We're less than a week out from moving to Charleston for the summer, and the excitement that has been building for months is slowly being replaced by a sense of overwhelming. Now that this incredibly fun trip I've been looking forward to in the abstract is nearly upon us, I feel totally unprepared.
I'm not sure how I'll ever get a second home stocked with all the newborn essentials and I'm worried about how Dash will react to being in a big boy bed. I don't know where I'll work out (which I depend on for my sanity) or where I'll grocery shop (or, more accurately, order takeout). There are so many unknowns.
Perhaps most surprising is that I've started to become sentimental about San Francisco. After years of waxing poetic about Charleston, I'm finally about to go there and suddenly, I've developed a newfound appreciation for San Francisco.
I'm sure that some of this is just my jitters around change and the unknown. And a lot of my emotional turmoil is simply lack of sleep. Baby Beau, who I assumed would be making it through the night by four months – Dash had long been doing it by this age – is waking up multiple times per night. In fact, his sleep has gotten worse. Hello, four month sleep regression!
As a result, I'm a zombie with bone-chilling exhaustion, dark bags under my eyes, and zero patience. Ah, the glamour of parenthood. I keep reminding myself that this is just temporary phase and soon we'll be settled in sunny Charleston with a (hopefully) sleeping baby.
I would write more, but I fear it would be incoherent as my zombie-self is struggling just to string a few words together. I'm off to pack – if I can keep my eyes open.