Monday, January 3, 2011

We're here*

*Don't worry; all is well now! The girls settled into the new room well last night, and we all got some good sleep. And even the chaos of the last couple of days wasn't that bad. I was too excited to get too down about anything.

Wow, it's been a while. Again with the Full Brain Syndrome.

But we are safely on the other side. One last hurdle: moving in and unpacking. Right now we're staying in a hotel while Jeremy's job pays for meals, our room, rental car, and gas. Once the movers are here and our apartment is ready, we are good to go. I'm not sure I want to leave, though. I like not having to cook.

Friday was not fun. It was supposed to go like this:

I spend the night at my friend's house on Thursday with the girls. I stay there, keeping them to their regular schedule as much as possible, until the movers are almost done.

I go back up to Jefferson around 2. That's when the movers are supposed to be done, and that's when the tow truck is supposed to arrive for our cars. That's also when our van driver is supposed to get there to take us down to Chicago.

No. Here's how it really went:

After a late night with the girls, who would NOT fall asleep (since when have either of them been so sensitive to their surroundings?), I get a call from Jeremy at 8. The tow truck driver was there for our cars.

So I got ready as fast as I could, got the girls up, gave Emmy a bottle, and threw some Cheerios at Grace on the way home. The van driver got there around noon. The movers didn't have our stuff packed until almost 6. We and the girls spent the entire day standing around in a cold house while strange men hauled away our stuff into a gigantic truck. You can imagine how Grace felt about this. She handled it better than I would have expected, but it still wasn't fun. Emmy passed out on my back for about twenty minutes, but Grace didn't sleep at all until we got to the hotel.

Oh, the hotel. The girls slept in the same room for the first time ever and did pretty well after the first hour or so.

It was New Year's Eve. People were lighting off fireworks. I heard the police knock on the door across the hall once. People ran up and down the halls half the night. Jeremy snored blissfully through all of it, as did the girls. Me? I laid in bed getting angrier and angrier at Jeremy for breathing and moving and EXISTING. It's a good thing I have the ability to recognize when I'm being irrational and should just move to the couch.

Shoot. Need to go. Children need tending.

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