I hate packing

So I'm still in the middle of packing, as I'm getting ready to hopefully move into my new house (it's supposed to close on the 29th - my dad is coming up this weekend to do some repairs needed for the the FHA appraisal - and the bank is paying him!) My condo was so full of boxes that I couldn't move around much, especially when I need to finish painting my kitchen. So I went and rented a storage space. I just need to get these boxes out of my condo. Tonight I filled my my little Honda Civic with about 10 boxes. I still have about 10 boxes packed, and then another 10 probably to finish the job (hopefully only 10). I'm so sick of boxes!!! Packing sucks!

I miss my Momo

I was at the store tonight and remembering what my mom told me my grandmother used to say - don't get the first item on the shelf. As I was thinking of that, and getting the item behind the front item on the shelf, I started getting really sad. All I can think of is that I was thinking of my grandmother, whom we called 'Momo', about her perhaps doing the same thing. Life goes on, but I was sad to think she'll never do that again. Oh, I know she'll live again! But I just can't quite imagine we'll have grocery stores after we're resurrected. OK, maybe we will, but still... It reminds me of when my Grampa died, I knew he'd live again, but I realized how much I'm going to miss my old man Grampa. All of his stories, his white silvery hair. It made me just think of how much I miss all of my grandparents. I know I'll see them again, but I hate how long it takes sometimes.

I don't know how parents do it...

This weekend I went to visit my parents and set up their computer and watch some of my nephews baseball games. It made for a very busy Saturday, since of course we had to check out the Gottschalks liquidation :(

After all the games and shopping, my nephews came over (with my brother and sister-in-law). My two nephews were playing in the living room. My older nephew hit with his noggin into the mouth of the younger one. It knocked a tooth loose. There was blood coming from it and my brother took him to the kitchen sink to clean him up. Seeing him cry made me realize the contrast between that moment and when my nephew first got to my parents.

When my nephew arrived, he opened the door and yelled very loudly, "Auntie Kirsten!" in such a sweet voice. It made me cry thinking of how happy he was to see me versus crying for his pain.

I really can't imagine how parents do that, seeing the joy in their children and the pain when they're hurt. Luckily, he's all ok. I guess that's where it gets better, when you see them happy again it makes it all better.

That's my favorite ever 'Auntie Kirsten'!