So wait, "moving to LA" means I actually have to...move to LA?

I'm not entirely sure how it came as a surprise to me this morning at 5am, when I woke up at the Holiday Inn at Dulles Airport and it hit me...."holy shit, I am moving to Los Angeles today. What the hell is that about??!!"

Don't ask me how three months of discussions and planning, and a week of big burly packing men, followed by big burly moving men traipsing through our house didn't cement this idea into my brain.

And obviously, on some level it did; there were fabulous "going away" dinners and tear-soaked hugs with loved ones, and tons of frantic "oh my god, life is going to be so different in 83, 60, 37, 26, 10, etc days..." running through my brain randomly throughout the past 90 days since we made this decision. I have google-searched moms groups in Studio City, although I am loathe to join an organized group of already-know-each-other moms. I have done research on what types of plants grow in Southern California as I day dream about actually being able to keep a potted plant alive longer than a hot second. I took the cats to the vet's for extensive vaccinations and physical exams to make them "air worthy". We've had a contractor ripping various parts of our house to shreds over the past three weeks, preparing it to be good enough to rent in this market.

Clearly I've been preparing myself for this move. Right??

Then why did I wake up this morning and feel like Husband had just broken the news to me?

As I was guiltily trying to trick my cat's into the bathroom so they'd be in an enclosed area from which they couldn't escape, thereby making it possible for me to, A.) shove 1/2 a benadryl down their gullets (not successful) and then, B.) cram them into their teeny tiny carriers (successful), I almost didn't remember why I was doing this crazy thing. I thought...."why are we taking the cats with us on vacation?! This is a lot of work just to take them with us for a....oh. shit. "

Thank goodness our flight and the preparations leading up to it (which is a whole other blog entry in and of itself) took place at the crack of dawn. I'm not at my emotional peak that early; it's hard to muster a feeling about much of anything before 10am for me. This was a blessing today, as I pretty much went through the motions of carrying cats, toddler and diaper bag through the terminal, and stepping onto the plane that would take me away from the life I've loved for the past eight years. I managed a few tears as the plane's front wheels left the ground (but I usually do that anyway, what with the anxiety of flying I have since watching the first episode of LOST).

I guess there are two sides of understanding something like a major life change; the rational part that can make lists of preparation and schedule appointments that get things done to make said changes possible. That's the side that organizes each room for the packers and makes sure the cat's get their shots. That's the side that puts dinners with friends on the calendar. But then there's the emotional side, who might show up here and there for a brief moment during all that rational stuff. That side cries while standing outside of restaurants after the last dinner with people she loves. That side has a vague sense that something huge is around the corner.

But that side doesn't really "get it" until faced with the actual moment. This morning, I finally "got it". I think. I dont' live where I used to live. My house is empty. I won't be taking Ethan to play group next Thursday. Okay. I get it.

But even still, I'm fairly certain that in a few days' time, I'll be absent-mindedly asking Husband what time our return flight is. Emotional side is so not going to like the answer to that question...