my god, moving is so friggin hard.  We've done it enough that by now we should be professionals.  The truth is, I am the professional, Pete is the amateur.  For months I am getting ready for this move.  We found the house in late march. Thought we'd be in it by May, and then proceeded to jump through hoops for a couple more months.  I packed methodically.  Bubble wrapped, taped, labeled, and stacked the shit out of everything we could live without until the move. Not only did the damn boxes get labeled, but they were even marked which room they went in.  No help from Pete, because he had some man excuse as to why he shouldn't be packing his shit too!

So the long awaited moving day came and went, and we hadn't budged from the old house, and I am sure you can imagine that I was slightly irritated.  Then, we got the phone call that all was clear, the house was finally move in ready, and we moved a family of 5 in a matter of hours, thanks to our awesome friends.

Whilst moving though, things were tossed, thrown, kicked, slammed, and our shit was everywhere.  As I was packing boxes and still trying to be organized, while every man in the universe was against that plan (or at least the men moving us!), I ran out of packing tape.  I asked Pete to get me some more, and he just handed me the roll.  Well, I had a baby in my arms, was holding a box closed getting ready to tape it, anyone with common sense would know that what I really needed at that precise moment was a piece of tape to finish the box. 

Well, I finagled a piece of tape from the roll, and stuck it to my mouth, while I closed the box again. I took (ripped) the piece of tape off my mouth to use it, and the skin on the inside of my lip peeled off with it. It hurt so bad. I could taste the blood on my tongue and it just burned.  I slid my tongue over the wound and could feel unprotected layer of skin.

Now, I don't know about you, but I personally don't know of anyone that is stupid enough to let tape rest on the inside of their mouth, sticky side down.  I didn't admit what happened to Pete for a couple days, and when I did, he laughed.  When I showed him the inside of my mouth torn and bloody, he laughed.  When I wanted sympathy for the pain, he looked at me like I was crazy, and he laughed.  Keep in mind my dear husband, when you have to get that vasectomy, once we're done having kids....I'll laugh!  When you wince in pain, I'll laugh.  When you have an ice pack on your balls, I'll laugh.  And when you have to walk bow legged to ease the pain, I'll laugh! hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Sorry, I'm just too tired to proof read this:)