It’s been a busy few weeks with ups and downs…right now we’re on a bit of a down. For news about our house-selling mis-adventures, go here: www.littlecityliving.blogspot.com
We’re hanging in there, but I have to say that a lot of fun has gone out of the process due to recent developments. The kids have been gracious and funny and lively through all of this and I have some hilarious comments and activities to share…soon.
…Buyer #2, Mr. Better Offer! Hooray!
Let the packing games begin!
And so we wait and my head is filled with questions that are insignificant and cumbersome all at once: Do I divide my perennials and bring duplicates of them with me, without having any idea what horticultural treasures may already be in place at the new house? Do I dig up the mock orange that grows outside of Harrison’s room, the one that once grew outside of my bedroom window when I was a child? What furniture should we bring, or ditch altogether? What color will we paint the living room, the room that we both agree must be the first room painted? How on earth are we going to move without movers? And while we’re talking about that, might it not be intelligent to hire some movers, if only for the big furniture?
There are things here that my heart will ache with missing, like the gardens in front of our porch that we made rise from the dust with our bare hands, lots of labor, and the sheer will to make things grow. It is, if I say so myself, a place of beauty and I will hate leaving it behind. In weak moments I will miss the completedness of our house here, the fact that the rooms are all painted and the curtains are hung, that the artwork is placed just so on the walls. But I know, too, that we can make more gardens rise from the earth, that we can paint rooms and tile floors and tidy up kitchens and make bathrooms sparkle and eventually it will shine just like this house does. And I know, too, that many of these concerns are about trivial things and that our reasons for moving (more house; less yardwork; walk-ability to downtown, library, and parks; a community with greater diversity; proximity to our target school; better financial positioning) far outweigh the trivial unknowns we are about to face.
I know that the most important things, memories and family and friends, are coming with us no matter where we go and that knowledge melts away all fears, leaving me filled with excitement for this new adventure.
We accepted the new offer and put our first offer’s 48 hour contingency into effect last night, so now we wait to see if the first people can get alternate funding for their purchase. They have until 9pm tomorrow to come through, otherwise the second (and better) offer will be the one that gets the house. Once we know for sure we’ll remove our 48 hour contingency from the “green” house, as we call it, and we’ll start packing!
And speaking of the green house, the crabapple trees out front bloomed last week and the were spectacular. Being the totally annoying hopfeul purchaser that I am, I drove past and shot a picture out of the window:
Four showings this weekend. I am so tired. A new offer coming in tomorrow and these people do not have a house to sell. Keep your fingers crossed!
What have I been up to, aside from keeping the house clean?
Bread baking. Crusty white bread from the old, orange Betty Crocker; I know the recipe by heart now. It is so, so good and the actual working time that it requires to make two loaves is about twenty minutes…it takes me longer than that to go out and buy bread at the store. Why have I been buying bread all of these years? Harry and Emma are in fresh baked bread Heaven these days. As soon as they see me take the flour bag out of the cupboard they start begging for a slice of warm bread and we have had some really interesting conversations about yeast, flour, and chemical reactions. It’s awesome.
Sewing. I got a new book for myself, Heather Ross’s Weekend Sewing, and I have been busy building up my summer wardrobe and making a few overdue baby gifts. The gifts are overdue, not the babies. This book is lovely and full of good ideas, and I have actually made clothes for myself that I can wear, in public even!
Making granola. Flora gave me a great recipe and we’ve been making our own snack food ever since. It is the perfect mix of sweet and crunchy and you cannot even imagine how good the house smells when it is baking. Yum.
Finishing up pre-school. This Friday is Harry’s last day and this week will be full of extra activities and special treats, after which the unscheduled days of summer stretch before me for what seems like miles. I have seriously got to get something planned for these summer days.
Sick. The last weeks of pre-school just wouldn’t have seemed right without just one more illness, I suppose. We’ve all been stuffed up, sneezy, coughing, and wheezing, with the added fun of having pollen season at the same time. We’re feeling better now, but the last two weeks have been endured with a slight edge of grumpy.
I’ll let you know about the other offer when we know more…
Once upon a time a boy and a girl fell in love. They got married, bought a house, sold it, bought another house, sold it, bought another house, and for awhile they lived happily ever after. And then the boy and the girl wanted a family so they brought home a rabbit and a dog, and then another dog and for awhile they lived happily ever after. The boy and girl went on to adopt two gloriously funny and wildly wonderful kids and they lived happily ever after.
And while the boy and the girl were living happily ever after with their two kids, two dogs, and one house rabbit, they found a house that they loved. It was a beautiful old house, full of architectural detail and the kind of quality craftmsanship that is difficult to come by in this day and age, and they wanted this house. They wanted to be the family to bring it back to life, to make it shine and glow from the inside out with love. But this house was right next to a sometimes stinky paper mill and the work it needed was big and scary. The boy and girl let this house fall away, although sometimes they would look at the pictures they had taken of it and they would dream about the “what ifs” with a mixture of relief and regret.
And then one day the boy and the girl were driving through the same fun little city and they came across an open house sign. On a whim they went in, bringing with them their wild and funny kids, and the girl fell in love all over again as she watched her children laugh and play in the big open rooms on the old hardwood floors. Over time the boy fell in love, too, with the idea of pocket doors and a grand old staircase, a fireplace with original tile and a neighborhood within walking distance to the very cute downtown and the very nice parochial school. The boy and girl looked at each other with big questions in their eyes, then they talked and talked and wondered and worried and thought and crunched numbers, until eventually they decided, in a very grown-up and well-thought-out way, that this house should not slip away, that this house could shine from the inside out with their love, that this house could be the place where their children could grow up surrounded by history and community.
The boy and the girl made a leap of faith in the form of an offer, they negotiated, they got the house, and they put their own house on the market. And then the boy and the girl accepted an offer on their house. They were nervous and excited, and they lived happily ever after.
I knit.
You know that from the bazillion pictures of bags/sweaters/dresses I knitted when waiting for Emma to come home, right? Well, now I am happy and excited to announce that you can knit with me! Anne’s Yarn Shop in G.F. has asked me to teach a felting (fulling) class in March. For $15 plus the cost of supplies you can learn to make a striped handbag using Cascade 220 yarn and a bag pattern that I developed. The fee includes 2-2 hour sessions, March 14 and March 21, held from 12-2pm.
The best part of knitting and felting wool yarn is that once you know how a particular yarn shrinks you can go off-pattern and create your own originals. It is a technique well worth learning, resulting in a bag that is sure to bring many compliments (I know mine do). I do hope some of you local knitters will join us! Email me for more information.
We blink and it happens: our children change and grow and mature without us even realizing it is happening, until suddenly sitting before us is the school aged version of the baby we once knew. Our baby has grown, and where he once babbled and cooed there now sits a tall and lean little boy, independent in all of the ways that matter at his age, able to engage adults with his good manners, wit, and charm. When I look at him I see his inquisitive nature, his love of problem solving, his ability to nurture and care when the people he loves are hurt or sad. I see his love of a good story, his sense of adventure, his admiration of nature and the world around him. I see his glorious sense of humor and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Oh, yes, there are impish little boy parts, too, but when I look at the big picture of our son I see the strength of his character, the line sketch of the man he will one day be.
I see him and my heart smiles.
It seems I never posted any pictures at the holidays last year, because like most everyone else I know, Facebook nearly ate my blog. (stupid time stealing Facebook)
In no particular order, here are the photos we just took off the camera:
They LOVE their new tents. Harrison even decided to sleep in his for several nights, before realizing that the floor is not quite as comfy as his bed.
Bananas on the counter. Funny, I never let Harrison sit on the counter when he was little but I plunk Emma up there all of the time so I can get other things done. She is so happy to sit up there and watch whatever I am doing that it never occurs to her to wiggle, squirm, or reach for all of the things I keep up there so the kids won’t be able to reach them.
Emma basks in the late morning sunlight.
The much anticipated Green John Deere Tractor.
And the much anticipated Black Kitty Cat, aptly named Meow.
Christmas morning.
Aunt Brooke was awesome and hosted our Christmas festivities at her new pad this year. Emma and Harrison were as entertained by Coco the Chihuahua as they were by their new gifts.
Somewhere under there is our picnic table. We’ve had plentiful snow this year and the table is even more buried now than it was then.
Emma in the tub. with Hello Kitty and Whale.
Harrison did my hair, and his Cars toys watched.
First day of fevers…Harry looks pale. Poor little guy.
This last one is a ghost picture that came off our old camera. Please ignore the embarrassing mess on our counters and focus on the little fuzzy-chick headed girl and wee little boy standing by the mudroom gate. They were so small! I think this is not long after Emma arrived, so Harrison would have been nearing 2 1/2 and Emma almost 1. I miss those days, but we’ve come so far since then.
It’s been a rough couple of days. Emma had to go back to the doctor on Friday because she was wheezing so badly at night that I thought I was hearing a continuous old-man snore over the monitor. I probably let it go a day or two too long, but Friday’s visit to Dr. Breen set me straight. She has acute bronchiolitis (at first they thought she had pneumonia, but her blood oxygen count was fine, thank goodness) and has to do nebulizer treatments a few times a day for the next week, the same drugs that my grandmother with emphysema was on for ages. So that freaks me out a little bit. Emma takes her medicine like a champ, sitting quietly and taking good, deep breaths while she looks through a pile of books.
We’d been on a run of sleepless nights spent either trying to let Emma sleep draped over us or listening to her breathe on the monitor. Our days have been filled with a tired little girl who feels yucky and is suddenly very much a terrible two when she’s not well. Climbing to the top of our stairs left her spent and wheezing and she needed to be carried, a lot. I nearly sewed a new mei tai in an effort to relieve my aching arms!
The good news is the drugs seem to be working. She finally slept all night last night, then stood at the bottom of the stairs this morning calling loudly and cheerfully for her Daddy, asking for cereal and demanding that he get up and play with her. It did my heart good to lie in bed and listen to that clear voice of hers, absent of wheeze for the first time in a week. She didn’t mention me until well later, when she realized that Daddy might not be home. So our Emma is feeling better, it seems, and we’re all looking forward to getting out of the house today.