twists and turns

I’ve been lax in sharing, mostly because we’ve been so busy, but this photo should explain why things have been extra chaotic around here.

Last Friday at 4:30PM Steve took a deep breath, retreated to the basement where his children’s screams would at least be muffled, and took a conference call with two higher ups out of the Boston office. They offered him a position he had interviewed for the previous Friday and he came back upstairs to tell me, “we’re moving.” We stared at each other slack-jawed for a few moments before he walked into the hall to call his parents who were anxiously awaiting the results of the call. I on the other hand, sat between my two children, looking back and forth between them, feeling the weight of the world suddenly on my shoulders and cried tears of absolute relief and happiness. It’s no secret we want to be back up in Boston, but in characteristically McCashew style all poop hits the fan at once. This poop however smells like roses and honey.

So we’re moving. We’ve got four weeks to pack up our life, our crazy insane with a newborn biscuit life, before Steve is expected to be up in Boston full-time. I’ve had a few less than glamorous moments with something we all know as the ugly cry. It doesn’t help at all when you receive news like this when you are a week post partum, completely engorged, and prone to hysterical crying even without the hormones. It has just been incredibly overwhelming and in one of those tearful moments my daughter, my beautiful empathetic lovely little girl, comforted me. “It’s ok Mommy, I here, shhh, it’s ok. Wipe your tears away.” She’s wonderful. We are wonderful. We will get through this. The other side of this is going to be so great.

Colleen and Greg were down to visit with us over the weekend and they completely stepped up and helped get anything that was not tied down packed up in a box, labeled, and stacked in the garage. She helped me cull down Caroline’s toys, which I would have struggled with on my own not wanting to deprive my daughter of one single thing during this crazy transition. Caroline could have cared LESS that we were packing up her treasured belongings because it meant she was going to Boston, something she asks us about everyday ten times a day. “We go to Boston soon?” “We go see the band and get high fives?” She thinks Boston is BC and won’t she be disappointed when Baldwin isn’t there waiting to help her move into her new digs as soon as she arrives? Greg handled both kids while the rest of us scurried around with newsprint and packing tape. My parents and brother arrived amid the chaos and helped with some little repairs and instigated a painting operation that I at first was adamantly against, but in retrospect am so thankful for. It was in a word a whirlwind.

Sunday brought cleaning and organizing and stuffing things into now empty drawers and cabinets in preparation for the realtor to come see the house, help us price it, and put it on the market. She came Monday at 12:30 and I have NEVER seen the house as clean as it STILL is after our massive efforts. In fact, I would buy this house again seeing it in its pristine state and that is saying a lot coming from a woman who has had no difficulty finding every single thing wrong with this place. It’s a good house, it just needs the right family and hopefully they make themselves known relatively soon.

Monday I was D-O-N-E. I felt like I had gone backwards in my recovery by 3 days, I had no energy and I felt terrible. In retrospect, it was probably my body giving itself over to the cold that has now infiltrated my immune system, which is so massively wonderful that it makes me want to scream. The baby is stuffy and not waking up to eat and I just feel a tired piece of rubber. It’s wonderful to be sick when you are nursing and cannot take anything. I suppose that is what happens when you are exposed to sickness, averaging 4 hours of sleep a night, and frantically cleaning and packing during most free moments.

So today I am sitting it out. Connor and I are going to work on feeling better. I’m no good to anyone when I am sick mostly because I am also incredibly needy and not very nice to be around.

That’s my boy waking up to eat – 3.5 hours from his last meal. More reports of the crazy to come.


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