I've actually been auto posting for the last week or so, with the exception of our day after Christmas traveling recap, but so many of you are inquiring via comments, Facebook, and email about how we are doing with the move, unpacking, etc., I thought I'd update you.
I was determined to put forth a smiley, all-is-well attitude no matter what. Not so much out of pride, but because I knew some rough days were ahead and that when they passed, I didn't want to look back on a bunch of whiny blog posts.
But, honesty prevails. This is hard.
I want to snap my fingers ala Mary Poppins and have my staples fly into the pantry and clothes fly onto hangers with the ease that Jane and Michael's bedroom straightened itself. But I can't; I have to do it the old fashioned way. Which would be fine, if I didn't have a tearful 20 lbs. clinging to my jeans (my new jeans, I might add, that I ripped the fabric of already. Boo.). Seth is not adjusting well to the new house. I'm not sure if it's because it looks like a tornado when through it, and the world's newest walker is fed up with traversing around boxes. Maybe he hates the Picnic green on his nursery walls. Maybe he misses Sara. (I sure do.) Maybe it's those darn one year molars that need to just break through already. So, as he clings and cries and, heaven help me, bites his way through the day, I pray for patience and choke back my own tears. Bedtime always comes.
Speaking of bedtime....Jim is doing year-end warehouse inventory this week, which means he is waking up at 5:15 am, and is gone until 6:30 pm. Which would be okay, expect that makes him exhausted, and he is asleep on the couch at 8, 8:30. =( I don't begrudge him the rest; I know he needs it. But during these first days of welcome-to-Tennessee, stay-at-home, and finally-together-againness, it would be nice to have some us time.
I know that Wednesday night will come, and inventory will be over, and we'll have a four day weekend; Seth's teeth will cut, he'll grow accustomed to his paint, and he'll learn to move around the boxes; and my pasta and chicken broth and Oxfords and hoodies will find way to their proper places, and all will be right with the world and well with my soul.
But for right now...honest blogging prevails: this is hard.