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The Move

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.


3 responses »

  1. Oh friend, been there, done that!!! But to live close to family is priceless!!!

    • You’re totally right! And I realized that last night during an impromptu pizza party with family popping up here and there, but the boxes are KILLING me!

      • I know, but tthe boxes eventually get unpacked, broken down and stashed away, while all your stuff finds a new place in your home… We miss you guys!!!

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