The Difference A Year Makes!

The boys went to Monster Jam today.  I remember last year when they went to Monster Jam, or at least when Andy went and little Alex got a conciliatory ice cream cone.  I remember this day, specifically, because we had been house hunting that morning, in a tailspin to figure out where we were going to live as we were shockingly under contract to sell our home.  The very last house we looked at that day, a couple hours before Monster Jam would start, was the house that I sit in now.  I am typing three feet away from where Chris, our realtor (whose catch phrase seemed to be "Just relax."), and myself agreed that this was the house for us.  This house.  The one tucked into the tree lined cul-de-sac one block from the playground, the one with five perfect bedrooms plus a playroom plus a dream kitchen out of a design magazine, plus four bathrooms, a sprawling family room, and a lovely living room and dining room.  That house sounds perfect, don't you agree?  Wonderful!  On paper, that house has it all!  Are you guys rich?  you must be wondering.  How are the schools?  Is it convenient to the expressway?

We sold our other house and moved into this one after the most grueling six weeks of my life.  These are things that I do not recommend doing.  Moving an entire household while six months pregnant with two little boys who try to pack full cups of water.  Making extremely important life and financial decisions while overwhelmed with pregnancy emotions and an almost insurmountable appraisal issue.  Oh, and putting regular dish soap into the dishwasher instead of dishwasher detergent.  It makes a huge, foamy mess that oozes out the sides of the dishwasher and basically floods your kitchen.  Not recommended.

Oh yeah, this house has a weird Tuscan mural, too. We haven't
had the heart to paint over it.  Yet.

Anyway, we moved into this house and immediately twelve things broke.  The downspout detached from the back of the siding.  The garage door broke.  I discovered that literally nothing was attached properly to the wall- the towel hooks, the toilet paper roll holders, the curtain tie backs. The poop vent in the downstairs bathroom detached and hung from an open square in the drywall.  The dishwasher didn't seem to work properly.  The boys' bath faucet had a corroded diverter.  The foggy windows (which we did get a credit for at closing) seemed a million times worse once we moved in. We found a mouse in the basement, basically killing all the joy I'd once had at the aspect of actually having a basement.  We found holes in doors and in walls, cracks in ceilings, crumbled grout.  The dark, murky paint colors the previous owner must have picked during a deep depression start to wear at my soul.  And then the carpeting.  Looked fine walking through the house a few times, but then we moved in... and walking barefoot.. and it was so stiff and flat and worn thin and full of stains that magically didn't seem to show before.  It's like the seller's realtor had sprayed some potion on the carpet to hide the stains during showings.  She was good! And suddenly, we were all moved in and I hated this house.

Emily and mural.

Of course, here it is a year after first seeing this house.  Love's a strong word, but it's probably the right one. We reattached things that were loose, painted over walls, fixed items that were broken.  I even did some grouting, although just so you know, I will never be a professional grouter.  I mean, maybe I might be if I find the right union.  This morning, we ordered new carpet, and today, a fiscal year so to speak of when we first stepped into what would be the (hopefully) forever home for our young family- today the transformation to completion is within reach.  But, of course, we have done more in this year than just move into this house and make it ours.  We welcomed Emily, the beautiful almost nine month old daughter who came home here.  We celebrated the boys turning three and five (and me thirty-five, oddly enough a mash up of their ages).  The boys have filled this house with their various items and joyous smirks and an assortment of semi-funny fart jokes.  Emily has added baby cuteness and some nighttime crying.  Andy started kindergarten this past year, Alex started surprise egg videos, and Emily started crawling.  We've had countless wonderful family moments (and of course many, many moments in which my screaming at the boys would not be suitable blog material for fear of being reported to DCFS.)  Here.  We've lived our lives here.

And now, this year, Alex is old enough to go to Monster Jam.  I have the sinking feeling he will get Monster Jam in addition to ice cream.  And Emily and I are at home, giggling and snacking and marveling on the difference a year makes.  A year, a screwdriver, and some bright yellow paint.

She's mostly giggling and snacking.  I'm marveling.  Everyday, I'm marveling.