Sunday night? Was a pipe dream. I’m still neck deep in boxes at certain points in my house. The kitchen is one of them and my room is the other. Ella’s room, the bathroom and the living room are put together although not entirely complete.
This place is considerably smaller than the one I moved from. And, I feel like I’m visiting someone else’s house. It’s not my bed (it’s new and I’ll get used to it I hope) and we’re not allowed to have nice things. My kids aren’t kitchen trained. They walk all over the place with sippys and snacks. I threw out all of my oddball sippys that have the potential to leak and got all playtex ones that don’t leak all over. We have 8 sippy cups with interchangeable lids and valves. I don’t know why that thought is bandwidth worthy but it’s an exciting moment for me.
I had a major meltdown last night. Ella leaked chocolate milk on the carpet. It was an accident but I was upset, literally crying over spilled milk. I never really got over it and ended up in bed, nursing Amelia for the 19th time and crying. I wonder if Stephen would have liked it here. We never would have moved here if he were still around. It’s really small. It feels really small. I’m still wooed by the newness of things but it actually makes me more anxious (see: above). Ella is tickled about the new space but Amelia follows me around, bawling, all day. She’s very out of sorts. Like I almost took her to the ER last night because I couldn’t figure out why she was crying. It’s not like her. I really am that jumpy. What kind of mother have I become?
On a lighter note (to self or others) two 3 year olds packed my fabric stash. That’s right. The night before the move, I had a friend over who has an almost 4 year old and an almost 2 year old. The 4 children together could pass for near relatives. Towheads all around. Ella and Silas packed boxes, really small boxes, for nearly an hour. They packed my entire stash minus the MM fleece (which will be for sale as soon as I can find and photograph it) which has been in a tote for a year. Cute. They had a ball. And every once in a while, Ella would recognize a particular print and have to note it to her friend what mommy had made. Here’s the down side: I have, and I’m not exaggerating, about 45 boxes (very small…think the size of Harry Potter: book 4) that contain my stash. It all made it on the truck but it’s all mixed in with the stuff in “storage” on the entire east wall of my basement. It’s like Where’s Waldo? I dunno. Where’s PRR? P-who? Where’s Baby Nay? Probably parked next to the canning jars and hot chocolate. Colored Sherpa? That would be between the crib bumper (never actually used) and the panini grill.
So, we’re here and in. Not set but we’re here. And my cable and internet got hooked up today so we can stop watching the same Tom & Jerry DVD over and over again. Did I mention that my oldest daughter will literally pee her pants watching cartoons from 1950? And it’s all the violent, naughty stuff that makes her laugh. You’ll never catch her doing that to an episode of Blues Clues or Calliou.
As a side note, the cable guy was hot. I must be getting my pulse back. Feels soooo wrong to even think it.