Moving..

Moving is like a mission in a weird game; but you aren't just collecting things, you're collecting things and putting them in various sized boxes. Then, you put the smaller boxes into bigger boxes, until you're nauseous at the mere sight of a piece of cardboard.
Then, you find out all those BOXES have to go in a CAR and be DRIVEN to a new place, where you aren't sure you'll have power, and you KNOW you won't have internet, and you start looking at your iPhone like it is The Holy Grail of Life Giving Connectivity and realize you're soon going to have to take things to a whole new level of Boxdom. Why?
Well...

You still haven't bought a toaster. Or a plug-in counter top burner. Or a microwave. Or a tea kettle. Or important things like one of every single thing that belongs in a kitchen. Also, you still don't have pans yet, and the whole of your dining capabilities rest in the hands of a fistful of forks you nabbed from your soon-to-be-former housemates (because how awesome is it to have a fork with tines THAT LONG?) and a partial set of dishes from said housemates. You also don't have a cat crate to house the soon-to-be-neurotic cat that's only just gotten over the fact that you disappeared for a week and left him to watch furniture move and his little friend die.
You sit in a corner for a while, babbling incessantly to yourself about Lists and Boxes and Panic Attacks and Where Are The Meds, Again, and Why Did I Ever Decide It'd Be Easier To Wait Another Month.
Then you find out the trip you were going to take to get the bulk of the stuff to New Place is canceled. Just when you organized your brain enough to throw Panic in a dark cell with a ball gag and straight jacket on.
Suddenly, like The Joker, there it is again, cackling at you.
So you walk around high-strung, which starts a fight about how your part of Moving is "easy" and all you can think is "What the fuck EASY. YOU get to leave me there and go home to a house that has everything right where you left it and people are happy and there's internet and cable and a working, clean kitchen and people who aren't entirely CRAZY. I have to deal with unpacking all these damn BOXXEN and try to keep a cat from dying of a heart attack and find out at three a.m. that I FORGOT TO BUY MUSTARD AND DAMMIT I NEED MUSTARD RIGHT NOW and there's no handy person with a car right there saying 'hey, it's right down the street, let's go pick some up and maybe a little drive-thru food, too since we're passing eleven hundred places that sell hot food convenience' because there's only an aunt and crazy uncle and I can't drive and the nearest store that's open after midnight is FIVE TOWNS OVER and there isn't even a goddamn TOWN for thirty fucking miles!"
Pretty soon, you've got high enough stress levels that you're sure you've lost at least a dozen years from your optimal parts usage and you've cleaned most of the kitchen.

So, hours later, we've moved all but one giant box and a few small boxes (plus one cat and one suitcase) in one load, dealt with several bouts of crying, , deposited BOXXEN, drove most of the way back, stopped for a drink, and came home to a cranky mama that was supposed to be asleep for all the hours it took to drive out. Silly opens the door and out bursts a massive smile and streak of curls, who dances on seeing Daddy is home, but is NOT coming inside till she sees Lala is home, too. And all you can think is... it's going to break her heart when Daddy drives off for all day again in a week and comes home alone.

As important as it is... I find myself wanting to say "Nevermind, I don't want to go, I want to go back to having my safe space and playing with my girl and watching her grow up and never missing a minute of it and god dammit, why did I choose to move so far away?"

How Our Little Stinkerbell Got So GRIM.

GRIM.. -sigh-
Gabrielle Renee-Iris M****. The dash makes me twitch every time I see it, dunno why.

Silly was the one to decide she'd have that name. And she shares the story with total strangers if they so much as coo at Stinkerbell. Gabrielle for Xena's companion. Renee because it's the actress' name.
We thought... okay, that's done. She'll have Blue's last name. All set.
..and then the day after seeing our little girl's first sonogram (one a kidney-bean, the other a lizard), Silly's Nan passed away. This is a woman who'd fought hard to stay around for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren; past the death of her husband and soul mate, past the loss of her sight, past weekly dialysis and failing organs, past a money-grubbing daughter in law's bumbling care. She had the BEST (and apparently lower-class) British accent and a spitfire spirit to back it up. The first time she met me, we attempted to explain who I was. She cut everyone off, took my hand, and said "Call me Nanna."
On her last good day, she sat and talked to Silly for hours, told her all about her pregnancies and gave her every bit of mothering advice she could squeeze in. She touched the sonogram prints, and got to see them in whatever small amount of vision she had left. The next day, when we got the call, we rushed to the hospital. She was still hanging on.
She waited till we all got into the room with her, the whole family touching her arms, legs, and hair. Silly said "I'm here, Nanna." As quickly and quietly as the next breath, she was gone.
Months later, I'd hear a low-class British accent over the newborn's monitor, calling me by name in a calm, comfortable, seeking way, followed by "...could you come in here, please?" The only other person in the house was The Boy, and he was sitting in the same room, engrossed in his video game. Acting nonchalant, I got up from my desk and went to GRIM's room. Sure enough, no one there. Just Gabby. Gabby who had somehow managed to get her hat off and bury her face in it.
What else could I do? I said "Thanks, Nanna, I see it." and got the hat out. Checked that Gabby was breathing normally, and closed the door behind me when I left.
Every once in a while, Gabby giggles and waves at nothing. She's very focused on SOMETHING when she does it, and she's done it since she first learnt how to smile. After that experience, ever since.. I say hello to Silly's Nan and Pampy. I hope they enjoy their visits.

Anyhow.. that's how Gabby ended up with two middle names, and how a baby girl with the initials GRM became our GRIM little giggler.

Err... Oops?

So.. now Silly (wife) and Blue (Hubs) are sick.

Apparently... I was contagious. -cough- I uh.. didn't know.

Here's hoping everyone rebounds faster than I did! lol