We are moving house again and I have a case of the _______ about it.

Landlord called and said they'll be selling the place we've been squatting renting for the last three years. I've been absorbing this news for the last few days and even though I've been telling myself to just man up because it's not a military draft card. Or a warrant for anyone's arrest. Or a one-way ticket to the Yukon Territory. But this move is hitting me right in the feels, dear reader.

We will likely move within a mile radius of headquarters, and yet I am weepy on the inside as I remove fingerpainted poster papers from these rented walls. I ripped the band-aid tonight and started packing boxes and it felt so punishing. The ink had barely dried on the cardboard since the last time we moved from all those states away. I am aware that I sound as feeble as Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie when they were trying to figure out the public bus system on "A Simple Life." I just don't think I've ever been this dangerously close to calling into "Delilah After Dark" and dedicating a song. To my feeble self.

Little Man took his first steps across this living room floor. Baby Girl sounded out her first sentences in this same room. We made a whole new life in a whole new state with a whole new community and it began here in this place that is heavy with significance.

Three years is an oft-repeated bracket of time for me. It's the longest tenure I've ever held a job. It's the time we lived in our Boston condo. It's the age of Baby Girl when we moved to Tennessee. It's the age of Little Man now. It's three times the age of my marriage. It's 11 times my age. And now I'm just forcing it.

Just like we're being forced out of our home into another that won't be as nice!!

There are a few things over which we have control and ultimately they are the things that matter most. We will still search for rimbos. We will still make cute messes. We will seek to do life better with those we hold most dear, under a roof that keeps our heads dry and under the stars that hold promise--against a background of the dark unknown, the twinkling possibilities shine brightest.

40 is the new black

It is well-documented that sometimes I am a bit of a birthday party pooper. So much sugar and social pressure and there are new-to-me episodes of Mad Men waaaaaiting at home on Netflix! My introversion goes into overdrive on the weekends and I am just selfish with my time. But I am so glad we got invited to celebrate our friend Selena's 40th this past weekend. She is a maker of mischief and her birthday was a fair tribute!

Twas a barn party, as you can observe. (p.s. Is this little girl not a doll?)

The wee ones galavanted and if you squint your eyes, it looks like a Mormon family gathering. I so envy the Mormons and their family gatherings.

Of course they made the birthday girl dance when she arrived blindfolded, unwittingly in front of 40+ of her closest friends and neighbors.

Judy and Selena, who also hail from New England.

I made her this 40 godmother. I didn't even consult Pinterest, players. I just bought a soda, a roll of rainbow duct tape, and let the candy lead me. For reals. DIY.

A Chinese proverb says the sun is no less beautiful when it is setting versus when it is rising. Also, this barn ain't bad when the sun is nowhere to be found.

Happy Birthday, Mama Selena! You are loved 40 to the 40th power.

Review: Jump Park #chattanoogajump

I know there are naysayers and other negative nellies out there who will tell you that trampoline parks are huge liabilities to your back and are super spendy and are just incubators for Peter Pan Syndrome. And they are probably all right. For a funaholic like yours truly, though, I just cannot get enough of a Whole Warehouse Space Full of Trampoline. I had been to one before in Boston where you had to wear ghastly jumping shoes (yack!) but I'm so excited that we now have one in our Chattytown. And at Jump Park #CHA you can go barefoot!

My little man and I mounted a Friday morning trip last week and we had so much fun. The facility is clean (should be, they just opened), spacious, and nicely lit. The staff was quite helpful and friendly. There were about 20 people there at 11a on Friday and there were two "referees" on the trampoline floor, which seemed adequate (though I am not versed in the Tennessee Trampoliner Safety Guard per capita rules and regs).

This was my favorite ref guy:

Trampolining begins at the top of the hour when the refs go over the rules (Thou shalt only be one person on one trampo-square at a time). You have one hour until they call you off and it's pretty much plenty of time for the wee people in my life to get adequately trampo-cised.

Here's the pricing model. I like that they're not trying to punish parents of small children since they know we are going to spend most of our time taking crappy smartphone photos of our kids in mid-jump. Wait, what?

There appeared to be party rooms and there is a little cafe and a cubby/locker room area. Parking is on street (about a block from Finney Stadium) for now and was free but there appears to be some more lot space coming soon.

Before you go, be sure to sign the waiver online. Then you'll be all set to go and throw out your back when you get there with no one to blame for it. Hahah. Jokes.

Let me know if you go!