When we were growing up, we were poor. My dad worked as a police officer and my mom was a secretary for a public school, and neither job afforded us what you would consider to be a lavish lifestyle.
My parents often found themselves struggling just to put food on the table.
I remember hearing my mom tell stories about going to chop wood with my sister and I asleep in the cab of the truck and then driving around knocking on doors until they managed to sell enough to buy a weeks worth of groceries. This was my legend...I don't really remember it, and yet I heard about it often enough to appreciate it. To really feel like this was my history whether I remember it or not.
That, my friends is likely how my children will feel about this epic move.
How we left Delaware while I was 20 weeks pregnant to live with friends until or house sold...
How we moved into a rental house 3 weeks before Christmas and then ended up stuck at the friends'house while we all recovered from the puke bug...
How we brought home baby girl and then the next day, Daddy left for a big business meeting that could mean huge things for his new company...
How we bought our new house and moved with a six week old and a two year old while Daddy's company opened 6 more stores in one month's time...
And how Mommy managed to move and clean the rental with both kids strapped in their car seats with Dora streaming to her smart phone for days on end...the only breaks being to feed the baby or change diapers...
This, people, will be the legend my kids get to live with. Because this is their history...
It's exciting, yes...
But it's seriously exhausting.