The days leading up to our big move were chaotic, sleepless and fueled by caffeine and chocolate.
Thank the heavens for our movers, who boxed up the junk that survived the cut (HOW do we have so much stuff?) and hauled it away in a giant truck.
Honestly at this point I'd be willing to pay someone to make that truck disappear, because I wouldn't mind starting from scratch.
Moving is the worst.
As bad as the sorting, packing, hauling and tossing was, the hardest part -- hands down -- was saying goodbye to our families.
Lola coped with her pain by going into hiding.
Already missin' those people so much.
So let's talk about the day we hauled two kids, six bags and two live cats across the airport, shall we?
I pray I never ever ever ever have to do that again.
He has this thing for finding the dirtiest floors imaginable and plopping down right in the middle of them for some rest and relaxation.
The babies were great on the flight (which thankfully is a short one).
Lola loved having a window seat and made sure to inform me every time she saw a bird or a house or a "mashmellow."
And then she asked me to take a picture of her, which I thought was quite adorable.
She probably figured it was inevitable anyway, with me as her mother.
Ain't Rainier purdy?
One of the many advantages to living in Seattle last summer was the essential survival knowledge I acquired.
For example, I already know -- almost to the mile -- exactly how close the nearest McDonald's to the airport happens to be.
Valuable information for a woman in desperate need of a $1 Diet Dr. Pepper.
We spent the day grabbing essentials, stocking our fridge and getting acquainted with our temporary home on Mercer Island.
In so many ways, it feels like we never left.
We've been able to pick up where we left off in a sense, and for that I'm grateful.
Especially since that pesky thing called homesickness threatens to break down my door when I'm laying in bed at night.
But I'm so happy to be in such a beautiful place with this little family of mine.