Semi-Wordless Wednesday: How Have We Come So Far Already?

Hell's bells. I have a six month old as of today. It's entirely too freaky how fast time has flown. I feel like it was just yesterday we were sitting in my hospital room getting the third degree about her wicked awesome birth.

I do so love my little bathtub baby.

Even though she never lets me sleep.

Where's My Smiley Face At?

Doors. They're starting to unlock and swing wide open. And here I sit, fiddling with the keys.

I woke up this morning to two very cranky girls who spent the night tossing and turning in my bed. One is just plain sick, the other has an ear infection to go along with her barking cough. I've spent the past few days clinging desperately to my sanity, as the toddler tests every last nerve I have and the baby practices torture on me in the form of severe sleep deprivation. I feel as though I haven't slept in a month, and truly worry about how wise it really is for me to be on the road.

Thank goodness we have a nice, sturdy SUV and good insurance.

Over the past few days, I've called on every family member I could, just to make it till bedtime. My sister helped referee trick-or-treating. My father took E to gymnastics while I braved the pediatricians with MJ. And my mother has gone above and beyond to keep me from winding up rocking in a corner at the end of the day. From holding the crying baby to force feeding the ornery toddler, she has saved my ass again and again.

I would be insane to voluntarily leave my support system behind.

And yet, that is what looks to be behind doors number one, two and three. The husband is back in DC, interviewing with multiple companies. And it's going good. Scary good. So good it has me wanting to cry, knowing we're going to have to move away from all this too soon. Far away. Too soon. For so long, I couldn't wait for the day to come when we'd pack up the car and head out again. To be in our own house, with our own things and our own family. And now, it just might happen. I won't be able to make one call and have four people drop what they're doing to help. I've become too spoiled by that.

I spent the past eleven months bitching about living with my mother and now I'm going to start bitching about not living with my mother.

I want my husband to have a job he enjoys, a job he's good at and will stay with. I want our family to begin to grow as it should, without eggshells and second opinions. I want a home that is ours, for anyone to be free to visit. I do so want the normal life that comes with a normal job. But, dear Lord, I do not want to move away from what we have here. Crazy as everything may be at times, this is our home. Our families. Our girls' grandparents. The place of ponies in Grandma's backyard and swingsets at Grandpa's. Sunday dinners and sleepovers for date nights. Our church, our friends, our history, our favorite places. It's all here. And I'm not sure I'm ready to start over again.

And so, full of gloom and doom on another sleepless night, I wait. Wait on pins and needles for those doors to fully open and show us where our next beginning is.

Only Because Everyone Else Is Doing It

I've come away from Halloween this year extremely conflicted. One half still loves the costumes, the silly decorations and the harmless parading of cuteness. The other half wants to lock my children inside for the month of October and never partake in the gruesome displays and masked greed and dark part of the holiday.

I spent countless drives speeding past horrific front yard scenes and avoided store aisles with adult costumes. I spent countless hours holed up in my sewing room constructing and seized every opportunity to show off the girls, all dressed up. I held my daughter's shaking hand and reassured her that everything she was seeing on the sidewalks around her was make believe, and then I led her up pathways and taught her to take candy from strangers. I saw her forget her manners and focus only on the prize, as many two year olds would.

I put too much time into perfecting cuteness and shielding the ugly.

Very conflicted here.

There's going to be a lot of thinking before next October rolls around on this newly discovered personal obstacle.

Lazy Sunday: You Caption It, Take 2

Happy Halloween

From the lady that completely miscalculated the size of her child in proportion to the ginormous pumpkin she tried to stuff her in . . .