and pantry has worked really well. So well, in fact, that we will be donating canned goods and dry foods to the local Share Center and we'll still move an entire freezer full of food.
Because I am awesome.
First thing in the morning:
Ruby: "Eisley, you STINK!"