What do you do with the Stuffed Animals and other Dilemma’s?

I am stressing about a lot of things but one of those things is my blogging. For awhile, I was a dedicated daily blogger. In light of recent events -BUYING A HOUSE- ( I love to scream that) I am afraid that my blogging is going to become a weekly event. Not that anyone was worried I am sure. I’m still here, and wanting to write all the time, but it’s taking a bit of a backseat to the craziness that is now my current life.

I wish I could just record my blogs for you. I could do that while I am driving to and from work and save some time, except I am not that technically savvy. Instead, do you know what I do at night in my bed until I fall asleep, (get it outta the gutter) in the car, in the bathroom and any spare moment while I am not talking or working?? I am organizing the move, imagining where everything will go, picturing how everything will look and planning it all out. I’m slightly obsessive compulsive so wanting to put sticky notes on everything in our current house so it knows where it is going in the new house is not out of the ordinary for me. I’m just afraid that one of the kids will go to school with a note on their butt that says: Living Room.

My girls made fun of me the other day because every time I talk about the new house I put my hands out and spread my arms to demonstrate how everything will be organized and perfect. (it truly is a sickness)

I know, I've moved 13 times, I should be a pro -but it has been five years since the last move and the kids aren't babies so I have more brain use to focus on the most minute and ridiculous of things. CONSTANTLY.

In between the obsessive compulsive planning here is what I have been up to:

Shaving my daughter’s legs. Yep, I was caught off guard that we have hit this milestone. One minute I am discovering the box of baby blankets from the last move and then next, I am giving shaving lessons. The best part was when my younger daughter watched more intently than her sister and then asked what we could do about the hair on her arms?

Showing off my “borrowed” wedding ring that looks like its 2 carats at least. As timing will have it, while we are in the NO SPENDING because we are buying a house zone, my real wedding ring lost a tiny side diamond and a prong broke. Shortly before our vacation, the hubby sold his gold wedding band and the stainless steel ring he ordered didn’t fit, so we were starting to get a complex. My sister in law who has a jewelry cure for everything came up with an eye popping solution. I have been wearing this looks-so-much-like-the-real-thing I may not ever get the original one fixed, and it’s kind of fun to see other women eyeballing it. Eat your hearts out!
But seriously, I love my original ring that is currently wrapped securely in paper towels awaiting its repair. But I ask, should I be worried the hubby hasn’t found something for his finger??

Sorting through toys/books/games/craft supplies in what now seems like the biggest basement ever. During all of this the biggest dilemma is: What do you do with the stuffed animals??
First of all, there were WAY TOO MANY. They HAD to be filtered. Thanks to the Toy Story series, I have been carrying around an immense and unnecessary amount of guilt. I don’t think you can donate stuffed animals and if you can, what if they get mis-treated? The hubby wasn’t too hip on burning them and I wasn’t either – what if they make a strange noise? (I seriously had this thought) I can’t just toss them in the garbage amongst the spaghetti sauce. So, what do I do? I told the kids- One huge storage bin full of stuffed animals is PLENTY and they seemed to agree, so NOW WHAT? It’s really weighing on me and they currently reside in wait in the middle of the basement staring at me everytime I walk past them.  FOR GOD'S SAKE STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!

Finally, the following thoughts have run through my head in the last week:

What if the cat’s hate the house and do bad things and then in turn hate me and then the kids start to dislike me? Should I buy walkie talkies for the kids because my new bedroom is going to be father away from their rooms than it ever has been? (a baby monitor would be too much wouldn’t it?) Where am I going to put pretty much everything I touch in the house when I do anything. Am I going to make it to the move date or will I spontaneously combust from excitement, stress, anxiety and internal organizing?

Next post is a good one: Our first night in the Cabin, a thunderstorm and a Deer Head.