Creature Bug

Week 232: A Different Kind of Holiday

We've said it before, Jason and I, how different it feels to have a house at the Family Farm. (By way of reminder, we spend our weekends living in my grandma's old house in Washington, whereas we spend our weekdays living in an apartment in Oregon.) We drive up there, park our car in the carport, unload our bags, and walk into the house which suddenly transforms into "home."

There's our milk in the fridge. Our mail on the counter. Our clothes hanging in the closet. When we get tired there's no prolonged goodbyes with family and then making the hour-plus drive back to Salem. We simply brush our teeth, and go to bed.

To be sure, it's not always easy because sometimes the milk is sour, and sometimes the clothes get left at the wrong house. But our families are an ocean of hospitality as they feed us, the guests who never bring anything to the table. And my mother-in-law has taken it upon herself to clean the house during the week while we're gone because, as she says, "It makes me feel better knowing that I'm helping you." Saints, all of them.

Sometimes it feels a little weird, like we're in a vacation house except...not. Or like we're visiting, except...not. But most of the time--especially now that the holidays are upon us--it feels like a relief. No dividing up the hours between the families, or trying to get a child to take a nap in an unfamiliar bed. We're already there, in our temporary part-time home dreaming about the days when our permanent long-term home will be built (and by way of reminder on that, we're breaking ground the beginning of spring).

And so when my sister and her friends drove in Thanksgiving morning after the 20-hour drive from Colorado, we were there to hug bleary-eyed her. Her friends no doubt thought she and I were crazy as we alternately made faces and meowing noises at each other. And though I spent a lovely and delicious Thanksgiving meal with Jason's family, there was no rush to squeeze in a few hours with my sister before we made the drive home. I just got to hang out with her and figure out exactly what those lyrics are to the first song in Beauty and the Beast. "Bonjour!" we all sang loudly, late at night, no worries at all about where the girls were sleeping.

For as stress-inducing as a the dual-living was for the first couple months, the arrangement will more than makeup for itself during Christmas. As soon as Jason goes on Christmas break, we'll be off, headed up to our Washington home, where we will start to learn exactly how it feels to spend the holidays right next door to our family instead of navigating multiple hour-long trips. There will be new traditions, and traditions that will skip this year because so much of life is boxed up, waiting to be revealed next year in a new home.

Even though I fret about how they're adjusting, somehow the girls never worry about how life is at the Family Farm, even if Sydney wondered the other night, "How will the angels know where to watch over me?" "They just know," I said. "But how?" she asked again.

"Because," I said as we both drifted off to sleep, "wherever we are, God is."

I Shopped on Black Friday and All I Ended Up With Was A Piece of Costco Pizza

Jason and I had a mission on Friday: buy a new tv.

Not just any television, mind you.

A tv that will go in the new house. A high def tv. A minimum 3-hdmi plug-in, 1080p, wall-mountable tv. I haven't done any real research on the darn things, and yet when my sister asked me today what the difference is between a plasma and an LCD, I suspiciously sounded like one of those people who rattle on and on about electronics as if it's of great importance and used some kind of snobby phrase like "refresh rate."

Buying a new tv hasn't been at the top of my priority list (because I sometimes wish we didn't even have a tv), but I know that Jason has really wanted a new one for a long time. Our current one has a troubling blue spot that threatens to take over the whole screen. If you don't mind everyone looking a little Smurfy, then it's not a big deal. Otherwise, it's kind of annoying.

So Friday afternoon we dropped the girls off with the grandparents, and away we went to Jantzen Beach where we spent counted hours in Video Only, Best Buy, Circuit City, and Babies-R-Us (that was just to see if they had Wii Fit for my mom). Then we went to Costco where in a dazed and confused state we disobeyed my mother's orders not to buy any food because "there's more turkey than we know what to do with." Then for kicks we went to Best Buy over by the airport.

We finally settled on a tv. Okay, we said. We'll take that one.

The frazzled salesman looked it up for us and gave us the news: they didn't have any more in stock.

Home we went, no tv riding happily in the back of the minivan we borrowed for the occasion. It would have been a total bummer except that my grandma's minivan has seat warmers, and I just can't be too disappointed when my buns are toasty warm. Try it sometime. It's practically impossible.

I admit, it's usually a certain kind of hell for me, shopping for electronics. I'm constantly torn between pretending to know what I'm doing and wishing I was at home folding laundry. As it is, I spent approximately 10 hours looking and learning about TVs, sound systems, receivers, wiring, cabling, Blue-Ray, converters...some of you are nodding, and some of you are already getting that glazed look in your eyes like I do when Jason starts explaining some of it to me.

But after all those hours, I actually am mildly knowledgeable about entertainment systems. I could tell you what a good deal is, and ultimately the money factor is the only reason why I think any of it is important. Well, that and after staring at plasma screens I can tell you that their black isn't as true as an LCD's. And that 1080p is overkill for smaller screens. Somehow that's important.

Yesterday's failure only spurred us on to work harder today, and after another trip to Costco we finally got one. It's bigger than I had said I would allow in the house, but as I was watching those high-def baby penguins waddle across the screen it just seemed like the one to get. Jason said, "Look at that picture," and I said, "I want a penguin," and since the price was within our budget we somehow ended up with a...*gulp*...46" tv in the van.

Oh man.

Drat those baby penguins.

The Imaginary Shoe String Budget

We are one of those fortunate folks who aren't worried about losing a job, paying a mortgage, or making ends meet. Not that we haven't been in that position before, mind you. Only that having already managed to sell our house in this dismal market and both possessing jobs that are more recession-proof than most, we are on the lucky side.

The trick--for me, not for Jason--is to stay on the same budget that we started last June even though our expenses are dramatically lower than they've ever been. It's the same budget that didn't include my paycheck and did include a mortgage, property taxes, and an electrical bill for a non-energy efficient house. The same budget that allowed us to eat meat (other than chicken) every other month. It kills me not to splurge on items I've always wanted, like Ben & Jerry's ice cream (never had it, but everybody says it's delicious) or...or diamond earrings. You know. The simple pleasures.

But I keep remembering that we're saving for a house.

Those cute new shoes? REMEMBER THE HOUSE.

Curtains to spruce up the apartment? REMEMBER THE HOUSE.

A trip to Banana Republic? ACK! REMEMBER THE HOUSE! REMEMBER THE HOUSE!

It's a voice that plays in my head when I'm out shopping: We're saving for stuff to go in that house. Like the 42" plasma tv for Jason, or the stainless steel microwave drawer for me (and don't let that price on the website fool you; you can get them for cheaper). There's the new dining room table, and knobs for cabinets, and sheetrock, ductwork, and electrical outlet covers. Sure, those outlet covers aren't going to break the bank, but we have to buy, I don't know, 100 of them? That adds up. I'm guessing it does anyway. I can't quite visualize it in my head the way I can visualize those diamond earrings.

So we've been pretending we have a mortgage, and instead of paying a bank, we're stashing the money away in our money market account. It gives us an idea of what life will be like when we have that mortgage again. Except not quite, because there's no fear or worry or ohmygosh we don't have money to cover new brakes for the truck. It's the habit without the pressure of reality.

I'm not complaining that we're saving money instead of spending it. Seriously. A lot of people would be grateful to be in our position. I'm just reminding myself that even though I really want a Wii, I really, really want windows and carpet more.

I just tell myself every time I want a cranberry bliss bar at Starbucks, "Remember the light fixtures." Light fixtures aren't very tasty, but they are awfully pretty. And calorie-free.

And this time next year I'll be making my own bliss bars in my microwave drawer.

Because after building the house I won't be able to afford to buy them.

Week 231: Running with the Elephants

Thank you all for celebrating with me on my big news. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I celebrated by going out to dinner with friends, going to see Twelfth Night at my school, and going with Sydney to a dance performance at Willamette U. Technically, those were things I would have done even if I wasn't celebrating, but that's neither here nor there.

It's best to keep our celebration out of the house anyways because we have a new neighbor below us who introduced herself by way of saying, "Hi, I'm your new neighbor downstairs. I was wondering what sort of arrangement we could come up with about the noise." I stood there in the doorway awkwardly, assuring her I would do my best. She was sympathetic, "I know you have small children," but evidently their running up and down the hallway and the all-day dance parties in the living room sound like "a herd of elephants."

In case you aren't regularly around young children, I should mention that kids move around. A lot. In fact, Jules doesn't walk anywhere. She runs. She hops. She pounces with enthusiasm and vigor. And Sydney? The poor dear has heard the news, but as she said, "I just can't help it, Momma! I have to dance."

And she does. She has to. It's who she is. Our hour-long dance parties are a scheduled part of our daily activities, and all my instincts to be a kind and courteous neighbor squirm inside me with every thump, and stomp, and twirl, but...well, we can't stop dancing any more than we can't stop breathing.

I feel terrible though because we are not a quiet family. Have you met quiet families, with sweet and gentle mothers, who raise sweet and gentle children? I have, and I find them fascinating in the kind of way I find jellyfish fascinating. I am mesmerized by their slow, magical ways as they float through life. Sometimes I think, I'll just be a little quieter, a little more still, and then that will make all the difference.

Years of teaching has taught me this "change my ways" philosophy doesn't work. Just like I admire gentle parents, I also admired gentle teachers. They were the ones whose classrooms were subdued, their students rarely yelled (because they were bored? I don't know...). There's plenty of research that suggests that students emulate the noise and energy level of their teacher, and I tried to be one of those gentle, soft-spoken teachers. Well, I'd try for about 5 minutes, and then an errant boisterous laugh or a blatant display of crazy enthusiasm for Beowulf would bely my true nature: I am not quiet. I am not soft-spoken. I am not mellow.

To some degree I am quite relieved that my girls aren't either, Jules definitely more so than Sydney. We're a noisy bunch. We sing all the time. We dance at every moment. We wrestle; we bounce balls; we regularly drop to the floor for sit-ups and push-ups (and seeing a 23-month old kid doing sit-ups is totally priceless, I have to tell you). Throw in the daily temper tantrums, meltdowns, and dramatic monologues and you have a household that recognizes quiet like an Oregonian recognizes sunshine in February: with great confusion mixed with delight mixed with distrust.

I briefly thought of tallying how often we make noise that probably disrupts our neighbors, but I lost count after about 3 minutes. The most I can do is step over that squeak in the kitchen floor, disallow Sydney from practicing her tap dancing on non-carpeted areas, and half-heartedly remind the girls in my best lifeguard voice to "walk, don't run" between stations.

Also? I'm going to take some flowers down to our neighbor and beg to arrange some noisy hours and quiet hours because we have seven more months in our apartment and the little elephants can't keep from trumpeting.

Week 228: The other side of fire

And just like that, life is easier.

On Friday, we were living in one place; on Saturday, we moved into another. On Sunday, we spent the day walking the area around our apartment, visiting the teeny tiny park, drinking pumpkin spice lattes, getting new filters for the vacuum so that not a speck of dirt from the old place would find its way into our new place.

I can feel it internally, in the way I breathe, the length of time between blinks, the habit of walking again without socks.

The books are away in the bookshelf, the magazines hang on their rack, the shoes in the drawer, the supplies of every day needs neatly stacked on the bathroom shelves. In the span of two days we have found order, organization, and a patch of sunlight streaming through the 3rd story living room windows.

The same 3rd story windows that look out at the trees where squirrels and birds live.

The same trees that still bear the scars of the being burned two years ago when this apartment complex went up in flames.

That's why despite being in an older building, our apartment--and several others that were destroyed by the fire--is nice and new, because it was the epicenter of the fire that displaced a dozen people, injured 2 firefighters, and made the skies black with smoke.

Two years ago this place was destroyed. It took a year to renovate and rebuild the complex in order to make it inhabitable. It took a weekend for it change our attitude.

It's amazing what a little sunshine through the window can do for the soul.

And it's amazing how a little less than a month ago I was falling apart at the seams, and yet here I am, looking out my window at a tree, blackened by fire, home to birds and squirrels.

There's a parallel in there somewhere.

Living where slugs come to die

I remember in elementary school playing a game called What's Grosser than Gross. In my circle of friends, the answers usually involved a rusty nail, or great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts, and we'd squeeze our eyes shut and squeal with laughter. Ten-year-olds thrive on gross.

Here's the thing, though: I outgrew the humor of grossness. Call me stuffy, but I just don't think "gross" is funny anymore. Which is probably why I'm struggling to laugh over our current apartment predicament, whereby each day brings me more Grosser than Gross encounters.

What's Grosser than Gross? The smell of an old Motel 6 room.
What's Grosser than That? When that smell is your home.

What's Grosser than Gross? Cleaning yucky bathrooms.
What's Grosser than That? Finding that the underside of a toilet bowl was not sufficiently cleaned from all the previous owner's "dirt" while cleaning the yucky bathroom.

What's Grosser than Gross? Old apartment carpet that feels like greasy hair.
What's Grosser than That? Discovering one morning that the greasy haired carpet was SLIMED by a slug, which then dried up and died on your favorite floor pillow.

And really, the slug thing? We don't know how he get in. I vacuumed up the slug and he rattled around in the cannister as I went about my daily routine of vacuuming the carpet again, hoping that maybe this time my vacuuming will turn the carpet into new carpet. Even now, recalling the slugging, my mind goes blank and my emotions go flat, probably as a self-defense mechanism to keep me sane.

I realize that once I put it all in perspective--we have a place to live that is relatively safe; we are not facing the loss of all our worldly possessions like those in Galveston; we have relatively few worries other than an old, gross apartment--all my complaints seem petty. I'm always telling myself to KEEP IT IN PERSPECTIVE. It could be worse. Much worse. We could have slugs crawling up our bedspread and snuggling beside us while we sleep. And, oh my gosh, I just typed that and my skin broke out in a cold sweat of horror. Perspective.

But when I walked through the apartment door tonight, and was accosted by that musty smell for the 100th time, I answer my inner voice with, "Shut up about perspective, already. My perspective is that I hate this apartment." I admit, I'm the one who picked out this apartment. Sure, it was the only one that we could find available on such short notice after selling our house. Sure, it's in the location we wanted. Sure, we are saving ourselves buckets of money by living in an apartment instead of renting a house. But I'm sensing that all that money we are saving ourselves might have to go back into therapy and medication.

The truth is, and those who have talked with me over the past month have heard me say it, I am not as strong as I think I am. I like to think that I'm not such a needy, snobby princess type. Who needs new carpet? Who needs carport parking? Who needs sunlight in the bedrooms? Who needs a clean toilet? Turns out, I guess I do. It's been a humbling experience, realizing that I'm a touch high maintenance (and Jason kisses me and says, "Oh, sweetums. You've always been high maintenance, and I love you for it").

I would like to be more like my sister, who can make the best out of any living situation. Andrea used to live in an apartment in Florida where the constant presence of teeny tiny ants was such a normal thing for her that she would even eat them in her cereal. Believe or not, when I visited her, I thought, "Maybe I could get use to this. Maybe I too could eat ants in my cereal."

Note to self: ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? You would sooner end up in the psych ward than eat ants for breakfast. You are forgiven for your outrageous line of thinking because you were 7-months pregnant.

And, so, we are moving. Again. To some place newer, and nicer, and more expensive. A place that has a washer and dryer, windows that receive actual sunlight, rooms that have ceiling lights, carpet on which I will allow my kids to walk barefoot. We'll have to pay the $250 fee for moving out of this apartment early, and we'll have to apologize profusely to our landlord who was so accommodating to get us into a place when we needed it. I do feel bad about that.

The alternative, however, is here. With the slugs. Where at the end of the day, I sit on the couch, unable to muster any amount of emotion--positive or negative--because I've slipped into survival mode. My experiment in living with less has resulted in a great, big, slimed failure which is perhaps a Grosser than Gross character trait.

But what's Grosser than That?

Slugs in my living room.

Dreaming in Hot Pink

How I am coping with living in our apartment is a post unto itself. I will say that repeating "This too shall pass" is wearing thin, although that doesn't stop me from saying it.

I will also say that I have found great refuge in Pottery Barn and IKEA magazines. Perusing the Restoration Hardware and Rejuvenation websites help keep the house building dream alive. Not that it's dead, of course. Only that breaking ground next spring seems a long, long, long way off.

The fun part is that we get to spend money on a few new furnishings, specifically a new dining room table and new furniture for the girls' room.

Well, folks, Sydney has found her dream room. And if you would please ask her about her dream room, then she'll be ever so happy to describe it to you.

A couple weeks ago, we were touring through a show-home in Vancouver (Washington, not BC), and as Jason and I were examining the countertops in the master bathroom, Sydney came racing back to us, out of breath, excited beyond excited.

"COME QUICK! Oh my goodness, you have to come quick, come quick! I found it!" She raced off again and we followed obediently behind her only to discover...

 

Hot pink, pale pink, lime green, flowers, monkeys, bunkbeds, black and white, and the very recognizable IKEA pendant lamp: this is the stuff of Sydney's dreams. Plus, what you don't see--a pop-up princess tent, a fabulous flower-shaped carpet, and a black dresser with pink knobs.

We agreed to replicate the room as best as we could, minus the pooling sheer curtains because she has a mommy who doesn't trust her girls not to pull those curtails down. Oh the thrills, the joys, the "this is what my room is going to look like" adoration. Sydney hasn't been able to stop talking about it ever since.

   

Jules needed a little convincing. Yes, dear. You'll love it. I promise.

 

She decided that she and the bedspread were a perfect match for each other. And then she ran off to break something.

Even waiting almost a year for her room to be finished isn't going to deter Syd's enthusiasm.

 

She and I both know some things are worth waiting for.

Week 223: Afloat

Well.

It was perhaps optimistic of me to be thinking a week ago that life would be back to normal--or at least back to a new normal--by today. Oh, I knew there would still be unpacked boxes, but somehow I thought I'd have the routine down of living in two different states (literally, since figuratively I'm living in many different states). Yet, it's 61 degrees here and I find myself without any jeans. Or socks. Or footwear other than flip flops and high heels. In fact, all those things are 70 miles away, unpacked, stacked neatly on the shelves in the closet of our "weekend" house. Ergo, I am cold.

Yes, the "clothes issue" is proving to be problematic.

I think I could write a lot about all the many things that have been problematic over the past week. Even things that have been more than problematic, verging on semi-traumatic. Honestly, I'm not quite there yet, where I can write about leaving our house. I have to force myself to remember the shining moments from the week, otherwise the defining moment becomes me, sitting at the top of the driveway of our former house, sobbing in the darkness, wishing we hadn't ever decided to sell our house.

While that was definitely part of last week, it wasn't all heartbreak and frustration.  

• My dad--a former professional mover--help us get our house packed up and organize the logistics of loading the moving van.
• Our parents being so willing and flexible to have the girls last week while we tried to get everything arranged. 
• The cable guy who came out to our apartment at 10 pm to fix our Internet connection.
• The wonderful group of students who are part of my classes this semester.
• The Banana Republic gift cards that we received courtesy of the rewards program on our credit card, allowing us to buy new clothes for work.
• The time that Jason and I got to spend just with each other--even if we were missing our girls terribly.
• The meal that our friend fixed us on Friday after we had been suffering on fast food (or no food) for a week.
• Receiving a several thousand dollar check back because we had (unbeknownst to us) been overcharged on the realtor commission.

Isn't that how every challenging situation is? Full of difficulties, to be sure, but also full of moments that keep us afloat. I expect (somewhat to my chagrin) that this past week is only a small reflection of what this next year is going to look like. No one said it was going to be easy--building a house, living in two different places, driving a 140-miles round-trip a couple times a week. I'm not even going to pretend that I'm 100% happy with all the decisions we've made.

But we're in it now, and it'll be okay. We'll float on down this muddy river, and let me tell you, there will be one heck of a picnic celebration when we get to the end.

Week 222: From There to Here...and there

A long day. That's the only way to describe today. A long day of packing boxes and furniture and groceries and then unpacking them at the apartment, and then packing boxes and furniture and clothes and more groceries to be taken to the Family Farm. I don't know if I'll ever be able to find anything again. Or if I want to.

The silver lining behind such a day would be that we are finished moving. Ah, yes. Wouldn't that be an excellent silver lining? Unfortunately, we aren't finished. The house isn't empty. Who would have thought that a 24' moving van, two trucks, and a trailer later we would still have stuff remaining at the house? If I had any poetry left in me at all I might write about the excesses of our society, and blah blah blah how does a four person family accumulate so much stuff, all of which I feel quite certain I need. Too bad for the commentators though: I have nothing to say about that except that at the moment the only possessions in my grip are my toothbrush, a tshirt and a pair of clean underwear stashed in my purse. I at least had the foresight to plan that since it may be a couple days before we access our clothes.

Let's see...before I crash from exhaustion I need to announce the winners of my little DVD giveaway. The very sweet Randomizer.Org picked out four numbers for me: 2, 1, 13, 6. That means a big ole' congratulations to Lara, Kristan, Sarah, and Glory Laine. Yay for you. Oh, wait, I can sound excited without actually having to exert any more energy. YAY FOR YOU! (I love exclamation points. I feel like I lose calories just by using them.) Oddly enough, dear winners, I don't have your addresses, so why don't you send them my way and I'll ship a movie off to you. Not this week, but next week for sure.

Speaking of this week, I'm going to take a short break from blogging. First of all, I'm not quite sure when we'll have Internet at the apartment. Second of all, I need to unpack my computer (I'm using my mom's right now). Third of all, I start teaching classes on Thursday.

And fourth and finally, I just have a lot of other things I should be doing. To that end, I'll be back after Labor Day. Or maybe on Labor Day. I'm completely unpredictable like that. And moody. And in desperate need of shower.

Have a wonderful end of August. See you in September.

48 hours of mayhem

My weekend officially began about six hours ago.

Jason's mom picked up the girls, and now we have approximately 48 hours to pack up our house and move it to either (a) the farm, or (b) the apartment that was more appealing last week when we were desperate to find a place to live but has since then lost much of its charm as I examine the popcorn ceilings, the brown shag carpet, the kitchen with no storage, and a little thing called LEAD BASED PAINT. The paint has been deemed safe as long as nobody scratches off the twelve layers of paint and eats it. I think we can manage that.

I am feeling overwhelmed at the state of my house. Clearly, I should be in hyper speed productive mode, and yet, somehow, I find myself here. Blogging. Wishing that the kitchen would just pack itself up. Wishing that someone else was making the decision on whether or not we should keep the odds and ends that had a nice, comfortable life in our junk drawer but now have no place to go.

Jason and I realized that we each tackle projects differently. He does the hard stuff first, so that he has plenty of energy to get everything accomplished. I, on the other hand, do the easy stuff first, and then stall out when it's get more tricky. You can imagine how this affects my packing skills: lots of half-full boxes, in every room, and no answers for Jason when he says, "Is this box done?" I scrunch up my eyes, and say, "You decide."

It's a good thing we don't often move, because the disarray, disharmony, and overall disgruntledness is making my hair frizzy and my skin blotchy. I'm going to the spa and someone else can pack.

Just kidding.

Okay. I'm going into the chaos, and I'm not coming out until it's finished.

See you on the other side.

Week 221: Holding On

 

There's no turning back now.

We have agreed to all the buyer's conditions, and if all goes according to plan (which at this point it should), we'll sign the deed over for our house on Thursday. By the 28th, we need to be out of the house. Oh, and I also need to be fully prepared for the school year because that's my first day of teaching. Good times.

I wasn't quite sure if the whole deal was going to work out mostly because I wasn't quite sure how much we were willing to give up in the process of selling the house. Turns out, we were willing to give up quite a lot. The prospects of waiting for another buyer, stalling on construction of the new house, and moving during the school year just seemed very daunting. And threatening. And stressful. And worth a few thousand dollars that we may or may not have received if we waited for another buyer. In the end, we sacrificed...oh, I don't...probably the new front load washer and dryer that I was hoping would be in the new laundry room. There's nothing wrong with our current washer and dryer, so no real loss. Really, I'll just be so happy to have a laundry room at all--inside my house, no less!--that I won't mind my old machines one bit.

This weekend, while the girls were with grandparents, Jason and I worked hard at packing stuff up. While I actually don't mind the whole process of packing, it is a bit nerve wracking trying to decide what should be packed for long-term storage, for the apartment here in town, or for our temporary housing up north. I have no trouble packing up almost all of my belongings. What is proving to be more difficult is determining what things need to be saved for the girls. It's one thing to pack away all my books; it's another to pack away all of their books. Good thing we regularly visit the library.

It's a little bit crazy around here right now. Honestly, I'd like to step away from the computer for a few weeks if I could. But I have lesson plans to write, reviews to do (and even DVDs to give away this week! yay!), and work to accomplish (requiring the computer). So, I'll still be popping by here, unless it somehow manages to get boxed up and hauled away. At which point, I will have nothing left to say anymore.

Pshaw.

Rollercoaster

At the end of each day, I sit at the computer, wandering the web, my mind simultaneously a vat of mud and brimming with ideas. The journey of selling our house has ruined my concentration, especially this week when it seems that at any moment the whole deal will fall apart.

We got an email tonight letting us know that the buyer is probably going to withdraw her offer.

Hope remains that we can work it out, but it's been a tough week. Tough knowing when we'll need to find a place to stay after the house sells. Tough knowing if the house will sell. Tough knowing that at the end of the day we feel no closer to actually breaking ground on building the new house.

And then today, I was feeling completely stressed out with
emails to realtors,
phone calls to contractors,
photo retouching for a new job I have (and like, but today was definitely a logistics headache),
and somehow trying to get lunch on the table. 

At this moment of pulling my hair out, Sydney asked to play with play-dough. Seriously. Play-dough is a thorn in my side, a plague in my clean kitchen, an irritant almost as strong as rap music. Nevertheless, she was patient with me as I hunched over the computer for an hour, and so I pulled it out for her.

Thirty minutes later--when she was done--
rather than clean the table,
sweep the floor,
and wash the play-dough toys, 
I decided that we just needed to be outside.

I needed to be far, far away from my computer.

I needed to be close to my babies, sitting on a blanket, eating frozen blueberries, watching Sydney dance and Jules spin.

 

 

It may be a crazy ride, but at least I've got one handsome guy, two pretty little people, and a dozen bags of frozen blueberries by my side. Hope lives on.

Week 219: Now what?

I had to smile at Diane's question in her comment to my last post: Now what?

Now what, indeed.

It's a good question. It's exactly the same question we've been asking ourselves since late Friday night. We wanted to sell our house. It's seems like that's going to work out. And then, after August 28th, we will be...

homeless?

No. Not homeless. (Good thing since I think it'd be pretty tricky to raise two kids in our little car.) But the truth is, we're not exactly sure where we'll be. One thing we know we do have and that's a place to stay at the Family Farm. My grandma is now living with my parents, so her house is vacant. We can live there, a stone's throw away from where we'll be building our house. However, the Family Farm is 75 minutes away from Salem, which is, by the way, where we've been living for 14 years.

Some of you maybe didn't even know I lived in Salem because I haven't often divulged that little detail (although you could have figured it out from this post). But now we're not going to be in Salem, so let's just skip past the land of vague references and get specific here. And while I'm on the topic of Salem, can I just say I love this town? I didn't used to, but I do now. Leaving Salem is going to be very, very hard. Not just because so many of my friends live here. Not just because I've enjoyed living in a town that always shows up on US maps, but just because it's a great place to raise a family. Marvelous. I'm getting ahead of myself though.

Anyway, the reason why I mention Salem at all is because Jason and I are actually still going to be working there all next school year. He's not giving up his job; I'm not giving up mine (until the following school year). I can easily commute from Washington the two days a week that I work, but Jason can't commute 5 days a week. Technically, I suppose he could. But seriously? Yuck. It would be awful.

There--between the lines of where we work, where we're building, where we'd more than occasionally like to be together as a family--lies the conundrum.

One option is for Jason to live in Salem, and the girls and I would live at the farm. This sounds like a long, torturous path to Grumpy Misery. I know families do it...live apart from each other for long stretches of time. But since we don't have to do this then the easy choice is not to.

Another option is to just keep living in Salem, in an apartment, until our house is complete. While this is certainly much more doable, it just doesn't sound like that much fun once the novelty of small living wears off. I know. There are sacrifices to be made on the path of building our house, but I've done the whole "no backyard" bit, and going back to that place also might lead me to the place of Grumpy Misery. Are you seeing a pattern here? It's true. I'm not really as strong as I pretend to be.

Many more options exist, but I think what we're going to do is rent an apartment in Salem, where the girls and I will live part of the time, where Jason will live during the week, and then we'll spend weekends together at the farm. The way we've worked it out is that Jason will only be away from the girls 2 nights a week; I'll be away from the girls 1 night a week (when they stay at the farm while I drive back to Salem to teach); and we're only making 2 round-trip drives between Washington and Oregon. Really, it's all more information than you were interested in reading about isn't it, but that's okay. I had to share it because it took us a long time to figure out that arrangement (and yes, there were charts and graphs and mapping involved). It's all part of my process of Transitioning.

Of course, this whole plan could fall apart, but it's what we have right now. And it's keeping me from being too sad about moving, because really we aren't going to be totally moving away for another year. By that time, what with all this dual-living, and commuting, and apartment living, and house construction, and living in a space where the walls will be white and bare? I think we'll be ready to find a place that we can call home.

Accepted

I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's hard to describe except to say that it's the same feeling I get when I take a pregnancy test and the results are positive. No matter that all my pregnancies have been planned and expected, whenever I saw that little plus sign I had the same feeling: excitement followed by a huge dose of sheer terror.

Without exception every time I've found out I was pregnant I've said, "Oh crap." Hallmark moments, I am not.

That's the feeling I have right now. That feeling of joy and excitement mixed in with more than a small amount of terror and...what? sadness? uncertainty? mourning? I don't know. But my gut feels it.

The middle-length story of the past couple days is thusly.

Tuesday, a woman--let's call her Ms. K--and her daughter came to see our house with their realtor. We went for a walk while they toured the house. We came home to grab some food, vacuum for another showing, and as we were doing another clean sweep through the house, Ms. K's realtor called and asked if they could see the house again that evening.

"She's looking through a few other houses right now, but she really wants to come back and see your house." Of course, we agreed because we want someone to buy our house and the more often someone sees your house, the more likely (hopefully) they are to make an offer. Oh, and haven't you heard? Getting an offer on a house is small miracle these days.

Before we could make it out of the house, Ms. K and her realtor came back to see the house. Since we had been having trouble with the key-box outside our door, we had been leaving the front door unlocked for showings. Ms. K jokes about locking the door so the other people who are going to be touring the house won't be able to see it. We take this as a strong sign of interest.

We headed out again to get dinner at Jamba Juice and Great Harvest Bread Co., and Ms. K's realtor called again: "She really likes your house and wants her parents to see it tomorrow." We hold our breath, hoping that she'd make an offer.

Wednesday night an offer came in. It's too low. We know how much money we have to walk away with to use as a down payment on building the new house. Her offer didn't meet this number.

We are so sad. In fact, we're sad for both of us. Along with the offer came a letter from Ms. K's realtor explaining a little bit of why the offer was so low. We believed her, but we still couldn't accept the offer.

Thursday morning we counter offered.

We waited.

This morning we moved into some discussions between our realtor and Ms. K's realtor, trying to come to a number that we could both live with. We wanted to sell the house; she really wanted to buy the house. Neither of us was interested in walking away from this deal. They counter offer our counter offer (we agree on price); we counter offer their counter offer (they agree on closing date).

We have each accepted the offer. The house was on the market for less than a month, and as it turns out we now have less than a month to move out. Barring an unforeseen glitch in the process, it appears to be that in four weeks we will no longer be residents of Kevin Street.

I'm happy. I am. I mean...gosh, this is what we had hoped for. Someone is buying our house.

I can feel it all inside me: relief, excitement, expectation. And there, swirling beside the happiness is something else. That same feeling I got whenever I found out I was pregnant...what's it called? Joyful terror.

And as I sat here typing up this post, I got an email from Ms. K's realtor saying, "Thank you sooo much!  M is so thankful to you for being willing to come down on the price."

I can't help but say, "Thank you, God, for answering our prayers." Yet in the same breath I also hear myself mutter, "Oh crap."

We sold our house.

Countered-countered-counter offer.

Just maybe,

just possibly,

within the next few hours there will be BIG news.

(And, no, the big news doesn't not involve a baby.

Unless you're speaking metaphorically.

And even then...that's a stretch.)

Will keep you posted.

Offer

We got an offer on the house.

It was too low.

Way, way too low.

We countered.

By a lot.

So.

We'll see.

Between Housecleanings

There is one good thing to be said for the process of selling your house: the house stays very, very clean.

There is also one bad thing to be said for the process of selling your house: the house has to stay very, very clean.

Would you believe it if I told you we vacuumed TWICE today? Not because the carpets needed it, but because we showed our house to one set of people, then we came home and vacuumed it again so that the carpets would look nice and free of footprints for the next set of people who came to see our house. I stopped myself from dusting the coffee table twice even though I noticed that in the short amount of time that we were home the table collected some tiny, smeared fingerprints. I decided that if someone doesn't buy our house over fingerprints, then those are the kind of people I don't want living in my house.

But mostly, I'm just saying it's ridiculously hard work. Especially with two kids.

Last week we had 20 minutes notice before a realtor brought some people by. In a way, 20 minutes is easier. There's only so much you can do, so much you can clean. You make sacrifices for what doesn't get cleaned, and hope it's good enough.

It's like the improv seminar I gave at a children's theatre camp last week. The school called me at 9:05 am, and asked why I wasn't on stage at 9:00 giving a seminar to 50 children. I raced over there, got on stage before 9:30, and away we went into the world of improv. I didn't have time to worry about it, didn't even have more than the 10 minutes I had in my car to prepare for it. But half a lifetime of theatre experience turned out to be more than enough to get me through two sessions of students.

All this to say that sometimes short notice is easier on you than you might think. A few minutes of frantic running around, or days of preparing and planning and cleaning the top of the refrigerator? Because it's just part of my nature that if I know someone is coming over to evaluate my house the house is going to be clean. Not just clean. Clean clean. So that they won't just like the house, they'll like like the house.

For the time being, all the cleaning has paid off. The house was shown today to a mother and her daughter, and then she came back a couple hours later to see it again because she liked the house so much. She even joked about hiding the key so that the people who were seeing the house later in the day wouldn't be able to get in the house. She's coming back tomorrow with her parents to see it again, which is a very good sign, right? I mean, nobody brings their parents to see a house they aren't interested in buying, unless they all have some sort of wicked mean streak in them to get potential home sellers' hopes up. Ha. Wouldn't that be something else. Or not.

Fingers crossed for tomorrow's showing. We'd really like to sell the house. I don't know how long I can keep up with this cleaning schedule.

House For Sale

Without being too redundant, I thought I would mention (as I did at my Building a House blog) that I have a new photo album showcasing the interior and exterior of our house.

If you want the longer version of why the pictures, then read the post at the other blog.

The short version is this: pictures of your house are part of the process for trying to sell your house.

Good thing I like taking pictures of my house. If only I could keep my house as clean as those photos make it appear it to be. Well, I suppose I could...if I wanted to drive myself and my family crazy. Meh. It's not that important to me.

Week 214: When a Picture shows A Thousand Days

Jason told me that yesterday morning he woke up thinking, "Now what do I have to do in the backyard today?"

And then he remembered. The backyard is finished.

Of course, as any home owner will tell you, the outside is never really finished because there are always weeds to pick, grass to mow, cobwebs to shake down. But in the grand scheme of Projects for The Backyard, we are done.

To know me is to know my struggle with our backyard, so here are a few links (minus the ones where all I do is sob quietly onto my keyboard) that should catch you up with the drama:

• (November) Receiving eight pallets from Lowe's
• (January) Working on the patio and retaining wall
• (May) Finishing the patio and play area

It only took us a little over two years, and a few thousand dollars. It only cost Jason six months of hard labor, and many, many tears (and pleading with Oprah) on my part. That's all behind us now, and there are no hard feelings on my part about any of it. The money, the work, the tears, the frustration, the mud tracked into the house by our dog--a distant memory. That's because I've just spent the last week really enjoying our backyard. Really. Really really. I can't even fully explain how much it means to me that I can go out into our backyard and read a book while the girls play in the water table, or sit on the grass, or splash in the kiddy pool, or go down the slide. Basically, they're doing everything a kid should be able to do in a backyard, none of which was available to them last summer when the only space we had to play in was a small patch of grass in our front yard. 

This is what I've been dreaming of.

You already witnessed the completion of the southern backyard. And now

finally,

at long last,

here's the completion of the eastern backyard.

Just last week it looked pretty much like this, except Jason had ripped out the sod before our trip and our lilac bush is done blooming:

 

And now I walk off our patio...

and turn the corner to see...

*drumroll*

This is where I've been reading, where I've been cutting fresh roses, where I watch the cherries turn red on the tree. This is where Sydney is learning how to hop from stepping stone to stepping stone, and Jules is mastering her picking up rocks skills. This is all because my husband is amazing.

This is my backyard.

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.

All on a Friday

Drum roll, please...

• We FINISHED our backyard. It's done. I have yet to take pictures, but seriously. Done.
• We put our house up for sale TODAY.

I think there might be a bit of irony that these two things happened on the same day, but I'm not troubling myself over that.

Other highlights of the day...

• We spent almost the whole day outside, playing in the sun, splashing in the water, planting marigolds.
• After the girls went to bed, I went outside and read Before Green Gables in my FINISHED backyard, breathing in the scent of new bark dust (don't you just love that smell?), enjoying the beautifully pink sunset.

A good day.

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.

If You're A House-Plan Junkie...

...you might be interested in seeing the pictures of our *mostly* final house plans over at the Building a House on the Family Farm page.

I hate it when a plan doesn't come together

Bummer news today. Over at the Building the House blog I need some pity. *sniff*

A House on the Family Farm

Even though I'll probably share some of the house-building adventures on this page, I wanted to have a separate spot for all the mundane details that I somehow find extra thrilling. So, to that end, I've created a new page to document the process of building our house. (There's also a little button off on the left sidebar that will take you there too.)

The current dilemma? Columns and half-columns. I'd love your input!

PS: I even have an aerial photo of the Family Farm linked on the new page, if you are interested in that sort of thing.

Week 205: The weekend the sun came out

Just after I'd complained about how cold it was, the weather decided to warm up for the weekend and it was fabulous. So fabulous. I think I could have sunburned my nose if I hadn't put on SPF 25 (protect your skin! very important!).

Although it would have been tempting to go to the beach for the day, instead we spent the hours of sunshine working on our backyard. If you aren't acquainted with the whole process that is Operation Backyard, then you should catch up at this post, where there are some nifty before and after pictures.

To catch you up just a little bit, here's what the backyard looked like a few months ago:

But then little backyard fairies flew in and transformed it into this:

 

Of course, those fairies had a lot of help from Lowe's, Home Depot, and my hardworking husband. In fact, come to think of it, those fairies didn't actually do anything. Except make sure that Operation Backyard went smoothly and no one was injured, and no boots got stuck in cement, and no one cried. I guess that's worth something.

This weekend our major task was weeding, as well as putting down wood chips and bark dust. In fact, for the first time in my life, I went to the garden store and got a yard of bark dust. Jason coached me through the whole thing, so I ended up looking like I totally knew what I was doing. I went in, asked for a yard of fir bark dust, drove the truck around back, and waited while the bark guy (not to be confused with "barking guy"...yikes!) took his tractor with a front end loader and dumped in two loads of bark. I didn't make a fool of myself by driving off after one tractor dump (that's only 1/2 a yard!), and gave the guy a thumbs-up after he was finished. I was so cool.

Other than all that work, we've been hanging around watching the grass grow. Literally. We're watching it grow.

We had planned on laying sod down and then voila! we'd have a lawn. But then for reasons which I cannot fathom right now, I said, "Let's just plant seed instead. It'll be cheaper."

Learn from me: don't plant seed. You think it's smart. You think you're saving money. But then two months later after snow, hail, sleet, and frost, your poor little patch of lawn looks more like a "la" than an "lawn." I have to give it credit though--it has survived and is working very hard at trying to grow. By the time real summer rolls around I think we might actually be able to walk on it. In hindsight though, I should have agreed with Jason when he said, "Should I go get sod?" Yes, he should have. Yes, I should have kept my big mouth shut about throwing down seed.

And that rhododendron bush in the picture? It was planted up above the retaining wall, but we had to move it. Jason dug it up, transferred it, added some fertilizer, and miracles among miracles it lived! I really want to take that rhody with us when we move because it has yellow flowers, and I hardly ever see yellow rhodies. Do you think the new owner would mind? They certainly won't appreciate a yellow rhododendron as much as I do.

As for the wood chips:

They make the play area nice and safe (no splinters! no icky mouthfuls of dirt!). You may notice that the retaining wall has two different styles going on here: manor stones and cinder blocks. The manor stones we bought back in November; the cinder blocks we already had. It would have looked nicer to have manor stones all the way around, but those babies aren't cheap. So we recycled what stones we had and called it good.

Just to get you oriented, across from the play structure we have the patio.

Here's a view a little farther back that takes it all in:

And then from here, if you turn to the right, you will see what we have yet to do. Brace yourselves.

I think we have some kind of plan for this area, but we haven't been able to sufficiently kill off the weeds yet. We've tried, and only now, after multiple spraying of poisons that are probably responsible for melting the polar icecaps, are we making headway. The bank of ivy, blackberry thickets, grass, and other assorted awful plants is a massive project. Care to volunteer to fix it?

I'll make you lunch. I'll make you dinner. I'll pay you $100, which, by the time you're finished will probably only be worth $72.14 considering inflation, but think how proud you'll feel after a hard day's work. Consider it, will you?

This picture. That's all we have left to finish our backyard. If only I could Photoshop the backyard to perfection. Wouldn't that be nifty? Ah well, we have accomplished a lot.

A lot.

And that is amazing.

Leaving What We Love

I've been a bit down this week. I suppose some of it is residual sadness from those handful of mean comments I got last week. It's not like it really bothers me or that I think about it all the time, only that it hurt my feelings. That small piece of sadness wandered over to my general state of being and resurfaced each day during particularly chaotic moments. As you probably know, sadness doesn't provide any kind of strength to get through chaotic moments. Instead, it pretty much leaves you in tears.

Adding to all this is the realization that it would be better to put our house up for sale sooner rather than later. We had planned on living here until the end of next school year, but with the housing market like it is--and the importance of selling our house before the construction ends on our new house--I think we've come to the decision that August will find us with a For Sale sign in our yard. This August. One hundred days from now.

I'm not ready for this to be my last spring living in Oregon.

 

Of course, I'll still be working in Oregon because no matter where we're living I'm teaching all next year, so every Tuesday and Thursday will find me back in town. But all week long I've been thinking about leaving my town, my home, my friends, my church...oh dear, I need to go find a kleenex.

I had this great idea a few days ago to take lots of pictures of the area throughout the next year, and then create an Our Last Year in Oregon photo album. I was going to start in May, but considering that our year may be shortened a bit--though on the upside/downside, it might take forever to sell our house and we'll still have a full year left in Oregon--I figured I needed to get started right away.

We headed downtown today to get some pictures of the cherry trees, although they are definitely past their prime bloom stage. Nevertheless, being outside in a large expanse of grass is actually very good for the soul.

There's lots of room to twirl around, take deep breaths, laugh at the crazy squirrels.

I told Jason I want to get this same kind of flowering cherry tree (it's some particular variety from Japan) and plant it at our new house, so that every time it bloomed I would be reminded of our Oregon home. He thinks that's kind of cheesy.

But I'm pretty sure the Gold Man thinks my idea is brilliant.

I'm not saying my goodbyes yet, mind you. We still have lots of living to do around these parts.

It's just that, gosh, I love this town. And leaving it is going to be really really hard, and that's something that hit me particularly hard this week. Of course, I'm not saying I'm not excited about building our dream house, on property, surrounded by our family. I'm not saying that at all.

However, the truth is even when there's something amazing up ahead, it doesn't diminish how much love you have for where you are and how hard it will be to leave that.

How very hard it will be, indeed.

*****

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.

Week 198: Hypotheticals

Tonight we met with Todd (designer for our new house) to go over some changes in the plans. The big changes involved the master bedroom, the garage, and one particular wall in the dining room/living room. We had a good brainstorming session, and I feel good that Todd will come up with something that draws from our collective design sensibilities.

The other smaller change involved reconfiguring the upstairs bathroom--the one that the kids will use. Well, smaller change for him. But really the whole reconfiguration is based on one big hypothetical: having another child.

Which isn't to say that I am having another child, only that I might. And if that other child is a boy then I want the bathroom to function well as the siblings share the space. If we have a boy. Which we might not. If we have another child. Which is more probable than even having a boy.

It's a conversation I've been having with myself (and Jason) for the last couple months, and even though it's not something I lose sleep over (at least, not too much), it's something I toss around in my mind as I look at house plans and we wonder exactly how to divide up room space. The whole conversation with myself goes something along these lines. Are we having more kids? If we are, then when would be a good time to consider having this other child (though I realize, of course, that this isn't totally in my control, but hypothetically speaking...)? Should I get pregnant while we are assured of Jason's job and therefore awesome health insurance? How will this affect my teaching load? How will we afford a new car since we don't have one that could seat three carseats? How far apart do we ideally want the kids do be in age? Do I really want to be moving into a new house pregnant? Wouldn't it be easier to be pregnant next year so that Rebekah the Amazing Nanny can help out? Am I even suited to parent three children?

On the other hand, the conversation sometimes goes like this. Please dear Lord, we are not having any more kids. That easily answers all those other questions.

I realize that I am blessed to be even in the position to be having this conversation with myself, knowing that there are some people who would give the sun, moon, and stars to be in my spot. I also realize there is a lot that's not in my control regarding the whole thing. But still. It crosses my mind. More than occasionally.

It wouldn't really be a difficult choice if I was excited about the prospect of having another baby. Jason and I have always kind of thought we'd have three kids. It's a nice compromise between our two families. There were two kids in his family, and he always wished there were more. There were four kids in my family, and I always felt like my mom was on the verge of a nervous breakdown from the stress we caused her. Three is good. A nice prime number. I don't care about the middle child syndrome because I figure once you have more than two, there are always middle children. Maybe you have one middle kid, maybe you have two or three. As my sister says, "Tyler and I are the middle kids in our family," and she's right. Oldest, youngest, and middles. You deal with whatever you get, and you parent accordingly.

The idea of a three-child family is more more appealing to me than actually having three kids. I'm not even dreading being pregnant anymore, which was the bigger concern last time around. It's the fact that most days I feel like I'm just treading water, trying not to drown in a sea of sippy cups, tiny socks, and play-dough. The thought of adding another child to the mix? Really? Me? The one taking Zoloft every day just to keep my head together?

I don't know. My gut says, "Wait a few years. It'll make it easier." My significant other (who also has an important say in the whole thing) says, "I'd really like to be out of the baby stage in a couple years instead of starting it all over again."

Seriously. I don't know.

It's not a decision I have to make right now, at this instant. It's not even a decision I have to make in the next couple months. It might be a decision we have to make this summer, if we're factoring in health insurance. I'm just thinking aloud here, not really expecting some sort of revelation. The only one who really knows the answer to the question "Are we having any more kids?" is God and my ovaries. Whatever my decision ultimately is, it's still not completely up to me.

Last week Sydney said to me, "I want a baby brother."

I smirked. "Did Daddy tell you to say that?"

"No. I just want one. I have one baby sister, and I want one baby brother."

"We'll see," I say.

She looked at me, smiled, and agreed. "We'll see."

*****

Just for spite, I'm giving away the pregnancy book I reviewed last July, Body, Soul, and Baby. If you're interested in winning it, leave a comment at that old post, and I'll choose a randomly lucky winner Wednesday at 8 pm PST.

*****

(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.

Me + Barn Doors

A year ago I was flipping through the February issue of Sunset magazine--conveniently delivered to my mailbox monthly because I love it and all its celebration of the West (plus it features the fabulous writer Peter Fish). I'm always cutting this and that out of the magazine, usually garden tips. But this time my attention was immediately captured by the article called "Playful Family Farmhouse."

And then I saw them.

Barn doors.

I love them. I adore them. I want to run out and buy barn doors right this instant just to keep under my bed so I can dream about them.

Seriously, though. It was love at first sight. I cut the page out of magazine and swore that no matter what, if I ever built a house it would have these doors. And those floors. And cubed shelving filled with books. And a window seat. But probably not that many pillows because even I have my limits.

Every time we interviewed a designer for the house I would bring out the picture of the barn doors, point and say, "This is what I want." Then I would watch for his reaction, and if ever any designer even thought about rolling his eyes, I was done. When I showed them to Todd, he said, "Cool," and meant it. He was hired. Just to affirm our decision, I noticed that on the house plans he sent us, he has clearly labeled "barn doors" separating the dining room from the office. I'm giddy with joy.

Of all the features the new house is going to have, these doors are high on the list of what I'm most looking forward to. Not only do I just think they are so fantastically cool, the magazine's caption that accompanied the doors made me realize that it was exactly what I wanted.

"Double-duty spaces, inspired by The Not So Big House: A Blueprint for the Way We Really Live (The Taunton Press, 2001; $23) by Sarah Susanka, make room for everyone’s needs. The Phillipses’ office is also the library and the stage for the kids’ performances (sliding barn doors serve as curtains)."

The doors. The reference to The Not So Big House. The library. And most importantly, the doors serving as curtains for performances. Could there be anything so perfectly suited to my interests?

Yep. Me and barn doors...we're just meant for each other.

*****

(c) 2008 Creature Bug. All rights reserved.

Starting with the dream

Even though I looked at approximately five bazillion house plans on the Internet/in magazines/in books, I never found the perfect one. I think it's probably easier to find a plan when your options are limited. If you're building on a regular city lot, with a street in front and a backyard in back, well, you just look for a plan that you like and there you go.

But when you're building in a field where there are views out every window, when you know that to the south will be where the girls will play, to the east is where the gorgeous sun will be rising, to the north is the fruit orchard, and to the west is where the garden is growing--it's a lot harder coming up with plan.

A lot.

To complicate matters slightly, there is the whole "having a budget" and wanting to minimize our carbon footprint. It's enough to make my head spin.

Ultimately we knew we'd just have to hire someone to draw up plans for us. We interviewed a few different designers and chose the guy who specializes in Bungalow style homes--as opposed to the guy who specialized in Modern but said he could design Craftsman because "it's not that hard." Even though we're leaning more towards the Craftsman style than the Bungalow style, they have enough commonalities that we knew we would be speaking the same language.

We talked with Todd, our designer, and I pulled out The File that holds all the ideas and dreams that I've been storing up for ten years. Ten years of magazine pull sheets, ten years of sketching, ten years of determining what exactly I wanted in a house. Of course, a lot of ideas have been thrown out over the years because what I liked ten years ago isn't necessarily what I like today. And after living in my own house for seven years I have learned what works and what doesn't.

What doesn't work?

• A laundry room in the garage. I hate this about our house, but I have had THREE men visit our house and mention what a great idea it is to have a laundry room in the garage. Yeah, boys, you can do my laundry for me when it's 25 degrees in the garage.
• Hanging cabinets in the kitchen that obstruct our view. We couldn't tear them out though because we wouldn't have any place to store our plates otherwise.
• Carpet in the dining room. We managed it for five and half years and then finally replaced it with wood floors (LOVE THEM).

Other than that, we really like our house. All 1440 square feet of it. I honestly could live here for the rest of my life, but moving to the Family Farm is where we're headed. There are pluses and minuses to moving, but right now I'm focusing on the pluses (because the biggest minus is leaving town, and can't think about that right now). It's exciting, but also nerve wracking, trying to decide what you want a house to have. A house that you will more than likely live in for the rest of your life. We want to make smart decisions that we won't regret as soon as we move into the house. Decisions like:

• Having a kitchen island, with bar stools, where the kids can eat
• Having barn doors separate the office from the dining room (I'll have to scan the picture I have...it's one of the things I'm most looking forward to)
• Having a pantry
• Having a master bedroom on the main floor with an old-fashioned claw foot tub in the master bathroom
• Having lots and lots of built-in bookshelves
• Having an interior wall for the piano
• Not having areas that will be hard to clean

Last week we got some preliminary designs, and we've been poring over them every day. We're still trying to decide which direction the front of the house should face (we're thinking west), and then also decide where to put the garage and driveway. The biggest issue right now is square footage. We love what Todd came up with, but we could never afford it. Without a basement it's almost 3000sf, and we are tentatively planning on putting in a basement even though concrete has skyrocketed in cost. I'd rather not have a house payment that prevents us from ever going on vacation. Or, you know, buying food.

Nevertheless, a dream starts somewhere. Best to start big and then tailor it back from there. When Rachel was over earlier this week, we brainstormed about house possibilities and things that work and don't work (as Sawyer and Sydney played and reminded me that I TOTALLY want a place for kids to play that isn't my living room!). It's good being able to bounce ideas around with someone else, and hear from others about house features they love or wish they could change.

So...in the spirit of gathering wisdom, I'm asking for advice.

Even though I know that people live differently in their homes, I'd love to hear what features you love/hate about your house. Things like: is it really worth it to have two sinks in the master bathroom? Is having a sink in the kitchen island something you wish you had, or couldn't live without? Do you think a mud room needs to be separate from the laundry room? Do you think the laundry room should go upstairs with most of the bedrooms (a big debate in our house right now because our main floor needs square footage trimmed off, but I feel panicked about the very thought of putting the laundry room so far away from the kitchen)? If we end up having three kids, what sized bedroom is optimal for sharing (we had planned on three bedrooms--plus ours--but that will probably have to be trimmed down)?

Here's your chance to impart your housely wisdom on a very receptive person. No idea is a bad one. Except carpet in the bathroom...that's a bad idea. Otherwise, I'm taking it all in.

*****

(c) 2008 Creature Bug. All rights reserved.

Backyard Update

Although it's the middle of winter, that hasn't stopped Jason from working tirelessly on our backyard. Between studying for his graduate exams, training for a marathon, watching football playoffs, and the ever constant "amazing husband and dad" role, he gets out there and works in the rain and cold.

If you need refreshing on the story--is it possible you don't have the whole sad story memorized by now? that's odd--here are those details.

But now, much progress has been made.

A brief photo history of the project:

As of this weekend? Behold the glorious muddiness of our future backyard.

 

The fence line has been changed, part of the cement path has been torn up, a tree stump removed, a blue tarp discovered a foot beneath the ground, and five million trips made between the driveway (where the pallets held our backyard goodies) to the backyard (where the goodies needed to find a home).

Once the muddy ground has been prepped appropriately with sand and gravel Jason will place the paver stones that look like this:

Aren't they splendid? We love them. Oh, and just to remind you, that deck that they're sitting on is gone. Gone, gone, gone. Gone are the splinters. Gone is the funky wood smell that would soak into Daisy's fur. Gone.

Another significant step was completing the retaining wall.

 

This was a huge project, not because of the stones, but because Jason had to excavate a few feet of dirt by hand. He spent many evenings in the cold, dark, rain shoveling that dirt away. And those who live in the Willamette Valley can shudder appropriately when I say: Red Clay. Good for vineyards. Not so good for backyard excavation. Except! Don't have to worry about mud slides because red clay doesn't slide. Not much, anyway. There's the obligatory silver lining for red clay.

The next big step?

Putting these piles of materials to use. There are other steps beyond that--like getting sod, and moving Sydney's play structure--but that's still a couple months out.

In the meantime, we do the dance of joy in the muddy pit that will soon be a dream yard.

*dance*

Groundbreaking

It's official.

We broke ground on the future site for our new house. Well, sort of.

Tuesday, a guy was out to dig perk holes. You know, because the land was feeling pretty sad in this January weather (thank you, I'll be here all week). We couldn't be there, but my dad made sure to take plenty of pictures of The Event. Any event where there are backhoes involved is An Event, so naturally my dad even got a video of it on his super spiffy little camera that he refuses to give to me even though he gave my youngest brother one (she said bitterly).

True, these aren't holes that are going to be permanent, but they are somehow necessary to building the house. I don't know exactly what perk holes are, but I think it has something to do with whether or not we can put a septic tank in. Or a drain field. Whatever it is, I just want to make sure that I can take a nice hot bath in our new house, and this guy was the man to make sure that'll be possible.

Thank you, Mr. Perk Hole Digger. My future relaxation depends on you.

Here's the land as it faces south, where we will be just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Tyler and Sarah. Sydney can hardly contain herself, knowing that she's going to be living right next door to her bestest friend in the whole wide world.

And here's the land as it faces north. That's my parents' house on the left, otherwise known as the house I lived in my entire unmarried life. What you can't see in this picture is that over by the tallest tree in the picture is my grandma's house, and off the northwest is my aunt and uncle's house, and due west is my cousin's house. Yep, it isn't called the Family Farm for nothing.

Actual construction won't begin until this summer, and the move-in date is still many months beyond that, but every house has to start somewhere.

Ours starts with a perk hole.

The Beginning of the Middle

All right. Let's give you an idea of all the backyard excitement that is keeping my husband outside, even in this terribly cold and rainy weather. And while it's true that he is doing all the work, I'm still the one inside. With the kids. Who I am inside with every day of the week. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. No sirree. No complaining. Just saying. My job isn't easy either.

For review. This is what our backyard used to look like.

Oh, sweet pool. We had some good days. Swimming, frolicking, sunbathing in my smokin' hot pre-pregnancy body. We had lots of not good days too. Ones filled with moss and green water and yucky mildewy ickiness. And in the end we had to let you go because we had a child who threatened to fall in at every moment. Plus, I didn't have a smokin' hot body anymore, so what good were you? Sorry.

So, in the spring of 2006 (that's right...the year of our Lord, two-thousand SIX), we ripped it out.

Of course, by "we" I mean Jason, his dad, and his uncle. I did my part by taking pictures, also equally as difficult.

We thought we would fix the backyard that summer, which would have made the most sense since most normal people would rather not have a big ugly pit in their backyard. But then there was the other house ordeal that tied up all our money. We hoped our tax-refund was going to help us out, but then that had to go to...yes, you guessed it...the other house ordeal. So we waited for Oprah to help us out, and when that didn't materialize we just waited.

Ah ha! The wait is over! Sort of.

There is still the issue of, you know, doing the work. But Jason and Sydney are getting it done. I know some folks like wood decks, but in these parts where it rains approximately 10 months out of the year, it takes some work keeping decks in good shape. My solution! No more wood decks! I want concrete! I want stones! I want to walk around in my barefeet without getting splinters so that I don't feel compelled to overuse exclamation points!

The decking to the left of the picture is gone now too, I just didn't get a picture of it because it's been dark and dreary around here for ages. But where all that dirt is? That's where the patio is going. And the area between the patio and the former-pool pit? That's where the retaining wall is going. And the former-pool pit? Probably grass.

I'm sure our neighbors are rejoicing almost as much as we are because they have had to look at this eye-sore of a backyard for more than 18 months. Every time I see them I feel compelled to apologize. As well as talk about what fun I have with my kids just so they know we aren't terrible parents and didn't sell our pool for meth or something. "We're teachers," I chatter on. "We go to church! And our house isn't full of 25 miniature poodles. That has to count for something. Would you like some chickpea chocolate chip cookies? "

Oddly enough, our neighbors don't seem to be around much these days. Funny.

Here's proof that I'm not just making empty promises about fixing our backyard. The Eagle Has Landed.

So, the first thing was to build a new shed in our side yard so we could get rid of the old shed in our backyard to make room for Sydney's play structure and a garden.

Jason had to hold onto the power tools or Sydney would run off with them. Power tools are so much fun.

And when the power drill's battery gets low, taking an ax to the old shed is good fun too. "I probably should be wearing eye goggles," he said as he swung the ax through the metal shed. "That'd be a good idea," I said.

As of this morning, all that junk has been hauled off, and Jason has begun digging out the area where the retaining wall is going. After that, there's more deck to be torn out before the paver stones get to go in, but we're making progress.

ROCK ON, little backyard. Rock on.

The First Steps

We've always known that someday, in the eventual-theoretical-future world, we would move to the Family Farm up in a little town northeast of Vancouver, Washington. My parents live there; my brother and his family live there. My grandma, my aunt and uncle, and my cousin's family live there. At the Family Farm we really do farm families. That's what we grow. And a few blueberries to keep the birds happy. Plus, an occasional weed or two.

I grew up there, and Jason's parents live not too far away, so it's good for being around family. Even though it's an exciting thing to consider, I'm not getting too emotionally vested in it because I don't want to think about leaving the town we live in. I don't want to think about leaving my friends (and don't worry, friends! I'm not moving yet!). I like my job. I like my church. I like where we live. Leaving doesn't really sound like that much fun, even though it will be great to live closer to family.

But what does sound like fun is building our own house. Coming up with plans, and picking light fixtures--that sounds like fun. I have a file folder full of ideas and sticky notes that say "These lights!" "this tub," "love these barn doors." I'm focusing on the good stuff that will come from moving, and won't worry about the moving part until we actually move.

Since, however, we are thinking of moving within the next couple years and it does take many moons to build a house what with all the permits and fees and people needing to build things with their hands and dig stuff with big machines, then we have started the process of talking to builders.

Tonight we talked with a builder/architect. We shared with him some of the things we like and don't like, and what we want to have in our dream house that we plan on living in for the rest of our lives. Then he sketched. Kitchen here, dining room there, bedrooms, places to sit and relax and grow up. And there it was. A house.

I have lots of scribbles of how I want the rooms to function, and it was so interesting to see someone else sketch our vision without looking at plans I had already drawn up. What he came up with was something I hadn't even imagined, which was good because that's what I wanted him to do. We talked about lighting and winds and weather patterns. We talked about flow and spaces and the feeling of a house.

And then we talked about money.

We have a budget. It's a fairly modest budget because we definitely don't want to tie ourselves down with a huge house payment. I firmly believe in the power of the Not So Big House, and had thought that by building a medium-sized home (under 2500 sf) we could have a medium-sized budget. However, we do have definite tastes about craftsmanship and style (we're looking along the arts and crafts style), and this poses some issues for the medium-sized budget.

It was a good reality check, and I came away from tonight's meeting feeling like I have a better understanding of what we can expect to build. We still have more builders to talk to and more architects to meet with. Maybe they'll have different news to offer us, maybe not. Either way, I'm so glad we're starting now. It'll be something else, building a house. Fortunately, we're not building it right now because I'm still looking forward to living here and enjoying our new backyard. Which reminds me: I need to post some pictures. I'll get on that soon.

Anticipation

Yesterday, a Lowe's truck delivered seven pallets to our house. Our driveway is full of manor stones, paver stones, bags of crushed rock, and a box full of nuts and bolts and sheets of metal.

We are building a retaining wall.

We are building a patio.

We are building a new shed.

We are getting a backyard.

I promise pictures will come, but for now I'm just basking in the glow of delight. Finally.

The day's end

Okay, so I'll tell you part of the reason why I've been in a no-good, awful, horrible mood today, but you have to PROMISE not to laugh. At least, not so loudly that I can hear you.

I'm blaming my misery on Oprah. Well, not directly on Oprah, perhaps more on her producers. I got my hopes up--ridiculously so--and then as the days have crept by since April 14th I've become more resigned to my fate. My fate, that is, of not being chosen. Even though I was not entitled to being chosen, I was still just hoping a tiny bit that I would be. The whole thing is proof positive that I am not getting enough sleep. Also, being spit up on half a dozen times a day appears to be taking its toll. It is the only way to explain how insanely and oddly disappointed I am right now.

Perhaps I should explain.

Several weeks ago I wandered by Oprah's site and saw that she was having a contest that made my heart beat just a little bit faster. It was contest for a backyard makeover. Oh. my. goodness. gracious. This was my chance.

If you've been around here long enough you enough that our backyard is a disaster. There was a pool, now there's a pit. There was grass, now there's mud. There was prettiness, and now it's the reason I don't raise the curtains on my windows anymore. To be fair, it was third in my list of priorities of change. First the wood floors. Then the leather couches. Check, and check. Third on the to-do list: backyard.

Still waiting.

Even though there are some minor repairs I could do to curb the catastrophe of the backyard, so much of it revolves around the deck being fixed. I'm not keen on planting pretty pretty flowers and lovely green grass only to have them smushed to a certain death when the deck is repaired. I have, therefore, been waiting. Not patiently (ask Jason and he'll vouch for that character flaw) but waiting nonetheless. The tax refund brought me hope, but then an unforeseen money issue came up and *poof* tax refund gone. Backyard repair postponed indefinitely.

So I got out the video camera. I wrote the script. I edited the video. I sent it off to the powers that be at Harpo Productions in Chicago. I prayed fervently that someone would take pity on me. Heck, I had plenty of pity to loan them from my own personal stash. I figured I had a 1 in 500 chance of getting it. I have no scientific basis for those odds; I just pulled them out of the air. The contest ended April 14th. The winner would be contacted by the producers by April 24th.

I know, I know. There's still time. My phone could ring tomorrow. Possibly. Maybe.

Probably not.

I mean, really. Who calls with good news on a Tuesday? No one. Unless you were born on a Tuesday, in which case everyone that your parents called would have received good news because you being born is worth of the "good news" classification. OTHER THAN birth announcements, Tuesdays are not inspiring. They are the sophomores of the week. Not new; not old. Just passing time.

I realize how silly I was to get my hopes up. But you have to understand how much the problem of the backyard weighs on me. I'm at the point where I'd consider selling our house just so I could get a new backyard, that's how desperate I am. I would even sell the car and ride the bus for the next year just to be able to go outside with the girls and not panic that Sydney will fall off the deck. If you're thinking it's a matter of hard work and *presto* the yard will be fixed, that's not the case. It's a matter of money.

In all seriousness, I'll be okay. There are worse things than not having a backyard. People all over the world don't have backyards, and they are perfectly happy. I realize how shallow it seems to be so worked up over a patch of weeds and few splinters. I know I'm an idiot for not wanting to invite people over simply because our backyard isn't up to par. It's a character flaw that needs work.

Until I become a better and more mature person who focuses her energy on real problems, rather than petty ones, I'm working through my disappointment.

Maybe, eventually, I'll even forgive Oprah. I'm not perfect though. It could take awhile.

Accomplished

I realized the other day that I sometimes write about things I'm going to do, but then don't post the results. So, here are a few of the things we've been working on around here.

The curtains I referred to in my last post. I'm awfully proud of myself for getting them done, and they do wonders for blocking out the early morning light.

A few weeks ago I redid/updated almost all the framed photos in our house. My big project was to get new frames and pictures for our hall photos. I managed to include 8x10s of both girls, as well as me with Jules, and Jason with Syd. The 5x7s are of our parents and our siblings. And the center photo are black and white photos of my grandpa holding Sydney when she was just a week old, and Jason holding Jules' hand when she was a month old.

Since I'm still holding to my no chocolate/no candy resolution for Lent, I have started finding alternate forms of dessert. Here are some delicious--if not proper looking--lemon scones. So yummy, especially with the mock clotted cream I made for them.

I've saved the best for last: stage one of our backyard plans. Sydney has a place to play! A swing! A slide! An area surrounded by wood chips that Sydney takes such joy in shoveling around! Even though it's on the far end of our backyard--so I have to look out our bedroom window in order to see her--it's still such a treat for us. With all these lovely near-spring days we have already made good use of our play area. Hooray for us!

Week 141: Organized Therapy

I apologized to the photo lady at Costco today because I have been in there no less than half a dozen times in the last four days to pick up pictures.

"If I were really organized, I would have just sent in one nice big order instead of all these tiny orders."

She shrugged. "Being organized is overrated."

And oddly enough, I felt better. That's why we go to Costco. For photos, for cheap lunches, and for a little bit of philosophy (fortunately, that last bit is free, which is good since it's darn near impossible to escape that store without spending more money than you planned on spending...but I digress).

So being organized is overrated, but that hasn't stopped me from spending nearly every waking moment of the last few weeks going through the house and trying to get stuff in order. It started with me having one of those light bulb moments about our coat closet. There I was, sitting on the couch, nursing Julianne, looking at a magazine article about Valentine's cookies, when suddenly it dawned on me. Our coat closet could be our office. Measuring 5' x 4', it's spacious enough. It's centrally located. It has shelves. It has a trap-door to the crawl space where we could bring up the wires for the computer.

I found everything I needed at The Container Store, and waited for Jason to come home to tell him the great news. I can't tell you how giddy I was. No less giddy than if I had discovered our house had a second floor. What? There's more space in our house? Eeek!

Jason came home. I pounced on him (not literally, or not quite literally). He said, "Where do we put the coats?"

OHHH! THE COATS!

And so--quite rationally--I broke down crying. My plans were ruined.

Okay, not ruined. But had to be tweaked. Even though the coats could be moved to the garage, Jason was not in favor of that idea (him: "It'll clutter up my garage"; me: "And I guess our coats will be cold when we put them on"). Also, we happen to store folding chairs in our coat closet which also cannot be moved since the shed they used to be stored in developed a leak when the roof caved in from snow. However, the filing cabinet from our bedroom could still be moved into the closet, as well as some other office-y things.

Once the filing cabinet was moved, I was inspired to move the office desk out of our bedroom as well (and into our spare room that we usually rent out). So after cutting a few holes, we were able to convert a bookcase into a mini-office station. Then I wanted to get rid of the other filing cabinet in our room that I had been using as a nightstand, so as a cheap alternative to buying new nightstands, we got nice wood TV trays that work perfectly.

When Sydney saw the new arrangement in our bedroom (that is, sans huge desk and filing cabinets) she exclaimed, "Look at all this space! I love it!"

It's nice to feel validated. Even from a toddler.   

Since I was already in the mood of getting rid of things, I went through the closets and got rid of lots more. Lucky for me. And lucky for Goodwill.

Eventually, the spirit of organization took over my little red head, and I decided to update all our framed photos, a task which ended up involving me buying new frames for the hallway.

All the picture organization stuff is what led me to Costco multiple times, and also prevented me from writing too much here because I was using all my computer time cropping photos. Let me tell you, it took serious discipline to keep my little blogaroo from turning into a photo blog because all I wanted to do was post pictures and not write anything. Well, here's one of my favorites anyway:

In the end, I would say that this whole organization thing has gotten a bit out of control (something tells me I might have thrown away something important), but it still feels oh so good to get it done. It has actually made my February rather enjoyable because I feel like I'm getting a head start on spring cleaning.

Being organized makes my life simpler, or rather makes my environment simpler. And sometimes, in the midst of the chaos of real life, that's the best we can hold onto. This past week has brought us sad and difficult news from some close friends of ours, and unable to do much except pray, I have turned to organizing my file cabinets, my closet, my junk drawers, my books. Emotionally, Jason and I are reeling; visually, our DVDs are alphabetized.

At the end of the day, the coat closet essentially has remained a coat closet. But that's okay.

Open House: Master Bedroom & Bath

Here it is: the final installment of my Open House series. If you're interested in the commentary on the other rooms, then just scroll back through each of the last several Sundays.

It is no coincidence that the master bedroom gets featured last. In the list of "room priorities" this is the room that sadly gets neglected most of the time. For a long time, I didn't know what to do with this room. It's rather large--almost the size of the living room--and it has vaulted ceilings. Over the past few years, however, we have made some positive steps. Finding a paint color we like for the bedroom and the bathroom, decorating the walls to our satisfaction, getting a queen-sized bed.

The worst feature about this room is that it now also houses our office (didn't think the computer would fit in with the nursery decor). If we downsized our wardrobe, we could easily fit our office in the walk-in closet, but then where would all my clothes go? So, until we get some lovely media armoire, we just have to put up with the desk, cords, and filing cabinet. Ah well, we can't have everything now can we?

Pictures of the master bedroom and bath can be found in the photo album, starting on photo #55.

I hope you have enjoyed a sneak peek into my house. It's been good for me to get past my insecurities and realize that when it comes to homes, we'll never keep up with the Joneses. That's okay. When we made the decision to be teachers, and later when I made the decision not to work full-time, we knew that there would be certain extravagances we'd have to give up. Nevertheless, I am still blessed with so much: A wonderful supportive husband, a sweet beautiful child, another lovely baby soon to be sleeping under our red-tiled roof. Indeed, there is more contentment to be found in that last sentence than in a wealth of expensive furnishings and artwork.

I am blessed. And you can't put a price on that.

Open House: Baby Sister's Room

(Almost done with my Open House! First installment here; second here; third here; fourth here.)

I had a long time to think about how I wanted to decorate the nursery, but up until a few months ago the most I had picked out were the colors. Last summer we painted the room sage green and robin egg blue, two colors that were relatively gender neutral.

One night--after seeing the moonlight filter in through the window, projecting a tree shadow on the wall--I was inspired to create a big tree mural on one of the walls. Yet after several sketches, I discovered what I really wanted were primary shaped trees with red birds. Sydney has red kites, and so I thought another "flying" motif would be appropriate. Hence, the red birds.

I later found out that red birds are considered the Christmas bird...so I think I made a good choice.

Other than the mural, the walls are a bit bare because I'm holding off on putting up all the wall decorations before I have all the framed art (my mom is doing another genealogy tree for the room similar to the one Sydney has). Two things are up though: a growth chart in the same style as Sydney's, and an activity/inspirational calendar called Baby Be Loved. (I highly recommend this book because it has some great activities and ideas, and it's just perfect for hanging above the changing table.)

I have to say, I'm pretty happy with how the room turned out. Especially considering the only new thing in the room is the paint, the growth chart, and the size 1 diapers (poor child, not even a stitch of new clothing or blankets or toys! Ah, the budget saving beauties of a second child of the same gender). To see pictures of the room, start on photo #43 of the photo album.

Next week is the final installment: master bedroom and bath.

Open House: Sydney's Room

(...Continuing on with my Sunday Open House series. The first installment is here, the second is here, and the third is here.)

With my first pregnancy, when I found out I was having a girl I knew I wanted a yellow room. My childhood bedroom was a yellow room, and I had fond memories of it. So I figured I couldn't go wrong with yellow (the color here, btw, is "Tigger's Tummy" from Home Depot's Disney paint line).

How to decorate was quite the question. If you have ever looked through baby catalogs you will know that there are A LOT of choices when it comes to themes. And even though Winnie the Pooh, and Noah's Ark, and ABC's, and ladybugs are all cute themes, they just weren't what I was looking for.

And then I woke up one night and knew what I wanted: red kites. Firstly, I had read that babies are stimulated by bright shapes. Secondly, Jason's dad is an avid kite collector (and he is very good at flying them!). Thirdly, one of my favorite children's books is called The Three Questions (based on a fable by Tolstoy) and it has a red kite on the cover. And finally, kites reminded me of being able to fly, to soar, to dance in the wind. All these factors made kites the perfect choice.

Someday I'll be ambitious enough to make a kite bedspread for Sydney's bed, but for now the bright colors seem to be fun enough. If you want to see more pictures of Sydney's room (and her bathroom) then check out the photo album (starting with picture #32).

Next week...pictures of the nursery!

Open House: Entry & Livingroom

(The first installment of my Open House series is here. The second installment is here.)

When we were in the market to buy a house, Jason and I looked for months. We had some idea of what we wanted, but couldn't necessarily put our finger on anything definite. Except one thing: it had to have a view.

We had been renting a daylight basement outside city limits, and that place had a gorgeous view. Hence, we were spoiled and wanted that in our new place.

It's a bit tricky to find a place in our town with a view unless you're willing to spend a lot of money. We lucked out. When we walked into this home, we went straight for the living room, looked out the wall of windows, and said, "This is it." The house certainly had issues (some of which are the windows themselves because they are terribly inefficient), but we overlooked all that. We put in our offer the Monday before Thanksgiving, and found out the day before Thanksgiving that they had accepted. We got the house.

Sometimes this house drives me crazy, but today I'm reminded that almost exactly six years ago when I walked in here it was perfect. It was home. And as long as we live in this town, it'll be our home. It'll always need work, but one thing to check off the list: a new couch. We finally got it (Friday). Want to see pictures? New pictures for my Open House Album start on #20.

Open House: Guest Bedroom & Bath

(The first installment of my Sunday Open House series can be found here.)

When we moved into our house nearly six years ago, the one room that needed the most work was the "shop" off the garage. The room, attached to the house but only accessible by an outside door or through the garage, was most definitely not a dwelling area. It had a big work bench, a pot-belly wood stove, concrete flooring, and florescent lights. We used it as a storage room, and put it on the list of "things we'd get around to fixing up eventually."

"Eventually" came sooner rather than later. A year after we moved in, a winter storm ripped off the roof over this room and we had a not-so-lovely water feature and skylight. We were quite distraught over how on earth we would manage to pay for repairs, when Jason's mom suggested we call our insurance agent.

Enter State Farm, who came in and replaced the roof, all the sheetrock, and installed a space heater. Estimated cost of repair: $10,000. Our cost: $500. Thank you, Home Owners Insurance.

I had originally thought the room would be a pool/rec room since it's located off the deck where we used to have our pool. But that proved to be impractical since we only used the pool a few months out of the year, and didn't need the space for other entertaining. So a couple years ago we decided to start renting out the room to college students. Even though the room doesn't have a full kitchen, it does have a mini-fridge and a microwave, as well as a tv, desk, and internet access. A year ago my parents paid for the addition of a bathroom (so the college students wouldn't need to use our guest bathroom inside the house), so it has turned into quite the nice space.

There aren't many decorations in there because the room is usually rented out. We had planned on renting it out again this year, but long story short, we didn't. Hopefully next school year we'll be able to rent it out again. Sometime in the future, the room will make a good play room, but not until Sydney gets a little older since the room is a bit removed from the house. Until then, it's just nice to have a little apartment to use however we please.

Pictures for the Guest Bedroom & Bath are in the Photo Album, starting with picture 14. And if you're ever visiting the area...we have a place for you to stay!

Open House: Kitchen & Dining Room

"You are a king by your own fireside, as much as any monarch on his throne."
--Cervantes, Don Quixote

Even though I love looking at pictures of other people's homes, I rarely post pictures of my own house. There are many reason for this. First of all, I can't take good indoor pictures. I want them to look like pictures from Better Homes and Gardens or Real Simple, but they just don't turn out that way (something about the lighting...). Second of all, I have been a bit insecure out my house. This insecurity has even prevented me from inviting people over to our house because...oh, crazy reasons, I suppose...because there are things about our home that aren't that great. The unfinished backyard, the orange countertops in the bathroom, the cracked wood around the window frames, the paint on the door frames, the mismatched furniture. We've been here almost six years, and so part of me thinks, "It should be done now!" (Of course, as many home owners will tell you, not too many homes are ever really finished.)

Anyway, this last summer I worked hard mentally and emotionally to get past this. It's silly to be so self-conscious about our house. I don't need to make excuses for our home; I love it (or most of it) and I love that we can afford it. What does it matter if it isn't as new, as big, as expensive, as nicely decorated as someone else's house?

So, part of my stepping out of my comfort zone is to feature an Open House every Sunday for the next few weeks. First up: the kitchen and dining room.

  This summer our kitchen and dining room received some major help with the addition of wood floors, new light fixtures, and repainted cabinet handles. Someday we'd like to take out the hanging cabinets that separate the kitchen from the dining room, but until we can get built-in cabinets in the dining room, we need the storage. One of my most favorite spots in our kitchen is the ledge above our oven. It holds my red glass salt and pepper shaker, as well as a tile that has a Norwegian prayer on it that my grandma (full Norwegian) gave me. Next to that is a little mushroom that we got from the owner of the house we lived in for the first 3 1/2 years of our marriage. I hate mushrooms, and there were times that I hated that house we lived in, but we lived there rent free (yes! rent free! amazing!). We got through it, and my little red mushroom reminds me to be thankful for the little (and big) blessings we receive.

I'll be updating the Open House photo album every week, and adding more pictures. My home is my home, and there is nothing to be insecure about having a roof over your head, food in the fridge, and family to hold on to.

So...*deep breath*...welcome. You don't even have to take your shoes off.