The toilet. Fun for the whole family.

This damn kid.

For the longest time I've wanted to make Phoebe some pants and tee shirts, and really, what better time than now?  When I've packed up just about all of my fabric and sewing supplies, and there are boxes and miscellany crowding my sewing space?  Right.

So, I made Phoebe what are, in my (not so) humble opinion, some pretty kickass pants.  I was so proud of them that I posted them on my mommy board, and within minutes had a request for another pair, and then within a few hours, a second request.

The child for whom the pants were made, however, keeps taking them off, and very explicitly stating, "Here are your pants.  I don't LIKE them.  No thank you, mommy."  Luckily, though, they're drawstring waist, so I can cinch those bitches on her butt, and there's nothing she can do about it. 

I know what you're going to say.  "So, then, stop sewing for her!"  But this, my friends, is war.  So expect several more posts wherein I bitch about how I've sewn or made super stellar things for her, and she is uninterested in them.  I'll make her love them, or die trying.

In a nutshell.

We're slowly, but surely, weeding through everything in the house, and getting rid of all of our superfluous belongings.  We've stacked everything up in the driveway (so that EVERY DAY can be a yardsale day!), but our deadline to get everything gone, or to get it to the Salvation Army, is tomorrow.

Marissa is really excited to go, and jumps up and down at least once a day.  Phoebe has memorized "West Viriginia", so every time she sees a box, or every time she hears an airplane in the sky, she asks if we want to, "go to West Virginia?" and if we want to ride on an airplane with her.  Charlie is cutting her two bottom teeth, and is determined to walk, so she's a little preocuppied, but really likes having everything in the house scattered on the floor.  She enjoys tearing apart board games and photo albums, and gumming them to pieces.

My best friend, Carrie, came over and spent the night on Tuesday so that we could have one last night of debauchery and whispered secrets.  We didn't cry on Tuesday, but standing outside her car on Wednesday morning, after she loaded everything up, we both started sobbing.  I'm going to miss her fiercely, and I'm still in denial about not seeing her.  I *understand* that I will be hundreds of miles away, but I can't conceive of not seeing her on occasional weekends, or when there's a big event, or a birthday party.  Once we get to WV, I'm sure she'll be the recipient of a few hysterical phone calls from me (don't say I didn't warn you, dear).

I haven't been getting very restful sleep, since Charlie wakes up 2-3 times a night to nurse.  She can pull herself up in her bed and peek over the edge to stare right at me, so there's no hiding and hoping she'll go back to sleep.  Hopefully, after her teeth come in things will settle down a bit and she'll go back to sleeping through the night.  If not, I might put her in the driveway with the rest of the crap, and try to get a few bucks for her.

That's that, pretty much.  The move is all-encompassing, and my days are either spent in denial, or sorting and packing everything furiously, or making phone calls and scheduling dentist appointments and vet visits.  I will breathe so much easier once I get on that plane; it just seems like forever until we get there.