Starting Over Again

 "Hallelujah" starts playing.

The sad one

with major lifts.

Fitting, I supose.

 Opened Blogger, counting.

Verified for Instagram

the 960 entries.

This makes 961

if I publish.

One would think,

COVID equals TIME.

Words should've poured.

"Document it all!"

Hah.  As if.

Keeping children fed,

bathed, educated, stimulated.

That took everything.

I was spent.

Words didn't come.

They still don't.

Not really, anyways.

But, today, again.

I start over.

I type words.

One, two, three.

It's a start.

Also. A goodbye.

Book of Truth,

no more Neeb.

I'm not ready.

Please don't retire,

It's too late.

House is listed.

Email is revoked.

He's left me.

Not his fault,

but still gone.

So, new guy.

Last name unpronounceable.

Going with Gary.

Hope he's good.

Hope he's brave.

I've got baggage

and it's heavy.

His turn now

to help process.

heal, rally, persevere.

Mental health matters. 

Grief. PTSD. Insomnia.

My "other" trifecta.

Flip flops on.

Fancy earrings in.

Left off mascara.

I've got this.

Unexpected

The things we need most are often the things we never saw coming....

A quiet Sunday, made quieter by the absence of the pre-church frantic hustle.  Raspy coughs and drippy noses suggested that perhaps snuggles and cartoons and unhurried parents would best serve as a healing respite.  So, we snuggled and slowed and savored not being stressed on what is called to be a day of rest.  (Not to mention that we were able, then, to avoid all the congestion from the marathon.)

Lunch, office work, laundry (always), some tattling, some tears.  Play time with the neighbors, photo editing, naptime for the baby.  Errands for daddy, and then...just before my mind turns to dinner and my eyes narrow at the clock and my ear strains to hear whispers from the nursery, he says,

"Why don't you go up to Mayberry for a bit, get a coffee, get away?"

Normally, I excuse the invitation away.  I testify that I'm fine, or, more often than not, that I'm too busy...there is too much to do....I don't have time to "get away," even for a cup of coffee.  I don't let him relieve me.  I don't let him step into solo-parent mode.  Somewhere along the way, I adopted a hidden belief that only I could do it, and by "it," I meant everything.

Someone wise recently told me that the opposite of self-respect was perfectionism.  It took me more than a second to wrap my head around that.  As someone who has long prided herself on being a "perfectionist," I found that insulting.  What would possibly be wrong with striving toward perfectionism, and how in the world did my pursuit of such inhibit self respect?

The more I considered her theory, however, (and I'll admit, there is some context I'm leaving out), the more I realized her words ring true, at least for me.   She asked me to picture how my life would be different if I truly had healthy self-respect, and this is what came to mind:

• I'd let go of the notion that I could do it all
• I'd let go of the notion that I'm the only one who could keep things together for our family
• I'd make time, not excuses, for myself to exercise -- whether that meant going for a long walk/ride, or making time for the gym
• I'd accept the offer of help, or time to myself, whether that offer was from another friend, a family member, Tiffany, or Jim
• I'd stop saying "yes" to things I didn't want to commit to/participate in, merely for fear of disappointing someone else
• I'd let myself enjoy naptime on Mondays, when it's just me and James at home, and let myself watch a show or read a book, instead of frantically doing chores

When I recognized that all the motivation behind those things/behaviors was maintaining my impossible standard of perfection, it was easy to see that I was doing myself a disservice.

So, circling back around to our germy, quiet Sunday.  Jim said, "go, get a coffee."  And you know what?  I said yes.

Hibernation

It pains me, almost physically, that it has been almost 3 months since I've dusted off this little dot-com of mine, and poured my heart out onto the page.

There is no one reason that the blog posts fell by the wayside. It isn't like 2013, and 2012 for that matter, weren't already "dry" years.  They were. And if I so chose, I could explain why and what triggered that.  I never meant for that silence to become permanent.  I still don't.  I don't think.

But maybe...I don't know.  Maybe I really need to rethink what I want this blog to be.  It has taken on so many personalities over the years: a simple here-is-what-is-going-on-with-my-high-risk-pregnancy, to a family scrapbook, to a place to grieve, back to a scrapbook, and now....

Now, the "everyday" is hard to keep up with.  To take time to post the simple happenings of my day seems frivolous, and to MAKE time to craft the posts that I really want to write....that just simply seems impossible.

And while I try to figure it out -- what I want this site to be, not only to me, but to my readers (if there are any left), to -- life continues to come at me in unbelievable, warp-speed ways.

No, seriously.

Since my last post:

•  Jim spent a week on the neurology floor of the hospital after we were told he'd had a stroke.  At 33.  (Final ruling was that it wasn't actually a stroke.  But still.  I can't unhear those words in the ER as they rushed him away from me on a gurney: "Mrs. Gregory, it appears your husband has had a stroke.  You did the right thing....  We'll do everything we can..."
• My father was diagnosed with cancer.  The details are his to share.  But I can at least say, it was still a diagnosis we were not expecting, and the rapid nature in which treatment and surgery and recovery have followed have been mind-boggling.
• Seth broke his wrist 2 days after Christmas, and we learned that he has some pretty extensive vision issues.  As I write this, he has already gotten his cast off, and we are all adjusting to Seth-with-glasses, but at the time...it was a lot to handle.
• I've taken my first international trip, to London.
• Tiffany was involved in a serious car accident that, while she herself was wonderfully, providentially protected, totaled her car.  An entire week of our January seemed to just evaporate in the wake of that, and car shopping, and recovery.
• Tiffany and I have both been struck down with not only influenza but also strep.  NO FUN.

I could add more.  No, really.  I know it's hard to believe.  But there is more.  And I know that each incident isn't that life-altering in and of itself.  But when it comes one thing after another.  And then you factor in the season -- the trifecta that is Thanksgiving-Seth's birthday-Christmas -- while all of this is going on.  Oh, and did I mention that we Ohioans are experiencing the worst winter in history?  Seth has only been to school 8 days since December 20.  EIGHT.

This really wasn't the post that I wanted to write tonight.  That flu/strep double-punch I mentioned up there is real time -- I got my diagnosis just yesterday, and I'm currently propped up in bed regretting my dinner choice.  But I thought it past time to reappear here and let anyone out there still reading that things have just been heavy over in these parts.  Overall, everyone is well and I'm okay, truly.  I just....

Yeah.  I'm finding my way back, I hope.

The first day of the rest of his life

There is a new hashtag floating around my Instagram account these days: #chapterk

And I've got to tell you, I'm having a blast with it.  I mean, not so much the hashtag, but the need for it: having a kindergartener.

Now, given that Seth had been in some sort of organized preschool program since August 2009, my emotions of sending my baby off to school were pretty stable.  Granted, I came to the realization VERY quickly that this experience is NOTHING like I've encountered in the past, and I'm sure I'll be blogging about those specifics in the coming months.  But as for the first day jitters.....there were none.  Just a whole lot of smiles and hugs and "I'm so proud of you" moments.

Jim started his day a little later than normal so that he could help get Seth awake and dressed, and to pause for the obligatory front porch pictures.

 

 

 

Seth and his best buddy Lucas stopped their hooting and hollering long enough to snap this priceless shot.  I can see this one going up on some "through the years" photo boards for the graduating class of 2026!

Little Miss and Mister couldn't miss out on the ceremonial first day pictures, either, and luckily every one was in good enough moods to capture some sweet early morning smiles.

This has nothing to do with kindergarten, per se, but it is worth mentioning.  I never EVER could figure out how to take a screen shot on my first smartphone (a Samsung Droid).  Thankfully, I now have an iPhone5, and I can take screen shots like a pro.  Which ended up being much needed when I accidentally video filmed Seth getting on the bus instead of snapping a photo.  But!  I managed to pause the clip to capture this perfect, sums-up-the-morning-to-a-tee shot, and I am not ashamed to admit that I look at it probably a dozen times a day.  I can't believe I'm lucky enough to be this kid's mom.  He is so unbelievably awesome.

They tell you it will happen.  And it's not that you don't believe them.  You just don't know what the "it" feels like until your turn finally comes.

But then it does -- your turn -- and you find yourself in that moment that they warned you of.  You wait for the feelings (that, as it turns out, are custom made for you and your child) to wash over you....  The wave comes; crests as the hydraulics swing shut the bus doors; abates as the yellow tube-with-windows turns left at the stop sign.

There you stand, in the sun, and you think to yourself, "yes, it was just that fast, and now it's over.  It WAS just yesterday that he was learning to walk/trying to talk/fitting into 12m overalls.  Just like that, he's gone.  Off to conquer the real world, one grade at a time."

 

#ChapterClosed

Yeah, I know.  I'll give you a second to recover from the cuteness overload.

This was Seth's first day of "preschool" (aka Mother's Day Out) in August 2009.

And I blinked, literally, and here I sit, on the eve of his first day of kindergarten.

I'm not overly emotional.  I have mommy-friends all around me who are bombarding Facebook with (forgive me) ultra-sappy e-cards and plagiarized poems about fleeting years and holding back tears as little ones board yellow busses for the first time.

Not so much me.

Seth is beyond ready for the independence that comes tomorrow morning with the bus and the lunch room and the table time and the card behavior system.  He is ready with a capital R.  And so am I.  I'm not a good teacher.  There is a reason I studied journalism, not early childhood education.  These are HARD years to muddle through.  (Trust me; I'm still in the trenches.)  They are not my favorite.  So, on many days, I'm just "OMG get out of the house and go learn forgoodnesssake already!!!"

I can say that, with total honesty, and in the same breath, sit back and analyze and realize that I feel like I failed him in some way.  That I was selfish with my time, and that I didn't make the most of the handful -- literal handful -- of years that I had him all to myself, under my roof, to mold and shape and teach and love.

I didn't wish the years away.  I just feel, in this moment, that I could have done better.  I could have been more intentional.  More influential.  More....well, just more.

And I guess that is the plight of the firstborn.  They are our learning curve.  Our test run.  Our "oh, please just don't let me screw him up too badly" one.

But.  Despite my shortcomings, he is ready.  He is tucked in bed, Bailey under one arm, awash in the glow of a green lava lamp.  And for just one more night, he is just my baby.

Tomorrow, all bets are off....

Adios, Google Reader

Okay, y’all.
I know there are a handful of you that click to the actual dot com when you want to check out what is going on over here at The Writer Chic.  (Which, yes, I know, isn’t much as of lately.  Or, at least, not that I’m telling you.)
But for those of you who have been faithful Google Reader followers, you must know that our dear Reader is going the way of the dinosaurs.
So, Feedly.  It’s what I’ve been using the past few weeks, and honestly, it’s been a pretty smooth transition.  I haven’t searched for an app yet, to be able to keep up with my blog reading on my smartphone, but I’m sure it’s out there.
I just wanted to put my two cents out there for my alternative feed reader, and to let you know that I DO plan to keep blogging, eventually, so please go ahead and add www.thewriterchic.com to whatever new feed system you choose to go with!
See y’all on the flip side!

Random mid-May word vomit

• May 9: one year ago today, I had my maternity pictures taken, and was blissfully unaware of the drama that was going to unfold the next day, and in the days to follow.  I can honestly say, it was the last day that things were "normal" for me, and I'm feeling a little melancholic at that revelation.
• Seth's independence and fearlessness is going to get him kidnapped and/or killed.  It is a legitimate fear of mine in recent days.  He has taken to wandering off in stores, leaving the house with no preamble, riding his bike across streets and down through the subdivision.  Please, don't judge.  We are working on finding a solution that doesn't involve locking him in a tower room.  Lord knows, he'd just find a way to dig out/repel down/mentally transport from it, anyway.
• I'm second guessing our decision to have my tubes tied during my c-section last spring.  With James' fast-approaching birthday, I'm painfully aware that my days as a mother to an infant are numbered.  And it's not even that I adore the newborn baby stage; it just feels uncomfortable that I'm going back to a world of tampons and heating pads instead of pregnancy tests and prenatals.
• Tiffany sprained her ankle -- and I use the term "sprain" loosely, as we are still waiting on X-ray findings -- and I'm completely preoccupied with her discomfort.  I want to just make it better, and I can't, and it is a new place to be in for me.  I'm not her mom, so I don't want to hover and belittle and make her feel anything less than able to handle it herself, but man.... even moreso than when Erin had her surgery or when James has had to endure testing, etc., this is a "boo boo" that doesn't have an easy fix or a known end date.
• Jim and I are ships passing in the night, if that.  I have vague recollections of kisses goodnight and goodbye, but mostly, we are exchanging texts and emails regarding all the various details of the balls we have in the air right now.  I'm not sure what we can do in this particular season to reconnect and/or stay connected, but it, too, is weighing on my heart.
• I'm feeling very restless when it comes to all things Duncan related this year.  I don't know what to do/what I want to do to honor his birthday/homegoing.  I know I don't want to ignore it, but I don't know how to approach it, either.  I hate so very much not being near his tree.  So much so that I'm seriously thinking maybe we need to discuss burying his urn and getting a marker....?  I don't know.  I'm really sad that I don't have a "place" to go here in Ohio that feels like "his."
• Random projects and "wants" around our house have me feeling impatient.  I want to fence the backyard, power sand and repaint the front bench, update the chest in the kitchen, make a Lego table to Seth, do something with the builder grade mirror we removed from the upstairs bath, hang the magazine holder in the master bathroom, get our office clutter under control.
• I'm disappointed that I'm taking the time to blog tonight, but not "write," because I'm at that "I don't know where to start" point, and so I'm just throwing words on the screen in an attempt to clear my head.
• Speaking of clearheadedness.....I haven't had it in a while.  So fuzzy.  Everything has been so fuzzy now for a few months, and I don't know if it is just sleep deprivation, the diet change, or what.
• I had dreams about killer tornadoes, unmanned garage sales, and premature births last night.  Have no clue where those came from, and don't have the mental reserves to spend to figure it out.   Actually, just typing that out gives me some insight, and not in a good way.  The mind is an amazing thing, but man, sometimes, it's just too powerful for my liking.
• I learned the definition of the word altruistic this week.
• I felt like a complete yuppie (yuppy?) when I designed and ordered "mommy cards" earlier today, but (a) Tiffany said they're cute, so there's that, and (b) I'm quickly entering a realm of existence when, apparently, these type of things are necessary.  Oy.
• I owe a friend some editorial input on her professional bio.  I need to do it.  I want to do it.  But, man, I just want to sleep.  Or watch the 5 DVR'ed episodes of Glee that are waiting downstairs.
• I've been thrilled to learn that the Giant Eagle generic brand of Cap'n Crunch is gluten free.
• I baked three batches of brownies for James' birthday party today, and have washed my hands countless times, and now they feel all dry and yucky.  Anybody have a recommendation for a good hand cream?

Okay....I don't know that I feel any better, but at least some of what it floating around in my head can now be floating around in yours, too.  Generous, aren't I?

Off and running…

2013 has kind of been a bully so far.  I hope she straightens up.

We ushered in the new year with vomit.  Lots and lots and lots of vomit.  From every member of my sweet little family (except me, thank you, Jesus).  I have become a master carpet cleaner this week.  That is not a title I ever aspired to, by the way.

Amid the puking episodes, we have also been dealing with some issues with our littlest guy.  A week or so ago, I noticed that he had a cyst-like boil thing-y pop up out of nowhere.  It seemed to be causing him some discomfort, so back to the ped we went.  Long story short, the doctor was concerned, so they did a biopsy (on what was determined to be a perianal fissure), and we started daily visits to monitor what they thought was going to turn out to be MRSA.  In ended up not being MRSA, just another strange infection, but they also gave us some concerning news about what may have caused the fissure in the first place….  And let me tell you, you do not want to be talking to a pediatrician about Crohn’s disease when it is your baby who is the subject.  But…. we will deal with things as it unfolds and just take it a step at a time.

 

What else?  Erin’s T&A recovery continues to move forward.  We are also working diligently with potty training, and she has recently moved up into the next toddler level class at her preschool.

 

Seth is Seth.  Perfection personified one minute, and a holy terror the next.  Most days right now, I miss my sweet 4-year-old; this dramatic, often belligerent handful that has shown up in his stead is like a little foreigner under my roof.  But, I’m sure it’s just a phase, and we are doing our best to meet his individual needs and to love him through these rough days.  Also, an unexpected text from our friend and neighbor Melissa just last night brought me up short: kindergarten registration is in 3 weeks.  Eek.  I mean, school is on my radar and all, but man, there is something about registration that just makes it SO MUCH MORE REAL.

I’m…eh.  I’m okay.  I got SO spoiled with having Jim home for 11 days, and I miss him.  The main tree is down in the great room, making the house feel even more empty.  I have 100 things bouncing around in my head – recipes, projects, blog posts, chores – and I’m feeling more and more that there just isn’t enough of me to go around.

I know so many people use the turning of the calendar year to mark a fresh start and all that…and I normally do the same.  But I just feel behind the curve this year.  I’m not yet to the “fresh” part; I’m still in the “letdown” phase of January.

So, I hope you’ll stick around til I get my groove back.  I’m hoping that tomorrow will be the first of many of my Tuesday night writing getaways.  We will see….

December 13

Am I the only one that has a bizarre ability to remember and assign significance to dates?

It occurred to me earlier this week that I was pregnant with all four of my children on December 13.  Now, I realize, given the span of dates that an individual pregnancy can cover, this isn't really an impressive feat.  But, to me, it is special.

December 13, 2007, was the last full day I was pregnant with Seth.  I was induced that night.

December 13, 2008.  Duncan was just starting his life, having been conceived, ahem, a little unexpectedly, early that week.

December 13, 2009, I was eagerly making preparations to announce Erin's presence to the world at large, having kept her pregnancy a secret from most people for almost 5 months.

And, since I'm nice like that, I gave 2010 the day off. ;)

December 13, 2011, James was taking a backseat not to the festivities of the season, but to the hustle and bustle of our cross country move.  But, still, he was there, an ever-presence.

And today..... 2102.  It's "just" a Thursday.  Preschool for Seth, albeit accompanied with birthday treats to celebrate the milestone of 5.  Snuggles and never-ending Team Umizoomi for the still-recovering Erin.  James has cut his second tooth and is determined to master real (as opposed to army-) crawling any moment.  Jim is foregoing hockey so that I can join my Mom Journey girls for a kid-free dinner.

I'm not pregnant.  Can't possible be pregnant.  And 99 time out of 100, I'm okay with that fact.

Tomorrow, I will wake up and have a 5 year old.  Hardly seems possible.  The holidays, of course, ramp up the sentiment and nostalgia, so I'm missing Duncan a bit more than usual.  My hands are full to overflowing with the care of James and Erin.

My normal-not-pregnant December 13 is pretty amazing, actually.  Chapter closed.

It's a ache...

When I had Brooke design my blog back in 2009, I LOVED my header tagline: "There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you."  I loved it, because I lived it.  Or tried.  Writing that year was akin to breathing for me.

Three years later, and I'm so sad to see the decline in my blog posts.  I haven't made the time for myself to do the thing I love most to do.

And I am determined to change it.

The next few weeks are insanely crazy for our little family -- not even so much with the holiday madness that every one of you are facing -- but with trips and parties and surgeries and birthdays and more surgeries on top of the two surgeries we had in November....ugh.

But come January....I am resolved.  Jim seems to have the bedtime touch.  It's amazing.  When I'm not in the house, he can get the kids (all three of them) down peacefully and without much fuss.  So, I think that I'm going to start disappearing on Tuesday nights.

Not all night.  Just sometime between dinner and bedtime, maybe after James' dinner feeding/nursing.  There is a coffee shop just 2 miles up the road, with free wifi, and I think there is a seat that has my name on it.

I want to escape to my writer world, if only for a few hours.  Just long enough to let Jim get the kids to sleep and for me to spew some of the backlogged words that have been choking me for months.  Too many months.

I've only written 20 posts in the last 90 days.  And only 45 in the last 6 months.  That is UNACCEPTABLE.

I don't even care if anyone is reading anymore.  I need to write.  I NEED TO WRITE.

Once upon a freckle

I grew up calling them “beauty marks.”

But they’re moles, really.

And I’ve never paid any attention to the majority of the one I’ve got.

Jim, on the other hand, happened to notice that a “beauty mark” on the back of my right leg was changing, and not in a good way.

Can you guess where this is going?

I had my family doctor look at it, and he was quick to say that it needed to come off, and soon.

So, last Tuesday, I went in for a “routine” removal.  I say routine in quotes because, as per usual with me, it wasn’t quite routine.  It was deeper than he anticipated, and located right on a blood vessel.  The procedure took longer than expected, and bled more than anticipated, and has taken its sweet time healing.

(If you’re squeamish….brace yourself….)

Here’s what it looked like three days after the fact:

I know, right?

Yes, it hurts.  Yes, it is in the most inconvenient of places. And no….I don’t have the results of the biopsy yet.

Which actually brings me to the point of this post.

It occurred to me earlier that there have only been a handful of days in my life where I have actually had the thought, “my life will change today.”  That has usually only occurred when I was gearing up for childbirth.

But Friday, I woke up and actually thought, “I could get a phone call today that might change my life.”

You see, I left the doctor’s office Tuesday having words like “oncology,” “plastic surgery,” and “melanoma” ringing in my ears.  My doctor seemed to be preparing me for bad news – moreso than I thought the situation warranted.  He gave me a half dozen reasons why he thought this particular biopsy could come back with abnormal results.  And I listened, and have repeated the conversation to a handful of people as the week went by.

And now I’m rambling….

I guess my point is this.

Waiting is hard.

I’m not actually concerned with the outcome, truly, no matter what it is.

I just felt like I should document it.  To make note of a day that I spent very aware that life is temporary and any level of comfort I have can change in a moment.  And in the days to come, as I wait for the test results, I plan to stay aware.  To treasure the “normal” moments with my family and friends.  And to take some  Tylenol.

Because my leg hurts!

Only one of us is ready

Guess who is getting ready to move to a big girl bed?

The weekend before James was born, we headed up to IKEA to kill some time and to shop for the bunk beds that we are planning to get for Seth this summer.
While we were there, we found this super cute, super affordable white platform bed that seems ideal for Erin when we pull the crib from her room for James.

She still isn’t the world’s best sleeper, so I’m not sure how she is going to do in an unconfined bed, but….we’ll figure it out.  I’ll keep y’all posted on how she does, and how her room transforms from nursery to “big girl.”  (I know, I know, Andrea, I still haven’t posted pictures of her room as is….I’ll get on that, too, I promise!)

The Ducks

We weren’t sure who was going to hatch first. The ducklings, or our little one.

I honestly don’t know which came first.

But by the time we came home from the hospital on the 23rd, this is what we found under the hydrangea bush outside the dining room window.

The momma and her babies have already abandoned her nest, yet I find it hard to clean up the egg shells and rake out the mulch….

BLTN: Happy Valentine’s Day (from TN)

I know, more sappiness about Tennessee and how much we miss our friends and blah blah blah.
But seriously, how cute is this?

We got a valentine from Aylin Pearl….and for weeks, it was up on our (magnetic) laundry room door, so we would see it every day.
It is nice to be missed.  I can appreciate it that we are, and my grown up heart could handle it if we weren’t (which, thankfully isn’t the case).  But it does my mommy-heart good to see the joy it brings Seth and Erin to know that their friends miss them as much as they miss their friends.

Our house…

…is a very, very, very fine house.

Full of boxes.

That need to go away.  After they unpack themselves, that is.

   

At least there are little bright spots, like finding notes from Tiffany on the boxes, to make the unpleasant task of unpacking a little less dreaded.

Hello, 2012

Hello, fresh new year.

Hello, new home, with your endless empty drawers and blank walls and bare refrigerator shelves.  May we fill you with joy, laughter, and memories beyond our wildest dreams.

Hello, frigid temperatures and gray skies.  Bleak you are, but you are home.

Hello, boxes.  And more boxes.  And totes and tubs and bags and suitcases.  May you unpack yourself.  Posthaste.

Hello, new opportunities.  New friends.  New job.  New grocery store.  New drivers' license photo.  New time zone.  New phone number.

Hello, year-of-our-last-baby-bump.  Oh, may I treasure the next 4 months, watching my waistline disappear.  May I treasure each new movement and kick.  May I cherish each moment with my still-baby Erin and ever-growing Seth before you, little nameless one, join our crazy, beautiful, chaotic life.

Hello, season of multi-generational family living arrangements.  Be gracious to us, as we navigate sharing space, grand/parenting responsibilites, and remote controls.  Unconventional, but what a blessing to have this time, however long it be, before we send Gramp-e off to the Ukraine for good.

Hello, 2012.  It is surreal, how familiar your entry to that of 2009.  Be calmer, please.  Quieter.  Easier.  Happier.

But whatever you bring us, 2012, welcome.

Chaos. Beautiful chaos.

I've been living in chaos -- out of boxes, amid packing tape, among slowly dwindling furniture -- since the first week of November.  It's not fun, but the end is in sight.

Monday night, I made lasagna (more in an attempt to use pantry and freezer staples than a desire to have Italian), but realized as I pulled it from the oven that it is the last meal I'll cook in this home.  Tuesday is mac n' cheese, Wednesday is a birthday dinner out, Thursday is a send-off girls' night out, and Friday more than likely will be pizza.  So......lasagna.  Who would've thought?

There is hardly anything left in the house -- 2 TVs that need a new home here in TN; a crib; 2 beds; 2 chairs; and the kitchen table.  Erin's mirror; several boxes of toys; my desk.  Suitcases ready to head south for the holidays.

It's surreal -- this season of decking the halls -- to be in an empty house completely unadorned for the holidays.  It makes me all the more exciting to decorate my new home next year....a new house, with a new child rolling about under the tree.  Again, who would have thought?

When we came to Tennessee just over 3 years ago, I truly thought that this little country town and this beautiful house would be our forever home.  I couldn't have imagined the life Jim and I would experience during this chapter, or that it would be so full but so brief...

Tis the season...

For changes, that is.

As of this morning, Jim's ZIP code went 500 miles north (and the rest of ours will follow suit in a couple weeks).  New job, new house, new opportunities, all wrapped up in the security and familiarity of our original hometown, with much of our family nearby,

Equally news-worthy and life changing...

Our Christmas cards were signed,

Love, Jim, Monica, Seth, and Erin ..... and our final addition, due May 2012.

=)

More on both bits of news in the weeks to come...things have been crazy around here for a solid month, and, obviously, the blog has taken to the back burner.

Just a day...

Black leggings and a gray tee, with the tiniest baby bump peeking out...

Caedmon's Call on the stereo...

Little helpers raking leaves....

Getting in the packing groove (18 days to go!), even if it is only dishes and towels and craft ribbon...

A disaster of a cheesecake, but knowing it won't matter to the friends gathered...

Delay of game

First of all, happy September!  Yea for the turn of the calendar, turn of the seasons, birthdays, pumpkins, sweaters and all that this wonderful month ushers in!

That said...for my birthday, Jim gifted me with a shiny new laptop.  But.  It's a Mac, not a PC, which is great, but....unfamiliar.

And I blog using Windows Live Writer.  Which is, I'm guessing, a bitter enemy of my awesome new Macbook.


So....ye ol' blog is going to be suffering a bit until I can figure out what I'm doing over here in unfamiliar Apple-land.

But, in the meantime, I can leave you with this super cute picture.  This was our first attempt at the photo booth feature.  And so far, it's the only picture I have on this computer, so....it'll have to hold you all over until later!