Moving Sucks

I have this dream that life will settle into a normal pattern again one day and I will fall back into the blogging habit.  However, today is not that day.  Instead, I offer word vomit.  Watch out for the spray.

We moved out of our house in Tijuana.  All of last week was consumed by the pack out.  On Monday and Tuesday Chris and I went through all of our belongings, cleaning out junk drawers and fighting back nostalgia.  In the end, we kept the baby clothes but gave away the crib.  Neither of us is sure what that means.  And the bowling ball that we've moved at least 10 times, despite Chris's grumbling that I never use it and it weighs a "ton," is now on its way to North Carolina.  But then again, so is the 10-speed Huffy that I call junk and he calls a hobby to "tinker" with.  Diplomacy starts at home.

On Wednesday and Thursday, the movers came and boxed everything up.  Those days were pretty boring because we'd done all the hard work the two days before, and because we have awesome friends that tag teamed play dates for our boys so that they weren't at home to cry over their toys being "stolen" from them. I then spent the next four days having conversations with Andrew that went like this:

Andrew:  "Where my kitchen?"

Me: "It's in a big box on its way to our new house in North Carolina."

Andrew:  "Oh.  Where my guitar?"

Me:  "It's in a big box on its way to our new house in North Carolina.  You can play with it when we get to our new house."

Andrew: "Oh.  Where my kitchen?"

Me:  Banging my head on the wall...

But he's so cute really.  Especially when he has nuclear melt downs.  Those are typical melt downs of the two year old type that include a level of screaming and hysteria that actually make the skin on your face peel away and typically occur when you take away all their toys and friends.  Moving is fun!

And now for the literal vomit part of the blog.  The scariest part of last week happened only moments after I wrote my last blog post.  I was basking in the satisfaction of actually having written something (anything) in the past month when I heard Jacob scream from upstairs that Benjy was bleeding.  I met him halfway up the stairs, and sure enough, his mouth was filled with blood. I told him to open his mouth so I could see, hoping that he'd only bitten his tongue or something equally benign.  Instead, he coughed and blood splattered all over my face just like in a horror movie.  In the bathroom, he vomited more blood while I grabbed shoes and purse and Chris paged the ENT. 

It took me an hour to get him across the border to the hospital, but we waited in the emergency room for less than two minutes.  Thirty minutes later, Benjy was in the operating room for emergency surgery to stop the bleeding, which apparently only occurs in 1% of patients after a tonsillectomy and very rarely at 10 days post-op.  Everything went well, and we were home again by 2 a.m.  Yesterday, at Day 20 after the original surgery, Benjy told me that his throat finally didn't hurt anymore.  Thank God.

And that, my friends, is all I have time to write right now.  The kids are up and there are places to explore.  More later.