Visual Update

Here are a few pictures of the kids and the town. Now, I realize Xander's wearing Felicity's pink toque and scarf, but I couldn't find his. Yes, it was also the morning he got frostbite on both cheeks, but no, the two are not related.

It smelled like muffins...

So, again, I'm so sorry you haven't heard from us in a while. But today I'm blogging for a great reason, possibly the best reason ever. You see, today is my little Xander's birthday.

Let me preface all of this by saying that I love birthdays. Not just certain people's birthdays, or my birthday, but all birthdays. I love the idea of birthdays, that there is a day in the year where your mind and your body and your history mark a milepost. I love that that a name written on a paper calendar on someone's wall or fridge or desk can cause them to take a moment and think of you. I also love discovering when two strangers share a birthdate. It makes the world a bit smaller and establishes another connection between two otherwise completely separate lives. I also really love chocolate cake.



Back to Xander. Today is his second birthday. He is TWO years old. Now, I've been trying to prep him this entire week, because when people find out it's a child's birthday, they love to ask them how old they are. And for the first few years they are always answered with a sort of blank stare, like, "You're the grown-up. You tell me." So I've been trying to get Xander ready, which is a futile effort on my part. Felicity, as the First Born Child, was willing and ready to repeat everything we said and answer all of our prompts, like animal sounds and greetings and her name. But Xander, as the Second Born Rebel, is neither willing nor ready to do any of that, and instead responds by either giggling (as in "nice try"), or running away, or growling until we can't remember which animal we were asking about in the first place. He has been really into counting lately, so I thought he would be really into learning how old he was. And for a while it was going well. I would ask "Xander, how old are you?" to which he would answer "Three!". I wasn't about to get picky, because it was an honest-to-goodness answer. But now we're back to the answer-free Xander, the master in the art of evasion. He'll make a great spy.



I layed in bed this dark morning listening to Xander reenact a scene from Finding Nemo (Memo!! Get back! Memo!! Blahblahblahblah boat!! Memo!!!) and remembering my first morning with him. We'd had a scheduled c-section, so the first day is a blur of OR rooms, visitors, and drugs. Lots of drugs. However, the next morning I woke up at seven to the soft sun filling my room, and while he slept peacefully I quietly got ready for the day. Every once in a while I'd peek over the top of the bassinet and watch him for a few moments, his strawberry hair peeking out from the hospital-issue cap. Then I'd go back to applying my makeup, or getting changed, or whatever I happened to be doing verrrry slooooowwwwly. All of the sudden I realized that I smelled muffins. Really yummy, sweet muffins. I thought maybe we were above the cafeteria, or that I possibly could be having a stroke. I poked my head out the door and asked the nurse across the hall "is it just me, or does my room smell like...muffins?". To which she replied that the Tim Hortons a block away was the reason for my olifactory delight. Now, every time I see a Tim Hortons I think of that first, and only, quiet morning with my little Xander.

Cuppa Joe

Yes, that's coffee.

Yes, he finished it in record time.

Yes, I'm feeling the repercussions of

giving a two-year-old caffeine

with a little sugar mixed in.

Yes, I will probably do it all over again tomorrow.

Still Kicking

Hello everyone! Sorry you haven't heard from us in a while. Don't worry, we weren't on vacation or getting extra sleep or anything like that. We've been working and working and working some more, and when we're not working at our work we're working at our house. But we keep telling ourselves things like "we'll be so glad we did this when we go on our big vacation/build our dream house/pay off our truck in record time" and "I'm working now so that someday I won't have to". However, I must say that I am truly enjoying my job. It's the kind of job you wish you had. It's got a good mix of crazy and quiet, the people I work with are wonderful, and because it's the only clinic for literally hundreds of miles, there is always the chance that someone will come in with a drill bit through their hand because there's simply no where else to go. Sweet!! It also makes me somewhat glad I didn't become a nurse like I always wanted. Those people work really hard and deal with some really amazingly whiny people, and I get enough of that at home.

It is still white and beautiful here, and every time I start think "man, this snow is lookin' a little dingy" we'll get another layer, and then it's pretty again. The first time we got snow, before it was even really sticking, I put so many layers on the kids it was ridiculous. But after a while you get so used to the cold that you find yourself saying things like "wow. It's only minus 5. Let's fire up the barbecue". The downside of snow is that it takes about twenty minutes to get out the door because even though you're used to the cold you still have to put copious amounts of clothing on your children just so you don't sit at work all day wondering if today's the day they're going to discover the wonderful world of frostbite. Extra layers = no guilt. Missing fingers = guilt.

Xander, Xander...what to say about my little Naked Ninja? He has learned how to say "pants" and "shirt" and "off" in that order. When asked what a cow says he gives you a blank stare, then runs away screaming "to infinity and beyooooooond!!!". He also says things like "what happened?" "you okay?", "Felicity, no, no!", and starts every sentence with a little surprised "oh!". I worry so much about him because I don't get to spend the time with him like I did with Felicity, and also because he simply does not have the patience to sit down and learn his colours. He does, however, have the patience to pull out all of the diapers from his bottom drawer one by one and then put them all back in same fashion, and in a weird way this gives me hope. Also, where Felicity wakes up all whispery and cuddly, Xander WAKES UP! I'M AWAKE! AND THIRSTY! AND HAPPY! BUT MOSTLY THIRSTY! AND I'M LOOKING FOR NEMO! HAVE YOU SEEN NEMO?! That is the way my boy does everything. With his caps lock on.

Felicity is quickly evolving in the First Born Child, like the job comes with a lovely corner office and a company car. She is still sweet and goofy but has turned into a hostess-in-training/drill sargeant, announcing at dinner the other night "Anybody! Want some smashed tatoes!". It wasn't a question or a suggestion. Take some smashed tatoes! Martha would be so proud. She still loves school, is still so disappointed with Saturdays because they do not involve school, and really, who could blame her? There are WAY more toys than there are at home, Miss Kristy, like, never yells, and when you're done fighting and screaming with Nia over a toy you two can discuss it while snacking on pickles and cheese.

So yes, we are still kicking, sometimes kicking to get out, sometimes kicking ourselves for not doing this sooner, sometimes kicking each other, well, just because there's really not much to do up here. I'm tired of saying I'm homesick. That has not changed, but I feel like now I'm homesick for where we're headed and not as much for where we've been. If you're reading this and you know us and you pray, pray for us. We're at the table in the desert, and although the food is good, it's still a lonely place to eat.

Flakes

I would love to be clever today. I have no quirky stories, no anecdotes. I'm not going to be witty or funny or retrospective in any way. I have not been sleeping well, and were it not for the fact that I work in a, scratch that, THE medical centre I would still not be sleeping well. But I know when my doctor has an opening, and I can pretty much walk into his office and request to be medicated. Which I did. And I am.

I'm also not able to upload pictures for some reason. Grrr.

The big news of this week, besides Xander learning the word "serious" (I'm serious) is that we had our first real snowfall. Tuesday around 11:00 we were in a meeting learning all sorts of new fun stuff. When the bigwig who was visiting asked us if we had any questions or comments, the pharmacist piped up with "it's snowing! Dave won the pool!!". Now, I don't think that's what our visiting bigwig had in mind, and I certainly don't think she expected that topic to consume five minutes of our meeting. The pool was a snow pool, in which each person put in five or ten bucks and said what day they thought it was going to snow. Now, it flurried a few weeks ago, but apparently the parameters were that it had to really snow and stick. And stick it did. It's still here, plus a few more centimetres that came yesterday. It is quite something to sit at your desk and watch the snow drift down all day. It sort of makes working a bit more bearable, and even these wizened snow professionals that have survived years and years of dark, bitterly cold winters wax quite eloquently when the heavens first open and blanket our town in white.

Needless to say, my first thought was of my children. More specifically, of their snow gear. Was it warm enough, did their boots have enough traction, were their fingers going to fall off because I'd cheaped out and bought their mittens at Wal-Mart. Those kinds of thoughts. Xander wasn't quite sure what to think of the stuff, and after about five minutes he'd had quite enough and was ready to come inside and watch The Incredibles for the fourth time that day. Felicity, on the other hand, just can't believe her good fortune. Snow! All the time! The first day it snowed she was so excited we had to beg her to stop licking it off of the rocks in our driveway. When we head down the stairs of our porch to the car in the morning, she licks it off the hand rail. It's made out of wood, so although she might get splinters in her tongue, at least we won't have to spend 20 minutes trying to get it unstuck. This is my daughter, red-cheeked, a mouth full of snow, and so excited she can't wait to get out there and do it all over again.

The other big news this week is that it was my sister's birthday. There is so much I could say about my sister Sarah, but if I start I'll be cleaning tears and snot off my keyboard for weeks, so I'll just say this: I would not be who I am were it not for Sarah. Not the wife I am, and especially not the mother I am. I would not have nearly the confidence and determination I have had she not led by her incredible example. In my mind we all live down the street from each other still, and go to each other's houses for coffee on Saturday mornings while our kids play in the backyard. I don't know if we'll ever have that moment, but I'm hoping when we get to heaven God puts our mansions all side by side. I miss you Sarah, and I love you.

Weekend Update

Well, it's another beautiful day in Dease Lake. We had about two hours of gorgeous snow that mostly resulted in mush on the ground, but for those hours our house was filled with excitement and a sense of what's to come. After surprising my mom with a visit to Chilliwack that proved my skills in lying to my mother and then causing her to burst into tears still more than adequate, I was exhausted. I came back from that amazing and restful visit to a cold house and two children desperately in need of their father. When I'm away from them, they miss me, but when David's away, they turn into freaker-outers because he is this family's compass. Our true north. Sounds cheesy, but it's a pretty accurate description, and the only one that explains how lost we all are in his absence.

I also started working this Thursday, which was honestly not something I was looking forward to. I love being home with my children, and especially since Felicity started school I have so enjoyed my mornings with Xander. That kid is freakin' hilarious, and not nearly as cranky as he gets when Felicity, his self-appointed "other mommy", is around. However, I promised I would work when we lived here because we have free, trustworthy childcare in the form of David's mom. Truthfully, she's much better at it than I am because she's not their mom, so they do crafts and eat properly and come home begging to go back. The other reason I promised to work is because you can get paid a ridiculous amount of money to do pretty much anything in this town. Gotta love Northern life. So now I'm the "new girl" at the clinic. People are so used to knowing who's answering the phones here, so the first day I got a lot of confused people trying to figure out who the heck I was. It was kind of fun. But soon they'll all know me, and when they only give me their first names and expect me to know exactly who they are and which doctor they see I'll actually be able to fulfill their expectations. Good times.

Okay, back to the snow. We woke up to a slight dusting of it on Friday morning, and being the newbie that I am I had the kids totally geared up. Snowsuits, boots, mittens, toques, the works. The funniest part is that even though they knew we had all this equipment, they'd never actually worn it all together, so they kept looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Like, "Mom, we don't actually wear this stuff, we just play with it. Sheesh". I was also freaked out I'd be late to work, so my hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough for me to properly zip and tie and button everything up so it actually took me longer than if I'd been able to settle down. I was late.

We'd heard last night that we were going to wake up to 10 cms of snow, so I was a little disappointed when there was none this morning. But by the time we actually got out of bed and ventured out into the rest of the house, it had started to snow and continued to do so until almost noon. It was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. We ate brunch and watched it fall through the trees and onto our deck. It even made our barbecue look pretty. And all the things I had pictured about living here, all the things I had seen in my mind's eye and hoped for were revived. My children playing in the snow, the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, the reflection of the moon on the blanket of white...all things I have been wishing to see. Who knows, someday I might even see all of this as home.

A Sign of Things to Come?

Need I say more?

First Day of the Rest of Her Life

I'm embarrassed that I have not yet blogged about Felicity going to preschool. What kind of a mother doesn't write these things down? Obviously, this kind of mother. Anyway, Felicity's first day of preschool was sort of anticlimactic. I hadn't heard when it was going to be starting, so I didn't want to tell her she was going and then have a case of Major Disappointment on my hands if it was, in fact, not. So I got her and Xander dressed, took a few pictures just in case this really was THE DAY, then dropped Xander off at my MIL's. The whole time Felicity kept asking "where are we going?" to which I kept answering "um...I don't know". She now has that my-mother-is-retarded look down to an art form, thanks to that morning. In true Hannah form we arrived at her preschool half an hour late to discover that preschool was indeed starting that day. Felicity promptly ran to the dress-up boxes as if there were some sort of three-year-old homing beacon implanted in her cerebral cortex. I decided to stick around for the morning to make sure Felicity felt comfortable and to see what she was going to need to bring every day. I'm not the most naturally organized person, so being able to see how her day would be structured really helped me be able to plan ahead.

There are two teachers, Miss Kristi and Miss Hazel. Hazel has actually been working with this program for quite a while, although she had taken a bit of a break to stay home with her kids. Kristi is (I think) the head teacher, and she is awesome. They both have so much patience it is unbelievable and honestly, it puts me to shame.

So, shockingly, Felicity absolutely loves it. After the second day, when we were putting her to bed that night, she prayed "please Jesus, thank you that Felicity goes to school, and have dressups, and tea party, and playdough, and tables, and books, and snacks, and Miss Kristy, and Miss Hazel, and all my friends, and dressups. Amen." Apparently we no longer make the list, but that's okay, because it tells me two things. One, she loves her school and she's not freaked out. Two, she knows that when she prays she's actually talking to someone, not just repeating what her parents tell her to say. Sometimes there is nothing better than a three-year-old.

On the other hand, she revealed to me yesterday that she asked a boy in her class to marry her. From what I understand at first he laughed, and then he said no, so he's obviously an idiot. At some point in this verbal transaction she either kissed him or tried to kiss him, I'm not sure. When she told David it threw him into a total conniption, particularly because she couldn't remember the little boy's name. She's kissing BOYS! On the playground!! AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN REMEMBER THEIR NAMES!!! She then told me later that her and Xander were playing the "mommy daddy doctor game", at which point David asked to go lie down. With some clever questioning I was able to deduce that the "mommy daddy doctor game" involved brushing your teeth and going to bed. I think I'll wait a few days to tell David.

I think the only thing that makes all of this bittersweet is that it's the beginning of at least fourteen years of school. Fourteen years of classes, homework, teachers, other kids, summer vacations, detention, honour roll. It's the best of times and the worst of times, and I've never felt more protective of her than I do right now. But she could really love it. She could even be really good at it, and do her homework, and not skip class to go shopping. It's the hope and the possibility that she could be better at this than I was that pushes me to let her go.

Felicity of the North

One of the nice things about David's job is that not only is his regular uniform provided, now that we're up north he also gets what they call a Winter Kit. It includes not only a massive down-filled parka and mukluks, but also this cosy yet stylish fur hat. This way he can practice his male modeling skills and keep Dease Lake safe all at the same time. Your tax dollars at work.

Worst. Haircut. Ever.

Why? Why do I try? One look at Xander's cornsilk hair projecting past his ears and those clippers literally start screaming my name from the bathroom cabinet. And every time I sit him in his little high chair and start one of his favourite movies, I think to myself "this kid is going to look AWESOME!". It's also always at night during the post-dinner dip in my blood pressure, and it's always in bad lighting. So why am I surprised the next day to find that his hair is not as AWESOME as I had imagined?

One of the many perks of motherhood is getting cool little household toys, like hand-held vacuums and swiffer dusters. And clippers. If I thought my husband would still sleep in the same house as me I would totally shave my head just for the pure joy of using these clippers. So that's the other draw of cutting Xander's hair, plus after a few minutes he doesn't seem to mind so much.

If I ever call you and utter the words "and tomorrow I'm going to cut Xander's hair" please ask me to hand the phone to my husband, then instruct him to hide the sacred clippers. Think of the children.

Portrait of a Thursday

I call this one "Growth Spurt":

I have always been fascinated with photography and it's ability to capture a moment or tell a story without saying a word. In some ways it is the entire opposite from music, although both mediums, when done well, can have the same effect on me. When I had Xander my husband and I bought our first real camera, a Nikon D50. After paying that much money for something that didn't transport us or do our dishes we both had to sit down so the camera shop would stop spinning. A year and a half later I can easily say it is the best money we've ever spent. And considering how far away we all are from each other it is the best way to show each other the way our children smile, laugh, cry, dance, and grow without actually getting to see it in real life.

So here are some more shots I took this sleepy morning. Yes, it's Thursday, but David's first day off always feels more like a Saturday. In a little while I'll wake him up and make some whole-wheat buttermilk waffles which we'll eat while the kids watch a movie. It's simply the best kind of day.

Some of my favourite moments from this summer...

These are Felicity and Xander's friends, Tobias and Lucas. Both boys move so fast that every shot is an action shot. Needless to say, we miss them terribly.

Tobias

Lucas

Auntie Em days before becoming a mommy.

Fun at the cabin:

Thank you, Sarah, for showing me how to post pictures. I wonder, will the day ever come when we all stop needing you? I hope not.

A List of Grievances

So, no, I still haven't figured out how to post pictures on this blog. We'll just call that Grievance Numero Uno.

This morning started out like every other morning since we returned from our trip into the Real World - with a raging headache. The village people keep telling me that everyone gets them when they come back from "down South" because we're 3000 feet above sea level. That makes sense, because in our old house on the Sunshine Coast we were literally right at sea level. Ok, we were across the street from sea level, but you get the point. So I'm thinking the constant push on my sinuses that's causing my eyes to feel like I just got the smackdown from Evander Holyfield should start to subside, and soon I'll stop wandering around like the walking wounded. But since it's been about 10 days, and considering that my equilibrium is so off that I thought I was sitting up in bed this morning when I was still lying down, I decided to go to the doctor.

We have a lovely doctor here in town. His name is Phil, which would make him Dr. Phil, and he and his even lovelier (more lovely? lovelier? anyway) wife have a little boy who just turned one. I went and saw him and he agreed, yes, it's more than an adjustment to the barometric pressure that I'm having trouble with, so try this nasal spray and that should clear up the problem. So I walk to the pharmacy, but having not lived here very long I didn't realize that it was time for their coffee break and they were currently closed, at which point I decided to try again later. I then went home, had some lunch with David, made myself somewhat presentable, checked on the kids who were with my MIL, then thought I might try the pharmacy again, along with the other errands I had to run. Now, I had originally tried to do my running around earlier, but I had also forgotten that this town closes down from 12-1 every afternoon for lunch. It is during this sacred hour that I always feel as though I'm in some tiny town just south of the Mexican border, and everyone's leaning up against their casas with their sombreros over their faces, having a siesta, and only the cantina is open for business. Except in our town it's not the cantina, it's the gas bar.

Ok, I get to the clinic at 12:50 - not open. I go drop off my Arbonne deliveries, then head to the bank before I try the pharmacy again. The bank is not an actual bank, it is a single teller in her little wicket in the government building. When I arrived, there were two people ahead of me. 35 minutes later it was finally my turn. AND some little punk tried to cut in front of me, which made me want to kick in his kneecaps. There was also a massive line of drunk people - again, not making this up - who would not stop hollering "git 'er done!" as if it was the name of the beer they'd had for breakfast. By this time it was close to the kids' naptime, so I dropped off the last Arbonne order, picked up the kids, and headed home to put them down for their naps.

So here I am, whining to my computer, and subsequently all of you. My head is still raging, my equilibrium is still off - I might be typing with my head on the desk, I don't know - and still no nasal spray. However, tomorrow is another day...I'll keep you posted.

I warned you!

I wasn't going to be any good at this! I've actually been thinking about this blog a lot, thinking about what I would write about that would be interesting. Also, I have lots of pictures but I don't know yet how to post them on here, so once I get that figured out this should get a lot more interesting. A lot has happened since my last post, so I guess I'll just pick up from where I left off...

Ah, yes, move in day. A day not unlike Christmas, where every box presents a chance to either rediscover something precious or throw away something that has always irritated you. My husband is the King of Unpacking, so by the end of day one I knew where all the important things were, like dishes and towels and toys. By day two I had the kitchen unpacked and the bedrooms somewhat organized, and a week and a half later, when I left to drive back down to Chilliwack, if felt like our home.

The distance between Dease Lake and Chilliwack is approximately 1700 KMs, roughly the distance between Portland and Los Angeles. Now, I've driven both routes more than once. Portland to LA takes less than a day because you drive all night, stopping only for a quick nap and a burger at the first In-N-Out you come across. The drive to Dease Lake takes three days. Every time. Three days, unless you really want to kill yourself and do it in two. Same distance, totally different kind of road trip. Now, I realize that after reading this everyone will immediately jump in their cars and drive to LA, and I can't blame you. Send me a postcard, and after reading it we'll throw it in the fireplace and warm our hands with it.

The trip to Chilliwack, then down to Portland, was a total whirlwind in which we managed to stuff all sorts of activity into every single day. I think the highlight of Portland was seeing friends that had once been a huge part of my life, but that I have not seen for 10 years. This kind of event can only cause retrospection, which in turn causes embarrassment, which then morphs into gratitude that high school ended and real life began. The final step in this ugly cycle is the realization that none of it was really as big or as bad as you once deemed it to be. The biggest relief is that everyone turned out so lovely, and we were all capable of adult conversation without drama. The biggest surprise was that for the most part everyone now shared the same perspective on our high school experience. The pendulum had finally come to a rest smack-dab in the middle. Thanks, Amanda, for organizing us all and creating a calm, relaxed event where we could all finally have a conversation.

The other major event besides the reunion is that we bought a new car. Excuse me, a truck. I had the misfortune several years ago of meeting up with the typical used-car salesmen while I was buying my first car. Now, the idea of walking into a car dealership makes my mouth dry, my fingers numb, and I eventually wind up in the fetal position in one of the kids' closets. Can we say therapy? I mean for the kids. Okay, maybe we can make it a family thing. Anyway, we go in with our car as a trade-in, and come out with a lot more debt but a beautiful slightly used truck that will be ready the next day for us to come pick up. Oh, we're so excited!! I go get my hair done, David leaves to go to work on the coast, feeling like he's done his job as the provider and protector of his family. We all go to bed with warm fuzzies.

The next day I call to check and see when our car will be ready because that's what you do when you get a new truck. You want to drive it and smell it and spill Starbucks in it and let your kids climb around before the carseats are installed like it's a $33,000 jungle gym so they can ooh and aah because after all, it's their truck too. Except that when I called I was met with a "huh?". And you know the feeling that you're about to get royally screwed? Where your chest goes numb and you start seeing spots and feel kind weightless, like you're sitting on the opposite end from the sh*t that's about to hit the fan? Like that. There was actually very little drama once all was said and done, although I spent the weekend in Portland wondering if I was going to have to summon the spirit of Uma Thurman and get all Kill Bill on this car salesman. Instead I took my daddy in with me, and took him in again when the brake system warning lights went off.

I have to say, though, that it was all completely worth it. I felt like a mom, trying to figure out that if it all did indeed go crazy and I had no car how I was going to get myself and my kids home in one piece, even if it meant leaving all of our new stuff behind. I also really felt like a mom driving the last 600 kms, the only car on the road for long stretches at a time, completely exhausted and freaked out(!!) because at any moment a caribou/bear/reindeer could jump out of the bushes and into the side of our car. Excuse me, our truck. The best part was that in the last hour, as I once again watched the sun go down over the trees, knowing I was so close to Dave, I really felt like I was not just back in Dease Lake. I was home.

A Whole New World...

Wow. I don't even know where to start. After a never-ending road trip we arrived in Dease Lake on Saturday evening. We were almost forced to turned back about 60 KMs from Dease because the river had washed out a section of the road, but after driving for four days, and knowing a decent hotel would have been a six-hour drive in the opposite direction of where we wanted to be, David convinced the head road worker to let us go through. The section that was the "danger zone" was literally maybe a foot wider on either side than our car, and after we drove through and were on a safe patch of highway again, David looked at me and said, "that may have been a little stupid". Either way, we'd been in the car for four days with two very patient but overtired kids in the back seat, and we were finally on the home stretch.

As we were driving the stretch of highway between the washout and Dease Lake, I was really struck by the landscape. Instead of there being a forest there were all these really tall trees surrounded by shrubs. Now, listening to that description you would think "duh, Hannah, that's a forest". But it wasn't, and both David and I kept saying over and over "it's weird, because it's not a forest, it's just a bunch of trees". Needless to say, our conversational skills had definitely been dulled by the lack of sleep. Anyway, next time we go through I will actually stop and take some pictures so you all can see what I mean. These tall, green trees stood like sentinels against the backdrop of the mountains and lakes and blue, blue sky. It was also really bright outside and stayed really light until around 11:30 that night, which something else I will have to adjust to.

We finally got into the town of Dease around 9:30 in the evening, and let me tell you, nobody can ever prepare you for that first moment where you realize what life in a small town in Northern BC is really going to be. Oh, they can send you pictures and tell you over and over again that it's really small, there's nothing to do, etc. But, like having your first baby, nothing prepares you for that moment. Are we disappointed? No. It's exactly what everyone said it would be, in fact, some aspects are better than I expected. Do we want to turn and run screaming in the opposite direction? Truthfully, I am so sick of being in my car that it's enough to keep us here...for now:). No, in all seriousness, even though I feel like I'm stumbling around in a dark cave with earplugs and a blindfold on, I know there will come a day when I don't have to think through every single aspect of life. A day where this will be as much of a home to us as anywhere else we've ever laid our heads.

So, tomorrow is our move-in day. I am so excited to get settled in before I come down to Chilliwack and Portland so I know exactly what I need and what I can do without. They just finished the flooring and paint in our new home, which is for the most part rather nice. I can't wait to get our stuff in there and really make it our own for however long we are here. I have to say, though, that if I'm not careful my mind drifts back to our little cabin in the woods, with the sounds of our children and our friends' children laughing and playing, and I find myself wishing for something that is no longer mine. But I also know that because God is so good, and so faithful, and knows the desires of my heart, He will give me that moment again.

So, here we are. It's something like 36 hours before the Packing Fairies come to place all our stuff into nice neat boxes while I figure out where my head is. I had promised myself that by now I would have all my lists checked off, my clothes organized, my bathrooms clean. Considering we have guests, that last one would have been a good idea. But although none of that has been started, let alone finished, I still can't bring myself to do it. Instead, we've watched a movie, played some games, ate some yummy food, and laughed a lot. Because I won't look back on organizing and reorganizing my clothes with any sort of fondness, but I know the memories we're making right now will carry me through the days when I want to be anywhere but where I am. I'll be able to pause in the middle of a remedial task and smile, or laugh, or quite possibly - let's face it - burst into tears.

I was in London Drugs today buying things like laundry detergent and oven cleaner, so I meandered over to the toy aisle where I discovered a Disney Princess book that was all about letters and numbers and came with a CD. I thought "I'll get this for Felicity because she's going to preschool in the fall and...holy crap." Felicity is going to preschool. So, a) this is a big step for her, and b) if we weren't going to Dease Lake I don't know how we would have been able to afford preschool, and she probably wouldn't have been able to go. And suddenly, I was ready to say good-bye because of all this move means for our children. Yes, we're excited and it's an adventure and we're going to make a lot of money, but what an incredible time for our children in the ages they are at right now. And while I may not feel this way consistently for the next three days, I know that underneath all the sadness and the panic I will be able to remind myself of exactly why we are uprooting our lives, and how we will be richer in every way when we are done.

In the beginning...

I'm just going to say first off, for the record, I am terrible at keeping up with these sorts of things. There may be weeks with no postings, but try to stay with me. I also put way to many commas in my sentences. I just noticed that the other day, so I promise to try to keep that in check.

There will be more tomorrow...I think.