My return to blogging, part 1

Hi. It's me. Remember me?? I know...it's been a long time. So long, actually, that I'm almost embarrassed to start blogging again. But I suppose it's time. Especially with all that's happened in the last few months. I'll spare you the excuses and just leave it at saying there was enough going on that blogging moved pretty far down the list and motivation was pretty non-existant.

I also won't try to recap everything that's happened in the last 5-6 months. Most of it would seem pretty lame to talk about this far after the fact anyway (assuming any of it was really blog worthy in the first place). But I'll hit some highlights - mostly those leading up to the big news that I'm sure everyone knows by now...we up and moved to Clearfield.

After 5.5 years as an assistant manager at Wal-mart, Erik decided it was time to move forward, so he started applying for the next level. We knew there would be some openings in both of the Logan stores as well as the Perry store sometime in the fall or late summer, so he started throwing his name in the ring for some other stores for the practice. When those Logan openings came, everyone, including his store manager, assumed he was a shoe-in. But when the decision was delayed week after week, we knew something was up. In the end, some political and personal issues meant Erik didn't get the position.

It was pretty discouraging, but another opportunity popped up pretty quickly. The market HR manager wanted Erik to apply for a position he was having a hard time getting qualified applicants for. Only it was in Taylorsville. Tay. Lors. Ville. For those who don't know, Taylorsville is about 1.5 hours from Logan. Not exactly commutable when he would already be working a 13-hour shift. It would definitely require a move. We were also wary of leaving my super flexible job. Because of some past precedent set by my office, we decided to pose the possibility of working from home. I was already doing it one day a week anyway and had done it three days a week the year Lily was born. My position had changed dramatically from what it had been 5 years earlier, but we figured it was worth a try. Let's just call that day a roller coaster. I ran it by the first person, who thought it was worth a try, and we both posed the option to the others who would need to be consulted. Three of the four were on board and were super optimistic. So I told Erik to go ahead and apply...it was going to happen! About an hour later, I was told it was a no-go. I was crushed to say the least.

Erik could now either withdraw his application and look bad, or we could move forward anyway. So he moved forward. In the end, once again, some political issues prevented his being offered the position, even though he was later told he was their first choice. Having the same outcome after all the stress was really frustrating. But it was almost a relief since I wouldn't have to quit after all. We figured we'd just wait until something a little more commutable came up. About a month later, the Centerville store had an opening. We had decided this was really the farthest he was willing to go, even with a move, and with the outcome of the last two stores, he applied almost planning that it wouldn't pan out. I didn't even mention it to my bosses since I knew my options there. We had crunched some numbers during the Taylorsville interviews and had decided to give my staying at home a try...maybe with the occasional freelance work. This time, he got the job.

A commute to Centerville from Logan was still a little over an hour, so we started looking for houses in Davis County right away. He ended up commuting for about 2 months before we moved to Clearfield, which is not quite 30 minutes away. We closed on our new house two days after Christmas, and I gave my notice after the start of the year. Once he'd been offered the position, I did let them know a move would be coming, but since we would need my income to qualify for two mortgages, I didn't want to make anything official or put anything in writing in case our new lender somehow found out. I knew they were already interviewing for my position since it would eventually be combined with another position they were filling, so I didn't feel too bad about springing it on them even though I'd know for over a month when my last day would be.  In the end, it all worked out. I spent the last two weeks (really about 5 days with the New Year's holiday and only working 4 days a week anyway) wrapping up what I needed to and feeling very conflicted about leaving a job I'd had for almost 11 years.

My last day was a Thursday. While I was eating cake and saying goodbye, the moving company hired by Wal-mart packed most of our stuff. (Let me give an aside about hiring movers. When you tell people movers will be doing all the work, including the packing, they tell you how lucky you are. And I suppose that's true. It was one less thing to worry about. But that's not in my nature. I did worry. Like I said: I knew my moving date a month out. But I couldn't do anything except think about moving. Being able to pack up and declutter as I went would have been super helpful. I did try to declutter a little, but it seemed ridiculous to pull everything out, trash the stuff I didn't want to take, and put it all back again. Then there's the issue of unpacking. I admit to being a little OCD, so maybe this wouldn't have bothered anyone else. But unpacking was so random. It was a mystery box every time. Sure, they said dishes or living room but one kitchen box had items from three cupboards but no one complete cupboard. Each cupboard was strewn among several boxes. So I guess what it boils down to is there are some things I'd rather do myself...) Friday, they loaded it into the truck (and trashed our carpet while doing it). Saturday, January 12, we moved in. (I will admit, though, that having them bring everything in the house was AWESOME.)

A month and a half later, we're almost completely out of boxes. That's normal, right??? To still have half unpacked boxes?? There's only two or three. Ok...maybe 7. Out of something like 120. Just tell me it's normal.

(Part 2 to follow, hopefully with pictures and what we think of the whole thing and what's happening with the Logan house...)
 

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Hi.

Timothy's been a little slow in the talking department. But in the last few months, his vocabulary has exploded. Unfortunately, I'm really the only one who can understand it and many words sound ridiculously similar, so there are some days I still play the guessing game.

Of course, Dada was one of the first words he did come up with. And for a long time, Dada was used for both Erik and me. But about July, he finally started calling me Mama. At first, it melted my heart. It was so cute. And I was so happy he finally had a name for me. But now this is my life:



Every five minutes. All. Day. Long. Can we go back to not speaking? :)

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Ditching the Bink

Lily is a thumb-sucker. She has been since she was about 6 months old. When she first started, I was honestly ok with it. No needed to buy binkies. No hunting down the missing binky. No getting up in the middle of the night to return the binky. She was completely able to self-soothe, and I was thankful. Plus, sucking her thumb was mostly reserved for when she was tired or hungry or really distressed.

But when Timothy was born, I decided the bink was the way to go. Lily was three and half at the time and still sucking her thumb. Two years later, she still does on occasion. Not very often, for sure. Usually when she's really tired, and still when she's really distressed and upset, but there's not really anything I can do at this point other than encourage her to stop. So for Timothy, I decided I wanted the control. I wanted to be able to take the bink away when it was time. I don't know if he would have ever turned into a thumb-sucker, but his bink was always close, so there was no need. When he turned two, we cracked down. Nap time and bed time only. Most of the time. Admittedly, there were times we gave in. And he's not a dumb kid. He knew where the bink was in the diaper bag and would go hunt for it. When he'd wake up, it was chucked into his bed, and sometimes he could reach between the slats and get it. When we converted to a toddler bed about a month ago, it was amazingly easy for him to retrieve it. If we managed to get it away from him again, it ended up on a counter or the bookcase, and once he'd see it a couple hours later, it was all he wanted.

I was dreading the day we took it away completely. And I wasn't sure what the plan of attack would be. I'd read different theories, like having the kid either watch you or making them throw it away. There's also the method that involves taking a pair of scissors to it while your kid watched. But they seemed so cruel. I mean, come on. They're attached to the thing and you cut it all up. I figured cold turkey was the way to go, but I wasn't looking forward to it.

Then last week happened. I could not find the bink any where. I had a spare in the medicine cabinet, but I decided to see what would happen. So when it was time for bed, we brushed his teeth. We grabbed his blanket. We read some stories. We sang a few songs. Then I put him in bed. And then he asked for bink. "Sorry, buddy," I said. "I don't know where bink is." "Bink?" he asked again. "I don't know where it is. Say bye-bye, bink."

And he did. Could it really be that easy? I guess so, because he hasn't looked back. I can only hope potty training is just as easy. The missing bink mysteriously reappeared a few days later, luckily while Timothy was busy doing something else. It was quickly whisked out of sight, never to be seen again.

 

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