Danger Zone

It's no surprise that it has been over a month since my last entry, but I swear, I really do want to keep a blog- even if only for posterity's sake. My boys are too darn cute and funny not to!

We have been living in our Savannah home for 7 weeks now. I am still unloading miscellaneous boxes, and Ryan has just turned the back of the house into a "hard hats required" zone. We do have new lighting in the living room, and we have managed to get one wall painted and two others partially stripped. The boys require constant attention, so progress is slow. They want to be everywhere Daddy is, which is adorable, but Cavan really is too young for power tools. Camden, on the other hand, has already fallen in love with his Dad's new Dewault. The boys and I spend our days island-hopping while Ryan is at work. I can't get much accomplished without him, so what's the point in trying, right? Poor me. It's not a bad life, but it does have its hazards. For instance, while I was changing Cavan's dirty diaper this morning, Cavan, in one fell swoop, grabbed the diaper from underneath him and threw the wad of poo at my face. Thank goodness he missed. Motherhood is a danger zone.

The Boys Are Back and On The Road Again!

The boys are back and on the road again! After some time away from blogging (the boys keep me on the go), I have decided to commit to this blogging thing (notice the new title, still subject to my whim). Blogging might be my only friend for a while because the latest news is that we are moving AGAIN!

This will make our 3rd move in 16 months. From Charlotte, to Fayetteville, to Wilmington, oh my! The lucky new city is Savannah, Georgia, and I am thrilled we will still be able to enjoy coastal living. We are planning to buy a house and stay for a while. Georgia doesn't know what's coming!

In between packing, unpacking, and changing diapers, I will try to organize this blog. In case you've missed us (don't worry, we move fast), I'll categorize stories into "Rewind" "Pause" and "Fast forward" depending on the story location (i.e. "Rewind Charlotte: The New House"). Stay tuned for more stories from the beach and updates on our move.

Rewind Charlotte: Our First House and Baby

Our first home in Charlotte was the house of my dreams: two-story foyer, ceiling-to-floor built-in bookcases, a bright wall of windows in the family room, and a fenced- in back yard filled with so many trees in bloom, that I would never know I had neighbors. I knew when I first saw it that this was where I wanted to raise my children (who were still a distant thought at that time). Little did I know that we would move after only three years in the house. The minute I learned of my pregnancy with Camden, I became so excited picturing my house with a baby. I daydreamed of a magical nursery like the one from Mary Poppins. After nine months off pregnancy and more than sixteen hours of labor, Camden blessed us with his presence November 30th, 2006. He was four days early. The moment I brought him home and snuggled with him next to the fireplace and Christmas tree, I knew that my home and life would never be the same. My house, still largely unfurnished with so much work still to go, all of a sudden felt so cozy and complete when Camden was in the room. It didn't matter to me where we lived, as long as he was safe and sound.

Rewind Charlotte: The Piano and the Apartment

Ryan and I enjoyed the city life for two and a half years before Camden was born. Our first abode in Charlotte was a well-lit apartment with vaulted ceilings, and I felt just at home. I was working on my Master of Music degree when we first moved to Charlotte, and I insisted on having the piano with me. My father, brothers, and Ryan, carried the ridiculously heavy piano up three flights of stairs so I could have a practice room in my apartment. We (they) put the piano in the "solarium" which served as my practice studio. I had a great view from my piano bench. They had back pain for a month. Less than a year later, we bought our first house and it was time to move the piano again this time down three flights of stairs. Probably still feeling the pain from the last move, my dad generously gave me money to hire professionals. I called My Three Sons moving Company. They said they would send two movers. I warned the rep over the phone that she needed to send four. Just like the name promises, they sent three sons (not their sturdiest looking fellows either). They were ready for business with back supports, pulleys, ramps and the kitchen sink. After at least an hour of pushing, pulling, sweating, and I think bleeding, one of the sons said to me, "If you have to move this piano again, do not call My Three Sons Movers!"