During these next 17 days:
…when I’m flipping out about calling utility companies and scheduling sewage & water hookups and and packing up our kitchen and trying to cook a meal with just a baking sheet and a plastic fork…
…when I start to get all teary about moving out of our perfectly nice (albeit a bit too small for us now) house, the house where we started our family, the house into which we poured so much hard work and sweat and money and tears (oh yes, there were tears a few times), the house where we first brought our baby girl home, the house where our daughter took her first steps, said her first words, gave us our first Maggie-hugs…
…when I’m stressing about how on EARTH I am going to manage the move myself when Dan is going to be at work during Move Out Day and Move In Day? THANK GOD FOR DAYCARE.
…when I start to forget WHY we’re moving, that we need and want more space for our family, and we are BUSTING at the seams, when I forget how I keep hitting my body on things in the bathroom because there is just not. enough. room. in. there and stuff keeps tumbling out on my head every time I open the bathroom cabinet or that cupboard in the kitchen with the sippy cups, I SWEAR IF ONE MORE SIPPY CUP FALLS ON MY HEAD, I WILL… BE VERY ANGRY, THAT’S WHAT.
…when I respond with ‘MOVING SUCKS.’ when someone asks if we’re excited about the move, instead of answering with ‘OF COURSE WE’RE EXCITED, OMG I’M GETTING MY OWN WALK-IN CLOSET!’ (both are true, really, but the 2nd is probably a more positive reply.)
…when I’m behaving like a lunatic and possibly drooling in the corner, rocking back and forth with my knees pulled up tight to my chest, humming a soothing tune, please. PLEASE remind me that THIS is where we’ll be living soon. THIS is why we’ve worked so hard. And THIS is the house we fell in love with and it will be ours in just a few weeks.
Remind me to be thankful and remember and RELAX, OMG. It will all be okay. BREATHE.
Also: remind me to buy more packing tape.