Unnecessary STUFF...and 15 tips to help you ditch it

It's amazing how we tend to accumulate STUFF. I used to have a hard time letting go of material things. Luckily, the older I've gotten, the more loosely I've held onto my stuff.

Distracting the kids with a DVD

We tend to have a yard sale every time we have a big life event. We had one when we got married and moved in together...to purge all our duplicates. That was a good one and even included a raging angry lady calling us at some obscene time of day to rant that the dryer she bought from us didn't work. (Turns out she hadn't set it up properly.) 

We had one before our first child was born. In order to make room for a nursery, we had to clear out what had been our guest room. That resulted in combining our bonus room and our guest room. We got rid of a couch and our spare entertainment center, among other things.

Then we had one before our daughter was born. That was the most complicated purge. She now lives in what used to be our office. It was difficult to take an office down from an entire bedroom to a hallway. We ditched a ton of books and DVDs at that yard sale.

The latest purge and resulting yard sale was yesterday. After we lived without half of our stuff while we were in a smaller space in Florida, we realized we didn't need (or desire to hang onto) a lot of the things we paid to store. We had a garage full and even spent time going through every drawer, closet and corner in the house to add to the sale. It's refreshing to let go of stuff. We already knew that. In addition, we've spent a lot of time in other countries with missionaries who have sold off most of their belongings in order to move overseas. I'm not saying that's where we're headed, but it sure does make you take a good, long look at all your own unnecessary stuff.

Now, I'm no yard sale expert, but we've been pretty successful in each of our four sales over the years. Based on our experience, here's what you need to know about having your very own yard sale: 

1. People won't buy the stuff you expect them to buy. The stuff you expect to be stuck with will fly off the shelves. For example, people always buy our old towels and pillows.
2. Be prepared for people to offer you pennies for your fine, gently-used treasures. It's almost insulting. But it adds up quickly. 
3. Put an ad in the paper and one on Craigslist. Mention any big ticket items or groups of items (furniture, clothes, collectibles, baby items, electronics, etc.) that you have. 
4. If you have neighbors who might like to have a sale, recruit them to do it on the same day as yours and advertise it as a multi-family yard sale. 
5. If you're having it on a Saturday, don't be surprised if people show up on Friday and try to buy your stuff and resell it at the flea market. 
6. If you're starting at 7:00, be prepared for people to show up at 6:00 and stalk your house.
   
7. Make noticeable signs directing people from the entrance of your neighborhood to your house. Neon is good. Big letters are also good. For yesterday's sale, I had two big signs at our main entrance (one for each direction from the main road. At the first cross street, I had a sign that said "SALE" and a neon arrow pointing straight ahead. At every cross street thereafter, there was either a neon arrow or a "SALE" + arrow. All the hardcore yard sale shoppers commended me for the good signage. (That gave this marketer warm fuzzies.)
8. Settle in and be prepared for some stellar people watching. 
9. If you have things you want to get decent money for (instead of pennies), don't hesitate to put them out there and be firm on your price. But, simultaneously list them for sale online. You can always pull a listing if someone buys the item on the spot. 
10. If you're crafty, you can always add a side business of selling your craft. Or coffee. I think we sold coffee by the cup one year. Or your kids can have a lemonade stand. The possibilities are endless.
11. You'll enjoy watching the $$$ roll in for your junk. If you're anything like me, you'll do several walk-throughs of your house during the yard sale to see if you can find anything else to stick out there. 
12. You may want to pre-price stuff with stickers...and again, expect people to negotiate down. Overprice slightly so you can get what you really wanted when someone negotiates. However, I just saw on the Today Show recently that you're likely to get offered more money for your stuff if you don't pre-price...
13. Get a change box ready prior to your sale. Stock it with plenty of quarters and one-dollar bills.
    
14. Get several tables to get your items up off your driveway. Organize your things into loose categories that make at least a little sense. For example, have an area for kitchen things, a spot for girly things, a table for kids' toys and clothes, a place for knickknacks and decor. Other things can be placed in boxes on the ground.  Get creative, too. I used two crates with ground stakes stuck through them to display necklaces and bracelets. Lots of people use ladders to hang things or two ladders and a rod to make a display to hang clothes.   
15. Know what you're going to do with your leftovers. All of our things that weren't worthy of trying to sell online for a bit more time went (in less than one carload, no less) to a local ministry. I also withheld a box of unsold children's items to try to sell at our church's consignment sale in October. 

Like I said, I'm no yard sale expert. However, we did walk away with a nice chunk of change on Saturday. Not too shabby, I say...

Independence Day

Happy Independence Day from my two little firecrackers! 

Though there's plenty I think this country is doing wrong, I still believe we live in the greatest country in the world. I am so thankful for the freedoms we enjoy. I've seen firsthand the lack of freedom citizens of some other countries experience. First and foremost, I'm proud to be a permanent citizen of heaven because of Jesus' sacrifice for me. But, secondly, I am proud to be an American! 

Our 18-month Florida Vacation: Part 2

As seen on the baby monitor...

Did I mention that our son decided to attempt climbing out of his crib the very day that Jason moved down to Florida? Yes. And he wasn't any good at it. I mean, he could have been successful, but it would have likely resulted in great bodily injury and/or head trauma. You see, the problem is that he would get most of his body out of the crib...with his head pointed to the ground. I even caught him once with three of his four limbs dangling over the ground; only his right leg was still in the crib.

For that reason, we opted to convert his crib when we moved to Florida. I ordered bed rails and the double bed conversion kit online (after a little searching, since his crib set had been discontinued at this point) and had it sent to our apartment in Florida. That way, Jason could put his bed together and have it waiting on us when we arrived.

Our very first night in our apartment was also our son's very first night in a big boy bed. I'd hardly been out of the room for twelve seconds after putting him to bed when a bubbly little boy entered the living room and announced, "HI!!!"

We eventually set up a baby gate in his doorway so that he at least couldn't get out of his room and wander away. Ahh...our very first challenge of living in our new space in our new city!

My mom crashed on our couch the first night before heading to the airport to catch a flight home the next day. I cried when she left. Now we were officially all alone. Our family of four had absolutely nobody anywhere nearby. No friends. No family. No babysitters. No one.

Our first full day there (the same day I said goodbye to my mom) was our seventh wedding anniversary. I don't even remember what we had for dinner. I just remember Jason picking up takeout. Olive Garden maybe? It was simultaneously the most memorable and least memorable anniversary we've had.

While I definitely have plenty of vivid memories from our time in Florida, the fuzzy memory is also pretty common. Our time there, in retrospect, was a blur. It didn't feel like that at the time, though.

New Beginnings
I knew no one. My husband was at work all day long and/or traveling. His new job kept him quite busy. It became habit for him to leave the apartment shortly after 7:00 each morning. I was lucky to have him home between 5:30 and 6:00 each day. It wasn't uncommon for him to be so swamped that he had to work much later than that.

Our first attempt at finding somewhere to play

I spent my days mostly at home. You don't get out much anyway when you have a two-month-old baby and a toddler. I'd joined Foursquare when we were still in South Carolina, so I started to use that app, and whatever else I could find on the internet, to locate playgrounds. Since we didn't have a yard, I had to find places for my toddler to burn off some energy. Despite the 1300-something square feet in our apartment, too much of it was allocated to bedrooms and not the living area.

I remember that the first place we went to play was barely a play area at all. It was a simple pirate ship stuck in the middle of a shopping development. (Thanks Foursquare.) We gradually found all the playgrounds in a 10-mile radius. I'm confident we visited every single one of them at least once. (My early favorite playground quickly became my least favorite. While it was a great park, the squirrels there were so accustomed to being fed by visitors, that they had no fear of people. I kid you not, I almost got climbed by a squirrel.)

One of the hardest things to leave behind in South Carolina was our church family. We joined our church back in the beginning of 2006. Over the years, we became more and more involved. By the time we left, Jason and I were in charge of planning all of our church's international missions efforts and Jason was the vice-chairman of deacons. It physically hurt to leave.

Naturally, we sought a new place to worship and get plugged in. Jason visited a church the first couple of Sundays he was down there. Once that first week rolled by, we celebrated our one-week anniversary in Florida by taking the whole family to church there. It was overwhelming. Thankfully, my go-with-the-flow boy let me drop him off with strangers in nursery. Meanwhile, I clung to my baby girl. I kept my sweet girl close for many more weeks. If we'd still been in South Carolina, I would have probably been close to the point of leaving her in the nursery. It's completely different when the nursery volunteers are practically your extended family. But, in Florida, I held onto her like a security blanket. Toting around a baby is always a good conversation starter, too.

I remember going to Sunday School and feeling shy (side note: I'm not). I remember several weeks of mixing people up, having no idea who went with who. I vividly remember needing to change a diaper during Sunday School and not knowing where to do that. I wanted to do it right there in the pew outside our Sunday School space, but I was afraid someone would walk out, be totally offended and never be my friend. (Can you tell I was desperate to start fitting in?)

My sweet girl at two months old

Two sweet couples from the Sunday school department invited our family over for dinner, which helped us begin to form relationships. People reached out to us so quickly that we didn't even visit another church; we continued the first place we visited, because those budding friendships were so precious to us.

It didn't take me too terribly long to realize that the move somehow slashed my self-esteem. (It also didn't help to still be in that sort of post-partum, sleep-deprived fog that you live in for the first few months of your new baby's life.) As I met more people and began to hang out in social settings, I found myself second-guessing everything I said and over-analyzing every situation or conversation after it happened. I'd gone from a place where I had more friends than I could count to a place where I had few enough acquaintances I could count them on one hand. When I added that to also being completely unfamiliar to the area and the lifestyle there, I felt lost.

New Friends
Sunday mornings were the only times I had regular social contact. Caring for a newborn also limited my time to get to know other people. I always had to slip out of the church service or Sunday school in order to nurse the baby. (Side note: the nursing mothers room is where I eventually met and got to know one of my sweet Florida friends whose baby boy was exactly one week younger than my little girl.)

As we left church one day, Jason handed me a piece of paper with two phone numbers on it. Yes! I got some digits! (And, yes, they were girls' digits.) Two of the girls in the Sunday school group we had been visiting reached out to me. I was relieved. I took a chance and got in touch with one of the girls to set up a play date. We chose to go to my favorite playground one morning. I was shocked that she'd never been to that one. (It turns out that my research hadn't been in vain.) She invited the other girl who'd reached out to me. Suddenly I had two friends!

Soon one play date led to another. Two friends turned into four. A few girl friends turned into couples and families we could hang out with. We got involved with the leadership team that planned everything for our young married Sunday school department. We got involved at the beginning of a new project our church was doing -- Saturday night outdoor worship services -- which is where we got to know our church's staff better. I began going to our church's moms group, which is where I met a few ladies who mentored me (one of whom I call my BFG...Best Friend from another Generation). I have no idea how I would have ever gotten to know anyone if we weren't so committed to church (trust me, I tried). The Lord provides.

Now I had friends, but I still lacked a "best" friend...someone I could call day or night and knew would love me no matter what. Don't get me wrong, I made friends in Florida who I love dearly! I remember reading somewhere along the way that it typically takes three years to develop a really close friendship (a best friend, perhaps). Little did I know we wouldn't even be there three years.

Trying to Settle
I often felt like we were in limbo during our time in Florida. We couldn't get fully settled and feel like we were there permanently. I've never been the Martha Stewart type, but I found myself itching to decorate, but hesitant to do so while we were in such temporary living quarters. We finally found a house that we really, really liked. When it came time to really consider putting pen to paper and put a contract on the house, we just couldn't. The house was everything we'd been looking for, but it didn't feel right. We felt that God was saying no. We had been praying so hard for a place to settle. Now we had it, and we knew the answer was no. We still had our house back in South Carolina, and it made us super nervous to take out a mortgage on a second house. As much as I hated thinking these thoughts, I actually remember thinking, "if things take a bad turn financially, we can always move out of an apartment and into something cheaper and less ideal...but we can't just default on a mortgage."

The awesome house the ultimately ended our house hunting

That's when we completely quit house hunting altogether. It seemed like a step backward in the process of trying to get settled into our new lives. Instead of breaking our seven month lease on our apartment, the time actually came for us to renew our lease. To add insult to injury, we even had to sign a 12-month lease just to keep our rent payment from increasing. I'm pretty sure I cried when we did that.

I longed for home. I visited every chance I got, but it was a grueling trip to take on too often. (I ended up visiting about every three months.) I often said (half joking, half serious) that if we could move back to South Carolina, that I would gladly move back into our house without a single complaint. I even daydreamed about how I might rework some things in the house to make it better for our needs. I daydreamed about painting the downstairs, turning the dining room into a playroom and having a humongous yard sale to get rid of half of what were keeping in storage...and actually letting my baby girl sleep in the nursery we'd prepared for her. 

I took B's picture by to the tree in her original nursery each time we visited.

It was around the one-year mark that I began to concede that we were there for the long-haul and that God was trying to teach me something. I didn't know what He was trying to pound into my head. I'd never imagined that, in following His will for our lives and agreeing to move so far outside of our comfort zones, He would make life so difficult for us. I finally put myself and my desires aside and just started praying. I'd heard of people crying out to God before, just like in so many of the Psalms. But I can't say I'd ever really done it...until then. I prayed for God to make Florida feel like home. It hurt. I didn't want to feel completely settled there, but I didn't want to be miserable by clinging to my own desires anymore. I was doubly confused when I didn't receive an affirmative answer to my prayers. Seriously, God? What more could you want? I cried. I cried real tears, and my soul cried out to God for comfort and answers. I desperately wanted to feel like I belonged. But I continued to feel like a Carolina girl on a flat Florida beach. I was spent and confused.

I began to push myself. I took on my own little project of engaging people in parks and when I saw them on the side of the road begging for help. I had a couple of very awkward encounters and a few very encouraging ones. I felt like I had purpose, but I still didn't feel like that was where I belonged, and I didn't understand why...

The Slide God Made

At the very beginning of summer, I struggled through making a list of summer activities. It's our summer to do list. This is one of the areas where I'm trying to be very intentional this summer. I didn't want the summer to slip away and wonder where it went so quickly. And I didn't want us to be lazy, stir crazy and completely bored. I knew a list like this one could give us something to aim for this summer. When I constructed the list, I did so with little intention of actually completing all 50 items on it. However, I must say that we've already put a pretty sizable dent in it. I'll be utterly amazed if we check all the boxes; but I can say that we will have had an amazing summer full of awesome memories if we accomplish even half of our list.

Today we knocked out #8 (have a picnic) and #37 (go to Sliding Rock).

We got a much later start than I'd envisioned. I'd hoped to be on the road by 9:00 this morning. It was 9:40 before we got it all together, packed the car and pulled out of the driveway.

A few days ago, I printed out directions to Sliding Rock (in Brevard, NC). Yes...I printed out directions. I honestly can't recall the last time I took paper directions with me on a road trip. Since Sliding Rock doesn't have an address (that I could find), I figured it'd be best to have concrete directions in hand when we left. In this day and age of information overload, it's amazing that we had the navigation issues we did.

I have a pretty keen sense of direction (one of the fine qualities my father passed on to me). A few minutes and one potty break after getting off of I-26, I felt kind of like we'd done a U-turn. Shortly thereafter, we crossed back over I-26. This time we were four more miles down the interstate. It was at this point that we confirmed what I already knew: our directions were sketchy. (Thanks for nothing, Google Maps.) Thankfully, we didn't have any problems from that point forward. The silver lining was realizing that we had a shorter, more direct route home. Score!

 Our late start, detour through town and unexpected potty break (at Ingles, no less) meant that we didn't get to Pisgah Highway until after 11:00. As we made our way deeper into the Pisgah National Forest, I spotted a picnic spot off to the left. Jason and I made a quick decision to go ahead and stop for lunch. We parked, grabbed the cooler and took our pick of picnic tables. We chose a nice spot by the river. I can't say our lunch was exciting...just whatever we had in the fridge this morning. Our secluded lunch spot soon became the scene of a family reunion (at least that's what I imagined it to be). As their family poured in, ours slipped out. We changed the kids into their bathing suits and hopped back into the car for the remaining few miles to Sliding Rock.

We paid the park guard our $2 per person. It actually only cost us a whopping $4 to take our entire family, since kids under six get in free. You can't beat that. We found a perfect parking spot that was close and in the shade. We shed the clothes we didn't need (making sure to keep our shorts on) and buckled the kids into their life jackets. Off we went.

We stopped off on the top observation deck to show the kids what we were there to do. We explained that it was a slide God made, not like a water park slide. Much to my relief, they both looked excited for the adventure. I was also giddy with excitement. I haven't been to Sliding Rock since I was a kid!

We made our way down the stairs, down the bank and to the water. I picked B up to carry her across the water and to the queue. My heart might have stopped for a second or two when my toes hit that water for the first time. It was frigid. It actually made me recall the scene in Titanic when Jack tells Rose how cold the water below would be if she jumped off the boat...like "a thousand knives." Okay, so it wasn't actually that cold, but it got my attention.

The line moved quickly, and we took our first run of the day. B sat in my lap, and R rode with Jason. I know B enjoyed the ride, but she wasn't terribly fond of the super cold water at the bottom. We took about half a dozen turns down the rock before we decided to take a break to let the kids warm up. B's lips were blue, and both kids shook with shivers.

Jason and I each took a turn sans kids. We eventually headed back to the car for a snack and my phone (to take a few pictures/videos from the observation deck). We continued to take turns after that, so that someone could always babysit my phone. It worked out well, because R wasn't the biggest fan of the cold water. B took as many turns as she could beg off of each of us. There were a few times I set out with the intention of taking a faster, bumpier trip into the deeper side of the pool, but B insisted on joining me. I eventually decided that she was daring enough to enjoy the faster side of the slide, and we rocked it! She's a little daredevil for sure!

By 2:30 we were waterlogged and weary. We dried off, changed and hopped back into the car.

On the way out of town, we stopped by Looking Glass Falls. We walked down the 397 stairs (it's not really that many, but that's what it felt like) to view the falls from the bottom. R desperately wanted to crawl out over the rocks and toward the falls. I was thankful that we'd already dried off and could use that as an excuse. Maybe next time, little buddy.

Despite all of our adventures today, the highlight of my day actually came when I was putting B to bed. As she prayed her bedtime prayers, she thanked God for the mountains and the waterfall. Right on, baby girl! It doesn't get much cuter than that.

My top tips for visiting Sliding Rock:
1. Wear shoes. In the places you can touch, the bottom is rocky.
2. Wear some sort of old shorts over your bathing suit. Denim or thick fabric is best, because you're sliding on rocks, not smooth slides.
3. If you have little kids or kids who aren't strong swimmers, make sure you take life jackets for them. 
4. If you have a waterproof camera, take it. (I'm currently missing the battery charger for ours.)
5. Leave everything you can in your car. People do stash their towels in the observation area, though.
6. Bring dry clothes to change into after you've had enough fun. The recreation area has bathrooms with changing areas.

Our 18-month Florida Vacation: Part 1

I've meant to sit down and write about this for some time now. I wanted to be sure I put it all down in words for two reasons: 1. So that I don't forget all the little details contained in our journey; 2. So that the story of our journey will be preserved for our kids to read once they're older and can understand exactly what happened.

This is certain to be a long post.

The Back Story
I'm not entirely sure where to begin. Maybe this story actually begins with a little background. Jason and I began dating during our last semester of college. As we searched for jobs, I found a job that took me back to my hometown (Greenville, SC). He found himself taking a media sales class to fill our last semester. Lo and behold, that one class changed his career path as he landed a job in Florence, SC in the newspaper advertising business. (His degree is in art -- photography, specifically -- and his minor is in mass communication.)

We dated long distance, got engaged and planned our wedding for April of 2005. We realized one of us needed to move in order for us to end up in the same city. I prayed a lot, cried a lot and, eventually, decided God was calling me to move to Florence. (Yuck.) But, I said yes.

Through a very complicated and unforeseen series of events, we actually ended up living in my 800 sq. ft. apartment in Greenville, before quickly moving into our current house (also in Upstate, SC)...instead of Florence.

That's the first time God asked me to really trust and step out of my comfort zone as far as big life change. He asked me to move. I said yes. He answered with what I can only describe as, "I just wanted to see if you'd trust me."

We lived comfortably here for six years. Jason received promotions, and I stepped out of the corporate world and into mommyhood.

Florida Calling: Part 1
Sometime around the time I got pregnant with our second child, Jason's discontentment with his job became apparent. Unbeknownst to me, he began to pray for God to reveal to him the next step in his career. In the fall of 2011, he ended up interviewing for a job promotion in Florida that seemed like a sure thing.

Our little family of three...with baby #2 on the way

I was devastated. I didn't know how to pray for this specific circumstance. I didn't want to move to Florida, especially not that particular city. Nothing about it felt right. I couldn't imagine picking up and moving so far away and while so pregnant. I was paralyzed. The status of our lives hinged on this one job and the people making the decision about who to hire. I couldn't start working on a nursery, because I didn't even know if we'd be in that house, much less that state, when the baby came. I didn't want Jason to get the job, because I didn't want to move. But I also didn't want my husband to be passed over for the job, because I wanted his career to thrive. What on earth did that leave? I prayed for God's will, for my ability to conform to it, and for discernment.

I could have never anticipated the outcome of that job interview. Jason's career had always moved right along. He interviews well, and he was the favorite for this position going into the interview process. A few weeks went by with no call about the position. Since it was within the same company, we knew we'd find out either way. Eventually, we found out that the company would be going through some changes and that they decided to hold off on hiring that position altogether.

Whoa. Bullet dodged.

Florida Calling: Part 2: 

Putting up the tree decal

At this point, I at least knew that Jason was praying for career next steps. He and I talked some about the possibility of him taking some seminary classes online or in the evening. I didn't really foresee him going into ministry, so I didn't see any reason to add recreation seminary classes to our hectic lives...and our growing family.

In January, his company changed hands, but it didn't much change the day-to-day of Jason's job. The trauma of the Florida near-miss faded, and we prepared for the arrival of baby #2. We rearranged rooms. We had a yard sale. We painted. We bought furniture. We painstakingly applied a five-foot-tall vinyl tree decal onto our baby girl's nursery wall. Everything was ready.

Then he got the call. As the company changed hands, and ultimately relocated the corporate office from one city to another, some of the corporate staff decided to find new jobs instead of moving with the company. That left a job opening in Jason's area of expertise. And the man who decided to leave the job behind recommended my husband for that position. This must be God providing the next step for Jason.

The finished nursery

So, a mere two weeks before my due date with our baby girl, Jason got on a plane and flew to Daytona Beach, Florida. I hardly moved a muscle while he was gone. I prayed my brains out that I wouldn't go into labor while my husband was two states away. I'd been on my hands and knees, scrubbing our kitchen floor each day during our son's nap time; during Jason's trip, I was afraid to lift a finger and, instead, spend time on my hands and knees praying I didn't go into early labor. Our son was four days late (and, ultimately, induced), so history didn't indicate that I had anything to worry about. But my worst fear was giving birth to our daughter without her daddy there to experience it. I still can't believe we all agreed to traveling that close to my due date.

Thankfully, while Jason flew to Florida, interviewed, and returned, I remained pregnant.

I confided in two very close friends who also committed to pray for us. We told virtually no one that we were going through this process, because we didn't want anyone to worry needlessly that we were moving if we didn't end up leaving.

March 9, 2012
Less than two weeks later, Jason got another call. This was a big one. On March 9, 2012, they offered Jason the job...the job that required us to relocate to Daytona Beach. On March 9, 2012, four days before my due date, I went into labor and gave birth to our beautiful baby girl. I honestly think the two were related. The shock of the job offer put me into labor.

The night we met our precious baby girl

We prayed a lot those next few days. A lot of people do when they have a newborn. This was different, though. Instead of slipping into a blissful-yet-sleep-deprived postpartum state of existence, I was forced to think. To pray. To participate in a life-changing decision-making process. (I don't think most experts recommend making big decisions just days after giving birth. Just saying...)

However, we sought God. We trusted Him to lead us where He wanted us to go. And I trusted my husband to lead our family. I leaned on Ephesians 5:22-24 during this time. Many people see that 'S' word as a dirty word. It was during that time in my life that God truly taught me what submission to my husband looks like. I didn't want to go. I was angry. I was scared. I could see the same in my husband. A decision had to be made (quickly), and, ultimately, I trusted my husband's judgment and God's leading and said yes.

I was brokenhearted. I had the joy of a brand new baby in my arms, but my heart was torn in two. I had never imagined that our lives would be turned upside down like this.

House Hunters: Florida
When our daughter was just three weeks old, we dropped our son off with his grandparents and boarded a dirty plane with our pristine newborn. We had to find a place live. I also needed to at least visit the city where we planned to move. I had never been to Daytona Beach before.

Visiting the beach on our house hunting visit

Jason had been down a week prior to scout out some places. We looked at all the houses he'd seen that weren't objectionable. A few of the favorites had already been scooped up in just a week's time. Frustration. We looked at plenty of houses that had come on the market since his first trip. Nothing felt quite right. More frustration. We even met with a builder.

We didn't want to settle for something. We wanted something that we would love. Ideally, it would be a step up from our current house. After all, a promotion to an executive job calls for at least a slight promotion in living conditions, right?  If we were going to buy a place, we wanted it to have the few things we wished our house in South Carolina had.

Furthermore, Daytona Beach has four residential areas, and we weren't sure which area would best fit our lives and our needs.

We felt defeated. We prayed some more. We went into our last half-day of house hunting on a mad dash to find temporary living. We toured the few apartment complexes that had three-bedroom units available for a quick move-in. I cried. I couldn't even imagine moving into a tiny apartment that wasn't much bigger than where we'd started seven years earlier (and two fewer kids ago). There was even an apartment development that offered a large, wall-mounted flat-screen TV in each unit. That was not a big enough consolation prize to win me over.

We were quickly running out of time and stumbled upon one last apartment community. It put all the others to shame. And they had a three-bedroom first-floor unit coming available within the month. We had very little time to tour it, stop for lunch, gas up our rental car and speed through security at the airport. I also vaguely remember realizing (very late) that our flight was earlier than we thought it was. Panic.

We got back on a plane with no place to live (no papers signed, at least).

The Big Move
It's crazy how fast things happened after Jason accepted the job. Within a week, we met with a realtor and started the process of getting the house on the market. We prayed that our house would show well and sell quickly. We thought our listing would go into MLS on a Monday. Instead, it went up on a Friday, and we immediately had someone who wanted to see it. Panic! We didn't feel like we could turn down a showing, so I busted my tail for four hours (less than two weeks after giving birth and while supervising a toddler and a newborn) to get the house ready to show.

During this time, we also communicated (via e-mail and phone) with the last apartment complex we visited. We overnighted paperwork and checks. We signed the shortest possible lease (seven months) with every intention of breaking that lease once we found a house. We'd managed to find God led us to a best-case-scenario apartment. First floor. Three bedrooms. 1300-something square feet. Gated complex. Fabulous pool. Awesome location (30 seconds from Target, 5 minutes from the beach and 10 minutes from Jason's office).


Our unit was even on the end of a little off-shoot of the main road/parking lot (which was an especially big blessing when you're unloading two kids under two out of a car). All our windows looked out at grass and a fence instead of at neighbors, which was a nice comfort for two people used to owning our own home with our own yard.

Friends helping Jason load up the U-Haul

We decided Jason would move down first with very few pieces of furniture, a small allotment of kitchen items and other necessities. Less than two weeks after our return from our house hunting trip, a few of our guy friends came over to help Jason load up a U-Haul trailer. He closed up the trailer, and we said our goodbyes. We honestly didn't know when we would see each other again...or when he would see his now five-week-old baby next. It was tough.

Our original plan was for Jason to get settled into his job and get the necessary business travel out of the way before the kids and I joined him in Florida. That way, I could stay where I had family and friends to support me and help with the kids. We thought the travel would mostly end after a few weeks. We were wrong. It turned out that Jason would be traveling often for his job, and there was no end in sight. With that knowledge, we expedited my move.

I had been packing boxes little by little along the way. There were plenty of things we didn't need every day that could be tucked away until further notice. At this point, I kicked the packing into high gear and called the moving company to get an estimate and a move date.

I entered Stress City. I packed as much as possible. Meanwhile, I was still up and down all night long with a newborn and struggling to spend as much time as possible with friends and family while I was still in the same city as them.

Moving out of our house

On April 26, a dear friend (and Godsend) picked up our son so that he could avoid the stress of seeing strange men take all of our things out of our house. The movers invaded our house, packed all that we owned into a moving truck and prepared to drive it to Florida. As they packed the truck, they took my instruction regarding which items would go to our apartment and which would go to the storage unit Jason had secured for us. We knew we didn't need to clutter up the apartment with things like photo albums, serving dishes and sentimental items. We also had no choice but to store things like our washer and dryer (the apartment came furnished with a set), our refrigerators, our lawnmower, our dining room suit, our guest bedroom furniture, and the other things that would eventually fill out our house. After a while, the foreman approached me and asked what size our storage unit was. I told him (10x15 is what we'd reserved, I think). He laughed. He literally laughed. He said there was absolutely no way all those things could fit in that space. It was heartbreakingly frustrating, but ended up being a gift from God. I can't imagine what would have happened if the movers had shown up at our storage unit and didn't have anywhere to put the remainder of our belongings.

Over the weekend, the movers dropped our things off, and Jason worked his tail off to get as much of the apartment settled as possible. In the meantime, the kids and I stayed in Greenville with my dad. Mom and I cleaned the house from top to bottom. My heart ached because my baby girl had never slept a single night in the nursery we'd worked so hard to prepare for her. I walked out the door, wondering if I'd ever set foot in that house again.

On Sunday, April 29, my mom and I loaded up my car and the kids and settled in for my official move to Florida. I bawled my eyes out when I said goodbye to my dad and my sister. And I was so thankful for the company on the drive down. To date, the longest drive I'd ever undertaken with either child was four hours. I had no idea what eight hours would look like. By the grace of God, the trip was rather uneventful. My poor seven-and-a-half week old daughter was a trooper, just as she had been on the day the movers packed the house.

We arrived at our apartment around 4:30 p.m. Nothing seemed real. It seemed like we were just down in Florida for vacation...with our furniture. It wasn't until much, much later that I would realize how true that sentiment actually was. 

Muffin Madness

I decided to make muffins (from scratch) for breakfast this morning. No big deal, I make muffins a bunch (or at least I used to...it's been a while). I consulted my Pinterest account for a recipe to follow. I found one that looked familiar, but called for buttermilk. I felt that I'd probably done it with regular milk last time, though. I decided to go for the full deal this time, so I headed to the kitchen to concoct some buttermilk (milk + lemon juice).

At this point, I was committed. What else would I use buttermilk for, right?

Next, I realized I didn't have the flour it called for. (Panic! What do I do with my buttermilk?!) Thankfully, I had some tucked away elsewhere. Whew! I was already thinking of how awkward it would be to ask my neighbor for a full three cups of flour.

As I measured out the flour, I thought, "Dang, this seems like a lot of flour for a dozen muffins." Then I reached the point where I needed to add the butter. It called for two sticks. TWO STICKS! I didn't have two sticks of butter, so I improvised. And, two sticks of butter for 12 muffins?!

Thankfully, this was the point where I realized my recipe makes 24 muffins. Wow...that's a lot of muffins for two kids and me.

Somewhere along the line, I also had a little mishap with my vanilla. As I poured it onto the spoon, I found myself very confused as to why my vanilla was yellow. Bright yellow. I'm so glad that my confusion kept me from dumping the spoon over and mixing the extract into the other ingredients. I'd mistakenly grabbed banana extract, not vanilla extract. That would have surely ruined things.

In the end, I realized that I have actually never made these muffins before. They're complicated (for pre-coffee me, at least), completely unhealthy and plentiful. At least they were good.

Tag Team...Back Again!

Okay...so there's no tag team. But, IIIIIII'M BAAAAAAACK! It's been roughly 2.5 years since I updated this blog. (Confession: I did keep a separate kid-focused blog for a few months.) Here's a quick update on what I've been doing the last 2.5 years.

• I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.
• My family and I moved to Florida. 
• Eighteen months later, my family and I moved back from Florida. (That was not the plan when we moved down there.) 
• We've resettled into our house (yes, the same house we moved out of and tried to sell for 20+ months) and picked life back up where we left off (with minimal interruption). 

You're caught up now. The last 2.5 years have been a wild ride. Eventually I'll sit down and write about the journey to Florida and back. I'm afraid that I'll forget pieces of God's faithfulness if I don't record it somehow.

At any rate, I'm giving the old blog another go. I think this is my fifth attempt at blogging. Bear with me, people. :)