I'm giving myself permission to exhale this morning. The past few months my breathing has been short, frequent and labored. We moved.
It is worth every packed box and random bruise. The boys come in every night dirtier than the one before. Makayla's closet is exponentially bigger than her old one, so she has arranged and rearranged it to the 3rd power. And even though I didn't have a working washing machine for a week, (I know...imagine the chaos) this new place feels good. It feels like home.
Long live the fort of boxes on our back patio.
(I backdated a BUNCH of posts...keep reading...)
