I’ve known about it for awhile now- the move.
It was actually my decision, so I have no one to blame but myself.
And I’m excited. No, really, I am!
But this was our first house. We moved in on Super Bowl Sunday, seven years ago. I remember ordering pizza and eating in the middle of chaos while watching somebody win and somebody lose. No clue who played. (Note: nor do I recall who played just 5 months ago either. No shame.)
And this was the house that I brought two babies home to. The pink stripes were blue for J Man about two years ago.
And I mentioned that Matty B had been doing all the packing and I was just playing and that was a fine plan until I walked into the kiddos very empty room last night…
…and had a miniature meltdown. I think it was miniature. Matty B may disagree. It was large enough to require a good dose of Almond Dream ice cream (I had to eat it, otherwise it was going to be thrown away!) and Matty B wouldn’t let me go to the store by myself to buy more boxes even though we needed more boxes. He said we didn’t but that was a lie ’cause guess where I found myself this morning, once emotions were in check?
Walmart. Buying boxes. Good thing I’m not the kind of woman who says “I told you so…”
So this is where I sit. Matty B is in the garage, cleaning. I’m supposed to be cleaning the bathrooms.
But instead, I sit here, nostalgia overtaking normal thought.
I need some Almond Dream. Stat.