This is real. And this sucks.

It really hit me today that we are moving. A lot of my stuff was still not packed and because I'm working, everything feels normal. But this afternoon I took the carseat out of my car and left it in the kids' garage. I brought their garage door opener that was in my car and I returned it to its place in the drawer in the kitchen. The card I swipe when I pick the youngest up from school was returned and the house key and alarm clicker as well. So ultimately, the ride home from work I cried like a baby for the longest time. Not just silent crying either. Long, hard and loud uncontrollable sobbing. All I could think of was when I first got there and how the middle one was as old as the youngest is now. The youngest was in diapers and couldn't talk. Now he's a fireball and has the wisdom of a twelve year old.

I was thinking about how I went skiing with them and had to run with them in the snow and cover their eyes so the wind wouldn't get them. I thought about all the basketball games of horse I have played in the past three years. I was thinking about how I watched a "C" student with zero confidence in school become a straight "A" student with so much potential. I was thinking how many lost teeth I've witnessed, scraped knees, bruises, bumps and tear filled moments. I was thinking about the endless questions they ask and even though it sometimes drives me crazy, it is endearing and I wouldn't change them for anything. I was thinking about how many lego towers we've built, how may diapers I changed, how many times I rewarded going on the big boy potty with skittles, how many flashcards for science or social studies I have made. I was thinking how many times I've folded the same clothes and watched them get handed down from one brother to the next. I was thinking how often I thought, "Wow, my mom was right". I was thinking about when the youngest one switched from a crib to a big boy bed, when he gave up his pacifier, when they all learned to swim or ride bikes. They have been such a huge part of my daily life for three years, that I seriously feel lost without having to be there with them.

I was hysterical by the time I finally made it home. I don't want to leave. Those kids mean the world to me.

Once I got home tonight, I tried to submerge myself in packing. So thus started the actuality of moving out. My once ridiculously full closet is practically empty. Anyone that knows me, knows how many clothes I have. There are 10 shirts hanging in my closet, 3 pairs of jeans and 3 skirts. Talk about EMPTY. I have two full suitcases of clothes though, and four boxes. Things are starting to find their new home inside cardboard. Our apartment looks as though something exploded... but slowly, it is emptying...

:( this is so bittersweet.