It’s been a whirlwind, y’all.

I got my girls back Sunday evening after they spent over a week with their dad—his second summer week. I hope I do not have to do that very often. Maybe just every summer.

I told their dad we’re moving to South Georgia. His response? A quick “okay” while glancing at his watch like he had somewhere else to be. Probably with the next girl he’s love-bombing and she thinks she is special. I followed it up with the details of the move and where we could meet halfway for exchanges. His reply was vague—“I’ll get with you if I have any questions.” Translation: he’s probably talking to his lawyer. So I reached out to mine too. No reply yet, but I’ll be calling soon.

Even though I was thrilled to have my girls back, they didn’t exactly run into my arms. Piper smiled, sure, but she looked tired. Aubree was quiet at first, but later curled up in my lap. That little moment said more than words ever could—she missed me, even if she doesn’t know how to show it in the usual ways. Piper’s clinginess and her little fuss when I picked up the diaper bag told me she missed me too. She thought I was leaving again. She’s learning the pattern, and I hate that. Especially when most the time I’m picking it up, they are the ones usually leaving.

On top of all this emotional juggling, Piper had her neurology appointment yesterday. We’ve got an EEG this Thursday and a sedated MRI scheduled for next Thursday at CHOA. They’re trying to rule out neurological causes for her possible focal seizures or balance issue. Part of me wants them to find something so we can finally have answers. The other part of me is praying everything is perfectly fine. You know that tug-of-war feeling? Yeah. I’m sitting in it.

The big move is set for the weekend of August 8th—just a few short weeks away. We are already moving big things and packed boxes down in a storage unit down there. The house is slowly coming together, and we’ve been checking off the final projects in this house. Its under contract already, but they wanted us to finish the updating we were doing before we left. Dad might be starting a night shift job down south next week, which makes the timing tricky. We’re still hoping he gets a daytime offer that better aligns with our move schedule.

The girls being home feels right, but I won’t lie—trying to get things done with toddlers underfoot is a challenge. He’ll have them again this weekend, and I plan to go through the last of our things at the building we lived in before I moved back in with Mom. It’s mostly odds and ends now, but it holds so many memories—some good, some painful. Sometimes it stirs up those “What if?” thoughts. But deep down, I know I made the right choice. He said he wasn’t going to move on (I told him I am not asking him to, but he insisted). He said a lot of things. And yet here we are.

As for me? I’m not in a place to even think about dating. I do get lonely sometimes—not just romantically, but for real, meaningful adult connection. Right now, though, my focus is on building a life—on something steady and mine. For my girls. For me.

I’ve got a vet tech degree, but that life doesn’t suit me anymore. The pay isn’t enough, and let’s be honest, I’m 32, and my body feels like it’s clocking out at 70 some days. Knees pop, hands and feet will go numb, back aches if I blink too hard. Still, I’m pushing forward—learning new skills, working on a certification, and dreaming of something sustainable I can do from home.

It’s slow progress. But it is progress.

I may not have everything figured out, but I’m showing up. And I’m proud of that.