Crawling out from under the moving boxes

Hello lovelies!

Sorry for being MIA. I hope you enjoyed the string of previously-written-but-couldn’t-post early-pregnancy posts. They ran out last week, and Blogger is a bad bloggy babysitter who apparently DOESN’T reach out of the interwebs and kick my butt to remind me to post. Who knew? But this is me, live-posting. Live!

I haven’t touched a computer — except to work, so … yeah, I have been on them … but I’ve had to FOCUS on WORK, you know? — in the two weeks we’ve been in the new house.

I am basically like this, all the time:

Except, you know:

  • Not blonde
  • Not skinny
  • Not wearing a kerchief
  • Kind of out-of-breath from chasing a toddler
  • Not SITTING on the boxes because OMG SO MUCH TO DO!

We’ve been in the new house for just over two weeks, and we are — in the immortal words of Stacey McGill — in luv. The house is amazing. The neighbourhood is amazing. It all feels too beautiful and awesome to be real, and we are so happy.

I promised myself — and everyone else — that I wouldn’t go all crazy with unpacking/organizing/decorating, but I LIED OK? SORRY. This is me, going crazy with unpacking/organizing/decorating. It’s what I do. And doing all of this while preggo? Doubly-crazy.

Promise to keep you updated more regularly on the house, pregnancy, life with the precocious toddler-o-rama, etc. Things are anything but boring these days.

Send toddler-sized restraints.
And candy apples.
And 10,000,000 tupperware organize-y boxes in various sizes. Thanks.

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