A little better, eh?

I'm really just in this for the before-and-after pictures, you know :)

(Look out, couch (and random displaced faux flowers), I'm coming for you next!)

Since March (and, more accurately, in the last few weeks), we have:

- Removed kitchen wallpaper
- Removed stairwell/hallway wallpaper
- Replaced all outlets & switches in the house
- Hung, finished, and painted new drywall ceiling in the den
- Painted all of the trim in the house
- Painted 6 rooms (kitchen, living, dining, den, 2 bedrooms) and the stairwell/hallway
- Ripped out 6 rooms worth of carpeting
- Removed the built in desk in the den
- Removed window coverings

And, of course, had the new carpeting and hardwood floors installed (upstairs and downstairs, respectively).

I'm excited (ok, honestly, giddy!) about the progress to date.  But don't worry, we've left plenty of projects (besides just unpacking!):

I'll try to keep you updated with more pictures, but be forewarned about the sappiness that might come next week when we finally get to be ... HOME!  For good!

Eyes on the prize

You know what makes my heart happy?

To look out my kitchen window and see this:

I often take laundry to hang out at the new house when we're working there all day since I don't have the luxury (or a normally functioning dryer...) here at the house-sitting house.  And when I look up from peeling wallpaper or sanding spackle or (finally!) rolling on paint, to see the laundry billowing in the breeze (and my family picnicking on the porch), I get such a sense of joy welling up inside of me, and a gratitude that so very soon the simple pleasures of life in this charming little house will be mine everyday. 

Despite having known since February that this will be our house, my heart is still catching up to my brain, and I've been increasingly finding myself sobbing tears of joy (totally unhelpful when I'm trying to paint something) at the realization that we're actually going to live at the new house, that we actually will have our dishes in the cupboards and clothes in the closets, and at the end of the day we don't have to turn out the lights and drive away.  

There's a palpable longing from all four of us to just be home.  

I don't want to sound ungrateful for the blessing it has been to house sit this year.  It was a wonderful situation for us having moved to a new area, and in retrospect, I'd still chose this again - but more in the way that you chose going to the dentist than you chose spending time with friends.  I've learned a lot and grown a lot, but I'll be completely honest and say that I'm very glad it's almost over.

There have been a lot of little (first world!) annoyances, like the aforementioned dryer that needs three cycles to dry anything, and the size of the house that makes it impossible to find anything the toddler has touched, and the dog hair.  Oh, the dog hair.  It's an amazing house (and dog), really, and perfect for the family who lives here normally.  We're just not that family, and learning our own wants and needs in our living space has been very instructive.  

Most of all, the challenge of this year has been feeling perpetually in transition.  I looked back in my blog archives tonight and realized that one year ago, I had already put a significant portion of my belongings in boxes (many of which are still in box purgatory in the basement).  It's weary-ing to think that we have a long month of renovations to juggle, another packing of the truck, another unloading of the truck.  And - *duh* moment - I realized today that nothing will magically get into drawers or closets once we arrive.

These days have been physically and emotionally and mentally tiring - I've been doing more physical labor than normal, plus juggling a whole lot of details about floor colors and prices and the latest plan for the family room ceiling, all while worrying that this (necessary) month of craziness will permanently ruin the girls, or at least their nap schedules.

I crave normal, routine, home.

It seems impossibly far, and yet delightfully close.

And isn't that the human condition, really?  Our hearts were built yearning for something more, restless always until they rest in Him.  We instinctively know and desire that there is something - some place - beyond this messy, imperfect world where we long to be home.

If there's anything that Justin and I have learned in this year, it's that longing for a place of comfort and familiarity - and the realization that it will never entirely be fulfilled in this life, no matter how perfect the paint colors or how plushy the carpet (and, believe me, it's plushy, we ordered it today!)  There will always be (metaphoric and literal) stink bugs and dog hair and annoying dryers because life isn't perfect and because we have lessons to learn as we muddle through.  But someday, someday God willing, the brilliant beauty of Heaven will fulfill us at last.

Eyes on the prize.  Eyes on the prize.

Organization: control or calm?

Overall, I am very happy post-move, thankful for where we have landed and all of the blessings surrounding the new place and the move in general.  But I have to be honest, some days are hard.  Today was hard.  I don't have to go into the details, but you can sort of paint the picture of cranky (over-tired) toddler who was accidentally woken up prematurely from her nap, an 8-month pregnant mama whose to-do list far surpasses both her available time and current physical stamina, and a daddy who necessarily disappears to the office for most waking hours as he prepares for classes to start tomorrow.

There were all of the frustrations that naturally come with the aforementioned territory (like tiredly limping through the grocery store, trying to strong-arm a heavy cart with a stuck wheel while the toddler continually rivals Houdini with her buckle escape times in the front seat), but I realized that everything was significantly amplified by our extreme state of flux and disorder.

We're currently still sleeping in the basement, and I'm working hard to try to get the upstairs cleaned/organized/ready for us to move our stuff upstairs (slowed by the fact that walking up stairs, especially if carrying anything, makes my over-stressed/over-stretched muscles/ligaments scream the loudest of any activity).  Most of our possessions are still in the basement, but they're getting extremely disorganized because my attention (and, frankly, my desire to spend time) is upstairs.  Both the toddler and the dog have the typical toddler/dog make a mess tendencies, and since things don't have permanent homes yet, there's a lot for both of them to get into.

I can't be the only one who feels anxious in this environment...(photo circa 15 minutes ago)
(Seek and find: the top of my head, the computer (perched on the ironing board, incidentally), a sewing project in progress, boxes from Anna's new shoes, a baby gift waiting to be mailed, furniture that needs to go upstairs, and every toy Anna has played with for the last week) 

In the beautiful respite of a half-hour of daddy-daughter playtime after dinner, I cleaned up the kitchen and then sat, thinking and praying for a few minutes.  The disorganization and disorder is clearly causing me stress, I realized, and I wondered if this was just a side effect of a need for control.  Am I just unable to function if I'm not in control of everything, I wondered?  A materialistic obsession, masquerading as the nice-sounding cleanliness and organization?

But the more I thought, I just can't accept it as a bad thing to have order and organization.  I thought of the cloistered nuns in the novel I've been reading (In This House of Brede by Rumer Godden, which I definitely recommend).  The sisters live in a highly structured environment.  They devote significant amounts of time to prayer, but they also devote a lot of time and attention to keeping their environment spotless.  They continually seek detachment from their possessions, but those possessions which they have are given impeccable care (the 90+ year old Dame Ellen is mentioned several times for the perfectly shined floors that fall under her responsibility).

Paradoxically, it is in giving the care and attention to belongings that these mere things fade into the background of life.  The nuns can be more focused on prayer and on the tasks at hand when there aren't constant distraction of things left out of place, messes left uncleaned, or cobwebs covering the church.  It may seem that one could simply detach from possessions and the physical environment by ignoring it completely - giving a superficial cleaning every so often, perhaps.  However, in this "detachment," the cobwebs and messes and constantly lost belongings, the need to replace and fix things that weren't cared for properly, the visual distractions of stuff piled everywhere mean that the surroundings demand more attention after all.  A well-cared for monastery (or home) removes the disturbances of dirt and of clutter, and creates an environment of peace.

It's not just the physical exhaustion of trying to get ahead of our mess and get things set-up that's been wearing on me, it's been the emotional distractions of disorder that have been so trying on days like today.  With things spread out throughout the house (and clothes throughout multiple closets), it's far more difficult to complete our normal tasks (resulting, for example, in me laying out Justin's outfit in the dimly lit room where Anna slept, only to discover after he returned home from work that I had sent him in blue pants - not black - with his black and gray striped tie), far more difficult for us to relax, far easier for us to be quickly overwhelmed by otherwise trivial daily frustrations.

While it sometimes seem like we'll never feel settled again, I know that with some patience and continued work, I'll reach a status quo where things are generally in the rooms where they belong and our bed is stationed between headboard and foot board rather than between piles of boxes.  If nothing else, this time of transition has strengthened my resolve in the somewhat crazy notion that a disciplined life where time and attention is given to keeping things neat and functional creates an environment of peace, and I'll continue my quest for organization - not for the sake of control, but for calm.

4 weeks in: an update

4 weeks ago, I sat at a table in a lawyer's office, making a blubbering fool of myself as I (unsuccessfully) tried to hold back the tears at giving up my "first baby."  (No, not Anna; other people have been confused by my silly reference to the house, too).  If it were any secret before, the whole process of leaving our house showed me just how much that old structure meant to me.  Thankfully, the leaving was much harder than the having left, so I haven't done nearly as much I-miss-home crying in the last few weeks as I expected (only once, I think, since the tearful hotel-room post I left you with way back when).

The last few weeks have been - perhaps surprisingly so - calm, happy, and joyful.  As we were discerning our move last fall, it basically felt like God had done all but put the flashing red arrow above this town and this job, and if it was evident then that this was where we were meant to be, that sense has only grown in actually being here.  There have been several such moments, but one memory stands clear in my mind: only hours after arriving, our large crew of unloading helpers (all who sought Justin out and offered to help) made up of other University families paused for a pizza dinner.  A large group of kids, adults, and hungry teens suddenly paused and offered a loud chorus of a prayer.  Something about that moment, about a community so willing to live its faith (in lifting up prayer, and in lifting a whole lot of heavy boxes for people they'd just met) gave me chills and made me think "this."  This is what we came for. 

And so for all who have been patiently waiting, asking, and praying about our transition, I offer the following updates.  I apologize for how long I've put this off from both pure busyness and also a loss for how to think about such big changes and what exactly to say.  This post is a mix of practical updates (look - pictures of where we're living!) and philosophical musings on the ideas of home and homemaking in a scenario when our traditional concept of "home" has been turned on its head.  As a reward for making it through this wordiness, I'll post some Anna at the zoo pictures later this weekend.  :)

(1) Living Arrangements

As most of you know, we have the opportunity to house-sit for another family who will be abroad for the coming academic year.  They will leave later in August, at which point we will move upstairs to their bedrooms.  For now, we're happily tucked away into the basement bedroom.  The basement is divided into two rooms, one of which has our bed, two extra twin beds, Anna's crib, two couches, and a half-bath.  The other, larger, room is a big playroom (Anna LOVES it) where I've set up my sewing machine table and a card table for a desk.  As much as I loved our house, I have to admit that in some ways, our basement accommodations are more comfortable, or I guess I should say more practical in letting us spread out and have space for different activities (rather than me spreading papers or crafts all over our old kitchen table, or Anna's play space being limited to the space where Justin was also trying to do some work).  I'd probably change my mind after months down here, but for now it's a pretty sweet arrangement.  Given that it's temporary, we haven't really set things up (Anna's entire wardrobe is on top of a dresser, our "linen closet" is folded piles on the extra bed, and we're still using our toiletries out of our travel bags), so I think all three of us are looking forward to having some more organization and permanent storage solutions once we move upstairs, but other than that I really have no complaints.

I may have neglected to mention that in addition to one twin bed being our "linen closet," one is also our dirty laundry pile.  That's what happens when your laundry boxes are all full of miscellaneous toiletries and cleaning supplies!

(2) Building up vs. tearing down

In one of my last posts before we left our house, I lamented the fact that the process of packing our house was antithetical to my life's vocation.  I take great pride in working to create a home for our family and visitors that is a lovely and comfortable place to be, and one that provides for their needs, whether that be clean clothes, good food, or a peaceful place to rest.  Putting everything (essentially, my tools for the job) into boxes was incredibly stressful because limited my ability to provide for any of these needs, and was a direct un-doing of what I generally focus on doing.  I've found that setting things up here (even a very primitive and temporary card-table desk/sewing area) has left me feeling much more positive than taking things down at the house.  Taking apart the house and packing created disorder, and restoring order, I've learned, is very important both for my own sanity and for the greater good of our household/family.

More crafting/work space than I had at home!
It still can use some work, but it's pretty well organized for the time being :)

(3) Possessions

I had an internal debate, you may remember, during packing about whether I was a minimalist or overly materialistic.  I worried about having placed too strong a value on mere things.  Now that everything is boxed, I find myself primarily in an "out of sight, out of mind" mentality where I don't feel particularly attached or in need of our things.  Granted, our essentials (clothing, toiletries, and even our own bed) have been unpacked and are in use.  Also, we're living in a fully-furnished home that is fully equipped and decorated for a family much larger than our own, so our needs are met.  However, I worried that I would miss our dinnerware (those of you who know Justin and I know the ridiculous saga about plates that preceded our marriage!*) or things like that.  It turns out that I've missed practical things, like less common but useful kitchen tools (my food processor, for one), in a utilitarian sense.  As long as we have plates - and a way for me to serve our family dinner - it hasn't seemed to matter what they look like.  Of course, once we set up our own home again I'll be happy to have the ones that I chose, but it's freeing to know that I'm not as overly attached to them as I feared I might be.  I think the practical appreciation of things for their usefulness (including their beauty) is the healthy approach to possessions, so I'm hopeful that I'm at least somewhat in line with that ideal.

My little sewing area is to the right of this picture (if you walked past the futon and turned right), and the door to our bedroom space is to the left.

(4) Vocation of motherhood & homemaking

If the move has confirmed one thing for me, it is that I truly do have a vocation to motherhood and homemaking.  I don't say this to preclude work that I have or will do outside of the home over the course of my lifetime, but I have reconfirmed the value that I find in making a home, providing for our family's basic needs, etc.  As I've mentioned before, it was so difficult to take things apart, but to rebuild and reestablish (even temporarily) here has felt so right.  The first night we arrived, I was loading the dishwasher and wiping up the kitchen counters here at our hosts' home, and they asked me why I was worrying about the work (given that this was after a long drive and unpacking the full U-Haul(s)).  I hadn't thought about it until asked, but the process of restoring order and of doing normal, everyday work was so comforting.  After weeks of emptying drawers, packing boxes, eating take-out meals, it made me happy to be able to put silverware in its drawer and dishes in their place.  I suspect this feeling will wear off and I'll find myself often in a messy kitchen without a sense of joy in the cleaning tasks at hand; but perhaps this lesson will remain quietly inside as a reminder of the value and joy in the daily work of one's vocation.

In retrospect, I guess it's not news that I like the whole housewife thing (throwback photo to making our first Valentine's Day fancy dinner in our not-so-fancy pre-renovation kitchen!)

(5) Loneliness and community

In Ithaca, I had a wonderful group of friends - many of whom were also stay-at-home moms with young families - and yet moving here has made me realize how terribly lonely I was.  Those friendships were wonderful, but we didn't see each other nearly often enough - in most cases, there was at least a 15 minute drive between us, and that sort of distance requires pre-planning for play dates, not a quick call over the backyard fence if you've run out of a cup of sugar.  Our street in Ithaca was busy with traffic (we lived next to a bank) but people scurried in and out with their deposit slips, probably not even knowing that Anna and I were home in the house next door.  It has been refreshing to work alongside with our host, making dinner with her, chatting about recipes, and hearing stories of their interesting past trips abroad.  I've found myself less drawn to blogs and an unhealthy amount of computer time because I don't need to seek an artificial community when I'm beginning to find one here.  We met another family and visited their recent yard sale, which stretched along the block of Catholic families.  Everyone was outside, their kids playing together, the moms chatting about the blenders they were trying to sell.  It felt to me like the neighborhood where I grew up, and one that I know I want to find to fight the loneliness that can otherwise plague the modern homemaking mom.  [See my post from November: Working Alone]

(6) Siblings

I know part of my loneliness in Ithaca was that it was just me and Anna.  Her vocabulary and communication has exploded recently, and it's becoming a lot more fun (and far less isolating) by the day to spend time with her.  Don't get me wrong, I've always loved to be with her, but I know I'm not the only one who realizes that 8 hours with someone non-verbal gets to be a little tiring.  Our hosts have 5 kids in the house (ranging from 4 to 18) and while the activity level is certainly more than I was used to in our quiet little Ithaca existence, it's a very positive and lively environment that has made both Justin and I excited for the years that are to come with Anna and Julia and (God-wiling) their future siblings.  I've enjoyed interacting with the kids in ways that Anna's not yet ready for - baking a cake together, answering questions, telling each other knock-knock jokes.  It has given me a glimpse into the future, a future that some veteran mom bloggers have talked about, a future that's not quite as difficult (or perhaps just difficult in different ways) as having only very little kids.  It's more fun to make a picnic for Anna AND her 4 and 7 year old "siblings" than to get everything out just to make one lunch, not to mention how nice it is that she can sit at the picnic table outside the kitchen door with them while I make the sandwiches.  I have no delusions that my hard days are over (in October I'll have a newborn and a 2 year old and a husband with a very busy new job), but I think I'll be buoyed in that time knowing that there are less overwhelming years (we hope) to come.

This picture doesn't adequately capture how much fun all three kids were having (Anna's in the wagon), nor how comfortable I was watching with my feet propped up on a lounge chair and being thankful for big kids who are happy to pull a wagon around...and around...and around.

I haven't even mentioned how great it's been for Anna to have playmates and companions.  All of the kids have been wonderful with her, and I'm sure their example (and constant "Anna, say....") has contributed greatly to her recent verbal developments.

(7) Missing the house & finding a new home

If there's one theme you've gathered from my writing over the last 6 months, it certainly would be about my emotional process of leaving our home.  In moving, I thought the rough days were still ahead, and I pictured myself lying awake in bed crying about wanting to go home.  Short of a few dreams, I haven't thought of it that much, unless I look at our recent pictures.  We were starting to outgrow that home in some ways and feel frustrated about some of the things about the layout, so we were honest with ourselves that we would have had to look for a new place even if we were staying in Ithaca.  I'll always love that house, always feel very attached to all of the work that we did to make it our home, but the thing I miss more than the house is the sense of home.  We are incredibly comfortable here and the hosts have been incredibly gracious (and incredibly fun) during our time together.  But despite all that, there is a sense of being in your own space where your things have a designated place and you have your family routines and your family pictures and decorations that hasn't entirely been fulfilled in staying in someone's basement.  Thankfully, that sense of home can be recreated, to a decent extent here over the next year, but eventually in our future home.  Justin and I are excited about searching for that home and have both memorized most of the new listings that have come on the local real estate website over the past few months.  We frequently drive through new areas, seeking out new neighborhoods and areas we want to target for our search.  We're both anxious for the time to come for us to be in that (hopefully "forever") house, but we are both very thankful for this year to assess our needs, get to know the area, and do a thorough search for the best future home.

(8) The future of the blog

I was asked recently if I'd continue blogging now that we've moved and the renovations are done.  I dare say that we found the former glory in our old house, and in that sense my mission has been complete.  However, if you've read my updated "About this blog" section, you'll see that my search has expanded beyond just renovating that house.  I'm looking for former glory in the ideals of home and family in our society that has begun to devalue both.  I'm seeking the former glory of a lifestyle/career choice that is no longer popular or particularly respected for a college-educated woman.  I've even begun to convince Justin of my crazy ideas that an old, tired house is far more fun to buy than a beautifully renovated "turn-key" one, so we'll hopefully have plenty more renovation projects to share as well.  We'll still be searching for former glory, and I hope you'll still be following along as I document the journey on all of those fronts...


*Side note for anyone who knows the "dishes" back story, my editor Justin would like me to share that this family happens to have some of the exact Corelleware dishes that he had in his bachelor apartment.  And I'm enjoying using them.

Alive and well

Hello, all!  I have a much longer post partially written in which I will give a full update about our transition, how we're settling in, etc, etc (hopefully coming sometime in the next few days!) but I've started to feel guilty about how long I've left you all hanging, especially with such a dramatic/tearful last post.

I won't go into details here (otherwise this post will end up in drafts with the other one), but the Cliff Notes version is that the move went very well and the transition continues to be easier than expected (except perhaps getting an Ohio driver's license, but we eventually conquered that as well).  There's aspects of Ithaca that we miss (most especially people) but by and large we've found ourselves feeling settled more quickly than I would have ever imagined.  I still cry if I look at pictures of the house, but on a day to day basis I don't think of it often or miss it specifically.

I posted these two pictures (from the day we bought our house, and the day we sold it) on Facebook right after we moved with the following caption:

4 years, 1 marriage, 2 sweet girls, 1 PhD, a revolving door of wonderful visitors, thousands of laughs, hugs, and tears, and hundreds of trips to Lowe's. Good-bye to the wonderful home that has held it all.

When we stood on that porch in June of 2010, we had no idea what was to come - the ups and downs of renovation, the incredible people who would come through the doors and into our lives, and the joys and trials of daily life.

Looking back and seeing all that those 4 years (and our beloved house) held is an encouraging thought as we stand here on the brink of a new life in Steubenville, our toes just over the edge into a new adventure.  Remembering how God's beautiful plans have played out gives me confidence and excitement to look ahead to each coming day as the next chapters begin to unfold.


p.s. updated "About This Blog" tab!  Check it out :)

Good-bye, sweet home.

Good-bye, and thank you.  And I daresay that my heartbreak means that "I love you" is not too strong, even to be used towards a old gray structure that most wouldn't even look at twice.


How blessed are we to have had something that makes saying goodbye so hard.


I'll write more as we have more time and my emotions stabilize a bit.  (It's hard to see the computer screen through tears; Anna just looked at the picture and said "Anna's!"  And now she's saying "more house.  Anna's.  'at one.  (gesturing around hotel room): "da done").  I can't make up how much our home has meant to all of us.

For now, if you're driving in Western NY or Western Pennsylvania and see this get-up, give us a wave, and take note to always get a bigger u-haul than you think ;)

On moving, materialism, and minimalism

Packing and packing and packing continues as our move date inches closer and closer.  My outlook on the whole moving thing varies from day to day (and often from minute to minute), admittedly influenced fairly heavily by how much I've eaten and slept in the last 24 hours, but also by the enormity of the task and the gravity of the change.

Yesterday I was almost in tears as I undid all that I've worked for four years to do.  For the past few weeks, my chore has been the direct opposite of what I consider my life's vocation (creating a home).  I wake up each morning and set about the tasks of dismantling the functionality and the beauty that has made this our comfortable dwelling.  I pack away kitchen supplies, making it more and more difficult to make a complete meal for my family (a week of take-out is fast approaching); I try to explain to my poor confused little girl that all of her toys will move to her new house; I take down all the things that make this our little haven in the world - the pictures that make us happy, the art that reminds us of what is good and true, the Crucifix that reminds us of what life and love is all about.

Emptying my glass canisters was one of my least favorite tasks, both because washing all those jars was annoying, but also because it was one of my favorite things in the house.

Perhaps for me, the prospect of most things being boxed for the next 10 months makes the packing more difficult.  Practically speaking, it requires more thought and logistics, but it also makes me more sentimental as I put away beloved objects and wonder when I'll see them again.  Where will I be?  What will have happened in our lives before we even see these things again.  (Dramatic, I know, but my inner monologue has a tendency to lean that way in stressful moments).

But then there's another side of all this packing, the freedom of having the bare minimum on the shelves.  It's sort of nice to have 2 drinking glasses to choose from, or to be limited in the dinner making department by the only baking dish that hasn't yet been put in a box.  When I find myself labeling boxes "extra towels," I have to wonder how and why we even have so many extra towels.  We're certainly making do just fine with the 3 that are still out and hanging on our racks.  And, ahh, the feeling of opening a closet to find....empty space.

I guess there's a minimalist hiding inside - one who ramps up the guilt when I label a mid-size box "Emily - bags and scarves."  Seriously?  I have more accessories than some people have clothing.  I've always tried to live the adage "Keep nothing in your home you do not consider to be beautiful or useful," but physically touching and moving every single one of our family's possessions really calls out how (not) effective I've been at paring down to what we need and love.  I've given myself permission to pass on decision making now, but I suspect there will be plenty of things headed to the nearest donation bin when I unpack in 10 months and find things I didn't remember ever having owned.  And even then, I'm sure our new home will have things we don't truly need or maybe even want, but with which our sentimentality will not let us part.

Not quite the den I showed you last week, huh?

And so box after box, I wonder if I'm materialistic and unable to part with my possessions, even for a short few months, or if I'm really a minimalist who should donate it all, save one pot and one dress.  I'm probably both.  With different items, my emotions carry me to different directions - I've packed a few boxes and realized afterwards that I really wouldn't be that upset if the whole box never made it to Steubenville, and then I've packed others and seriously considering adding "no seriously, be really, really careful because my 2 favorite yellow glasses are in this box" next to the 5 fragile stickers, which are probably already overkill.

Somewhere in the midst of all this is the healthy response to possessions.  The practical use of our resources that appreciates the gifts we've been given - those things that contribute functionality, form, and beauty to our homes.  A reasonable number of belongings helps us to set the stage for a relaxing and comfortable home, a place that provides respite for its family and welcome to its visitors.  When viewed properly, our things can be tools, things used for all sorts of practical tasks, but also for the very important goal of making our family home a "domestic church".  

I read an excellent post this morning in which Colleen compared owners of ultra-tiny homes and enormous mansions, and how going to either extreme can be a misguided search for the happiness that can never come from possessions (or lack thereof).  She describes so well what  "gives us the ability to both possess and be detached from our wealth."

Perhaps through this crazy year of transition as we go from our home to another home (house-sitting) to our future home (with perhaps a rental in between, who knows) I'll be better at that balance, of having the things we need and use, but keeping them in perspective.  Maybe I'll always be refereeing the inner monologue between my materialistic and minimalist alter egos, ever striving for the healthy approach that gratefully uses belongings to serve my family and others without letting the things I own own me.

What do you think?  Am I the only one who thinks this much about packing?  (It's possible :P)  And thanks to all of you who are following along with my roller coaster of posts!  I've found that writing has been a therapeutic coping mechanism for dealing with change.

Pictures galore

Life is...well, busy.  At the moment, I find it mostly exciting, although I will be honest in saying there have been plenty of days when all of the logistics and planning for the move (not to mention the emotional roller coaster associated with leaving our home) have left me, shall we say, just a bit stressed.

There's plenty of things I've thought about posting, but I obviously haven't gotten there!  I have, however, been taking lots of pictures (and continue to be SO thankful that Justin Claus brought a new camera!)

So since pictures are worth a thousand words, here's the big update of the past few weeks.  We've had plenty of celebration mixed in with the planning and stressing - and we're gearing up for the biggest celebration of all, Justin's PhD graduation this weekend!

Easter Sunday (my favorite part was our hats!)

Pretty excited about hunting for eggs...

Sharing "the farm" (one of Daddy's favorite places on Earth) with Anna

My beautiful sister graduated summa cum laude from nursing school!  

(This was right after her pinning ceremony)

Mother's Day 

(In Anna's mind, Mumsie is obviously preferred over Mom!)

If you thought the whale dress was cool, check out this bunny dress that my mom made (!!)

If I had remembered it was in the "too big" bin earlier, I would have had her wear it for Easter Sunday, although since it's still Easter, it was still appropriate :)  (Aren't you proud, Meg?!)  Anna was pretty pumped about having "dunnies" going "op op op" on her neck.

You can't post just one when it's a little girl in a smocked dress!

This started out as a "What I Wore Sunday" / bump update post...

20 weeks!

....and...

It's a SISTER!

Anna's new shirt! (and various ramblings thereupon)

Just popping in to share Anna's new shirt (in a blurry cell phone picture, which ended up being the best I have, even after a photo shoot with the good camera):

Frequently asked questions:

I'm due October 1, so I'm about 8 weeks along now.  I'm feeling, well, like I'm 8 weeks pregnant, which is marked most notably by the extreme exhaustion that plagued my first trimester with Anna.  I'm a bit more sick this time around (I basically wasn't at all with her), but much less dizzy.  Last time it felt like a light switch was switched and I had my energy back the day my second trimester started (I felt so much better I thought, hey, I bet that second trimester is coming up, so I looked at the calendar and literally the day I felt better was the first day of the second trimester) so I'm hoping that will happen again this time, especially since we'll be putting the house up on the market right around that time!  (Translation, my housekeeping will have to step it up a notch from my current lounge-around-eating-Rice-Chex-with-Anna-all-day standards.  You can tell how tired I was in a day by how many crumbs I let her leave on the couch/bed/other random places where food is usually a big no-no!)  

Speaking of moving, all of the biggest changes (house sale / packing / moving) will occur when I'm in the (energetic!) second trimester, and we should be settled in time to be set-up in time for Justin's semester to start (in his new role as professor!) and to get ready for baby #2.  The pregnancy has made me (surprisingly) far more calm about the whole moving thing, and much less sappy/emotional about leaving our house.  I think having a new little someone to look forward to has made me realize that this chapter (while a very sweet chapter) was only one in our book of life, and - God willing - we have lots more to come for our family.  With my limited energy, I've found myself allotting it more practically to a to-do list of preparations (and napping) and less to all of the associated emotions.  

We plan to find out the gender again as soon as we can, although our Italian neighbor and her (remarkable 11 for 11 prediction record) says that it's a boy.  Last time I had a strong (and obviously correct) feeling that it was a girl, and this time I think boy, but with less conviction than I had about Anna (although my thoughts are probably heavily influenced by aforementioned gender predictions from across the street).  We've been tossing around names and have pretty much settled on a boy's name and have 3 or 4 favorites for a girl.  We'll probably chose around the time of the 20-week ultrasound again and begin referring (publicly) to the child by name.  I have to admit, I thought that idea was totally weird the first time I heard someone doing it, but it felt natural and made sense to us with Anna - and I think it was a reflection of our strongly-held pro-life belief that the baby is a baby from the moment of conception, and doesn't become one at birth.  I respect that not everyone wants to share their chosen name before the baby's birth, but it just works for us.  Calling her by name gave me such a connection to Anna as a little person even before she was born, and I find it really weird to now be back at the stage of pregnancy where there's a little someone inside but I don't know who it is (or really how to refer to him or her besides "baby," which feels awfully impersonal for a beloved child).

Speaking of baby (isn't that what this is all about!?), we had an ultrasound on Monday, and saw the little heart beating away.  The awesomeness of that just blows my mind - there is a tiny little person (about 1/2 inch from those measurements) who has been alive for only 6 weeks AND HAS A BEATING HEART.  Amazing.  Amazing.  Yay God.

The kiddos will be 2 years and 1 month apart (perhaps exactly, if this one is a few days late like big sister).  We think Anna is primed to be a loving and helpful sister, if her behavior with her dolls is a good indicator (with the exception of the vigor with which she tosses them out of the crib to climb in herself, but a taller crib for a real human ought to solve that one ;))  I don't think she "gets" that there's a baby in Mommy's belly, but we talk about it enough for her to remember that we say so.  If she's so inclined, she'll come over and give the baby kisses (very sweet), or will look down my shirt (and sometimes her own) if we ask her where the baby is (slightly awkward, but still cute).

My blogging will probably continue to be very sporadic (not that you've come to expect anything less!) but you (and I) never know when I might get on a roll again.  Until then...we'd appreciate your prayers for continued health for our littlest member!

Signs that our next renovation will have new challenges

The renovations in our current house were almost completely finished before I was expecting Anna.  Now it's obvious that renovations in our next house (yes, we're crazy enough to do this again) will have some new challenges!

Justin snapped this shot with his cell phone today while I (or, shall I say, Anna and I) were doing a little caulk touch-up between the trim and the wall in her room (yes, to get ready to sell).  I told myself all along that we wouldn't leave little projects like this until the last minute, and that we should do them early on because making it nice for ourselves is just as important as for others.  But, you know, we still have a laundry list of little projects before we list the house in March!  

Good thing we have a helper ;)

The long good-bye

From the very first time I opened our front door,

June 18, 2010

I knew I'd one day be closing it, too.

Justin is a graduate student, and he'll be graduating in May.  I will update more later about our future plans, but suffice it to say that he has been offered his dream job, and it's an amazing opportunity for our family.  We're grateful for that opportunity, so excited for the new community, looking forward to finding our new home.  But none of that makes this any easier.

We met with our realtor yesterday.  We've started saying the long good-bye to our house.

You may think I'm just overly sappy.  Especially if you've just been reading in the past few months when I've gone all mom-blog and philosophical, you might not understand why I call this house my "first baby."  We have seen this house through from a neglected, broken building.  We have put thousands of hours into making it our home.  This transformation came with our literal blood, sweat, and tears.  We have refinished (or in many cases, completely replaced) every wall, floor, and ceiling in the house.  We chose every color, every finish, every faucet, every everything.

We hold the ideal of home in high esteem, and consider this our sanctuary from the world.  But to sell a house, you have to open it up.  Let strangers traipse through, let them look in your closets and wander through your basement.  Convert it from a place where we live (and sometimes leave our laundry on the floor) to an exhibit, a pristine showplace.  We must let them in - with all of their opinions - to judge all the work we've done and the choices we've made.

But they can never know, as they wonder about whether or not they want an orange kitchen,

that seeing that kitchen was literally my dream come true after I spent more than a year cooking like this:

and then more than a month looking something like this:

And walking upstairs to the bedrooms will never feel the same as it did for someone who lived in the kitchen:

or who did "carpet angels" the first time we could go upstairs to do anything but hard physical work:

They'll wonder if they like the amount of storage, but they won't know that the closet was a Christmas gift or how many times I had to go to work with paint spots on my arms before the bathroom closet was finished and the special primer finally washed off after multiple days worth of showers.

They won't know which floor tile I was laying when one of my best friends called to say she was engaged.

They'll see a house that looks decent these days, but won't know that by comparison it looks amazing.  They'll find things to criticize, I'm sure.  I find things I wish looked better, but most of the time they have some happy memory.  I see the things we learned, the pride of accomplishment, the friends who helped with each room, the things that were happening in our lives as each thing was done, not the imperfect drywall or the slightly crooked tiles.

You leave any space with memories.  Last night as I was falling asleep, I felt like a sappy commercial as images flashed by of all the happy times we've had in our house - parties, dinners, quiet evenings as a family.  I hope and pray that someone decides to buy our house who will be as happy here as we were.  Someone who will love this place - despite its faults - just as much as we have.

And as we prepare for it to be their home and not ours, we start the long goodbye.  As we start to pack up some of our personal decorations and move things from the basement to storage, it slowly becomes less ours.  Slowly becomes less "home" and more "house," until we hand over the keys this summer and we have to say our final goodbye to all but our memories.

I could add all sorts of caveats about knowing of all the "hellos" that are to come, about knowing that it's just a house, not a person who's died.  About knowing of all the other people who move all the time, and have loved their houses just as much.

But I don't need to write about all that today.  I know it's all true.  But goodbye is never easy, and we've started the long goodbye.


P.S. Some more "before" and "after" (although it hasn't been updated in a while) here.