Next week

When I went into the kitchen on Monday morning to start the week, I found something gross. I glanced down at the dogs' water bowl and saw a big, ugly, disgusting cockroach floating in it. I was glad the sucker was dead, but not happy to be greeted by this sight so early on a Monday. I grabbed the bowl and dumped it outside. I then placed the bowl in the sink, ran HOT water and soap to disinfect the bowl from this yucky interloper and the millions of germs he had brought with him. I am OK with bugs, but only after years of David not being here when I find them. I used to squish spiders with books and then leave the book on top of the carcass. Then when David came home and saw the books everywhere, he would initiate clean-up measures.

Anyway, he walked in from PT shortly after I had disposed of my little friend. He saw the hot soapy bowl in the sink, and I informed him of my discovery. He smiled and said, "I know how we can fix this." I said, "Oh yeah, how?" And he said, "Let's just move to a new house next week." At first I laughed, but then I started to have a small panic attack because he was right! By the end of next week, we will no longer live here. Holy Toledo! I am not ready! I have so much to do! The kids have a thousand end of the year activities: class snacks, teacher appreciation luncheons, field trips! David has a Hail and Farewell. We have Transportation briefs and a premove walk through. I have to wrap the gifts for the teachers - that is if they ever get here! I have to pack. I have to plan. And the packers arrive on Monday morning. And the truck arrives Wednesday morning. And we clear housing Thursday morning. And we will be at Scott AFB in Illinois on FRIDAY night. Oh. My. Toilet.

I must admit that I am fighting the urge to just go back to bed, pull the covers up, and hope it all goes away! So I am trying hard to take it moment by moment. Lots of deep breaths. Lots of lists. I know it will all work out - it always does. I know that we will get it all done - we always do. We have survived the last 8 moves, right? And I am so thankful that David in not in Iraq this time. . .

I am going to try to just look forward to our nice, brand new house at Scott AFB.

Although it does confuse Spencer. . .

Whenever I refer to our moving into the "new house,"

he says, "But Mommy, this is the new house."

So we are now calling the Scott house our "new new house."