My parents, in shock and mourning over the news that we'll soon be leaving for Parts North, showed up this weekend for an impromptu visit. I'm happy to say that I made it through the entire weekend without bursting into tears once. I'm not sure any of us would have been salvageable had one of us broke down.

Watching Sam with my parents has taken on even more poignancy and significance than it had before now; he may have no idea that he'll be moving twice as far away from them as he is now, but they do, and so do I. There's an urgency in their play that wasn't there before - a sort of need to squeeze as much love out of their time together as possible. It reminds me of the first few days of Sam's life, when Mom and Dad were visiting and helping us get started, and nobody knew how things were going to play out after that. We didn't know how often they'd be able to visit; when it was just Eric and me up here, after all, our visits were few and far between. Now we're in that same state of tentative worry and fear.

We didn't cry, though. We had a great time together. Since my birthday is in a couple of weeks, Mom took me out shopping for clothes as a present. Shirts, sweaters, pants - I've not felt so pampered in years. A part of me chuckled, since it reminded me a little of my shopping trip with Sam a few weeks ago. Mommies may be reluctant to spend money on themselves (I know I am), but my mother is still a mommy, too, and she still has the innate desire to make sure her babies are dressed well and comfortably. As it was, I hadn't really bought much new clothing since before Sam was even conceived. I guess I was beginning to look a little ragged around the edges. No more hobo clothing for me, though!

This afternoon, before they had to hit the road for home, we went out to the metropark for a little outdoor fun. Sam led us on chases up and down paths, intercepting every dog he saw. We had our hands full just trying to keep him (and ourselves) from interrupting any of the numerous photo shoots that seemed to be happening around every corner. I suppose that this is the season for taking Christmas card photos; everywhere we looked, groups of poised and polished looking families were posing for professional photographers in front of beautiful foliage. Most seemed to have Labradors and Irish Setters posing with them. One family made Eric wonder whether the shoot was for a catalog; the mother and father were in matching Tommy Hilfiger sweaters, and the two boys were in identical Tommy cardigans to match.

We wended our way down to the boardwalk that overlooked a creek at the bottom of a ravine. Tromping up and down that, I paused to pull what looked like a weed away from a tree trunk. Suddenly, I felt compelled to stop and look at the weed more closely, and a horrible feeling gripped me.

"Mom, come here," I called. "What is this plant?" She know far more about greenery than I do, having been raised in a more rural area.

"That's poison ivy," she said, confirming my suspicion.

I sighed, handed off the camera that was in my other hand, and made a mad dash for the nearest restroom, where I scrubbed my hands until I felt ready to perform open-heart surgery. My eczema was on fire from the rubbing and the soap, but I felt a little more calm. Now, if I could just stop these phantom itches that are taking over my entire body, I'd be thrilled.

I've found that the best way to keep myself from mourning the loss of what we have now is to keep looking forward to what we'll have then. The relocation department has hooked us up with the good people of Coldwell Bankers Real Estate, and Cheryl, a perky-sounding agent, took some of our information over the phone and agreed to start emailing us new listings that fit our criteria. We've also been preapproved for a new mortgage, this time slightly higher than the one we previously had.

This is all familiar. This is what we went through just a few months ago, with the exception of the fact that we can't drive around on the weekends and go to open houses on our own. Doing it long distance takes some of the fun parts away, but it's still a little exciting. We're back to the anticipation part, and I'm doing my best to forget the nail-biting part that comes after this, with the bidding and the bargaining.

I'm also hearing from lots of you guys, telling me that, on the whole, Wisconsin isn't really such a bad place to live. You've been praising Milwaukee, championing the populace, and giving me all manner of ideas about things to do in the area. I have to say that if everybody there is as friendly as you Wisconsinites, then this may turn out to be a very nice place indeed.

We're also trying our hardest to get around to doing everything in Toledo that we've been putting off trying for the past several years. All the restaurants we haven't tried, all the parks we haven't tested, all the stores we haven't shopped - now's our chance, and if we don't use it, we'll lose it!

Two and a half months, approximately. Put that way, it sounds like such a very short time to "finish."

Tuesday night is the second test in my Ethno class. I told the students that they should expect the same format as before, which I think will help them; now they'll at least have a better idea of what to expect. I'm also thinking of adding in a bonus question at the end to allow for some deeper thought while giving them a chance to make up some extra points.

I gave them their assignments for their final papers a couple of weeks ago. Honestly, some of the topics struck me as downright fun. "Pick a currently popular artist or group from your own music-culture and discuss possible influences from other music-cultures around the world." In three to five pages? I'd have killed for a topic like that when I was an undergraduate, in music or not! I'm really looking forward to hearing them present their papers at the end of the class.

It's all so bittersweet, knowing that I won't be doing this class for a second semester. Who knows what teaching opportunities I'll have in Wisconsin, too? For now, I'm enjoying the moment. Two and a half more months!