Why you should never move...

1.  Because you will put on a Curious George DVD in an attempt to occupy your child long enough to pack some things.  Said child will somehow find a Sharpie that was accidentally left around and decide to decorate your quilt that your deceased grandmother made for you.  And the Sharpie Company isn't kidding when they advertise that whole permanent thing.

2. Because no matter how much you pack, your things still seem to multiply like mogwais who have gotten wet and/or eaten after midnight.

3.  Because after your child marks up your quilt, he will then decide to get into your jewelry and lose one of your diamond earrings...the ones you wore on your wedding day that you planned to pass on to a daughter or granddaughter. Yes, those.

4.  Because your husband will be required to go out of town for work the week of the move.  He won't be back until the day you sign the closing papers.  This means you watch an almost 2-year-old while packing up the rest of the things.  It's not pretty.  Not at all. 

If you're like me, you're reading this and thinking, "Well, if she has so much to do, why is she blogging?"  The answer is---I have no idea.  I have been informed that we will probably live in the new house until we die thereby avoiding all this hassle a 2nd time.  Let's hope we're happy there. 

In all seriousness, we're incredibly fortunate and really excited.  I'm just a touch overwhelmed, and I needed to whine a little.  Wah.

Chaos reigns supreme...

at our house right now.  We move in a week--that's right, a week.  I have boxes stacked up in every corner of our home, and it's driving me insane.  The really fun aspect of this is that we won't even be able to truly move into the new casa because we're having some work done as soon as the ink on our contract is dry.  We will be bunking with my lovely in-laws in the meantime.  (And I'm not being sarcastic, they actually are lovely people.)  The next few weeks should be interesting, that's for sure. 

Patience is not a virtue that I was blessed with, and I'm dying to start arranging furniture, hanging pictures, dressing windows, you name it.   And I'm really tired of finding that I need something only to realize that it's already packed up in a box somewhere.

Sam, of course, is somehow blissfully unaware of the stress in our home right now.  As long as the world continues to revolve around him, he's fine.  It is supposed to revolve around him, right?

I'm alive...

It's not that I don't have a million pictures--I do.  I probably have too many since my blogging has been put on the backburner.  We just have a TON going on right now--trips to the zoo, warm afternoons spent outside, my older brother came to visit, and Easter.  And did I mention we're moving?  My house is in a perpetual state of chaos right now. I have boxes coming out of my ears, and no matter how much I pack, it doesn't seem to make a dent.  Highly frustrating. 

And before I go on, I apologize for any typos...I'm usually a total grammar snob, and it makes me crazy to see errors 3 days later.  However, my eyes are giving me fits.  I don't know what's going on, but I'm having a horrible time seeing things up close.  My peepers are already in terrible shape--my prescription is
-5.75.  Yes, seriously...but they appear to be getting worse. Hooray. 

Anywho...Now that Mother Nature has decided to grace us with spring, we have been taking full advantage.  Sam had a fun-filled trip to the zoo a few weekends ago, and he was full-throttle the entire time.  He'd look at one exhibit for a minute, then turn and ask to see, "Mo, mo, animals," and proceed to take off in his version of a sprint.  It was hilarious.  I don't know why he has to say "mo" (more) twice.  I guess he loves being redundant. 

Checking out the monkeys

We were lucky to be there when they were feeding Casper, the giraffe.  Sam was able to get up close and personal.  Really close.

Overall it was a really good day.  They've opened up the new tiger exhibit, and I think they've done a good job considering the very limited financial resources they have. 

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but Sam has a Carrie Bradshawesque fascination with shoes.  He wants them on at all times, and he's not afraid to try on his father's or his mother's kicks.   When his Uncle Brent came to visit, he thought he'd walk a mile in his boots.  It didn't work out so well for him.  The boots came past his knees, so there wasn't a whole lot of walking going on.

                                              

To wrap things up, we had a pretty full Easter week--3 egg hunts total.  (I can't tell you the number of plastic eggs that are now in the recycling bin.)  Sam was a bit tentative at the first egghunt, but once he found out there was "chocit" inside, he was an egg-finding-maniac.  He definitely (and unfortunately) has his parents' penchant for sweets. 

                                             

Figuring it all out

                               

                                           

            Chowing down on his Easter cookie.  Don't even think about trying to take it from him.

                                           

My view on the ride home.  And no, I didn't take a picture while driving.  

                                            

2nd egghunt.  Same outfit.  You can only wear bunnies for so long, so you've got to get it in when you can. 

                                           

Trying to open the egg.

                            

His loot

                                              

                            

Easter Sunday.  He wouldn't smile...probably because I had him in knee socks.

                            

3rd egghunt at the church

                            

Loving on his great-grandmother