Blowing Up the Balloon

An old picture, but you get the idea

It's been my experience so far with this parenting thing that everything happens in phases.  There are periods of peaceful calm when we have an easy routine, the house stays clean, I make forward progress on a hobby or project, dinner is planned ahead, and everyone is generally happy.  Then there are times, like right now, when the slightest tasks are impossible, laundry piles up, dinner is ordered in, money is stressed over, and I consider selling my child on the black market.*

Sometimes the chaotic phases are brief and coincide with Felix teething or a general uptick in our social obligations and disruption of our routine.  Most of the time though, it has to do with him having some kind of developmental growth spurt.  It's suddenly impossible to make him happy, he's hellbent on doing the one and only activity that you've forbid him to do, and any alterations to make it an acceptable activity (like moving outside so he can pour water out of the cup) are vehemently rejected. He suddenly, overnight, becomes more aware of his own limitations and does NOT like it.  I empty my bag of tricks until nothing is left, then chaos ensues while I scramble to refill it through a comedic sideshow of trial and error and tears.

We're here!

Our move is complete!  It went about as well as any move can go.  I cannot tell you how much stress has been lifted now that the remodel is finished and all of our belongings are here (though not yet unpacked).

Here are some crappy phone photos for you (what was the point of buying a fancy camera, again?), which you are only allowed to look at if you promise to keep in mind that these were taken three days after the move.  I'm actually quite proud of what we got accomplished in those three days (mostly unpacking the kitchen and moving all of the unopened boxes into spare rooms).