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We recently moved to a new home. I say new, but it was built in 1925, so I suppose I should say new to us. For the last week it seems like every day has been filled with packing and unpacking boxes, loading and unloading furniture, and trying to figure out which light switch turns the fan on and where the heck is the box with my deodorant?

It’s been hectic, but we are slowly getting settled and are very much in love with our new home. We’ve been so busy with the move that I haven’t had much time to process the fact that I’m sad to leave our little mustard house that we’ve called home for the last 4+ years. 

The Mattress in my Living Room

Over the last three weeks, this mattress has made itself at home in my living room. It has camouflaged itself as part of our decor to the point that I don’t even notice it anymore. Once it fell over, and we left it flat for a few days because the cat liked to nap on it. This mattress is like a dinner guest who had too many drinks and was unable to drive home, so we let him stay the night. The following day, he had nowhere important to be so decided to grace us with his presence for the rest of the weekend. Things were slow at the office so he decided to extend his stay for the remainder of the week. Now he’s receiving mail here, I’m doing his laundry, and I anticipate his wife and children will join him any day now.

It’s OK to Drop the Ball

I’ve been a mom for less than two months, and I’m fairly certain I’ve already traumatized my kid. 

It happened this week en route to her 6-week checkup. The morning had gone beautifully, and I was considering nominating myself for mother of the year since I got her fed, dressed and out the door with a headband in her hair all while finding time to eat a bowl of oatmeal and put on a bra.

“Don't you put me on the Tweeter.”

- Jo Ann Sherrer, my Mawmaw