On the way back from New Orleans last week, Wes and I drove by our soon to be new-to-us home. We do this, oh, every other day. And when we’re not doing it, someone in the church is, as evidenced by the large number of people who tell me on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, “Oh, I drove by your new house the other day!” We’re going to get lots of drive-by visitors in our near future!

The “near future” is exactly what Wes and I were talking about as we cruised by the house. Things are falling into place relatively simply with the house, and it looks like we’ll close in mid-July. With youth camp next week, that leaves us with less than two weeks until we’re in the house. Until all of our stuff has to be packed up. Until I’ve packed an ENTIRE house.

Commence freaking out.

Wes had more faith in my skills than I did, perhaps because he doesn’t remember the three weeks in Oklahoma that I spent simultaneously packing and freaking out. It was a long and exhausting and stressful and crazy process. Maybe YOU can pack a house faster than that, but I’ll bet I could slow down even the most elite packers by sending Ana and Emma over to their houses to ask endless questions, make horrific messes, and follow it all up with assorted screaming and dancing. (Moving boxes everywhere = circus-like behavior from the Faulkettes.) Despite his faith in my skills, even he questioned my ability to get it all done efficiently and punctually in such a short time. He told me I’d be more useful to the family if I stayed home from Falls Creek and spent the week packing. I agreed. I love youth camp and will miss not being there, but my priority is keeping things running around here and preserving the pastor’s sanity in the process, right? Right.

The plan was for the girls to go visit my parents while we went to youth camp. When I told them about the change in plans for me, they insisted that they still wanted the girls. This would have left me with five days ALONE to pack in peace and quiet. I KNOW! I haven’t been all alone since 2003, y’all. While I would miss Wes, Ana, and Emma, I knew I would be super productive and practically have the whole house packed when they returned. Wouldn’t that have been awesome?!

Our plans came to a screeching halt yesterday morning when Emma woke up with a fever. The fever shot up last night to 102 degrees, so I put her in the bathtub to cool her off, noting that her skin was looking kinda splotchy. Kinda turned to SUPER splotchy in about five minutes, and when she broke out in bumps and welps, she told me, “I’m kinda itchy!” Yeah, I’ll bet!

It was a restless night of Benadryl doses, temperature taking, and anti-itch cream. Emma has had an allergic reaction before, but it was clear back then what the cause was. This? I have no idea. It was only on the parts of her body that her clothes didn’t cover, so it had to have been something external. I had a hard time waking her up this morning, but she was bump-free, so I thought she was just tired. (As was I after last night!) I managed to drag her out of bed by promising a trip to the donut shop and took her to church like normal. She drank her milk first, and within seconds of that whole little carton going down, it all came right back up. “Mommy,” Ana stated so helpfully while watching her sister throw up all over the table, “I think Emma doesn’t feel so good.” You think?

The digestive issues have continued on all day long, in a wide assortment of interesting manifestations. Fun! My parents came down this morning, and while Emma asked repeatedly to go back with them, I thought it best if she stayed with me. Sad day, I know. Ana went on with Gram and Gramps, and Emma and I have been waiting this thing out ever since.

While this will dramatically change my productivity this week, I’m confident that I will still get a lot of packing done. And wasn’t it good of the Lord to change our plans BEFORE Emma got sick? How hard would today have been if I was wavering between a decision to go to camp or not go to camp, rather than a decision to have Emma stay with me or my parents? It wasn’t a difficult decision at all, and I’m so thankful that I had the freedom to change plans like that.

Here’s to moving… and to little helpers with gastric issues!