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And so I says to the guy… “Where’s my pants?”

Allow me to back pedal a bit. The movers are here today. Out of all the times we’ve moved in the last few years, this time Nathan’s employers have picked up the tab to move us from Ohio to C.Springs. C’mon. Say it with me now…


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As I type this, there are three able-bodied men wrapping my dishes and pictures and sewing machine in packing paper. Like, seriously, this is woman porn. If I could just get them to vacuum, I think it might be the best day of my life. Or maybe not. Because now I have absolutely nothing to entertain the little ones except an iPad and a smattering of little toys. I have no dishes, no televisions, no spoons. I tried to put Alice down for a nap this morning, and it was a total no-go. This is why:

I excuse myself, letting the guys know that I’ll be putting the baby down for bed and will be outta commission for the next half hour. They let me know it won’t be a problem, they had things under control. I parked myself up in Alice’s room, fed her, and as soon as she drifted off to sleep, I heard Finn running up and down the halls and flushing the toilet. I was pleased; this kid NEVER flushes.

Then I overhear this little tidbit: “Hey, Guy, I leaked a little. I went up in my room; there are no clothes in my drawers. Where are my pants?”

Alice’s nap wasn’t happening today, and I knew what I was going to find when I walked downstairs with the groggy little girl. Yep. There’s Finny. Talking to the poor guy packing my great-grandmother’s Blue Willow dishes with a look of slight panic on his face, averting his eyes just a tad towards the ceiling.

And it is a full moon for the little Finny. No pants – NOTHING from the waist down. #ilovebeingamom.