So now that we officially owned the house and were no longer considered "trespassing" on the property, we wanted to move all the stuff that we'd been storing in our Public Storage unit for years into our very own garage that didn't cost us anything. Lucky for us it came free with the price of our mortgage! Chortle.
Since we have never lived anywhere big enough to fit a canoe, or what some may consider one of REI's flagship stores, we've always had to rent some sort of storage garage/space to keep half our life in.
So this particular Sunday morning, we anxiously drive towards my folks house to drop off T so that we could purge our storage unit of all our stuff without having to try and maneuver around an 18 month old. Smart right? The obvious answer to our problem at hand.
Which of course is, I suppose, why that is not what happened. On the way to my folks house, T fell asleep and in our very own brain damaged independant way decided that we can surely pack a 20' long UHAUL truck to the brim in an hour which is the length of time he will surely sleep right? So we sped past my folks house and continued on to the UHAUL rental facilty, picked up said truck, and parked in front of our storage unit where we commenced the move with sleeping child in car.
When we opened the door to the storage unit, I was immediately reminded of just how much stuff we had to move and began to feel my old friend panic edge it's way into my throat realizing our perfectly planned timeline most likely won't be panning out for us. So I did what any mother would do upon realizing that you have put your child in a potentially precarious situation.
I started running.
I made J stay in the truck to recieve and pack and I ran my little legs off lifting, chucking, throwing - a furious cloud of moving mayhem I was.
Huffing and puffing a half hour later, the inevitable happened.
T woke up.
Did I mention that it had started raining too? Yes! Yes! It was raining too!
Luckily, my dad called right then and offered to come and help us.
T entertained himself for quite some time by stomping in puddles and finding long lost baby toys to relive his glory days with.
Do you guys need some help? Cuz I am really good at helping. Just give me a minute here...
T barking instructions from the sidelines. "Now you with the grimace, a little to the left!"
Desperate times call for desperate means of entertainment.
Yes, I have officially stomped in every puddle. My work is done here. Hand over those cheerios woman!
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