August 3, 2007 | Mama Smith

we are ready

Ready for this move that feels like it will never happen. The house may be ready at the end of August. May be ready in September. That’s just how these things go, or so everyone keeps telling us. With a half-packed home, we are currently attempting to run Matthew’s new business and run our own family circus during the day in the confines of a tiny 2-bedroom apartment, and it is beginning to wear on us.

I am ready to have my bedroom back, as much as Matthew is ready to have his own office. Afternoon conference calls and recharge naps don’t go well together, as Matthew so candidly captured…

Brighton is ready to have his own yard where he can roam free and is void of the ever-present nagging voice, “Not near the road! Do not go down that hill! Get away from the rabid squirrels in the trash can!” I have an odd feeling he’s trying to tune me out these days…

After attempting to shield Matthew from the kid’s noise all day and Matthew attempting to slink around the house for food or bathroom breaks without Brighton seeing him, the end of the day usually finds us all antsy and ready to pull our hair out. While Levi simply lays around thinking, “You guys need to seriously chill out.”

We are not ready to leave our friends here, but we are more than ready to start this new chapter in our lives that will afford us a bit more space to spread ourselves out in.

Greenville Road Trip
Matthew just re-found these pictures he’d taken of our trip down south on his phone the other day. Yes, we are moving to the south. In case anyone doubts it, check out this road sign in the neighborhood across from our new home. Dukes of Hazzard, or what!?

And I guess it’s okay in the south to drive on an interstate with your dog roaming freely in the back of your pick-up.

The famous “peach” water tower of Gaffney, that we passed every trip on the way to and from my grandparents when I was little. The poor peach only received more ridicule when the owners decided to make it look a little more realistic by adding some rashy redness to the crack. Unfortunately, at the same time, the paint was chipping off the bottom of the peach tip, revealing the original brown water tower metal. You get the picture. It became one embarrassingly, unsightly rear.

This next picture was going to be entitled “He couldn’t hold it”, but Matthew made me swear that if this picture graced my blog, then he got to write the caption. His words follow:

What Amy neglects to tell you, is that as soon as I married her, the stories about she and her family peeing into cups began “pouring” in. So, when we were driving down to Greenville and Amy told me to “just pee in the cup”, I resisted, until I made her agree that I could put it on her blog, then I thought… yes, this is a good opportunity to show what kind of woman Amy really is! She’s a long term cup-peer!! Oh, and in case any of you are wondering... this new Starbucks drink is called a peecino grande.

Whatever, Matthew. I may be the “no-stops” driving Nazi, but you are the one who succumbed and peed into the cup. The fault rests on you.

The rest of the trip involved many rest stop run downs for Brighton. Trying to get his energy out in a cigarette-butt-littered-2×4-stretch of grass. Great fun. Can’t wait for that again.