Choice Move

"So, how's packing coming along?" Other variations of this questions include, "Are you all packed yet?" and, my favorite, "Did you already pack the weapons of mass destruction?" Actually, no one has asked me that final question, but my answer would of course be, Dude, those get packed LAST along with the toothbrushes and beef jerkey. I think it is fair to say that no one really cares how packing is coming along and if you are all packed yet. Just like no one really cares if your six month-old is eating solids yet. But what else is there to ask? What other riveting things does a six month-old do? There are no other conversation starters about a wee baby that do not end with a simple yes or a no. Has he found his toes? Yes. Does she enjoy her tubbies? No. See? At least the question about solids invites a whole produce aisle of possibilities. Excitement!

But I will answer the forced question of how packing is coming along. I would say that we are about 40% packed. We don't have a lot. I've been organizing and purging for months. It's just carving out the time when two rhesus monkeys aren't commandeering me as a jungle gym. Packing entails permanent marker and there is nothing rhesus monkeys like more than for giving themselves temp tattoos with blue Sharpies. And after tending to primates all day, who has energy to pack? I ask you.

Mostly how I've been spending my time is the same way I always spend my time: not cleaning my home, frantically cleaning my home because someone is coming, building couch forts for rhesus monkeys, reading Fancy Nancy books, cooking vegetarian, sucking air at Baby Boot Camp, and trying not to get caught naked post-shower by the sneaky contractor who comes like the wind (who has been working on the ceiling of our basement). Ahhh!

Anyway, we're doing okay. Packing-wise and emotional-wise, we're pretty all right. I think this move would be a whole lot worse This move would totally be craptrocious if it was under duress and if it wasn't our choice. Moves are so much nicer when you've got time to pack and think and say proper good-byes and go to J.P. Licks every day just so you have the sense memory of Coffee Oreo locked and loaded.

I realize in this respect that I've been profoundly lucky, ya know? I've chosen all the moves I've made in life.

Here's my resume:

1. 1980 - Mother's womb --> Outside World: I totally chose when to evacuate. It was getting crowded up in there. 2. 1986 - House in Cleveland suburb -->Bigger House in Other Cleveland Suburb: There was a basement the size of a McDonald's and that was putting the groovy in my smoothie. 3. 1998 - House of Girlhood --> Spacious Dorm with Malibu Barbie Roommate: I didn't get to choose the roommate but we got along famously, and I did choose the wellness floor because SURELY EVERYONE would abide by the substance-free rules ALL YEAR and we would just eat carrot sticks and do yoga in the study lounge for periodic study breaks. 4. 1999 --> Best RA Room Ever: Got my first choice on the best floor with the bestest RD. That was one of the best choices I ever made.

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5. Fall 2000 --> 2nd Best RA Room Ever: The room smelled like cabbage all the time but the floor and my co-RA were amazing. As was my RD. 5. Spring 2000 --> Swish Apartment in DC: Happiest semester in all of college as an intern. 6. 2001 --> Palacial RD Suite: I could do, like, eleven cartwheels in a row in that room and not hit a wall. Plus! My own bathroom 7. 2002 --> Lovely apartment with wainscotting and Anglophile roommates.

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8. 2005 --> Lovenest with Newly Minted Hub

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9. 2007 --> Our first home where we owned the walls

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10. 2011 - Woah.  Tennesizzle will be my tenth living space.

What about you? What's your living space resume like?

High School Musical

The summer before I left for college, my sister and I were in a musical through our church. It was the most fun. (Okay, it was "Godspell.")(Yes, I had a singing solo.)(Yes, the 2nd and 3rd nights sold out).(GOSH. STOP ASKING!!!) If you have seen the show, you know that most of the musical numbers are very lighthearted. But the scenes that are dark and condemning are intense, it being about Christ's life and all. There was one particular scene when the Jesus in our play would say something about all the bad being "cast out," and that was the cue for the lights to go out and for us as a cast to fall and scatter ourselves around the tiered stage area. Every single time we rehearsed this scene, I would land right next to my sister, and this other kid, Nick, would plant himself between us, and while Jesus exhorted everyone to repent and be sober-minded, Nick would be mashing his hand into my sister's and my face and pinching our earlobes and mussing up our hair and we would be trying our very dadgum hardest not to die laughing.

Pretty much from that point on, Nick has been close to making me die from laughter poisoning. When he gets on a roll, particularly about irreverent, absurd topics, it's just hysterical. Fortunately he married someone who is delightfully good-humored, so much so that she came to stay with us for Laughapalooza 2011.

Last weekend, Nick and his lovely wife Emily came to indulge our children and spoil them with books and creampuffs and attention. I always find it a profound experience to meet the children of the people I love, to see a smaller interpretation of their features and characters in this lively little soul. Likewise, it's really something to share your little iterations with other people that you've loved for a long time.

It took a good few days for my kids to come off the rousing high from this visit. Every day since then, Baby Girl has mentioned something to the tune of, "Heyyyy, I want to see the Nick that goes with the Emily to the New York!"

May someday she, too, be in a play with an irreverent earlobe pincher.

 

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Seriously. If you've gotten this far, you can see that no one had any fun that weekend.

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familowe, familee

photocredits to the FamiLowe, with grateful huzzahs from the FamiLee <3

Skool Vacay

It's school vacation week in Bostonland and it's obvious how stressful vacation week is for everyone who is not on vacation from school. It shouldn't be stressful, I mean, the school buses aren't tying up traffic and there's free admission for kiddies at the MFA, but it's just the expectation is so high to keep the kiddies enterTAAAAAINED and the weather is not yet run-outside-with-no-jacket-warm outside, so we get done with Baby Boot Camp and then where do we go? We didn't plan anything and we didn't secure the free tickets to the Children's Museum from the library three months ago, so we go...to the mall. Uffff. The mall, really? With the tongues of Build-a-Bear unfurling and suddenly we have a new firefighter fluffbear with the full-on firehose accessory? Or so I've heard.

You know, today I thought we'd have a girly fun time at the American Girl Doll store. Oh that cute cafe where you can snap up a doll with her own sassy seat that snaps to your table while you eat high epicure like peanut butter and jelly and hot fudge sundaes! How $$$pecial does that sound? Well, evidently $$$o $pecial that every other 'burban gurl and her mom had the same idea. Imagine! Over school vacation week! The truth is that the store was wall-to-wall mayhem and there was a THREE HOUR WAIT!?! for an appointment at the dolly salon. There was a whole serpentine line of chickadees with their American Girl beloveds in tow for their treatments. Hair styles and ear piercings and probably even upper lip waxes. I mean, it's good to be an American Girl Doll, right?

I just couldn't believe that this was The To Do, though. I mean, whatever happened to using your BookIt! coupons for a free personal pan pizza over school vacation? Or watching a Tom Hanks VHS that your grandma rented from the library? Or reorganizing your sticker book or purging all your orphaned socks from the sock drawer? Is this really...

I'm sorry, I can't think about this right now.

My son just turned 11 months today and who cares about American Girl Dolls when I have this perfect American Baby Doll right...

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here!

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It's wrong to laugh when this happens. I know.

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