Did I forget to mention that our house is UNDER CONTRACT? Well, it is.
I think I mentioned it casually, and maybe that's because my feelings are...neutral. Not because I am sad to see it go, but because we are already living in what feels like a never-ending state of limbo, and this might simply be a detail that may/ may not bring big and immediate changes. Living in my in-laws basement for eight months has put a BIG gap in the typical process of moving--because half of the move is already done for us, and now it feels as if we have all the time in the world to look for a house, to be sure, to be wise, to be careful. Eight months is a lot of distance--it means I am less likely to rush, less likely to jump blindly, less likely to pursue something that looks great without thinking through how it works for us. These are AMAZING circumstances, however, they aren't necessarily inspiring me to quick action or excitement, because eight months is enough time to get myself settled here, and fill my days with lots of other projects and ambitions. Life just keeps on keeping on, and being without an *exact* deadline kind of means that I could nit-pick the hell out of lots of little insignificant details, only to FREAK out when we are approaching a new school year and have yet to find a house in our preferred district. There is NO DOUBT, we are wiser consumers through it all, but it means our new house might be on the market, or it might be in a tree tent in the Amazon, or it might be a motor home, or we might be waiting a while. It's all very paralyzing, which is my way of saying that I would rather drink juice and watch the Kardashians than have to figure it all out right now, or think about packing up our basement home anytime soon.
This is the moment we've been waiting for. Dreaming of, actually. The blank slate, the chance to do things differently, the opportunity to be bold. Except that I don't know HOW to do that exactly, or what I really want. Some days I want vegetables and some days I want red meat. Most days I want something small and cozy, and other days I want 6,000 square feet. But mostly, I didn't let myself think about it much, aside from the fact that I REALLY want to repaint my dining room table a fun color like pink or orange. THAT is, so far, what I envision our next home to look like--an ORANGE f-ing table.
I apologize for the lack of posting about our current housing situation--I suppose that when we moved into my in-laws basement, I sort of thought there was going to be an endless amount of blog fodder to work with and be inspired by, particularly as I had to be "retaught" how to record TV programming on THREE different TV's with VHS tapes, because my in-laws are totally against DVR technology. But then I just up and quit most TV altogether, and right around the time that American Idol was set to crown the new Emperor of the Universe--I walked away COLD TURKEY. And imagine that, I didn't die or sprout a tumor out of boredom. I am still living out of boxes, and every night I sleep within 1.5 feet of industrial shelving that holds stuff I haven't touched in EIGHT MONTHS--and it has all just become the new routine. The new comfortable. So much so, that just thinking about moving all of this useless crap (and the two PODS worth, just like it), makes me tired. Am I'm just not so sure I can handle moving (again) and being a vegetarian, so something is going to have to give, and it probably means that cows are going to have to die so that I can find a new house.
My point here is that anything becomes normal when you do it long enough. You too could be come an aborigine, or sail the world, or only eat tree nuts--just give it eight months, and it will feel common. As it turns out, I am somewhat happy here, in this state of limbo that was only supposed to be a 4-8 week layover on our way to happily ever after. Huh. I'm beginning to think the lesson in all of it, the breaking with the routine, the letting go of what feels secure, the "redefining" of what makes me happy--is that, HONESTLY, I am happy anywhere. I see houses with big, open spaces, and I can envision the way they will work. I see ugly houses, and I know the potential they have. My husband and family? They make this an adventure, no matter where we go. Mike especially; he is NOT content with growing complacent, or routine, and he is SO confident that the next thing will ALWAYS be better than the last. I never used to have that ability to trust in the progressive happiness of life, but I KNOW he has changed that about me. I am sentimental, and that tends to make me believe that nothing could top the things I hold dear; until another baby is born, or we go on another vacation, or we move to another house, and thus continues the never-ending cycle of believing that things could never be better than where they are, right now. Which isn't perfect JOY necessarily, it's comfort and security. It's what I know and trust, over the thing that's coming up on the horizon that seems vague and only faintly distinguishable. We decided to sell our house, because we were stirred to discover the things we LOVE but aren't even aware of--you guys, there is SO MUCH of it out there if you are willing to look and try something different.
Sometimes, I forget who I am. I become about houses and furniture and school districts--when I used to be about burning the crap out of my very white skin throughout my childhood in Hawaii, moving to Indiana, chasing a boy to St. Louis, WAITING for that boy in St. Louis, making a new life in places where I knew nobody, having kids, watching my husband survive cancer, going through in-vitro, watching my twins survive EVERYTHING being wrong with them, having a SURPRISE baby (Little J). My happily ever after really looks NOTHING like I imagined; it's not big and comfortable and easy. There was A LOT of change, a lot of redefinition. But I'll be damned, it's been pretty happy--all of it. I love where I grew up, I love the friends I have from every season of life, I love the kids I birthed, I LOVE my husband, I love that seeing him through cancer and losing a child softened me (when it could be very much the opposite), I LOVE the time we spent in the NICU. There are dark days, but the seasons are full of JOY. MY story is a happy one friends, just told with a very sarcastic edge.
And so, that's really where we are with the house. Waiting to figure out where this story is going to continue. Some days I just want to know already! And other days, I just sit--content. And some days, it just seems really important to figure out what pool we'll be able to go to this summer, which is precisely when the SARCASM kicks in, because that is just stoo-pid.
At the end of the day, we will live in a house--any house really--where we are happy. The possibilities are endless, blog world.