I have still not recovered

Elsewhere had a fabulous post a few days ago about the packing and moving experience. And as I read it I was instantly transported back to my life a year ago when we owned two homes and were slowly, very, very slowly, moving box by random box from one home to the other.

I think I am still shell shocked from the whole experience. Really. I actually spent a good hour today, before reading that post, reliving the whole experience while staring out at the backyard. Rebecca had always reminded me that it takes me almost exactly a year to adjust to any major change in my life, and we are coming up on that year mark fairly soon. And, true to form, this house is almost feeling, well, like home. So hopefully, come October, I should be back to my normal, verging on neurotic self instead of the full-fledged neurotic self I currently still am.

One can hope anyway...

Going, going, gone

No, I'm not leaving the blogsphere, even for the summer, as it will at some point get too hot to hang out in the shadeless back yard for hours on end and we will be forced indoors for large portions of the day.

But the old house? It is officially somebody else's new house now. The kids cried bitterly when we went over to say a final goodbye yesterday morning. I knew I had moved on when I handed the new owners the key to this house by mistake at the closing.

And Dumb Cat will be in for a rude shock when he goes prowling over there as they apparently have three dogs and two cats. I have a feeling we will be seeing a lot more of him from now on...

Late Breaking News

We are officially out of attorney review on the old house, and the closing is set for the end of April. I'm just going to dance myself a little jig over here. Don't mind me.

Thanks to all for all the support during the house drama. I would claim that I will now be an upbeat and cheerful blogger, however, I would be lying. But at least I'll have one less thing to whine about, right? And just maybe if I'm not constantly in a semi-panic state, I'll have more time to ponder the wonders of the universe. Like how some people manage to be on time to school every. single. morning. With all members of their household dressed in weather appropriate clothing.

There is something so wrong about this

So I haven't blogged about this, not wanting to jinx anything, but we finally had an offer on the old house. The inspection is this afternoon. I went over this morning to turn the heat up and low and behold, the pipes, they were frozen. Solid. I called Lovely Friend in a panic (and I mean a full-fledged, hysterical "OH MY GOD. I'M GOING TO HAVE A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN RIGHT. NOW" panic. And, because she is so much calmer and, well, saner than I, she came over armed with heat guns and fans and portable heaters, and most importantly, snacks for the kids.

And as I paced around the kitchen querying her on exactly which anti-anxiety medications she might have lying around her house, she went about setting up the heaters and fans and heat guns and, bless her heart, got them unfrozen. I wish I could be that kind of calm person, instead of the kind that runs around with her head cut off in the middle of a crisis. I always thought I handled crisis well, but I have been proven wrong time and time again this year. So if you have a crisis, don't call me. Unless of course you want Lovely Friend's number.

I think I will bring her wine. And perhaps knit her some new mittens. Seriously, how do you thank someone for saving your real estate deal? I somehow think that wine and mittens are not quite enough.

Oh, and the part that is so wrong? It is now almost 10 degrees warmer at the house in which we do not live than it is here. Wrong. Just wrong.

The bottom step

Our real estate agent held yet another open house at the old place this afternoon, and as far as I could tell from my bordering on stalker-like drive bys, there were lots of people traipsing in and out of it, but no one who looked at all interested. After it was all over I swung by to make sure the heat had been turned down (it hadn't) and turn off the water in anticipation of the cold snap arriving later this week.

It was dusk, bordering on dark when I arrived, necessitating the turning on of lights around the house. I flipped on the switch to the upstairs hallway and burst into tears. I just sat on the bottom step, as I used to every evening as I talked to my sister or Rebecca on the phone and cried. Tears of hopelessness, tears of sadness, tears of homesickness. Even without the furniture, the giggles, and the drone of sibling bickering, in the dusk, with the lights on, the stairs felt like home.

I really didn't think I would miss the old house, and in day to day life, I don't really. Not the house itself anyway. But I miss life the way it was before we moved. Life with only one mortgage, life when my best friend didn't live an ocean away. Life when M and I didn't snap at each other at the drop of the hat, life when I could sit on the hard wood of the bottom step and just enjoy my home.

Missing

Missing: Several dozen cookie tins and two rolls of wrapping paper. A bag of silver bows. Several sheets of gift tags. And a silver glitter pen.

Reward: All the leftover holiday cookies you can eat.

Somehow, my stash of holiday wrapping supplies bought on sale last year got lost in the move. I have looked high and low at both houses, and they cannot be found. And do you know when they will show up? The day after Christmas, right after I repurchase it all on sale.

This is why I hate to move. I knew exactly where all of those items used to live before we moved. Sigh. I really want these cookies out of my kitchen and into other people's homes...

Cause I promised so very long ago

Rebecca put me to shame, giving everyone a virtual tour of her home long after I promised pics of our house. And since y'all lived through the move with me, and Rebecca and family have never seen the new homestead with furniture, I thought I would finally get around to them.

I'll skip the entry as that was covered in the previous photo tour.* It hasn't changed much, the dry clean only covers are still on the benches, and probably will stay there until they get so gross that I cave and make some more practical ones. I did get most of the tools moved down te basement though.

So from the entry, you can go straight up the stairs...

(note the coat closet the size of a pea and the banister that M installed over the summer), left into the living room or right into the dining room. We'll go right into the dining room so everyone can oooh and ahh over the paint job.

Oooh, ahh. It doesn't match the rug as well as I thought (the rug picture didn't come out) but I'm not going to repaint it anytime soon. Maybe the rug will fade now that it sees the light of day.

But enough about the paint, let's continue on to the kitchen, which is through a door to the left of the dining room table.

Lots and lots of white cabinets. Great for storage, not so great for keeping free of paint, mud, and food fingerprints and smudges.

There is a lot of stuff on the counters. I know. But I can't quite seem to get the kitchen organized right. I think I just have to take everything out and start all over again in the organization department (M is rolling his eyes right now).


And look, the kitchen table did fit! As you can see, C and A are in the middle of making a castle out of tin foil and paper. Because we are all about castles now that Julia and Evan live near the queen. Off to the right there, you can see the door to M's office...

and proof that my husband does indeed love me.

Bookshelves! In the kitchen! For my cookbooks! I've chosen to ignore the fact that the only reason they got put up was because he didn't want the cookbooks in his office. It was because he loves me I tell you. But I digress...

Behind the kitchen table is what we choose to call the odd place.


We have no idea why it is there, since the family room is not even two steps away. For now, it is the train room. If anyone else has any suggestions on what we can do with it once the train stage is over, I'm all ears. The angle looks a little odd because I am standing at the top of two steps that lead down into the room.

Speaking of the family room, here it is. The picture is taken from the top of the stairs to the odd space. Just so you know how close we are talking here.


Do you see the sunlight? Do you see it? Do you see how happy all this sun makes me? Happy happy happy. So happy that I only yelled for a little bit right now when C decided to cut a hole in the only pair of sweatpants that still fit him. Hmm, I wonder where I put that Carter's Outlet coupon....

Anyway, here is the chair in which I blog and knit.

Lazy cat is snoozing on top. It seems to be her favorite place to sleep in this house. So as I type there are generally kitty snores and purrs in my ear. It makes knitting a bit challenging though, as she likes to bat at the yarn.

Finally, to complete our tour, the living room, shot from the family room. If you look closely, you can see dumb cat snoozing. Clearly not catching mice. The diet hasn't worked out so well.

The living room is the dumping ground for everything that hasn't found a home. And very dark because all of the lights are still over at the old house lighting that in hopes that someone buys it. So if you are coming anytime soon (or not so soon, let's be realistic here) don't expect to sit in the living room, 'kay?

Next week we'll head upstairs, much less exciting. Bedrooms. A small hallway. A pink bathroom.

*And if you check out the photo tour, you can see where all the furniture was in the the old house. Fun fun and more fun for all those interior decorators out there who are rolling their eyes right now and saying "NO! Don't put the couch against the wall! It's rule number one!" But where else are you supposed to put them?

Settling in

Chaos is slowly being restored to our lives. When I leave in the morning, the breakfast dishes are in the sink and the beds are unmade. If the toys are out in the playroom, oh well. Life is good. Except the chaos bothers me more than it used to. Not enough so that I am inspired to DO anything about it, but enough so a little voice over my shoulder sometimes whispers "Wasn't it NICE to walk into a clean house?" I then promptly swat that little voice away with a big booming "But I was a B-I-T-C-H on wheels to my kids, and that was no fun either."

Beyond the chaos, we seem to be slowing settling into our new home and routines. After several retrievals from the old house, Dumb Cat seems to have figured out where the people now live, and returns after his jaunts around town. Although he insists on howling to be let in at the front door, which means I only hear him if I am walking upstairs and he seems less than enthused about the back door for reasons that are clear only to him.

The kids alternate between "We love the new house" and "We miss the old house," which is only to be expected I suppose. I just wish they would start sleeping for longer than two hours a clip. The toys are all back out, and several old favorites have been rediscovered. Like the Legos and puzzles, which disappeared with the arrival of the for sale sign, as who has time to pick up 500 Legos and sort fifteen puzzles when someone is about to arrive on your doorstep?

M has flown off to, well, someplace, as tis the season to travel. Except right now he is trapped at Newark, because it is raining and Newark doesn't seem to like to send planes up in the air when it rains. But when he is in residence he is wallowing in the joy of a fully networked house and a screened porch that keeps the bugs at bay.

I've been battling with the various appliances, most notabley the microwave and I have yet to have a meeting of the minds. I need to get pointers from Rebecca on cook times as I think it is the same brand as she used to have. I LOVE the new range, I can actually control the burner heat instead of having "super hot" and "off." The oven, however, seems to be quirky. I think I actually need to dig out the manual as there are several buttons that are not self-explanatory, and the two meals I have tried to cook in there have turned out dismally. Clearly I am missing some critical piece of information, like how to actually get it to turn on. The dishwasher and drier rock, they both take half the time as our old ones saving both time and money. Whirlpool is my new favorite brand folks.

I know I promised pictures, but the camera is among the missing items yet to be discovered. Perhaps tomorrow it will be found as I actually need to pick up for A's little playgroup who are arriving to inspect the house with furniture and toys. Although these people know me well enough now that I don't really feel obligated to pick up for them. Except, well, I do because I'm compulsive that way. But I like to THINK that I won't pick up for them. Ahem.

So hopefully in a few days things will return to as close to normal as possible, and I might have enough brain cells regenerate to be able to whip out a decent post. Or, I'll just continue in my current vein until I throw up my hands and start posting random pictures of the cats.

And we're in...

We are moved. I hate junk boxes. Hate. Them. I have spent the last 3 hours wandering around the house with random articles wondering where I could possible stash them. Remind me that the birthday candles are in the hall closet, OK? Thanks...

Anyway, the kids rooms are totally unpacked, the rest of the house is a disaster. Although our phone and wireless is working, so life isn't all bad. I'll try to post some pics tomorrow. Right now it all feels rather surreal to see furniture in a house that we have hung out in empty for so long.

Now where did I stash the sushi menu....

Why? Why?

Why is it that when you move, you always end up with boxes of random crap despite your best efforts to pack efficiently and by category? I have had three months to move, and yet today I found myself randomly throwing stuff into boxes because I had no idea how to categorize it. How would you deal with a drawer containing artwork, scotch tape, a screwdriver, scraps of paper with phone numbers on it, and my master's thesis (yes, I found a copy of my thesis in a kitchen drawer. Heaven help me). I can tell you what I did, dump it into a box and label it "random junk from left hand drawer in old kitchen." Hey, at least I will know where to look when I am searching for the random junk..

Sleeps

Five sleeps until we move. C informed me of that fact this morning. Thanks kiddo. I don't really know how we started calling nights sleeps, except that it seemed like the easiest way to explain to C how long it was until some exciting event occurred. Apparently, the move is exciting enough to count as a sleep-worthy event.

At what age does a real concept of time kick in? C gets it, generally, but if you get over a week out it all becomes a little fuzzy. Then it is "in a long time" or "a long time ago." A is currently doing the very cute "Yesterday we will go to the party" and "Tomorrow was a lot of fun." I was sad when C finally figured out how to use time terms appropriately, and will be equally sad when A moves on. To the point that I'm not really correcting her. Hey, that's what preschool is for, right?

I also haven't worked very hard with C on learning to tell time. Mostly for my own sanity. Once he gets good at time, my mommy five minutes (or ten minutes or fifteen minutes) will have to actually approximate real time. And it will be impossible to pop the kids into bed early on nights that some sanity needs to be restored. As it is, my days in that regard are numbered. C keeps asking what time his bedtime is and I keep responding with a vague "Oh, when it is night-night time. " But apparently he needs a more specific answer for preschool sharing time next week. During which he is going to learn that the other children in the world have much later bedtimes. WHAT are those teachers thinking? Did they not have children of their own? Although I suppose that when he learns to tell time I can send him back to bed when he wakes up before the crack of dawn...

Whose brilliant idea was this again?

As I stand in my house staring at all of the crap that somehow needs to get boxed and moved by next Thursday, I have to just walk away and ignore it. Because really, the one-man, two small children moving company hasn't been working out so well. Sure, we got the china and most of the crystal taken care of quickly, and clapped ourselves on the back. But now, there is the book collection that rivals a small town library (and there are no built in book cases at the new house, so I'm loathe to pack up the books knowing they will sit in their boxes for months or years until we get some made). There is the antique grandfather clock my great great grandmother had shipped over from England. I'm terrified to even touch it for fear it breaks and the wrath of my family crushes me. But at least I know where that is going if I ever get up the guts to take it apart and move it.

There are the remaining toys that I think will have to be smuggled out in the cover of darkness. The contents of the laundry room and cleaning closet. And the garage. The garage makes me cry. But at least I can claim that M has to deal with than one since it is (mostly) all of his treasured possessions (cough, cough). There is the stereo system that was never hooked up after our last move. I wonder if it even works anymore after accumulating four years of dust.

To top it off, the fail-safe babysitting plan designed to make sure my children are happily distracted and entertained while the contents of their home are removed and reinstated, crumbled around my feet yesterday. Lovely friend, who has saved me more times than I can count in the few weeks since Rebecca moved across the pond, has graciously offered to save me again, and I figure the cost of the thank you gift I am going to feel obligated to place on her doorstep is going to be much greater than the cost of hiring a sitter for the day. But at least I won't have to worry about the kids getting trampled by the moving men or escaping out the front door. Offering to entertain four kids under five for eight hours. She is a saint. Really.

How do people do this? Really. I can't begin to imagine how Rebecca managed to get her whole house sorted into storage, boat, and air shipments. With her children in tow nonetheless. If I ever, ever make noises about moving again, please point me to this post. My mother keeps telling me I will be so happy once we move, but I think I would be even happier if I was committed someplace.

Semantics

Every so often over the last six months M has asked me "Are you going to miss this house?" I look around, and honestly answer "Not really, no." To which he sniffs a bit and huffs and puffs about the charm and the historical yadda yadda and then we move on to rehashing the decision to buy the new house all over again.

But his question is a good one. Will I miss the gorgeous, 1771 original, hardwood floors with little grooves that make it impossible to get the bits of dried peas off the kitchen floor without a pair of tweezers? Not so much. Will I miss the wood beamed family room that oozes charm, but never gets a drop of direct sunlight? Nope. See ya. Will I miss C's gabled bedroom that screams "George Washington slept here!" but everytime I walk into it, I hit my head? Can't say that I will. Will I miss the creaking floorboards outside the kids' rooms that wakes them up every night, the pipes that freeze every. single. winter., or the bathroom sink that only runs cold water? Again, I don't think so.

But, right now, even though 90% of my stuff is now in residence at the other house, this house is home. It is where we have slept and played and cried and yelled for the last four years, longer than I have ever lived anyplace except my mother's house. This is where C learned to talk, A learned to walk, and both kids learned how to climb up and down stairs with ease. It is where we looked forward to returning to after every trip, and where I curl up when I need to get away from things.

Soon the furniture and books and toys will all be installed at the new house,but it isn't going to feel like home right away. When the light streams into the playroom, and I sip my coffee and watch the kids play with a smile, it will seem odd. When I walk across a thick, tacked down runner to check on the kids at night instead of creaky floorboards, it will be not quite right. When I drive home from the grocery store, the playground, a playdate, I am fairly confident that I am going to miss the turn and have to circle around the block for months to come.

I'm not quite sure how long it takes to make a house a home. Or if there is some magical ingredient that will speed the process along. Probably not. So to answer M's question more specifically, I'm not going to miss the house itself, but for the first few days and weeks and months, I am going to miss the comfort of having a home.

Blogging lite

I'll probably be following the blogging lite plan for the next few weeks (not that I have been doing such a stupendous job of keeping up recently anyway). We have finally set a move date (and no, we haven't sold the old house, thanks for asking though) and the logistical details of moving a household around the corner seem to be eating up my life. Especially since we decided to do as much of the move as possible ourselves after seeing the quote from the movers. So the kids and I have become our own little moving outfit. Yesterday was the crystal, today is the china. This weekend I think I will tackle the deep dark recesses of the crawl space attic. Shiver.

Anyway, I'll give updates as I can, and once we are in I will regale you with the details and pictures. If I can find the camera that is.

Pictures!

In lieu of a real post, here are some pictures of the old house (just in case anyone is inspired to move down the street from me and be my neighbor) and the new house.


Old sun porch, not a good pic really but I'm too lazy to go take another :-).

Old family room....

Old dining hallway...

New playroom...


New kitchen....already cluttered.

New backyard...

New mudroom, otherwise known as the whole reason we bought the house. Already being used to house items other than coats and boots.

And, a gratuitous photo of the fat lazy cat.

Random, random paragraphs of incoherent thought

As my right hand could tell you, after an hour and a half of signing legal documents designed to send the anxiety-ridden into full-fledged panic attacks, we are now the somewhat nauseous owners of two homes. I spent most of the morning alternating between scoping out the nearest trash can in case my nervous stomach revolted, and drawing random scribbles on sticky pads to try and distract myself from the hysteria I felt creeping into my bones. While M cracked jokes with the lawyers, I took deep, cleansing breaths and tried not to hyper-ventilate.

As we got into the car after signing away our life, M turned to me and said: "I'm a little concerned that the family room is too small." Shoot me now, or send me to the loony bin. I am going with the head in the sand approach and choosing to believe that he was just pushing my buttons.

Tomorrow we begin the paint chip negotiation, which will result in our ability to open up our own shop in our living room. It took us two years to settle on a color for our current bedroom; this go round we have at least five rooms under contention. Although I refuse to move without painting the bulk of the rooms, so hopefully the time constraints will eventually force a decision.

The kids spent the day alternating between crying hysterically to "go home to the old house now" and "stay forever in the new house." It is going to be a long, long several weeks before we finally pack up and haul ourselves two blocks over. The fact that the houses are walking distance is both a help and a hindrance I have decided. While it is lovely to just pop over to survey our new digs, it is inevitably going to lead to battles over where to spend our days. And since there is no wireless, TV, or furniture in the new house, I know what my preference will be...

We forgot the camera today, but I'll try to remember to bring it when we head over tomorrow and post some shots of our new digs for before pics. And then you can wait eons before we actually get any real work done for the after...

T-Minus 24 hours

We are now T-minus 24 hours until we officially begin collecting our real estate empire. In sheer desperation to find the humor in it all, M and I have started pointing out other houses for sale and suggesting that they too should get added to our housing options. While deep, deep inside I am excited about the new house, that excitement is seriously dwarfed by the deer like panic that has taken superseded my normally high anxiety level. To top it all off, my closest friend is currently plotting a move to London, and my grandmother is declining quickly again.

So, forgive me if you see some hysterical tears streaking your computer screen. Yesterday I burst into tears at the grocery store because I couldn't find the right brand of toilet paper. And then once I finally found it, I burst into tears again when I realized we buy the most expensive toilet paper known to man. When faced with the decision to buy the expensive toilet paper or select a new brand that might give us all tushie burn, I burst into tears for a third time and finally left with no toilet paper at all because it was just getting embarrassing.

Oh, and in my infinite wisdom and love of self-torture, I decided to potty train A AND host a BBQ this weekend. Anyone have a good chicken marinade recipe? And any suggestions for cheap yet soft toilet paper with which to stock the bathroom in our new home? Because it's getting desperate over here folks, and I don't dare risk returning to the store without a plan in hand to conquer the toilet paper aisle...

Starting Over

There is something about moving that brings out the best of intentions in me. As we wandered around our new empty house for three hours during the structural inspection, I found myself making more resolutions than I did at New Years.

"When we move I'll be able to cook while interacting with the kids" I thought. But will I really? Or are the habits already established of the kids murdering each while I frantically stir fry to entrenched? I would like to think that someday they'll hang with me in the kitchen and chat, but for now I'll settle for being able to tell who is beating up on whom.

As I was cleaning out the cabinets in our current house to make them look spacious, I debated whether to keep or toss the waffle maker, which has been used only once since I purchased it a year ago. I thought "Well, in the new house there is so much accessible storage, I'll be able to find the waffle maker at the drop of a hat, so of course I will make waffles instead of buying the frozen ones at Trader Joe's." Umm, yeah. Even I know that one will quickly fall by the wayside. And if you believed it for a second you clearly don't know me all that well. But yet the waffle maker still made it into the "to keep" box. Just in case.

I have also found myself thinking "I will be able to play more with my kids because the house will be less cluttered." And "I will be happier because there is more sunlight in the playroom and kitchen." And "We will play in the backyard more because the deck is so nice." My favorite is "A will sleep through the night because I will be able to put her bed in a better location and the floors won't squeak as much."

While hopefully some of these dreams and wishes will come true (like the more sun=happy me), many of them are just plain unrealistic. Like moving will help A sleep. Yeah, right. But I keep coming up with more and more outrageous reasons to make the move seem like the best. thing. ever. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled we are moving. But will a new house really fix the many things that get me down during the day? I don't really think so. That doesn't seem to keep me from building more and more unrealistic fantasies about how wonderful our life will be post move, however.

Toys

Over the last few days I have packed up several boxes of toys. "Oh, the tears, the hysteria of the children upon waking up" you may think. Uh, no. So far no one has noticed that the workbench, sit and spin, and Little People bus have disappeared from view. Nor has anyone noticed the lack of matchbox cars, kitchen utensils, and half the puzzle collection.

Additionally, clean up at the end of the day is so much easier. Once we move, I'm going to be hard pressed to take everything back out again and find homes for them. I'm sure I eventually will, but it won't be at the top of the unpacking list. And for now I'm going to enjoy the minimalism while it lasts.

Confusion

There is much confusion here at Chez J-E regarding houses and moves among the younger set. Some cute tidbits in lieu of a real post as I frantically box up toys and all evidence that two children live in this house....

At 8pm last night:

A: "I hungry Mommy."

Mommy: "You can have breakfast in the morning. It's bedtime and you had a huge dinner."

A: "In new house? I wake up in new house? I want mini pancakes"

Mommy: "Uh, no. In this house. It will be many sleeps until the new house."

A: "Oh. Mini pancakes in old house then?"

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Bright and early this morning:

A: "Mommy no leave A at old house?"

Mommy: "No, of course not. A will come to the new house with us."

A: "And Daddy?"

Mommy: "Yes, and Daddy."

A: "Good. And cats?"

Mommy: "Yes, and the cats."

A: "BOTH cats?"

Mommy: "Yes, both cats. And C."

A: "No, C stay old house."

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At naptime today:

C: " Mommy, I'm excited for the new house. I can't wait to see how my closets will look in my new room."

Mommy: "Uh, you mean your clothes IN the closets?"

C: "No, my closets. I really really love my closets."

Mommy: "Well, the closets themselves actually stay with the house C. We'll move your stuff, but the closets and walls and, you know, things attached to the house physically, will stay here."

C: (Hysterically crying): "I can't LIVE without my closets! They are the only thing I care about. I love them more than Mama Hippo."