In case you’re wondering how the rest of us are…

Tags

Christmas, Jason, Louisa, moving, photopalooza, Simon, snow!

So I sort of just realized that I posted about an exciting interstate move, disappeared for five months (give or take) and then dropped the autism bomb. Sorry about that. Sometimes I’m a little too stream of consciousness, methinks. But here I am, updating you on everyone and everything else! So exciting! Not really. Mostly boring. But here goes anyway.

We moved. We’re here. In Utah. My homeland. The mothership. The mecca of the Mormons. And… we love it! And by we I actually mean we, not just me. I knew I would love it but I worried that Jason wouldn’t. But he does. It’s so beautiful. We live in a community called Cottonwood Heights which is just a stone’s throw from Big Cottonwood Canyon which means that the Wasatch mountains are basically in our backyard. Which is basically true for much of Utah because daaaaamn they huge, but still. It’s lovely. If ever we have the means and the wherewithal to buy a house I would like to find one in this same area. Also, his music scene is much more happenin’ here. He has managed to find and jam with more than one like-minded person so that’s good. He may have to put things on hold what with all the… stuff… happening lately but at least there are options available.

We were really looking forward to a snowy winter which so far… hasn’t really happened. I think the weather is weird all over this year, but it’s just odd for me. I grew up here, playing in feet of snow and then later driving in feet of snow and so far… not so much. We’ve had one lame ass storm and then one actual Utah snowstorm. Luckily the second one was on Christmas. I really wanted a white Christmas because I haven’t had one in ages. The last white Christmas I experienced was actually a nightmare. It was in Portland and Portland handles the snow like a 19-year-old co-ed at her first frat party holds her liquor, which is to say NOT VERY WELL. Me and my brother, who was my roommate at the time, were trapped in our apartment. We watched Saturday Night Fever on Christmas Eve. It is now a funny and fond memory but at the time was pretty lame. This year I wished and wished and Mother Nature delivered. Louisa had never seen snow before and was enchanted.

We had a great Christmas – the best I’ve had in years. It was so nice to be here with my folks. Plus, my kids are still young enough to not really get into the whole gimme gimme PRESENTS thing and are really happy to just see and open the brightly colored packages without really noticing what’s on the inside. So that was fun. I cooked a big ass dinner and my mom and stepdad came over. We played in the snow and ate too much food – a perfect day.

As for me, I have been working full time since we got here. You may remember that I was ready for a break from the SAHM gig? Yes. So I took one. And Jason got to spend some time with the kids. Lots of time with the kids. It was nice. We’re broke as a bad joke but that’s okay. It was worth it. By the time the Christmas period rolled around and my work started to disappear (as happens that time every year) I was ready to go back to full-time momming and he was ready to go back to work so he scooted down to the local temp agency and BAM got a job. Really. I was surprised how quickly it happened. And it’s a pretty good job too. The place kicks ass – great building with a great view, fridge stocked with free drinks, candy dispensers stocked with free candy (obviously), catered lunches every Wednesday, movie outings once a month… and on and on. Plus he is making more money than he was in Vegas so it’s a win win. We’re really hoping that they hire him for real.

I’ve also managed to hang out with friends. Twice! Once with my BFFs from junior high whom I hadn’t seen in 20 years. It was… surreal, honestly. But also great. I love seeing people from the past. We tried to do it again but it was during the holidays and then the craziness with Louisa so things got canceled but we’ll do it again. And then last weekend I went to breakfast with my cousin and that was awesome too. Once of the things I have missed out on being elsewhere for 13 years is my family. They are some good folks and I am glad to have them back in my life. Look at me, being all social!

And then there’s Simon. You know, Simon, my second kid? The one I sat in a hospital bed for two months for? (which, by the way, was a frickin’ YEAR ago!! how does time just keep flying by?!) Simon is 9 months old now. NINE. Which means he is both delightful and infuriating. Delightful because he’s so cute and cuddly and smiley. Infuriating because he refuses to eat anything other than breast milk and thus is on the lowish end of the percentile charts for height and weight. He will not eat, you guys. And yes, I remember that Louisa wouldn’t either and that she eventually did but at least she was fat and healthy! Geez! Also, his hematocrit is low so I have to force-feed him nasty vitamins which, as you can imagine, is fantastic. But he’s awesome otherwise. He was a little reluctant to sit up on his own but once he did, he decided to meet all of the other milestones immediately. For real. Two days later he was crawling, a week after that he was pulling to stand and within another couple of weeks he was cruising. Which means walking is imminent, Lord help us.

So that’s that. The Carters in a nutshell. Cheers.

Are We There Yet?

Tags

anxiety, Jason, Las Vegas, Louisa, marriage, moving, parenting, Simon, sleep deprivation, Utah

So you know when you were a little kid and the last week of school was the longest of all eternities and it would NEVER END? Or, even worse, the countdown to Christmas that went ONANDONANDONNNNNN, each day dragging and every morning waking up and realizing it still wasn’t here yet and how was that even possible? Yeah. That’s what’s going on around here right now with the whole we’re-moving-to-Utah-but-not-yet thing. I can’t even express how much I just want to be the hell out of here now that the cat is out of the bag. Each day is like a tiny little forever that I am forced to get through and I’m so tired and anxious that it’s just… well… I’m super glad my kids won’t remember these few weeks. It’s so HOT that we can’t really go outside and sometimes I’m just too tired to try to keep Louisa out of all of the things she wants to be into because I’m carrying Simon around because he is so tired that he’ll cry if I put him down but he’s not tired enough to sleep and OMG just watch Elmo for the love of all that is holy! So yeah. Lots of Elmo going on around here. And there is so much to do before we go, and so much to do after we get there, that I have worked myself into an anxious froth about it but at the same time I can’t really do anything about it yet because there is no time. My day begins at 6 am, I take care of two kids for 9 hours then bolt down dinner when my husband gets home at 5:20 so that I can start work at 5:30. I finish work at 9:30 or 10:00 and sure, I guess I could get something done then but are you kidding me? I’m a zombie by then. Sooo… tiredddd… must… sleeeeep. Oh wait. The baby is hungry. And awake. Sigh. And every Saturday for the past six weeks I have either been working or we have had people here (or BOTH for cripes) so by Sunday I can barely muster the strength to sit on the couch, you know? And this Saturday is no exception because it’s Louisa’s birthday so again, people will be here. Which, whatever. That’s cool. It’s her birthday (by the way, how the hell is she two years old? I could waste an entire other post about how fast THAT time went by) so of course I gotta make Elmo cupcakes and blow up a bunch of balloons because birthdays are special. And because despite the fact that I can see the deep end, that I’m about to go off, right over there (picture me pointing a shaking, exhausted finger), I love her cute little voice when she says “Elbmow” and I want to see her face when she opens all her little presents.

A couple of days ago I texted my husband “maybe when we get there you should just be a full-time dad for a while and I can work full time”. At the time I thought it was just a really good idea. We could all have breakfast together, people could work out, we could take the kids to the park or to do other fun things and then after lunch when the kids are napping I could start work. I could break for dinner and bedtime and then finish my shift. Brilliant! Perfect! We agreed to try it out while he looks for work and if it works out…cool. Yesterday while Louisa was sleeping I was begging Simon to go to sleep. As if reasoning with a three-month-old that “pleeeease… Mommy is soooo tired” is logical. Then I caught Louisa digging in the cat box again (with the scooper, people, not like with her hands but still, I know, so disgusting) and I could barely keep myself from losing my shit. She takes the thirty-second opportunities when I am up to my elbows in baby poop or baby spit-up or baby crying to do all the things that she knows we don’t want her to do. Two-year-olds! And then today while I was feeding Simon he pooped. So I went to change him. And he did his famous projectile-spit-up-all-over-the-bed trick. This kid. I don’t even know. Does he have a pyloric stenosis? Gastroesophageal reflux? The hell? Louisa spit up way more often than him but it was just a tiny amount at a time. This dude only spits up like every two weeks but when he does it’s as if he is rejecting everything he has eaten for 72 hours. So gross. As I was putting the sheets in the dryer, him crying in the background and Louisa whining for a cracker I realized – the text to my husband? A thinly-veiled cry for help. I pretty much can’t handle this anymore. The children have won and I am at my breaking point. I love these kids like nothing else but I need a king-sized break. We are leaving three weeks today. Hopefully I can make it that long.

Leaving Las Vegas

Tags

Las Vegas, moving, Utah

Nearly 13 years ago I moved from Salt Lake City, Utah to Portland, Oregon. I peeled out of town at 5:30 in the morning blasting “Wide Open Spaces” by the Dixie Chicks (oh what a late-90s cliche was I) and thinking “SO LONG SUCKAZ”. In my mind’s eye I was giving the whole place the finger and if I could have mooned the joint I would have but dropping trou while driving is ill advised, to say the least. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there and thought that aside from the obligatory parent visits I’d never be back.

After a decade in Portland (minus a couple of months where I moved home suffering from, to use the celebrity parlance, “exhaustion” (mine was of the nervous-breakdown variety, however, and not the secret-trip-to-rehab variety)) I still never felt like it was home. I chose Portland not because I was in love with the place or had always wanted to live there but because it was convenient. My sister was already living there so we could be roommates and I was able to transfer with my job so why not? Why not get away from the place I had lived all my life? Away from my parents, my friends, and everything else familiar. I didn’t want to spend my entire life within 15 miles of where I was born and raised, never go anywhere, never see anything new, never live anywhere else. You can learn a lot about yourself after uprooting and getting the hell out of your comfort zone.

Sadly, Portland was never the right fit for me. I wasn’t weird enough, I wasn’t hipster enough, I wasn’t liberal enough (which believe you me is sayin’ something), I didn’t have a unicycle or a neck beard (and thank God for that, really) and I didn’t smoke weed. Plus, and this is the most annoying part, I was always lost due to a crazy road/bridges/rivers/freeway system that totally baffled me. I will freely admit that I have no sense of direction but still. After learning to drive in Salt Lake’s beautifully laid out grid system (props to Brigham!) I was always driving around in circles wondering where the hell I was EVEN AFTER A DECADE. Portland can baffle even Google Maps and iPhones as I discovered at my own peril. I got so lost one time that a friend had to find me on his map (like, an actual map, printed on PAPER), drive to where I was and guide me home. For the love, Portland.

When I (finally FINALLY) graduated from college in 2006 I seriously considered moving back to SLC. I had also just ended a long-term relationship and was thus unfettered enough that I could have made it happen. But I was also offered a great job opportunity. It was a dilemma but I ultimately chose to stay in Portland, obviously. And I’m glad I did because I met Jason at that job.

Fast forward a few years. My husband, a fellow transplant (and a gypsy at heart), and I, both tired of the weather and missing our families decided we should just up and leave. We picked Vegas for the same reason we had chosen it for our wedding – it was smack dab in the middle of all of our people – he’s got folks in SoCal and Arizona and I’ve got kin in both St George and Salt Lake. It was perfect! It was sunny! Jason could possibly get work playing his guitar! We loaded up and headed out.

If you have followed my blog for any period of time you will know that things didn’t work out as planned. I’ll spare you the details since they’re all around here somewhere but basically… we don’t love it here. I never have. My husband did okay for the first two years but sometime after having our daughter he began to see how raising children here is not ideal. There’s just so much… smut, for lack of a better word – in your face, easily-accessible, 24/7/365 smut. And it’s not like he/we didn’t notice it before it’s just that having children changes your perspective on a lot of things, for example, living in a place founded on and celebrated for gambling. Not to mention all the drinking, stripping and whoring. And just to digress for a minute, I want to make it known that I am not exactly anti-gambling. Or anti-stripper, porn, alcohol and hookers, for that matter. This is America, Land Of The Free, and If that’s your thang then by all means, do whatcha wanna do. I’m just saying the ease with which you can find pretty much anything in this town is disconcerting. And it’s not exactly confined to the strip, you know. There are mini-casinos in all of the grocery stores. And those newspaper holsters (what the hell are those things called?) on the street corner that in most cities would contain the local paper and a USA Today are here reserved for various “girls direct-to-you” ads featuring scantily clad teenagers. There’s no escape! And I know folks will tell me it’s all in how you raise your kids but listen, dude, I was a teenager once who managed to find pretty much any trouble I wanted – alcohol, drugs, sex – even whilst living behind the Zion Curtain. And while I am not naive enough to think that I can shield my children from these things merely by moving them out of Sin City I do know that I will feel better if it’s just a liiiiittle harder for them to find such things.

I think what I’m feeling is more a desire that this not be the version of reality my children grow up with. On our daily walks around the sprawling apartment grounds I see people in various states of undress accomplishing regular, everyday tasks – like, c’mon lady, do you need to put on hot pants and a bikini top to walk your dog? And you, sir, shirtless to check your tires? For real? And maybe that’s just a sign of the times and not the place but I don’t want my daughter to ask for new boobs for her birthday because everyone else is getting them. And I want people to wonder what preschool my daughter is attending not does she have an agent (actual question I have gotten in the grocery store. More than once!). I just want something better for her. And my son, for that matter. Let us not underestimate the amount of trouble males can get into around here as well.

So we had been feeling these feelings and discussing such topics as “um, do we actually want to buy a house here and stay forever?” and “where would we go if we didn’t stay?” and “man our neighbors are trashy” when we we decided to take a vacation to SLC to visit my folks. And Jason sort of fell in love with the place. In the mere five days that we were there he managed to find a gypsy jazz show, something that has never happened here in Vegas (okay there was ONE but it didn’t really count because it was loungeified and just plain weird), and a truckload of other music that interests him. Vegas, the entertainment capital of the world, has no jazz scene. Essentially, if you like Cirque de Soleil, magicians, stand-up comedians, strippers or various has-beens from days gone by (Donny and Marie, I’m looking at you), Vegas is the place for you. If you want to play your guitar in a jazz quartet (or go see someone else do something similar), Vegas ain’t for you.

And then there’s me. Aside from the fact that I have two children under the age of two and would love a little help in the form of my own excellent mother, there’s the undeniable fact that I love Utah – its looming mountain backdrop, greatest snow on earth, various national parks, and even its quirky accent and notorious liquor laws. Plus which, generations of my family have been born and raised in the place. I can’t prove it but I’m pretty sure I had people on the wagon train with Brigham. It’s just a part of me I can’t let go (did I just quote a Chicago song?). It’s home to me and I feel like I’ve been trying to get back there since I moved away but for some reason or another it just never happened. So when, after our trip, Jason mentioned something about maybe moving there (yes! It was HIS idea!) I may or may not have burst into happy tears.

So why are we still here? Why didn’t we move a year ago when the lease was up on our apartment and it was the perfect time to git? Because on that very same vacation I found out I was pregnant again and we kind of suspected we might need to keep our health insurance. Obviously that was the right decision (see as proof: all of my previous posts about my incompetent cervix, my two-month hospital stay and my freak-ass labor and delivery).

But NOW. Now the decision is made. Yes, made. Done. We are moving. In four weeks. I have known and been looking forward to this for nearly a year and now it is finally happening. We have an apartment in Salt Lake City. My husband has given notice at work. So let it be written, so let it be done. We’re packing up and leaving. Again. Heading back to that place where I swore I’d never live again. An apartment fifteen minutes from the Barnes and Noble where I worked right after high school. Twenty minutes from my mom. Sixty minutes north of the scene of all of my pre-teen angst.

SO LONG SUCKAZ!

Letting Go

Tags

breastfeeding, Louisa, moving, panic, parenting, postaweek, postaweek2012, sleep deprivation, stress, teething, working from home

Oh you guys. What a mother fucker of a few weeks it has been around here. And by the way, I might be swearing a lot in this post so if you’re easily offended please go away. I’m sleep deprived, sad, and frustrated and my writing skills are suffering thusly. I almost titled this post FUCK because that’s just how I feel. What can I say? Louisa, Louisa, Louisa. My daughter, my sweetheart, the love of my life has been a monster lately. No really. She was such a joy up until about 3 weeks ago and then suddenly she stopped sleeping, started wanting to nurse all day long and started throwing these horrid screaming fits. She is teething. I hate it. Mostly I just want to comfort her and make it go away, and I can’t. But if we’re being completely honest, sometimes I get so tired and frustrated and sick to death of hearing her scream that I feel like I am losing my mind. And then I feel like a terrible mother. And before you ask me, yes we’ve tried teething gel, yes we’ve tried teething tablets – they don’t work. The only thing that works is Tylenol but we only give it to her at night so she will get some sleep. Because if she doesn’t sleep at night she won’t nap the next day (it’s a vicious cycle) and the longer she doesn’t sleep the louder she screams and the more wound up she gets and then she’s crying so hard she can’t catch her breath and then Jason and I are driving her around in the car, bathing her, rubbing her back, doing anything at all to desperately try to stop the cycle. That happened last night. While I was trying to work. Because yes, while all of this baby hysteria is happening we moved into a new apartment and I started my new job. All at the same fucking time. Not sure we could have planned it worse had we tried (which we didn’t, by the way). So yeah. The last time she slept well was Friday night. I have been taking care of her all day, then working from 5:30 to 9:30 every night. My husband has been working from 7 to 4 everyday, then taking care of her while I work. Needless to say we are both exhausted. Eventually things will settle down with work because once I am through my internship period I can work whenever I want. Right now I am coordinating with my mentor because we need to be online and working at the same time. And eventually Louisa’s tooth (teeth?) will just come in already god dammit and this nightmare will be over. Right? RIGHT? Please? Anyone? It’s so sad too because on the flip side of the teething and the screaming, Louisa is growing up and doing such cute things! Like grabbing things and shoving them in her mouth, laughing right out loud, shrieking with delight, and trying super hard to turn herself over. So some moments are so filled with joy. And in case you’re judging me harshly about what a jerk I am, don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter so much that I would throw myself in front of a speeding train for her. I would. But MY GOD the screaming.

Let’s move on. My daughter is 3 & 1/2 months old, and for most of that time I have been with her 24/7.  My mom was here a couple of weekends ago, and on that Monday when she was scheduled to leave she took one look at my sleep-deprived, desperate eyes and said “I’m staying an extra day”. Thank god for moms. She helped me soothe Louisa. She helped me figure out what to do. She helped me feel better about how I was coping. She helped me see that I was going to have to start letting go. I have to let people help. I have to let other people shoulder some of the responsibility – especially my husband, and especially since I have started working. She told me all of this. And I believed her. But it still hasn’t been easy. On moving day I had to help. I had to clean. I had to move. Both my and Jason’s parents had come to town with their big trucks to help us move. My step-mom helped me watch the baby while I got stuff done. There were whole hour-long periods where she wasn’t even in my sight. We moved on Saturday. On Monday my mother-in-law drove back down to help us out. Again, she watched the baby  while I got stuff done. Jason and I even, at one point, left the house to go get groceries. I left my baby alone with somebody else for almost an hour! I was proud of myself and scared shitless at the same time. Is something wrong with me? The rest of you were leaving your babies with strangers at 3 months, weren’t you. I’m a freak of nature, aren’t  I. And then all this week Jason has been taking care of her while I work in the other room. Except for sometimes I sneak out. Especially when she is screaming so loud I can hear her from the other side of the apartment through two closed doors. And then Jason gets mad because YOU’RE GOING TO GET FIRED even though I’m not because A – nobody knows what I’m doing because they can’t see me through the computer and B – I get paid by how much I type, not by the hour, so yeah – they don’t really give a shit but still, he gets pissed because he thinks I’m undermining his parenting and doesn’t think I trust him and maybe he’s right, maybe I need to just let go, but it’s so hard because sometimes the only thing that will soothe her is me and my boobies. Sigh. You guys. I need a nap. Or a good cry (which, admittedly, I’ve had quite a few of lately). Or a giant glass of wine (which I haven’t had in who the hell knows how long but DAMN if I wasn’t breastfeeding…). And if I tell you that sometimes I watch TV all day long while I’m taking care of the baby just so I can hear human voices would you think less of me?

Sorry about the stream-of-consciousness, garbage dump of a post. I don’t even have time to proofread and edit it so I’m sure there are typos and sentences that barely make sense. But I just wanted to get it out in the hopes that it would make me feel just a little bit better. Tonight: another test. Louisa has physical therapy, but I have to work so Jason has to take her all by himself. I’m sure I won’t worry at all. And, just as an aside, did I mention I’m hosting and cooking Thanksgiving dinner? Which just happens to be the day after Louisa’s 4 month vaccinations? Yeah. If you don’t hear from me again it’s because I’ve had a nervous breakdown.

Send In The Clowns

Tags

breastfeeding, insomnia, Louisa, medical transcription, moving, panic, parenting, postaweek, postaweek2012, sleep deprivation, teething

I have begun composing this post no less than 100 times in my head this past week, but every time I had a spare moment the baby was napping (which was rare) I have either been taking a test (more on that later), trying desperately to get a bit of housekeeping done (which I did not accomplish – you should see the place – ermahgerd it’s a nightmare), or taking a lightning-quick nap because when the baby sleeps, I should be sleeping. Yes, still. I know some of you have babies that were wonderfully sleeping through the night at 3 months old and hey, good for you. Mine? Isn’t. And probably won’t be for a while because I’m breast feeding. She still has to get up at least once, sometimes twice in the night to be fed. And I’m okay with that. Sortof. I mean, I sometimes still hate breast feeding because when Lou is having a growth spurt (like now), or teething (like I suspect is also happening) she wants to eat more all day long, and man are my nipples sore.  But I’m still not giving up on the nursing, because I’m super glad that she isn’t drinking formula. For various reasons that I needn’t go into because I’m not one of those judgy moms who thinks everybody should do everything my way. Nursing works for me. It doesn’t work for some people.  Sorry about all the boob and  nipple talk. But this is, after all, a mommy blog of sorts and titties are bound to come up sooner or later. Whoops. Did I go off on a tangent? I did. Well whatever. Point is: It has been a circus up in this joint for a while. So many things happening. I finished school (yay!) and had to take a giant test (ugh!) which I passed, with honors (YAY!). I had planned to take my time and explore their graduate job placement assistance thingie at my leisure and to find a job when it was right, but the school I chose apparently makes good on their promise of graduate job placement assistance and they emailed me about 2 really good job opportunities, both of which I felt obliged to apply for. When you’re a medical transcriptionist, applying for a job consists of taking a transcription test, because duh – if you can’t measure up to their transcribing standards, why would they hire you? So I hurriedly updated my resume (with the help of my excellent school (by the way, if anyone reading this should be interested in transcription and wondering which school and etc. blah blah etc. let me know and I’ll go on and on about it – just didn’t wanna take up the whole blog and bore everyone else who already has an excellent job that they love – (ha ha ha – who really loves their job? Nobody I know!))) and sent it to both places. Then I was up to my eyeballs in transcription tests, phone screenings and filling out applications. All whilst arranging baby wrangling duties with my husband, or doing it myself. I also had a few anxiety attacks (because, let’s face it, that’s what I do when any sort of change occurs), which meant that even when the baby WAS sleeping, I wasn’t. Nothing like a little insomnia to ruin your week. The good news is that I got a job!!!!!! When we moved here nearly a year ago I decided not to get a job for a while so that I could just concentrate on starting and finishing school. And then all hell broke loose (I got knocked up etc etc – I wrote about it earlier so those of you who are regulars already know the whole story) and things took a little longer than I thought. October 14th was the anniversary of my last day of work. I have been unemployed for a year. Which really was okay because my pregnancy was nutty (how many effing sonograms did I have?) and the first 3 months of a baby’s life are… well… overwhelming sometimes and I’m really glad that I didn’t have to worry about a job throughout any of that. I’m not sure when I will be starting, probably not until after we move (IN TWO WEEKS!!!!!), but it’s nice to know that I will soon be bringing in at least a little bit of income. I will only be working 20 hours a week, but every little bit counts. So that happened. As did our second wedding anniversary (how the hell have 2 years passed? HOW?) on the 17th, and little Louisa turned 3 months old. I have had (and managed to keep not only alive but thriving) a baby for 3 months?! I still sometimes look at her (and see my face looking back, by the way, which is a little bit freaky) and think to myself: HOLY SHIT I’M A MOM. I am responsible for another human being, and she will be a part of me for the rest of my life. It’s really amazing. Oh yeah, and the other thing that happened. Jason’s parents found him a truck. It’s free (long story about their amazing connections that would take an entire blog to explain so I won’t). So he sold his car that hasn’t been running but just sitting around, gathering dust and getting stolen. Somebody bought that thing. It was a dude buying it for his 16-year-old daughter, which made me smile because I remember when I was 16 and my dad was helping me find my first car. And then I felt old and cried myself to sleep. Not really. I haven’t been sleeping, remember? And I don’t cry about getting old, because who really gives a shit?

So yeah. My house is a gigantic mess, my baby is slobbering all over the place and fussy (plus vomiting more often – bleargh), and my mom is coming to visit next weekend (which is cool because she is bringing Louisa’s Halloween costume that she made – I promise to post pics because it is soooooo effing cute). Oh and we have to like, pack and move and stuff. Cue circus music.