Moving Day and The Beatles

I always get a little emotional any time I close a chapter in my life. Even if it’s not a big deal AT ALL. I get sappy when I think that I will never return to a certain place or do a certain thing ever again.

Like the one time at the end of 8th grade (good grief, I’m already laughing from embarrassment and Kristen I’m calling you to make sure you read this post) with one of my bestest friends in the entire world that I don’t get to see quite as often as I would like…Kristen…

8th grade had come to a close, which meant leaving middle school and entering high school. Kristen and I spent a lot of time together at her house…mainly because her mom always had O’Charley’s honey mustard in the fridge. Ha! Anyway, we had a lot of what we called “Kristen/Brittany” talks where we shared every single boring detail of our lives, though the details were completely thrilling at the time. I remember sitting in her room looking through our yearbook, reading over and over again what a certain someone wrote to her. She had a slight crush on someone. I won’t give it away, but it started with a “G” and rhymed with “babe”. If I remember correctly, the feelings weren’t mutual and it saddened her a bit. I, on the other hand, had no crushes (other than my constant crush on Brent since 5th grade) and was saddened a bit by the fact that 8th grade was over. Get a grip, Brittany! It’s not like I was leaving all of my friends. Most of us were going to attend the same high school 2 1/2 months later. Kristen and I sat in our utter misery in her room over her tear-stained yearbook listening to…{chuckles, this is hilarious to me}…”Let It Be” by the Beatles on repeat all.night.long.

Kristen and me at the beach the summer after 8th grade. 
Obviously we recovered from our pitiful night. 

I told you I get sappy over the end of things in my life…things that really don’t matter, ever, at all. So that leads me to a little sappy post about the day we moved out of our house in Hville (which I do believe I have reason to be at least a little sad).

Just for comparison…

Our move from Fort Myers to Huntsville in a Uhaul trailer and our Pathfinder

Our move from Huntsville to Bham using a 26 foot Uhaul truck, 3 trucks, two trailers, and a van. It’s RIDICULOUS how much stuff you have after just 5 years of marriage, a baby, and a dog. 
The only way to make it easier is to not ever move. 

Lily’s room 😦 

Den, kitchen, and Ben

How many times did I look out our front door? Too many to count. 

My mom packing up the hall bath. 

Vacuuming our bedroom. 

Umm…a little concerned that there’s no hood. 🙂

The moving crew, minus Papaw: Brent, me, Mom, TH, Ben, Dad
The final lock up
And just for a little tradition/comparison again…
Our front door in Fort Myers
Our front door in Huntsville
I guess pink is my color of choice when moving
Our quaint little home holds a lot of memories. A few good memories that I will hold onto forever:
~The one Saturday night after midnight that our Camry backed itself out of our straight and flat driveway, turned, hit the neighbors mailbox and knocked it clear out of the ground. The neighbors called the cops and Brent was asked to come out and explain. Since there was no explanation (because we were not in the car and had no idea how it happened) the cops thought Brent was drunk. They held onto him for a while out in the yard for questioning while I went about my baking in the kitchen for Sunday school the next morning. 
~Bible study for youth girls and a lot of discipleship in my den
~Bringing Lily home for the first time and every single thing we did with her there. Washing bottles, changing diapers, playing in the backyard, cooking, dancing, reading, play-dough, bathtime…you name it, I miss every last thing we did with her in that house. 
~The one time Kayla was babysitting Lily and was trapped in our house for about 1 1/2 hours after we got home. One of the pit bulls from next door was out and on our front porch. I’m pretty sure he could have eaten our house he was so anxious to get to us that night. Animal control didn’t care that the babysitter was stuck in our house since she wasn’t in any danger. And, of course, we had anti-social neighbors so we didn’t have a number to call. The neighbors finally noticed and it happened again the next night (minus the whole trapped babysitter thing). They finally blocked the fence so they couldn’t get out anymore.
~Being a nosy neighbor and listening to the fights from next door. They were brutal, but they humbled my heart. 
~Preparing meals for my family in the kitchen and anxiously awaiting the headlights from Brent’s arrival from work.
~Taking Sanibel and Lily on walks through the neighborhood
~Grilling the most amazing chicken in the world from Star Market on our patio
~Riding out the most horrific tornadoes of April 27 in our hallway. We had no power, no cell service, and just a weather radio. We were in that hallway for close to 2 hours because we had no clue what was going on or where the storms were. The tornado was less than 2 miles from our house. Had it been any further south, our house would have been absolutely flattened. That’s not a good memory, but definitely one that is permanently etched in my brain forever. 
There are so many more, but I know you have better things to do than read all of my memories. Our house was good to us and we were so blessed to live there for 4 1/2 years. Thankfully, it’s still ours so my heart can still hang on to it :). 
So in honor of 8th grade, our first home, and all other things that must come to an end…here’s a song! 


I know most of you won’t care one bit about what you are about to read, but I have to write about this so I will remember it.

My grandparents were in town tonight and took us to dinner. Brent and I were in separate cars. On our way home Lily asked for my phone. She loves to randomly call people, look at pictures, take pictures, and play games. Whatever. I just don’t care anymore about the random phone calls and the damage she may do on Facebook or Twitter from my phone. So far it hasn’t been a problem.

After a few seconds of her playing with my phone, I ask her,

“Who are you calling Lily?”

“Daddy,” she replies.

She has memorized how to call a few people in my phone book: Brent, my parents, and my friend Amy. So I knew she really was calling Brent.

A few seconds later,

“Lily, what are you doing? Still talking to Daddy?” If she gives me a quick answer, then I know she is really doing what she says. If she hesitates, it’s usually because she’s re-tweeting someone random on Twitter or something else slightly embarrassing. I just like to know what I’m in for when I get my phone back, ya know?

She quickly replies, “I’m not talling to Daddy, I’m tecting Daddy.” [I’m not talking to Daddy, I’m texting Daddy.]

Oh ok, sure. Not really buying that.

We get home and I tell Brent what she said and how I think it’s funny that she knows the difference between a call and a text.

“She’s been blowing up my phone!” Brent says, “She called me once and she has sent me three text messages.”

My favorite text said “:) dd”. Kinda like “Smile Daddy”.

So, yeah, it’s funny that she knows the difference. That’s one thing. But it’s another thing that she can use both correctly and knows who she is calling/texting.

Blew my mind. Love her to pieces, that smart girl 🙂