Yeah. It was a teeny bit stressful.
We put our stuff into storage and lived in a Ramada Inn for a couple of weeks. By that time I was so pregnant that I actually had trouble finding a doctor who would see me. But lucky for us, some wonderful things happened while we were hotel-ing it. Like serious miracles, y'all. My husband got the job he'd been hoping for, and we bought our very first house. And then, less than three weeks after we closed on the house - just in time for the paint to dry in the nursery - came the most awesome blessing of them all.
A big, burly baby with massive shoulders and impressive muscle tone, covered in enough hair to make a toupee jealous.
We named him Cameron. And I was instantly in love.
Today, that burly baby turns six years old. And I'm so proud of the little man he's becoming (even though it's happening entirely too fast OMG somebody make it stop! *sniff sniff*). He is a Kindergartner who reads at a middle school level, an imaginative, Lego-loving, lively, funny dude, and a certified no-training-wheels bike rider.
... Not to mention a sweet big brother.
He's becoming quite wise in his old age, too. Yesterday morning he came up to me and said, "Mommy, can I give you a little advice before school?"
"Sure, buddy," I said. "What is it?"
He looked at me with big, serious gray eyes and said, "Never run from the police."
I'm pretty sure I looked kinda like this afterward, minus the mullet and facial hair.*
*Okay, minus some of the facial hair.
But as quickly as Cameron is growing and maturing, he's still my baby. Especially as long as he continues to make faces like this when girls are chasing him:
The ladies love him, but so far he isn't interested.
And that's fine by me.