The roaches are throwing me a farewell party. For the last 3 nights, they have been waiting for me in my bathroom. This morning, one was sitting in Lucy's Pottery Barn Kids chair, drinking some chocolate milk out of a Cinderella sippy cup and he waved to me and wished me a "Good morning.". I promise to take a picture of one before I leave- just so those of you that have never personally experienced the joy of a Texas Tree Roach can see that this is not a typical Kristen exaggeration.
We are getting ready. I have sold a bunch of baby stuff, thrown out more than my fair share of a landfill and even have my junk drawer organized into neat little ziplocs. We are going to put our stuff in storage, and stay at my more-than-generous mother-in-law's fancy digs in Laguna Beach while she is out of town for the summer. This will give us time to get our bearings and take advantage of the ever-decreasing housing market in Orange County.
We are also fighting. This is typical of any move, and really, I was just waiting for the action to start. Matt and I finally stayed up late last night and talked it through- after five days of living in the land of Passive Aggressivia. His basic complaint is that I ignore him- which has been true, but in my defense, my biggest complaint is that when he comes home from work he acts like a Grand Pooba, and really, who wants to hang with a Grand Pooba? It's a vicious cycle, my friends. That vicious cycle of the stay-at-home-mom that feels unappreciated and the working husband who slaves away and believes no one recognizes his efforts.
So last night we packed up our boxes and hightailed it out of the land of Passive Aggressivia. I feel much better this morning. If our next move could only go so well.