It's hard...

I now have new-found respect for military wives and women whose husbands are transferred frequently.  Being a good mom when moving is really hard -- and we're just moving from Summerville to West Ashley.  I really don't know how these ladies that have to move cross country every couple of years keep their sanity or why anyone (us included) would choose to move without a really good reason (like saving the world, escaping a plague or something...)

I'm approximately two weeks into packing and by the looks of my house I have about two years left to go.  Granted, I only pack for a couple hours per day in an effort to maintain a relationship with my son and prevent him from becoming a complete couch potato, but it's tough. 

You start taping together one box and trying to figure out how to cram 48 coffee cups into it without breaking any and the next thing you know Curious George is over... 

(Don't tell Jason, but I am finally realizing that he has a pretty legitimate argument when he says no one needs 6 complete sets of dishes -- even if one was her Grandma's, one is Christmas, one is her wedding china, etc...)  Sadly, it appears all but a few odd plates will make it to the new house...you just never know when you might need extras...)

I am proud to say, though,  that I'm finally throwing away half of the left over embossed napkins from our wedding and all of the wine labels we saved from the wine of the month club (I'm not sure what we really thought we'd do with them anyway...).  

And to be honest, I'm debating chucking all our yearbooks.  Seriously, what possible use could we ever have for 13 years of bad pictures?  I haven't been able to commit to that one yet, though.

Ok, my break is over.  Charlie negotiatied (yes...I know it's terrible, but he's really good at it and I'm feeling weak today) for an additional 10 minutes before nap because he is using a ski rope and ultimate frisbee to save lives from his swingset -- he's in the Coastguard today (his poor wife will ave to move A LOT).  But it's already been 14 and a tired Charlie is a mean Charlie...

I'm assuming this goes without saying, but clearly if I'm struggling to find enough hours to be a good mother, there is precious little time to be a good blogger, so you'll have to forgive any extended silences (even you, Mom!).