The girl kept asking why we were taking apart Grandma's bed. The simple answer was that it needed to be taken apart to fit in the car. But, of course, the simple answer is never good enough for that girl. So then she asked where the bed was going.
"To Grandpa's new house."
That answer caused confusion, a bit of whimpering, and a few tears. But, I suppose a lot of life's answers have that effect.
The room is empty now, except for a few pieces of furniture, a very stressed out cat, and some things needing to be delivered to Grandpa's new house.
Last night I fell asleep feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. Then the truck stopped, backed up, and ran over me again. Repeatedly.
I'm going to take a bit of a blogging break. My house feels weird and I need to work on making it feel like a home again. For the sake of the children, the little one especially. I'll probably be back by Monday, but if not, just know I'm still trying to shake that run over by a truck feeling.