“Are you Avery’s mom?” she asked upon approaching me at preschool pick-up.

The kid only looks exactly like me, yet I replied with a snarky grin, “That depends. Why do you want to know?”

At that moment, I imagined any number of things to follow… and was prepared to offer an apology for each and every single one. I was not, however, prepared for what she actually had to tell me.

“I think my daughter might have a little crush on him.”

My interest peeked. “Ohhh really.”

“Oh yeah. She told me that whenever sees him CARTOON HEARTS appear over his head. Isn’t that adorable?!”

“It’s…ummm. Something”

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Tell me if you’ve heard this one before… Just as we’ve established the “new normal” (which is to say the same, old normal, but in a new place) and I finally feel like I’m getting a handle on things, we go and foo everything up.

Yupper-doo, we’re moving again this month.

However, this time it won’t be across the country or across the ocean. It’s barely even across town. We’re going from one gorgeous house to another equally gorgeous, but slightly smaller house with a bigger yard and a koi pond.

Yes, a koi pond.

We’re moving to accommodate Mike’s commute and erratic work schedule while still allowing us to maintain just one car (and my sanity).  And that is all I wish to comment on the situation.

That is all I wish to comment, because the last time I attempted to explain the details to someone, she quickly offered to lend me the book she was reading… something about “it’s all just stuff” or “materialism is eating your soul” or some such…

This is my third move in 18 months. THIRD.

I know exactly how many boxes it takes to move our household. 243.

I know exactly how much it all weighs, including furniture. 34,421 lbs.

I’ve purged, purged, and purged again. No one knows better than yours truly what we need or don’t need.

“Just get rid of all of it,” she continued. “Besides it sounds like you really need the money more…”

Oh-kay, barring the otherwise totally crass assumption about money, (This IS Northern California, after all. Cost of living is ree-dunk-culous for everyone. It’s a given.) I wondered why I was left so miffed and insulted by my pal’s well-meaning, but misplaced helpfulness…

A quick look around my house later that same day made me realize why. It’s not just stuff.

I know. I know. Clearly, the last words of a drowning, delusional woman, but really…. It’s Not. Just. STUFF.

It’s the beautiful spoils of the life Mike and I have cultivated for ourselves…

It’s the books and artwork we found while honeymooning in Spain. The posters from the films towards which Mike’s dedicated his time and talent. An antique sign and an etching found on London’s Portabello Road. An oil painting of “Michael the Archangel” (our family’s patron saint) discovered in the back of a warehouse specializing in chintzy costume jewelry. Wedding photos. Baby photos. The Christmas ornaments Mike’s mom lovingly crafts for each of her grandchildren each year. A hand-carved “Last Supper” that once hung in my parents’ house, and on and on…

It may “just be stuff” to some, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s the only thing that makes living here, there, or anywhere… HOME.

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Several weeks ago, Mike started grumbling about not having enough time for his personal projects. I am, if nothing else, an understanding and supportive wife, so I offered to figure out a way we could make that happen.

After all, I seem to recall having had a blog once upon a time… (Smirk.)

In the course of our conversation, I found out that with his daily commute– riding the train, waiting for shuttles and such, he gets up to fifty minutes each and every day of uninterrupted and unencumbered time all to himself.

WHAT?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WOULD GIVE FOR FIFTY UNINTERRUPTED AND UNENCUMBERED CONSECUTIVE MINUTES ALL TO MYSELF?! GAH!

Let’s just say, we have yet to come to a resolution.

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Since I last updated here, my sweet baby girl went from being a wee little sugar lump…

…to this sun-shiny sweetness.

While Avery remained perfectly and deliciously the same. More or less…

If only you knew what I’ve become since then…

(Psst, I’ll give you a hint: KUH-raaaaazy.)

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Yes, I realize Mike’s daily commute to and from work isn’t exactly “uninterrupted”. Nor, is it ever really “unencumbered”, but the stress and insanity associated with going from one to two kids has made me far too susceptible to petty jealousy.

Apologies.

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They’ll take all you have to give, steal your heart, and hold you captive forever, but you so won’t mind…

… because they’re so stinkin’ adorable!

Then one day, you realize it’s been over a MONTH since you notified anyone of your whereabouts (i.e. last posted on your blog) and you begin to wonder if they’ve even noticed that you’ve been gone.

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I’ve been feeling a bit… well, up to my ears lately.

Everywhere I turn there’s something that needs to be done- all of it so very important, so very urgent, so very maddening.

Well, so much for that! Caring for these two little people I made trumps all.

Yet the phone still rings, the dishes still pile up, and my mom still waits for baby photos…

So, here I am, feeling very much buried alive, but trying not to get lost in the shuffle.

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