Moving on . . . and how to deal with it

On Wednesday, July 14, we left Memphis, Tennessee.

The car was packed, Toy Story was in the DVD player, Ruthie was already drowsy from the Dramamine, and Clint and I were trying to stay focused on the drive ahead . . . and not what we were leaving behind.

And that is what we've been trying to do since that day. Stay focused on what is ahead. But I have to be honest -- it has been difficult. This opportunity to move to Chicago came up only a few weeks ago, and I took about 3 seconds to consider not jumping on it. Clint voiced a few concerns, and I hushed him. I knew making a transition this major wouldn't be easy, but it would all work itself out. The pros would outweigh the cons.

But I have to be honest with myself and take off the rose-colored glasses for just a second. This. Is. Hard. Most of our friends and family are within a few hours of Memphis. I had a great job. Mimi was happy in preschool. I am very pregnant. We had a great house that was convenient to everything (and didn't require unpacking). We know Memphis like the back of our hands. I need to take a minute to acknowledge these things.

It would have been easy -- way too easy -- to stay in Memphis. But we would have been restless and wondering "what if?" forever. I don't regret the move, and I don't think Clint does either. We've just been so busy getting settled that I haven't taken the time to deal with all this change and accept that I'm scared . . . because I am. But I need to understand that it's okay to be nervous and scared with all this change. Who wouldn't be? I need to dive in head-first, make some mistakes, and learn as I go. So as all this changing and learning and growing is going on, I plan to try my best to keep track of what I've learned.

Lesson #1: Do not try to get everything accomplished in one day. We have signed a 2-year lease, which means I have, well, 2 years to get things accomplished.

Lesson #2: Wear comfortable shoes and watch out for bumps in the sidewalk. I have serious bruises on a couple of toes on my right foot. It's too painful to even recount what happened.

Lesson #3: Put Ruthie on a serious leash/collar so she doesn't get loose at a very busy intersection, snap at in innocent bystander, run in and out of traffic, and take what seems like hours to catch while said bystander is cussing me. All while this very pregnant girl is running around crying and using sailor-language herself. Not very pretty.

Lesson #4: Ask for help. Let people open the door for me. Let someone else pick up heavy boxes. In other words, don't forget I am 35 weeks pregnant.

Lesson #5: Take advantage of advice from other local moms. I have been trying to pick up suggestions from other moms at the playground and have learned about an indoor playground, music classes, libraries, and the really cheap toddler classes offered at the park across the street. This week I plan to do some research and figure out what Mimi and I can get involved in. I HAVE to get involved soon. I've also gotten a couple of numbers of good sitters. Score.

Lesson #6: "If you are the mother of young children and have a spotless house, then you are not a very good mother." Thank you, Ann.

So enough of the seriousness and time for some photos. First of all, when we arrived to our new home it was completely empty. Of course Mimi thought it was so cool to be able to run around and scream. By the way, when we left Memphis we took her by the house one last time to let her say goodbye. I thought this might be sad for her, but she was so excited by all the open space that she just ran in circles and yelled to hear her echo. Finally she did stop by where the TV once stood and asked, "Where Yo Gabba Gabba?" I explained it was on the moving truck and that was all she needed. Anyway, here she is with my dad waiting on the moving truck to arrive.

And lets talk about the moving truck for a minute. It was manned by the two best movers ever -- Theodus and Jarrell. They did an awesome job of getting everything loaded in Memphis but really won my respect with all the challenges they faced in Chicago. They had to "create" a parking spot on a very busy street, carry all of our things down a narrow, gravel alley, and then lug it all up 3 flights of stairs. And Jarrell did a great job of bringing me a stool every now and then and telling me to sit down. God bless them.

Unpacking was quite an ordeal since I guess everyone was relying on me to know where things should go. Of course, I wanted them to get my blessing before putting anything anywhere, and we all know how awful I am at making decisions. But most items have a home now, and I have only five boxes left to unpack (and they are probably full of things that can go in the dumpster). And the unpacking process isn't easy when I can't pick up heavy items and have this big belly in the way.

Mom and Dad left that weekend, and Clint began work in his new office on Monday. His commute was a little longer than normal, but I think he enjoys being in the middle of downtown and being able to meet clients for lunch rather than just talking with them over the phone. And I also began my first day at my new job -- Stay at Home Mom. I set my expectations for myself way too high on this one for my first week on the job. I truly thought I was going to be able to get soooo much accomplished -- unpack all the boxes, clean the entire house, get all the laundry finished, sew some things for Mack, research the area, AND teach Mimi to be the smartest toddler in the world. Let's say I failed miserably at most of these things. Of course, Mimi is the smartest toddler in the world, which is why I couldn't get any of these other items checked off the list -- she requires way too much attention. So here she is eating her breakfast on our first day at home together. At least I remembered to feed her. Two points for me. Mimi is in love with the new place. Most of all, she is obsessed with the stairs. She has never lived in a home with stairs (neither have I, for that matter), and she is fascinated by how she can sit at the top and look down to see the rest of the downstairs. I complain about all the stairs, but she L-O-V-E-S them. Guess I need to learn to have her attitude.And here she is with her new blanket that we have named "Big Baby." Mimi has two small "lovies" she calls "Babies," and I found this large one at a local children's store that I just had to have for Mack. As soon as Mimi saw it, she shrieked with delight and has been dragging it around with her and sleeping with it. We also call it "Mack's baby," but I'm not sure he'll ever lay a hand on it.At night we say our prayers with Mimi, and we rattle off everything we are thankful for: Poppaw, Bebe, Top, Shug, Yo Gabba Gabba, the park, blocks. Whatever, I just roll with it. A couple of nights ago I let her know we also need to pray for baby Mack as he's growing in Mommy's tummy. At the end of me saying the prayer, Mimi then adds to the list in case there is anything I've forgotten, and that night she said "Thank God Mack and T Bone." What? "and Cleo and Clippard." Oh my. Mimi watches Clifford the Big Red Dog, and there is a dog named Mack. She totally thinks her new little brother is the gray dog from Clifford. Oh well.

So maybe the stairs is Mimi's new favorite place, but here is mine:It is so exciting to be able to stand in the kitchen and see the TV and the beautiful view out the windows. Although I loved the house in Memphis, I was always wanting to knock the walls out of the kitchen. And, yes, I did make the breakfast on that plate on a weekday morning. Hooray for me!

So maybe Clint's new favorite place may be looking out his office window at this view. I think it's pretty cool . . . and so does Mimi.Actually, she thought the entire building was pretty cool. We went on a Sunday when no one was around so she could run wild, which is what she does best.Here's another favorite place: Felger Park. It is absolutely fantastic for toddlers, and I have tried to take Mimi every day since we've lived here. Thank goodness it's only a block away. Mimi and I are trying to be adventurous and explore the neighborhood a little each day. Every store and restaurant is uber-kid-friendly, so I have no problem going in places with her by myself. We stopped at a deli for dessert one afternoon, and she spent about 45 minutes playing with a wooden dollhouse that was in the middle of restaurant.

I am excited about this week and am going to force myself to take it slower. Oh, and I am calling a sitter from the list a mom at the park gave me. Clint and I need a lunch date soon.

Our last days in Memphis

The last morning Mimi woke up in her crib in the Bungalow on Prescott I decided I must grab the camera. I don't know how long it will take to get her new toddler suite set up in Chicago, so I wanted to record these last few sweet moments in her green baby room. And, yes, she does pull her Jellycat pig off the side of her bed and completely cover herself with it almost every night. Silly girl.

Spike will be living with his grandparents in Germantown while we are in Chicago. He just turned 17-years-old, and just like any other senior citizen he gets a little pissy with change. Especially if that change means extreme cold, which isn't good for his joints. So this is his last morning in the kitchen . . . waiting on a treat, of course.

And Mimi's last breakfast in the kitchen. Sigh.

I finally have internet as of about 30 minutes ago -- after trying to decipher all the Greek the internet guy was speaking to me. We are officially residents of Chicago as of last Wednesday, and things have been going smoothly. We love the condo, we love the weather, we love Clint's new office (even though the commute is a little longer than he hoped), and I LOVE the people. I cannot get over how incredibly nice people have been. A guy who worked in one of my doctor's offices in Memphis (who is originally from the Chicago area) tried to explain the difference in "nice people" from the South and everywhere else in the nation to me. He said in the South everyone is nice -- even jerks may appear to be nice, but then they'll stab you in the back . . . of course with a smile. Everywhere else only the really good people are nice -- the jerks don't waste their time. So at every restaurant and playground we have found some really, really nice people. As soon as they find out we're new to the area, they are eager to give us e-mail addresses and phone numbers along with letting us know about events and kid-friendly places. Wow, I am sooo impressed.

We had a mini-birthday celebration for Mimi at Ben and Jerry's last weekend. Don't be upset if you weren't invited -- it was very impromptu and thrown together. No invitations and, well, she really doesn't turn 2 until August 1. I just wanted her to have a party with some of her friends.

Can you tell chocolate is her fave? Just like her Mommy.

This was the best photo of the group -- and believe it or not pink and green wasn't a requirement, but it's awfully cute that all the girls match. Poor Causey had gotten tired of my paparazzi photography. Sorry, Causey.

The girls had quite the dance party on the Ben and Jerry's patio. Oh, and Mimi is indeed a fairy princess -- thank you, Hadley. I haven't unpacked the box with this inside, so it will be such a treat for Mimi to see again!

I love this one -- it totally describes the relationship with Mimi and her best boy BFF Banks. She is trying to be all prissy and aloof while Banks stares at her confused. Something tells me he may never understand her craziness.

Before we left Memphis, we had several opportunities to hang out with our best friends, and, wow, GRATEFUL is the best word that comes to mind. Clint and I have loved being able to spend our last few years in Memphis surrounded by some amazing friends, and I am still trying to come to terms with how we'll get by without them. Of course we had Clint's sweet family in Memphis who were always willing to help out, but having such amazing friends is a true blessing -- they aren't obligated to help like family! Ha! We went to McEwen's a couple of Fridays ago with our buddies, and this was so special because Clint and I ordained McEwen's as our "special" restaurant in Memphis. It was where we ate the night we got engaged, for any job promotions, when we found out I was pregnant. Also, the girls helped with a brunch for baby Mack at Majestic last Saturday. I have photos but haven't had time to save them yet -- maybe I'll get back to this because it was so fantastic.

And I need to end here - with a half boxed-up dining room - because I know this nap cannot last much longer.

In case you're nosy . . .

I am a self-proclaimed Nosy Nellie, and I'm not ashamed. Even the most boring lives are of interest to me – especially when those people have a great blog. So I admit to being a blog-stalker, and I KNOW there are many more out there (stand up and show yourself, Kyle). Of course there are some like my sister, Amy, who only look at the pictures and others like Ann who will keep me in check if I'm not posting enough for her satisfaction, so I am trying my best to keep to the standards that have been set (at least my own standards). I also feel a sense of obligation because I am all of the above: stalker, photo-looker, and just nosy in general.


This post is for all you other Nosy Nellies out there – it's just an update on my boring little life, as if anybody cares. Promise I'm not a Narcicist (did I spell that correctly?), but for some reason I don't have a problem sharing all my biz with the whole world. Now if I can just talk everyone else into it . . .

1. First thing's first. The pup pup (as Mimi calls them) update:
   So sorry I dropped an emotional bombshell recently about my furry child, Spike. Clint was in Milwaukee and Mimi was at my parents', and maybe I was just a little lonely and extremely emotional. Two vet visits with two rat terriers, lots of immunizations, baths, nail trimmings, preventative meds, and $850 later (did you just choke on your coffee? because I did), both dogs are flea-, heartworm-, and intestinal worm-free. Whew. Don't we all feel better now?


2. The career update:
   Because of the $850 and many, many, MANY other expenses that are popping up absolutely everywhere with this move, I may need to start my own business. We're not drowning, but I am Miss Independent and am having issues with Clint being the only one bringing home the bacon. He's fully capable of taking care of things, but I'm not fully capable of letting him. I'm just a beginning sewer and some of you probably made fancier things in high school home-ec, but I might be up for sewing for friends a little in the near future. Not that I will have much time now, but hopefully I can make a few things a week before too long. If you have ideas or suggestions, just let me know. Before I really begin, I'll post some samples. And what will this "company" be called, you may ask? Mimi & Mack, of course. If I'm going to give my children cutesy pootsey names, I might as well use them to my benefit.
   


3. Clint's job update:
   As of this week, Clint has locked in office space in the Sear's Tower in downtown Chicago! How fantastic does that sound?


4. My current job update:
   Last day is next Friday. Tear . . . but that's okay. I can't wait to find out who takes my place because from what I've heard there are several fantastic candidates. I've been taking my time in my favorite offices and making sure I tell everyone that I'm leaving, whether they care or not. And lucky for me, they usually pretend to care, so that makes me feel better. Oh, and thank you, Laura, for blogging about Audrey Grace. You are on my list to stalk J.



5. Wilson McLain Darby update:
   I feel really, really good this week after feeling a little tired and cranky for the past two. Mack is still extremely low and is breech with his feet pulled up in front of his face. In the 3D ultrasound, we could tell that he has Mimi's sweet little nose and profile, and he's an egg-head – very little hair. I've heard that hairy babies cause more indigestion, and I have had very little with him. He is measuring a little bit bigger than Mimi was at this point, so maybe he won't be as itty bitty as she was. Also, he's starting to have hiccups a little, which is so much fun.
   A few weeks ago I mini-panicked realizing that I have nothing for him that isn't pink and took the time to buy a few essentials. The bumper pads have been made (if you need a good seamstress in Nashville -- I've got the girl. I was too scared to make the bumber pads!), and I just need to get started on the crib skirt. If you're a toile and plaid person, brace yourself for this fabric – it's kinda wild.

I've also gotten a few outfits, and I'll have to say that shopping for little boys isn't all that easy. There may be a hundred racks for girls but only one for boys in a store. Since I have a sewing machine, I think I need to put it to good use for little Mack. Here are some boy fabrics I've racked up on. By the way, they were all purchased at Bumbletees, which you have to check out if you are ever near Germantown. I stopped by during lunch today to snatch up all boy fabrics they had, and the sweet lady asked me if there are any fabrics in that store that I haven't purchased yet . . . hmm, there were only a few. I'm a little obsessed, don't you think?

6. Mimi, AKA "Trouble" Darby update: Friday morning in the car Mimi and I were listening to The Spectrum on XM when Ray Lamontagne's "Trouble" came on . . . and Mimi started belting out "Trouble . . . trouble." Whew, Girlfriend is some trouble but, my word, I love my little bad girl. Never a dull moment when she's around. I let her teachers Melinda and Angela know her last day will be next Friday, and they said, "But who's going to entertain us now?" Mimi tries to boss them around and gets out of trouble by being cute (for example, she hits someone, her teacher's say her name, she smiles really big and says, "HI! What you doin?"), and just like Clint and me, they laugh. Sigh. She'll never have any discipline – at least not from us. Recently we stopped by Kyle's house, and what did she do to cutie-pie Banks? Banged his head with plastic spoons, hit him when she got mad at me, and threw a couple of balls at his sweet little blonde head. And what did Banks do? He just looked at her not understanding . . . just like boys never understand crazy girls like her.
I've been trying to talk with her about all the changes that are about to take place, and she sooo doesn't get it. We talk about Baby Mack being in my tummy and how he will be her baby, her best friend, her Mack . . . and she just lifts up her shirt and says, "Mimi's baby!" to her belly button. We also talk about Chicago –"Cago" as she calls it – and I tell her that she will have new playgrounds and new friends before too long. No reaction, but what can I expect from a kid who's not even 2?

Speaking of "2," we snuck in her 2-year-old check-up yesterday just so we could see Dr. Mathis one more time. We seriously heart Dr. Mathis and his nurse Cassandra, and I hope we love our new Chicago ped Dr. Chang just as much. Dr. Mathis always lets Mimi play with his stethoscope and makes sure he steals lots of hugs and kisses before we go. I usually get a hug out of the deal too. Everyone needs a doctor like that. So Miss Priss is only in the 30^th percentile for weight and height, but he said she's pretty smart and cute, which will make up for her size!

She's become a little obsessed with her Fisher-Price Doctor Kit and will walk around the house looking for it and says, "Docta Mimi? Where Docta Mimi?"Oh, and on a side note, we took Mimi to her first movie last night -- Toy Story 3!! And she LOVED it! Miss Wiggly Worm sat in our laps the whole time and ate her weight in popcorn and some red sugary, slushy drink. She clapped and said "YAY!!" at the end of all the movie trailers and kept the others near us laughing the whole time. Mimi kept leaning over the the teenager next to me while pointing her finger in his face and saying, "Who's dat?" Scared the poor kid to death. Near the end she wouldn't shut her mouth she was so excited, and needed to ask questions about EVERYTHING -- "Mommy, what's dat? Where's Woody? Oh no, wha' happened?? Where's Buzz?" At the very end she finally wanted down so she could dance and shake her booty all the way out the door to the closing credits. This morning the first the she said to me was, "Where's Woody? Toy Story?"

7. Update on myself:

I'm 32 weeks pregnant today . . . and crazy and scatterbrained and overwhelmed and, well, just as happy as I can be. Friday morning I didn't take a shower. But I still went to work. How gross is that? I wasn't being lazy and this wasn't intentional – it was just an extremely important step that I COMPLETELY overlooked because my mind isn't functioning correctly. Normally I shower before Mimi wakes up, but she was up a little earlier than normal. I immediately got her and her bag ready, and then I went to the bathroom and fixed my hair, put in my contacts, put on make-up, and was dressed. I kissed Clint goodbye, called a handyman, unloaded the dishwasher, and got halfway to Mimi's school before I realized what important piece of my normal routine was missing – the piece that makes me smell better. Thank goodness for deodorant and air conditioning.

On a daily basis I have people asking me if I'm scared or nervous about the move, the new baby, or staying home from work, and I don't even have to think about it – my answer is "Of course not." I don't know if I'm just ignorant or if I just have a really good perspective. Something's telling me it's a little of both. The house is painted, a handyman's working on a few projects next week so we can put it on the market, we have an apartment, and I have an OB and hospital. Everything else will fall into place . . . well, at least that's what I've convinced myself to believe.

Hello, Roscoe!

In just a few weeks, Roscoe Village will be the new 'hood for the Darby family! If you know anything about Chicago (which I don't), this area is just west of Lakeview. I had never been here in my life and took a leap of faith that Clint might actually know what he was talking about with choosing this area. We have spent the past few weeks looking on numerous apartment finder websites, sending e-mails back and forth with realtors, and scheduling appointments for viewing these selections, and I was SO anxious to get the ball rolling. So how many apartments did we have to view before picking this little gem? Um, just one. And here she is . . .
We will have the top 2 floors along with a fabulous rooftop deck. You may think we put all our eggs in one basket, but we really did have about 7 apartments scheduled for viewing . . . but after seeing this one we canceled all the others. Just look at the photos. It. Is. Perfect.

Okay, so the pictures are great, but there are a few fancy details I need to brag about:

1.) Garage parking -- great for those snowy, below-freezing winters.

2.) Viking kitchen appliances. Oh yes, Jeri Anne WILL learn how to cook more than the 5 recipes I know.

3.) There are 3 full bathrooms. No further explanation necessary, I'm sure.

4.) The master bath has heated floors. Heated. Floors. I never in my life thought I would live in such luxury.

5.) Directly across the street is a really, really cool park that has a playground, dog park, tennis courts, a couple of baseball fields, a big grassy area for picnics, and, wait for it . . . wait for it . . . a ginormous SWIMMING POOL!! Hooray! I will finally have easy access to the water! And we have a beautiful view of this park right from our deck and balconies.

But what makes this apartment (or is it actually a condo? not sure) even more special is the neighborhood. Oh my goodness, it is exactly what I hoped it would be. You know how you picture yourself in a city before you visit it? The way you'll feel walking down its streets, the types of buildings, homes, and even flowers you'll see? Then most of the time you get there and it's not exactly what you expected . . . but this time it was EXACTLY what I expected. Old homes with front porches, tree-lined streets, parks covered in young children and stay-at-home moms, restaurants with plenty of outdoor seating, fabulous little boutiques and gift shops. It couldn't be any closer to exactly right. We will easily be able to walk to the park and the sprinkler park that's just a block away. Roscoe Street with all its neat restaurants and boutiques is only 2 blocks away.

And everyone was soooo nice. In every store we stopped in, the salespeople were eager to know where we were from and so excited that we are moving to the neighborhood. The children's boutiques (there are at least 3!) try to have little social outings and events for moms and kiddos, and they know all the gossip on the preschools, public schools, music and art classes, and where I can go to get "linked in" to the neighborhood. They all seemed so proud of their little community and tried their best to share a little wisdom with us.

Since my new occupation will be Stay-at-Home Mom, I have been a little nervous about finding places to get out and meet new friends, but something tells me I'll be okay. That something is the overwhelming presence of the Double BOBs and Phil and Teds . . . at every park, on every sidewalk, at every restaurant, in every store, and hanging out on the front porches of homes. It is apparent that is neighborhood is overflowing with young couples who have small children, and they are taking complete advantage of what the neighborhood has to offer. No one seems to have a problem with taking their children everywhere they go . . . and no one else seems to mind that the kiddos are there.

Since everything I've written so far doesn't quite sound "big city-like," you may have forgotten that we are actually moving to Chicago. Here's the latest belly shot (31 weeks) of Mack with the river in the background . . . and a bunch of other people.

Oh, and I had my first doctor's appointment with my new OB office, which went really, really well. The office is in the Neiman Marcus building on Michigan. I mean, really? That seems so fancy and big city and just a little too much for me. But a girl in a shoe store told me her OB office is in the Playboy building -- ha!

I'm trying my best to soak up all the advice possible to make my transition a little easier. So far, this is some of what I've accumulated:

1.) Buy a knee-length North Face quilted coat for the winter. I might feel like a marshmallow, but every Chicago hip mom has one. And of course I will do whatever I can to be a hip mom.

2.) Get a zoo membership for the obvious reason of being able to go to the zoo anytime I want but also for free parking -- that is, parking for the very nearby beach.

3.) Do not carry a heavy purse and do not wear uncomfortable shoes. There is a fantastic little shoe store in Roscoe that only sells really cute shoes that are also comfortable. Why, yes, I did buy a pair while I was there.

4.) Little boys do not wear John-Johns to the playground. Hmm. I might have to give in to Clint's request and not let Mack wear "sissy clothes" after he's 1 -- at least not on a regular Tuesday afternoon. I think before 1 it will be okay, but after 1 it's all knit and Merrills. Maybe we can handle this.

5.) Little girls do not wear smocked outfits to the playground. This rule I do not care about. Mimi will wear smocked clothing until she is 16.

And speaking of little girls' clothing, I have something I need to ask of you. I made a cute little outfit for a sweet friend, but it is a little too small. The top ended up fitting more like a 6 month than a 12 month (oops, that's what I get for trying to be too cool for a pattern), so I am making another and would like to sell this one (see photos below). If you need to buy a gift for a 6 month-old little girl, just let me know!

Guilt

This afternoon my sister and I were talking about how some people aren't meant to have dogs . . . in the back of my mind I was thinking that she should have some said those are the people who don't deserve dogs. To dog-lovers I don't have to explain the benefits of having a furry creature to snuggle with and to meet you at the door at the end of a long day. They are our first children and know the meaning of true, unconditional love. I feel sorry for people who have never had a dog because they can't know what they are possibly missing.

Having dogs my entire life has been such a blessing for me, and I feel so lonely if I ever come home and Spike and Ru don't meet me at the door. As a child my father was very against having an "inside dog," which was fine for me since we lived in the country and they had lots of room to roam. Spike was my first real "inside dog," and I can't believe I lived this whole time without one.

I'm not really Spike's mother. I guess I'm more like his "step-mother" since he wasn't originally mine. Clint loves to tell the story about how almost 17 years ago his family moved from the country to the big city of Batesville, so they felt a small dog was a better option than the big Labs and Goldens they had in the country. His dad and Tyler brought Spike home when Clint was in the 9th grade, and it wasn't long before Tyler's dog became Clint's.

Clint would like to think of himself as the dog whisperer. Animals really do take to him because he will get on all fours and wrestle around with them and make them howl. Spike was the perfect dog for him with his terrier spirit and quirkiness, and the family quickly made up their own special language for him. "Wantsompin to eat, Itty Bud?" I've heard so many stories about Spike Darby following Clint to school, breaking in on a church basketball game and running on the court, eating honeybuns from Clint's grandfather's store . . . the more stories I hear, the more I think Willie Morris may have derived Skip from Spike.

When I stayed the night at Clint's parents' home for the first time, I heard a strange scratch at my bedroom door in the middle of the night. I was so relieved to see it was just Spike, the strange little dog that had ignored me all afternoon. I watched as he sniffed around the bed and my things and gasped out of fright when he suddenly pounced on the bed and demanded I lift the covers for him. Clint told me that meant Spike had approved of me, which was a good thing since he usually ignored people unless they gave him treats.

So when Clint and I moved into the little bungalow on Prescott, there was no doubt Spike would be living with us. This is when I became his official step-mother and began looking after his needs. I made the vet appointments and grooming appointments. I bathed him in the shower and fed him every night. I took him on walks and made sure he always had plenty of his favorite treats . . . and in return he made sure he sat right next to me on the couch and snuggled with me during night.

About two years ago, Spike's health quickly diminished. He suddenly stopped jumping on the bed and was having a difficult time walking on the wood floors. We blamed it on the unusually cold weather and expected him to get better in the spring. Spring came and he still didn't want to jump on the bed or couch . . . or even jump off. The vet confirmed that he had arthritis and sadly we found the medication did very little to help. Clint and I had to face the fact that Spike was indeed elderly.

Spike and Ruthie have been passed back and forth between our house and his "grandparents" and Tyler over the past few weeks, and I finally got around to bathing him this morning. I stuck him in the shower with me as always and after a while I noticed rust-colored water dripping off of him. "Spike, what did you get into outside?" When I leaned over closer to him to begin his scrub-down, I noticed that it wasn't dirt -- it was dried blood. Poor Spike was COMPLETELY covered in giant fleas and they had gnawed his poor little neck and booty until his skin had bled. He also had tons of little black specks, which I had thought was just dirt but then realized it was actually flea droppings. OH. MY. GOSH. What have I done? I have completely neglected this poor little creature. Either he has been too stiff to scratch or he's too senile to have noticed. But what is my problem? This didn't just happen over the past couple of days. Fleas take weeks to make this kind of infestation. I looked at the mass of dead fleas falling off of him on the shower floor and wept . . .

I am SO sorry.

The vet was able to fit us in at the end of the day, and I hung my head in shame as we walked back to the exam room. I didn't have to admit the flea problem because they were jumping off of him onto the table and the tech's scrubs. I did have to admit to missing his heartworm meds for the past few months . . . and not trimming his nails often enough . . . and not being consistent about picking up the poop in the back yard. The tech could tell I was about to lose it and told me he'd be okay . . . but I had a hard time believing it.

I spoke with the vet about his eyes, and she confirmed he had cataracts and not much vision. The tech came in to let us know he has some parasites in his fecal test, and I had to also confess to the vet my lack of attention to his heartworm meds. I find out about his bloodwork results tomorrow and am not ready for this. Fleas may not be the worst of his trouble.

Today I am the one who does NOT deserve a dog. I don't care how busy I have been and how much is going on in my life. What about his? He doesn't complain, he doesn't make a mess, and he doesn't ask for anything. All Spike needs is a bed, some treats, and for me to make sure I get his immunizations and give him his meds. The poor guy will be 17 on July 4 but all I can think about is what kind of drapes I'll make for the new apartment. God commands us to take care of our elderly and Spike is my elderly . . . and he deserves better.

All good thing must come to an end . . .

. . . so maybe something better can begin.

As a child I attended preschool and kindergarten at 1st Pres in Corinth and was so sad to see it end but couldn't have been happier to move to a first grade with a huge playground and new friends. Transitions on to high school and college were met with the same attitude -- appreciative of the good times I had and memories I would take with me but ready for a new challenge. Now I am being faced with the biggest transition ever . . .

Of course change is inevitable. A teacher once told me that as soon as I get comfortable it's time to move on to something greater and make a change. Don't get content because that leads to boredom. So Clint and I are putting on our big girl and boy britches and jumping head-first into a new challenge.

But first there are some goodbyes in order. I quit my job on Friday. I haven't been without a job since I was a teenager, so I must also say goodbye to making money and being an important part of a business. My last day of work for Braintree Labs will be Friday, July 9, and I am trying to make the most of what time I have left. I have LOVED this job. It has been the closest career to perfect for me, and I feel so blessed to have been given the opportunity because it fits me -- I haven't had to change my personality or force myself to pretend to like it one bit. I will miss my doctors and nurses and office staff who have become my co-workers, and most importantly many have become my friends. I've already started exchanging e-mails and adding FB friends and promising to stay in touch . . . and giving hugs and hiding tears as I leave the offices for the last time.

I told my manager, Mike, on Friday with a lump in my throat and butterflies in my stomach. He has been an AMAZING teacher, coach, manager, and friend to me over the past few years. He encourages me when I need it and lets me have it when I need that too. He's understanding and compassionate yet very strong and determined to bring out the best in me as a sales rep. Mike believed in me and didn't give up on me when I was struggling so hard a few years ago. I will miss our weekly call-ins to catch up on the latest news and, well, to also catch up on some gossip. Mike, I am so grateful to have worked with you for the past few years.

And I also had to tell my favorite co-workers Amber, Arrah, Leighann, and Brad, who I talk with on almost a daily basis. I love their support and excitement for me and know I will keep in touch with them. I'm sad that we will no longer share the connection that brought us together, but we still have plenty in common to keep us friends.

We will also have to say goodbye to Mimi's school, Roulhac's. They have taught her absolutely everything she knows. I try to take credit for some things, but I really think her teachers' constant attention and exposure to other children has pushed her to learn very quickly. Just to brag on her teachers a little -- they taught her to say her ABC's around 18 months old, she can point out shapes and a few colors, she knows the words to so many songs, and can even point out her eyebrows. I don't even think I knew I had eyebrows until I was at least 7 or 8. She can name so many animals and loves to imitate their sounds and movements (the penguin walk is my fave).

We will be saying goodbye to 2nd Presbyterian soon, also. Finding a church in Memphis wasn't an easy task for Clint and me. He was raised in a Methodist church, and I was Southern Baptist so we already had some disagreements to begin with. We checked out a few places and even joined a church when I was pregnant with Mimi, but we had zero motivation to attend this church. When we finally began visiting 2nd Pres, there was no question that God wanted us there. I suddenly began viewing Christianity, my relationship with God, and my relationships with others in a whole new way after being in this environment. For the first time I finally "got" that God is my Father -- just like my dad. He made me and will do anything for me . . . but it's up to me to accept His love. I'm not obligated and I should never feel forced. When I do decide to accept His love, then a whole lot of worry and anxiety melts away and makes life and all its mess a heck of a lot easier to deal with.

And I don't even want to get started on goodbyes to what is most important to me . . . my family, Clint's family, Kyle and Matt, Libby and Parker, Emeri and Brad, their sweet kiddos, Neal, and our other friends who are within a couple of hours away. Not ready for this yet . . . maybe in another post.

My house . . . my word I don't even know how to deal with leaving this house. The little bungalow on Prescott has witnessed so much in the past five years. Two stupid kids who shouldn't have even been looking to buy a home stumbled across Prescott Street and an open house sign after eating brunch in Midtown one Sunday afternoon in the winter. Dark red brick, a porch swing, a rounded "Hobit" door, French doors in the dining room, an old chandelier, brick around the oven in the kitchen, beautiful wood floors, fat white molding, cozy radiators, glass doorknobs, and a backyard that someone had lovingly planned many years ago. I HAD to have it. Not later. That day. So we made an offer. And got engaged. And got married. And added our first dog daughter, Ruthie. And got new jobs. And had a baby. And are pregnant with another. We've painted and fixed and cleaned and cared for this so important piece of our lives. The rooms are small and cozy and welcoming and I feel so sorry that I ever complained about the tiny closets or the outdated kitchen appliances. I don't want to say goodbye to this house but I knew even when we bought it that it would be inevitable that we couldn't stay here forever.

And finally, I will need to say goodbye to Memphis. I truly love this city and I will defend it until I die. I can't stand to hear people complain about what they read in the headlines and see on the news -- be angry at the reporters but not at the city. Memphis has experienced so much hurt and pain over the years but my word it has so much to offer. I will need to say goodbye to Huey's, the Zoo, Botanical Gardens, Harbor Town stroller walks, driving through Chickasaw and Cherokee Gardens, Beale Street, and Graceland. Brunches at Republic Coffee and Brother Junipers. Dinners in the Cooper Young area. And Drake and Zeke and Pottery Barn Outlet.

So I will say goodbye to all these things . . . but I will be saying hello to so much more. In about three weeks, Clint, Mimi, baby Mack (yes, it's Wilson McLain), and I will pack up the bungalow and move to Chicago, Illinois. I have to catch my breath even as I write this -- not because I'm overwhelmed with all that I'm leaving but that I am so excited about all we will be gaining. A new, big city with new buildings, parks, and restaurants to explore. Clint will walk and ride the train (not drive) to a new office space. We will live in an apartment in the city and will be able to walk to the grocery store. I will deliver my baby in a new hospital with a new doctor. Mimi will play on new swings and slides. I will get to experience my new job as a stay-at-home Mom. I have to no time to look back now because there is so much to look forward to. And the important stuff will still be there: family, friends, Memphis, and Huey's. We will just have to e-mail and call and visit and stream Drake and Zeke on-line.

I know you think I've lost my mind, but just like with my little house my gut tells me this is right. We've been content. We've been comfortable. Now it's time to move . . .

Beautiful

Ah, it was Lauren photo session time once again. Sweet Lauren has been the Darby family photographer since I asked her to take some candids at our wedding. After seeing her little snapshots of our special day, I placed the "real photographer's" wedding album on the shelf and never opened it again. The professional's were so stiff and planned but Lauren's captured what made our day so special -- she caught everyone when they were really living in the moment and not posing and pretending.

So when little Mimi came along I had no doubt in my mind that I had to force her into making my child look beautiful on film, which she has never had a problem doing. Newton's law always makes sure the weather is rainy or freezing, so our last session was a very chilly day in May . . . and Mimi had double ear infections and was cutting 2 teeth. So we got a little of this . . .

. . . but I really love the fussy ones because that's who Mimi is sometimes.

He he he . . .

I wanted to share some purplelicious with you today. Since I planted the hydrangeas I have been so afraid to cut them and bring them inside. This seems silly since it was the entire reason I planted them in the first place, but they look soooo pretty on the bushes. I finally bit the bullet and chop, chop, chop . . . and I couldn't be happier.