Moving is Hard!

It's official: I hate moving. Well, maybe I don't hate moving, but I do hate packing. Sorting through seven plus years of our crap, dividing up what is mine and what is my dad's, figuring out how much we will have to buy after separating our joint household. All of it is a complete pain in the ass. I guess this is not some big news flash.

Our days are currently spent surrounded by mountains of cardboard and plastic trash bags. No one can find any socks because I've either packed them or sent them off to the Salvation Army. Sorry for you, blisters for all until June 10th! That's what you all get for not helping me pack. Not that I want help, I tend to revert to complete control freakness when it comes to arranging our stuff in boxes. I need to be the one to decide what stays and what goes. I need to be the one to throw it all haphazardly into a box, sans bubble wrap, and hope for the best. It will be my fault, and mine alone, when we arrive at our new house with only broken dishes and smashed up lamps. Oops!

Mothers' Day

Happy Mothers' Day everyone! Somewhat belated, but heartfelt nonetheless. Looking at my beautiful daughter this morning I am inspired to write about the special gift of motherhood.

Last night I made dinner after waking from working for the past three nights. I served dinner to my children and then washed all the dishes. I felt a little resentful of the lack of enthusiasm exuding from my family for what is supposed to be "my day", although I did receive some beautiful flowers that were a helpful focus tool when feeling that twinge of irritation. I bought myself a bottle of good champagne and watched the (guilty pleasure alert!) Desperate Housewives finale with my dad and Mary. That in itself is the makings of a good day as far as I'm concerned.

What I realize today in the clear morning light is that mothers never really get a day, but I get every day. Despite the mundane tasks, tantrums, exhaustion, and ass-wiping that come with the territory, I am blessed to have these two miracles in my life. I love being woken up at the crack of dawn with Sofie holding my iPod telling me to "raise the roof Mama, Billie Jean is on!" I love watching Nathan run down the street with his pack of kids and their squirt guns, soaked to the gills and blissfully smiling. I will miss the mundane terribly when they are older and have no time for me, I have no doubt about that.

And to my own mother this Mothers' Day:

You made me who I am today and for every minute that you trudged through life to give us what we had I am grateful. There is nothing in the world that compares to my memories of snuggling in your bed with you and twirling your hair to fall asleep. I have never felt so safe as when you would hold me, I always knew that home was wherever you were. I love you, I respect you, I appreciate you, and I thank you. Happy Mothers' Day Mom.

Can't Wake Up

I don't know what is going on with me lately but I can't wake up. I am perpetually tired and hard as I try I cannot get back the energy that I usually have. And it's bringing me down, especially in the mid afternoon as I struggle to keep my eyes open through any task or setting. I may have to invest in some tiny toothpicks to help me, Wile E. Coyote style.

I believe the problem is that I have been super sedentary and have not exercised in what feels like decades, along with eating a crappy diet fueled predominately by caffeine and carbs. But there is also the issue of forcing myself to stay awake all night 2-3 nights a week to earn a living.

Not to mention that when I am able to go to bed at a reasonable hour I can't fall asleep for the swirling thoughts of a family in the midst of a huge life change.

Or the children that appear in my bed in the middle of the night thrashing around in search of comfort.

Or the barking dog in my living room at 2am.

Fuck. I need a nap.

New Adventures Close to Home

We're back from our visit to the Dominican. After nine hot days drinking coca cola, eating rice and beans, and doing absolutely nothing (but not in that romantic lying-on-the-beach kind of way, I mean really boring, mind-numbing nothingness) we were more than ready to come back home to reality. And by reality, I mean home ownership.

That's right, Francisco and I have found ourselves a house of our own and as soon as we can muddle through all the paperwork and legalities we will be moving up like the Jeffersons. And we are excited. So. Excited.

The house is a farm house from about 1900, but in fantastic shape thanks to the previous owners. It was the second house we looked at, and from the moment we walked in I knew I wanted to live there.

What I can't believe is how much crap goes along with buying a house. Call me naive, but is it really necessary to sign paperwork and measure stuff for months in order to purchase property? I can't really figure out what it is that takes so long, or why each form you sign costs $1000, but that seems to be the case. We are bleeding money along with our excitement. We might not be able to afford to eat for a few months once we've moved in, but at least we'll be hungry in our new house, and I can already tell that's going to feel just right.