Going, going, back, back to Orange County...

We are bleeping doing it, guys! We are moving back to Orange County. Get excited!! But not too excited, because this is only a temporary move. 

As all of my close friends and family know, moving to L.A. wasn't always the easiest transition for me. I left behind {I say this like I moved to bleeping China} all of my family and most of my closest friends. Although I am only 38 miles away, between traffic and life, it sometimes feels more like 10,000 miles. I have finally found my peeps and my groove out here, so I am glad we will only be gone for a year, but I must say that I am so happy for a year full of girl dates, q.t. with the fam, BBQs, swimming, wine, and Taco Tuesdays with my OGs!

Packing has been a real bleeping pain! Packing totally super sucks regardless, but it sucks even more with a baby on the move. We cram as much as we can in during Birdie's naps and after she's fallen asleep for the night, but it never feels like we got enough done.  Our living room is full of boxes and my body is full of anxiety!

I am so very proud of my husband, he is doing a major purge and I will admit that I didn't think he'd chuck half as much stuff as he is. I like to joke with him that he's a hoarder. He keeps things that {to me} seem meaningless, ya know, the way a five year old keeps a stick she found on the ground! I know that what I am about to put on paper for proof will never be lived down by Emanuel, but I think I'm following his suit when it comes to Birdie's clothes that she's outgrown. I went through her closet and drawers and I made three separate piles: one to keep, one to get rid of and one to store. Why am I storing Birdie's clothes when I am 99.9% sure I never want another baby? Am I holding onto them because of that .1% that I might have another baby? Or am I holding onto them because I'm pretending there is sentimental value in fabric my baby once wore and threw up on? Or maybe I'm hoping that by holding onto these things that these days can move past me a little slower, a reminder that not that long ago, she was actually that itty bitty? Guys, I'm hoarding! Help!

We are moving, my baby is growing, life is going on, as it does... But sometimes, most times, it seems like it's all just happening way too bleeping fast!

OH BLEEP!

I had my first OH BLEEP!!! moment last week! My husband and I were a foot away from her, if that, and while we were having a discussion about where we should put her Bumper Jumper, little miss Bird decided she was going to crawl right off the side of the bed. Talk about feeling like the worst parent ever! Our plans for her fun {literally} crashed within a split second.

I think the image of my poor baby hitting the ground, her fearful eyes meeting mine, will be scarred in my mind forever. She cried real tears for a good minute, then was easily calmed with a bottle. That bottle didn't console me though! My heart was beating faster than I've ever felt it beat, my entire body was shaking and I felt a desperate need for a Xanax. I let me seven month old daughter crawl right off the edge of my bleeping bed! How?

Of course, paranoid me calls my mom immediately, despite her convincing me that my child isn't as fragile as I seem to think she is and that she is ok I followed up with taking her to see the doctor. He assured me that things like this happens to every parent... But it still didn't help me feel better about it! Any of my friends with kids told me the same, and also that it only gets worse! Bigger accidents, bigger bumps, and blood are coming my way soon. Oh great!

I grew up with three brothers, who all very much fit the saying "boys will be boys". They were always breaking bones, busting their chins and knocking each other's teeth out; I, on the other hand, didn't get stitches until I was 25 years old. I think it's safe to say that my husband was a walking bleeping accident. He has a number of stories to explain every scar, some that even I have a hard time believing! Let's hope that Birdie follows in my footsteps and spares me a couple of heart attacks. I now know the only worse things than getting hurt is seeing your child get hurt!