August 10, 2017

I think the best part about moving is justifying eating McDonald's twice within 3 days. I love McDonald's. I love hamburgers. When I eat McDonald's I don't feel white trash--I feel like an all-american girl. 

I drove 2 car loads to the new house today with the 4 children piled in their car seats surrounded by random odds and ends that didn't have a place in a box--things like a giant sombrero, over-sized blow up balls, full length mirrors, a baby gate, etc.


I took the back country roads and prayed that the policemen would be too preoccupied to be bothered with the small town roads today--not because I was speeding--but seeing a van filled with IKEA kid chairs blocking the passenger window isn't the safest thing. It's ok. We are fine. The children are fine! Mom-strike 1. 


I happened to strategically place the electric guitar case so the DVD player/movie screen couldn't pull down all the way. That made the children cry because I promised the 2nd car trip down they could watch a movie. Mom-strike 2. But guess what, we got McDonald's so it's all good. 


Here are the children jumping on a bare mattress bearing all of its pee stains (which are cropped out because--ew).

The good news is people move all the time. And we will be officially transferred this weekend.  



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