The Invitation

Yesterday was one of those days. One of those days where the demands of my children and my desire to complete projects were not in alignment. I was irritated at being interrupted with bangs, whines, teasing...I just wanted a few uninterrupted moments to finish the laundry, prep the meal for the next day and rake the massive amount of leaves in the yard. My efforts at staying calm were being thwarted and my inability to finish what I set out to do resulted in my baser level of parenting skills...scolding, raising my voice, "stop that!" "that is enough!" By the end of the day I was exhausted and longing for some "me" time. I wanted to slip into a good book, a new Dan Brown book, the Lost Symbol. I gratefully read a few pages hoping to get a second wind to try again at the unfinished tasks I had so desperately wanted to complete.

Before taking another stab at those tasks I needed to wake my 5 year old for an evening trip to the toilet. My son is such a hard sleeper we have to wake him up in the later evening for a potty break or he will not stay dry through the night. Typically, Nick is so tired during this evening routine that he stumbles back to bed in a daze. Last night for some unknown reason he was chatty. On the way back to his room he turned to look at me and said, "Mommy, would you like to lay down in my bed with me for awhile? My bed is super snuggly and warm. It's much warmer and snugglier than your bed." "Sure, honey", I automatically answered as I nestled down next to him tucking his fleece dragon blanket under his chin. I began to wonder how long I would have to lay there and my thoughts drifted back to my unfinished tasks and the Dan Brown book I wanted to read more of in my own, albeit less "snuggly" bed. But slowly I began to realize that despite enduring my short temper and scolding because of my desire for project completion, my son still wanted to spend time with me. I was still cool. I realized that at 5 years old, I am still the person he most wants to be with. How long, I wondered, before I blink twice and my 5 year old is a 15 year old who will not only NOT be asking me for time together but will more likely be posting "Keep Out" signs on his door.

I lay there for quite some time, long after he had fallen back to sleep. He was right. His bed was definitely more snuggly than mine. And I realized he had given me a valuable lesson. Yes, the laundry was left unfolded. The onions were left uncut. The leaves were so thick on the lawn that I would probably be receiving anonymous "rake me" notes at any time and Dan Brown would have to be postponed. However, I was really right where I wanted and needed to be. There will always be tasks left undone, but the opportunity to accept a little boys invitation to be near was a far more valuable use of my time. The last page of Alison Mcghee and Peter H. Reynold's Book, "Little Boy" rang in my ear......"Little boy, you remind me how so much depends on days made of now."

Ask and ye shall receive

Since the last blog, a lot has transpired. That house that I dreamed of? I'm sitting in it, typing this on the computer in the playroom. We got the house ready for market and had an offer 3 days before the day we were to officially list. We accepted the offer and moved forward. Our old house is gone, hacked up and under construction, sold to a developer who will reap the benefits of turning our old 2 bedroom, 1 bath into a 4 bedroom, 3 bath home.

So, the initial feelings were pure bliss...gratitude beyond belief, amazed we didn't have to have people tromp through our house for showings etc. We have had countless parties and barbecues, play dates and gatherings. It's been 2 months since we moved in and now I'm feeling....regret. Yes, regret. I miss my old neighborhood, am anxious about this one...love the neighbors but miss the sense of community I had in the old hood. I hate transitions. Loathe them. I talked about how much I hate moving in my last post and that's about how much I hate any kind of transition. I hate not knowing what's happening next, where I'm going, what I should be doing. Nick has started a new preschool 2 afternoons/week and my demons of self-doubt, second guessing and remorse are rearing their ugly heads.

I don't feel at home. Regardless of the size of our small little house in North Denver, it was home. Home sweet home, tiny, messy, cluttered home. Still home. This place is just....not home yet. I hope it does start to feel like home soon because as much as I'd like, there is no home to go back to. This is one bell that can't be unrung. I hate this feeling of being untethered, it's an uncomfortable, tangible kinetic anxiety that races through my body leaving me rattled and exhausted. Consequently I'm impatient with my kids and my husband, creating more distance between me and the people I most desperately need to feel connected to--heaping guilt onto the anxiety already in the mix. This guilt/anxiety martini is one cocktail that doesn't go down smooth.

Now, if I could just recapture some of that prayer and faith from my April posting--that sense that all is well and is unfolding as it should. That is my prayer now, that I get through this phase quickly...that I find the faith I lack to know that even if I don't have the answers now, good things will transpire and I can have the home, school, church community and sense of belonging that I envisioned our family would have in moving. Here's hoping some positive feelings will flow more freely in the next few months.

I'm eager to not have just one posting for the year. We're almost 5 months into the year and the focus is all on our home. More accurately, what shall we do about our home? Do we add on? Do we move? I am notoriously famous for my loathing of moving. I hate it. Abhor it. Detest it. But, at some point, 927 square feet for 4 souls is really not enough. Despite my best efforts to deny this and rationalize that 4 people probably lived in homes like this in 1941. At this point, we've consulted an architect who's given us $150/square foot. Not in our budget to pop the top. It's starting to get frustrating, we found a house we LOVE. Do you hear me? LOVE. Oh God, I LOVE this house. The blue in the living room. Painted white kitchen. Love it. The backyard, oh the backyard. I've dreamed about this backyard. I wake up dreaming about it. The location. Oh God, I want this house. Of course, we have to sell ours first. Which seemed easy enough with potential buyers in the neighborhood. He's a contracter and wanting a new project. I just don't feel it working out anymore. I have been praying quite a bit and feel like we're just supposed to put the house on the market. I feel like these buyers aren't going to work out. I've been trying to have a lot of faith lately. Always learning to not try to control everything. The green-eyed monster has been making several appearances. I'm always wondering how or why everyone else seems to make more money, be able to afford more house...blah blah blah blah blah. In the end, I feel lucky despite my inner lizard fearing everything and focusing on lack. Christopher is amazing and funny and I love him. It's so fun hanging out with him and developing a little relationship with him. Nick and Anthony have been gone for the week and, well, it's actually been really nice. A nice, quiet, relaxing respite. Like a vacation, but at home.
I'm really trying hard to pray. Pray for guidance, pray for help, pray things work out. Pray for tolerance during the uncertainty. Prayer for finances. Prayer for health. Prayers for me to have faith that it's all being laid out and will work out. I really really really really really want that house!!!