You know that point in the moving process where you shift from neat, organized, labeled boxes packed in a logical, relaxed manner to OhForTheLoveOfGodJustThrowTheCrapInABoxAndGo? We're so there.
We've been moving a little at a time for a couple of weeks now. A pickup load here and there when the schedule/weather/toddler allow. (The toddler, actually, has two almost entirely furnished rooms already at the new house -- a bedroom and a playroom. The adults? We don't even have a mattress there yet. Or dishes that are not made of paper.)
This weekend we're cranking Operation Cohabitation up to eleven. (Relatedly, are you guys on the make Nigel Tufnel Day happen bandwagon for next year? You probably should be.) Child care has been arranged. Friends have made promises to show up (in the morning on a Saturday!) to carry heavy things. If all goes well, by Sunday evening we should be living less like nomads (good lord, we're currently splitting our time between three houses) and more like a Real Official Family with a single address.
Wish us luck, ya'll. We're going to need it.