The Torture of Moving

A particularly lovely shot of me being alone in the Marriott parking lot trying to haul all of my crap into the hotel, alone, with a mini Dennis the Menace. Alone.*

I've had a "terrific" 2-day whirlwind trip to Visalia to try to find a place to live. Good news: We found a house. (Thanks to Rod scoping out the landscape for a few weeks on the hunch that we might be moving to said locale).

Before I do a victory dance, let's back up a bit.

Tuesday morning: After finding out at 9:00pm Monday night that we were moving, and that Rod started his job the next day at 8:00am, I decided that I would need to take a trip to Visalia to find a house. Also, a little less earth-shattering but worth mentioning-- my favorite trash TV show didn't record on my DVR so I had to watch the slow-loading ipad version to get my fix of hating the "Provo Belmont/Arlington scene" on for the day, (did you guys know a Provo all-star is on the Bachelorette this season bringing disgrace to every Mormon?...of course you did) while I packed up lunches etc for the 3 hour drive I had ahead of me. (ugh...how's that for a run-on sentence?)


Then I went in to wake up the boss.
Morning mom. Not a bad way to start the day, I have to say.

After getting all packed and ready, I loaded the buddy up for the drive. Neck pillow and all.
That is where the cuteness stops.

To avoid boring you with the details, I will just skip to the low points. (Mind you--3 hr car ride. No husband. Multiple housing appointments. No nap.) We arrive to meet up with Rod at his new facility around dinner time (first day as an administrator...boy, did that man have swagger in the nursing home) .

As we get out of the car, Landon decides to throw a tantrum that can only be described as body possession by an ungodly entity...for (not exaggerating) 30 solid minutes.

I didn't take my camera out for that.

Imagine: Rod's first day at a new building, wanting to make a nice "administrative" impression on all the staff, and his 18 month old is screaming bloody murder in the nursing home administrator office, lobby, and front lawn (it seriously sounded like we were torturing him). Then we try to move the "display" out to the car and he flails so much that I have to set him on the grass so that I don't drop him while he does "log rolls" across the grass and concrete path, kicking, screaming, and punching.

(a far cry from this precious angel...)
**He finally settled down when I think he had no more vocal chords or energy left.
That wasn't the low point...But I won't get into the rest because it will sound like I dislike my child, which is absolutely not the case.

Wednesday Morning: Ah, a new day. Landon was exhausted (because he didn't go to sleep in the hotel until 10:30) and slept through my morning shower and "ready" ritual. When he did wake up it was a much better experience...
Since Rod had to leave early, Landon was happy to "help" me load all the heavy suitcases and take a ride on the cart.
Not too sure about all the moving business...

There were cuteness moments caught on tape. 13 seconds worth watching.

*I know it sounds like Rod is a bad husband because I had to do everything *alone* but work has been unusually demanding lately. He's a great guy. Promise.
**Landon is the bomb. (as you can probably tell...) I think if I were 18 months, 3 hrs in the car (which probably seems like 3 weeks in 18 month old time) and having to live with me while I stress out would probably be enough to send me into a tantrum as well...