Moving is about as much fun as ....

feeling fat, being sick, having to work late?

None of that is fun, surely not moving.

Though I don't know when exactly we'll move, I've already started the awful process.

Packing.

It's harder than you think to take everything you own - EVERYTHING - and put it in a box.

I can't do it without going through my things and deciding what I no longer want or need. We just started this process a few weeks ago and already a quarter of my garage, at least, is filled with things I'm going to sell or give away.

Purging feels great.

But there's so much still to go.

It's overwhelming.

Yesterday, Rye and I were downstairs in the basement and I just looked around said, "Wow, we have so much stuff."

He looked at me and said, "I know."

Wish us luck.

Sunday mornings

How awesome are they?

The kids and I have just been hanging out. It's great because we're each doing our own thing, but we're all right next to each other. And our things will intertwine. Rye will show me something and I'll listen. Paige will bring me a book and I'll read it. She'll find a ball and we'll throw it. Rye will tell me a story and I'll listen. Then we'll go back to doing our own things for a bit before our moments intertwine again.

I am tired but content. We woke early today. I got coffee. I made the kids breakfast. They each had two chocolate chip waffles. Throw in peaches for Paige.

It's so nice to not be in a hurry. I spend so much time running around. I long for more simplicity. Today I'm getting it.

And even if it's just for one day - or even just part of a day (we do have to go to one of the big-box stores later today for things like diapers and milk) - I'll take it.

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Do you like my blog's new look? I do! It needed a change.

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Product reviews. I'd like to start doing them, from time to time. What products would you like to learn more about?

And, yes, Paige had a birthday, too...

(So I'm a little late with Paige's letter. Two kids on back to back days is a lot to ask for heartfelt letters. Anyway, here we go.)

Dear Paige,

You are simply the sweetest child.

You are quick to laugh, to smile, to make me smile. I seem to love you more every day, if that's even possible.

I always wanted a girl. I wouldn't trade your brother for ANYTHING. But my life wouldn't be complete without you.

Who else would I play dolls, house and dress-up with? What other little girl's nails would I paint? Whose hair would I braid? What little girl would run and play and spin and look up at the clouds and dream with me?

You will.

There is just something about little girls. And you, sweet Paige, are as sweet as they come.

Sure, there are times when all I want to do is put you down. When my arm aches from holding you. When it'd just be so much easier to put butter on Rye's waffle with two hands. But then you tilt your head to the side and look at me with those big blue saucers and I melt.

And then you ask me to turn on the music and I do and we dance. Music has always calmed you. As a newborn, you liked loud and rockin' Pink. I loved that. The music and the bounce in my arms would put you to sleep in minutes. We'd spend many evenings dancing in the kitchen, me holding my little baby, while your brother and your dad played in the other room.

And now in the car when there's music you toss your head from side to side, that silly look-at-me-mama! smile on your face the whole time.

I love it.

You are brave and curious and questioning everything. "This?" you say and point. And then I tell you. "This?" And so on.

You are also sensitive. Airplanes scare you. You don't like loud noises. You don't like strangers. You like things as you know them. I don't blame you.

You're empathetic. When Rye cries, you know something's wrong.

And there is so much more, sweet girl, that makes you who you are. I can hardly believe that your first year has gone by so fast.

Hold on, mama, right? I certainly don't want to miss it.

Happy first birthday, my sweet baby! I'm so lucky to be your mom.

I love you!

Mama