I cried looking at the August lunch calendar on Wednesday.
(How's that for equal parts of honesty and embarrassment?  Andrew may have weighted embarrassment a little heavier when I told him that night. 
Always keeping me humble, that one.)

Henry is starting kindergarten in less than three weeks, and as much as I have loooooooonged for this day at many, many times over the last several years, it's hitting me harder than I thought it would.  It feels like he's leaving for college tomorrow (Manhattan clearly, where else would he go?), not starting kindergarten.

He's ready (for kindergarten, that is),
and I know it's the right place and right time for him.

And while some of you have been having the #bestsummerever, we've been over here literally #survivingsummer or #tryingtomakeittobedtime or just even trying to #hideinmybathroomandtakedeepbreaths ALONE which never happens because my kids have a radar for when I try to potty in solitude. 
(Also helpful in the humility department.)

BUT.
 How is my first baby old enough to be eating school lunch in a lunch room with school friends instead of at my kitchen table having peanut butter and jellies
for the 1,000th time?

It's the start.

The beginning of the school years where he spends more of his waking hours away than at home.  And while this tired mama is like, oh my gosh, yasssssss, a break!!, this tired mama is also mourning the end of these first years when we could stay in our jammies until 10am if we wanted to and naptime dictated our schedule and Daniel Tiger provided many life lessons, and I didn't have to think about bullies or homework and now I'm ordering kindergarten uniform pants and filling out final registration paperwork and praying that he's both brave and kind to others and others to him, and wondering have we loved him hard enough, and does he know that, and will he be lonely or scared, and will he make friends, and, and, and, AND.

This is what they're supposed to do...grow up?  Can we find a happy medium where I don't have to play referee and both cruise entertainment director every waking moment of every day, but where he stays sweet and innocent and giggles and build forts in every room of the house even though it drives me crazy?  

To finding ways to enjoy our last bit of summer (and also survive), and to giving them both roots and wings, and to maybe scheduling some lunchroom visits. 
Because the school menu looks way better than mine.

We moved! 

Nearly two months ago and it's taken almost that entire time to feel settled. 

At least for me.  Don't ask Andrew because he's still mourning our first house and our old neighborhood and our beloved neighbors and being able to walk down the street to the pool and waving at familiar faces as he leaves for work in the morning.  It's bad.  I'm pretty sure he drives through there every day.  Because it's on his way to work and because he has a hard time with change.

Truth be told, so do I, but in different ways.  

I am loooooooooooving our space x1000.

I don't feel like we're on top of each other ALL THE DAY LONG anymore!  The layout makes so much more sense for our family of five, and I daydream all the time about paint and flooring and fixtures and all the things that get discussed on Fixer Upper every darn episode.  (One of these days we'll have our own #demoday, 

but I'll make sure Andrew wears a shirt.) 

Change is hard for me because of displacement and not having my familiar things around me and my familiar routine and overall just the disruption that comes with change.  And also dealing with the kids dealing with change.  Because it turns out they didn't want to sit quietly while I unpacked boxes.  Also the Jack and Jill bathroom makes a great secret hallway to sneak into the girls' room during naps and bedtime and naps and bedtime and naps and bedtime and naps and bedtime.  Kind of like today.

Our move was a short one (in distance), just a hop over the main road into the adjacent neighborhood, but now when we go for walks in the morning and see others out doing the same Henry asks if they're our neighbors because in our old 'hood we would stop and talk to everyone because we knew everyone.  We're starting to get a few hellos and the "wow! you've sure got your hands full" comments are rolling in as we parade by with Ham on his bike, Franklin on leash and the girls in the double jogger.  And we've found not one, but two Little Libraries the kiddos convince me to stop at nearly every day.  There are going to be countless things that we'll miss about our first home, but so many other things to look forward to and love in our second.

--

We took a stroll around the block the night before we moved like we had done hundreds of times before, and sat on the floor for dinner around a box of pizza that night the same way we had when Andrew and I moved in almost eight years ago.  Except this time, instead of just a couple not married for even a year yet, it was the five of us soaking up the last moments in the space that saw fights, make ups, first steps, holidays, seasons change, jobs change, paint colors change, us change, 

and a family made.  

Rockwood, you were good to us.

So, so, so good.