I don’t know about you, but I find moving to be an exhausting, pain-in-the-butt experience.  The phone calls, the emails, the checking and rechecking dates just to get ourselves from point A to B takes an enormous amount of coordinating.     

In an effort to ease the stress when moving day arrives in two weeks, I decided to thin the stuff in our home.  You wouldn’t believe what I found—match box cars reproducing all by themselves!  I kid you not.  I’ve only ever bought four, and that was years ago for my oldest son, yet these little buggers have somehow multiplied into more than fifty—they’re like rabbits I tell you.  And they’re not happy about being thinned out—correction—my youngest is not happy about them being thinned out, but good grief!  Do we really need fifty? 

My seven-year-old daughter has more jewelry than I do, and once again, I didn’t buy it.  Sure, it’s the plastic, costume kind, but if it’s coming from a boy, he and my husband are going to have a talk.  Aw…fine, I guess since we’re moving 1000 miles away, maybe we’ll let it slide this time, but you better believe I’ll be keeping a closer watch on that bucket she keeps on top of her dresser.

Scraps of paper, books, magazines, little doodads of every kind, my kids had things tucked away everywhere.  And all along the way as I un-tucked and chucked, they cried, “No, no, I can’t live without.”

What I want to know is how did it happen?  How did an orderly, clean person like me have such pack rats for children?  Then I look on my disheveled desk, heaped with papers and creative thoughts I’m afraid to throw away, and realize I’m just as bad as them. (Sigh)