Saying goodbye to our first home

This is what I wrote on Saturday night but couldn't publish because our internet was packed already.  I'm finally up and running in our new place, so here it is.

Dear Bobby,

I wanted to write this in one of my journals, but they're all packed.  Almost every single thing we own is packed.  This is the big weekend of our big move.  I'm sitting on the floor in our empty living room, with the computer in front of me and a few random items scattered around.  It's 12:45 AM -- we're leaving first thing tomorrow.  It's so strange to be almost gone from here.

I'm excited about entering our new life, but today I've mostly been weepy about leaving our current one.  We brought you -- our baby! -- home from the hospital to this place.  You love the park and the neighbors and all of their dogs.  When we left the park today on our final walk through the neighborhood, you cried.  That made me cry a little, because it seemed like you understood that we weren't coming back.  

Plus I guess I'm not too accustomed to this sort of change...  This isn't merely my first time moving -- this is the first time I've had to say goodbye to a home. My mom still lives in the same house I lived in from the day I was born until I left for college, and all of my grandparents still live in the same homes they always have.

You took everything pretty well for most of the day, considering all that was happening.  But as the day wore on, and our house was filled with more and more people and emptied of all of our belongings, you started getting very emotional.  You weren't just being tired and whiny -- someone would look at you and tears would stream from your eyes.  I joked about how you were probably pissed because everyone was stealing all of your toys, but I didn't realize at the time how close to the truth that was.

Earlier I sat on the hardwood floor in our bedroom, rocking you to sleep in the exact spot in the room where I sat nursing you in our bed when you were a newborn.  I was trying to get you to settle down, holding and rocking you and talking softly about moving.  I started to get sad and perhaps even cry a little, and you burst into tears.  I comforted you, and after you had settled back down I tried to make the conversation a little more up beat.  I was saying, "it will be lots of fun for you, and there will be dogs there," and you popped right up and spit out your sucker and said, "dog, dog!"

That's when I realized that I really hadn't prepared you well enough for the move, and I hadn't been explaining to you all that was going on all day long.  You are a smart little guy; you know so much more than we realize, I think.  And today was a crazy day for you.  You know life is changing, but you have know idea what's coming.  But if I tell you, you'll get some of it.  A lot of it, really.  You went to sleep happy tonight dreaming about dogs.

Still though, Bob, I'm sorry for not being better today, for not giving you more credit and treating you like the little person that you are.  I love you.  We're going to have a happy new life.

Love,
Mom

Now here are the pics from our goodbye to Goat Hill...

Bob waking up from a nap in his pack n play while we packed his room:

Quick photo shoot on our last walk through the neighborhood:

Last time on the swing:

Having a little snack while we cleaned the apartment on Sunday morning (big help):

Bye, front porch:

"Ball."

Saying goodbye to Bob's friend Courtney from two houses down:

Saying goodbye to our couch as it sits on the curb waiting for hopefully a new owner to pick it up before  the trash man does:

A nice, safe scenario:

Bob has recently taken to sticking his little tongue out.  It's so super cute.

The empty kitchen was tons of fun.

Oh, I love this happy little guy.

There's the tongue again:

Bob's shapes, which hung above our bed, were the last things to come off the wall.

Driving I-90 to our new home:

And that's it.  Now if I can ever get the internet working a little better I'll introduce our new life as chicken farmers...