Going Home

I was worried this move might have brought a premature end to this blog.

You know when they say that what you don't know can't hurt you. Well whoever said that has never moved with two children.

Because I had no idea how hard it was going to be. I didn't understand why everyone was so worried that no one was available to help. But the move came and went and for days it felt like I was rolled over by the light rail that runs in front of our new home.

The memories have already started. Josie's unsuccessful searches for the door to the backyard that doesn't exist have become less frequent. We are starting to enjoy the parks in our neighborhood and the opportunity to meet new families every time we go outside to play.

Today the three of us played baseball in the long stretch of grass that extends all along the row of townhomes on our street.

Owen was hitting away until he had a string of bad luck and missed ball after ball after ball.

"No!" he yelled as he threw his bat down and crossed his arms across his chest. "No! No! No!" he continued as he huffed and puffed all the way across the grass.

"Owen, come back and keep trying," I yelled.

"No!" He yelled back. "I going home."

He stomped down the sidewalk and up the stairs to the front porch of our neighbor's townhome.

"Owen, that's not our home!" I yelled and both Josie and I burst into laughter while Owen ran down the stairs and came back to play.