Hermit Crabs

Sometimes, like today, I feel like a hermit crab. My family is starting to get a little too big, a little too old, and a little past the stage we're living in.

If you look closely, you can see that there's just not ... quite ... room ... for everything.

Our poor apartment is bursting at the seams. I clean it every day, but there are simply too many boxes of old baby clothes and not enough closets.

We're outgrowing the newly married student scene. We have a child twice the age of half our neighbors' marriages.

Cute one-year-old legs

We're outgrowing the BYU scene. My 18-year-old niece mentioned that the only people she sees when she passes the Tanner building are "freshmen from the dorms and old graduate students." It donned on me that she was talking about Ryan.

We're outgrowing our one-car lifestyle. I don't want to sound spoiled, but sometimes a second car would make our lives a lot simpler.

We're outgrowing our kitchen. It's very small, so our table has to be pushed up against two walls. That leaves two sides of the table available for sitting, so one of us usually ends up in a folding chair on the corner. Or on the couch in the living room.

I'm outgrowing my workspace. I really need at least a bookshelf where I can keep all my writing things above Lyla level.

Lyla level is getting higher and higher.

We're outgrowing the semester-to-semester lifestyle.

We are getting old.

We're ready to move forward.

So ... everyone say it with me:

Three more months.  Three more months.  Three more months!