I'm reading everyone else's blogs at night and falling asleep on my laptop without typing any comments or even a word on my own blog. I write stories in my head all day long that I think to myself, "I'll have to blog that,' but I pass out on the couch in my street clothes, teeth unbrushed, and face unwashed for another night. I take photos and think, "I'll have to post that." But it takes a lot of time upload the files from the camera (do you ever feel that way?).
I ran today for the first time since Nashville's disappointment. Next week I turn 37, and in my passionate pursuit of less-is-more, I've asked my family to gift me signage and their presence on the side of Grant's Trail this weekend as I actually complete the goal of running 26.2 miles (no re-routing allowed). I'm calling it "Mama's Marathon Re-Do." If you're out early that morning, give me a hoot as you pass (and don't laugh if I'm actually walking - all this heavy lifting lately has been killer on my back).
My run today was along-side my three kids who have suddenly decided they're too big to have training wheels. They can all ride without them now. Sara is still my baby.
The house has been on the market for just over a week now and has shown almost daily. As I prepared to leave on my run this afternoon, a car gave the tell-tale slow-up drive by. Turned around up the street and returned for a closer look. JT said she got out of her car to ask him if we had sold yet and that she had come through this morning and loved it...and that she probably shouldn't be out of her car telling him this.
Since the showings have been going well - some returning for a second look, etc. - I've been madly checking off boxes of new home build requirements. Lighting: check (measly allowance in the contract didn't allow for much, but we'll have lights. Some covered, even!). Flooring: check (hard wood? HELLO! Gorgeous!) Low voltage needs: check. Exterior colors and cabinetry inside: check. Last meeting before we release the contingency and they dig a giant hole in the ground for our basement is the pre-construction meeting with the builder, which may or may not be taking place this Friday. We need to get moving so that I'm not homeless come summertime.
T asked if we could have one last hoorah in our home before we leave our friends. I told him: Yes, yes, and absolutely yes. And Daddy told him: YES. Sweet thing. I know this effects them all. He just says, "I'll have that many more penpals now! And we can still have playdates, right?" T has such a great group of friends here. I just pray God blesses him with a bunch of boys that are as awesome as his friends here. I'm concerned, though, that the new school district may not have a gifted program. And Meiners is moving on to the second round of testing for gifted, too, so that would be a double whammy. And then Pookie starts testing tomorrow. I sure hope the new school has a program for these kids.
Pookie's science fair project goes on to the county science fair this week. We have to place it on a different display board, but we're not late (we thought we might be too late!) so hooray for that!
Life with one dog has been amazing - although at times we give him just a little too much freedom and he wanders down to see Cappy (the chipper little white dog up the street with a bad attitude and a bark that would scare Sigourney Weaver in Aliens. He does NOT like visitors.) But Obi's been wonderful. We take him everywhere (thankfully, he even travels well, as we've eaten pizza off a pizza stone in the car with chocolate chip cookies one night while strangers dwelled in our home - that dog hanging out in the 'trunk' of the van [head hanging over the seat begging for cookies, but whatever]).
I cried through half of church this morning. I keep asking myself - over and over and over and o..well, you get the picture - if this is the right thing to do. My mom says I can't own 'hates change' as only my mantra. I'm trying to assure myself that that's all it is - fear. I'm pretty sure it is. Everything else points to this move being a great idea. I have always been the one that kept us here. Each year, hubby would start looking. I'd end up saying, "I'm happy here. So I'm not looking." And content I would be once again. I ask, "Is this Right?" Over and over and over again I hear, "Yes." But I still cried at church. Because I love our church. Knowing that Church is not God, I know He will go where we go - He's already there. And I feel Him prodding me to trust that He has a place for us there to worship with fellow believers and learn more about Him. I try not to question. But Pastor John counseled us before our wedding. He married us. He annointed Pookie before her surgeries. He baptized all four of our children. He rocks out on the electric guitar in front of us and the congregation. He says my name when He passes me the bread and the wine. He is not our church, but our church has also become Home. And I cry because I will miss it. And everything is starting to be, 'will we come back?' In the words of the wise T, "We'll still have playdates, right?"
So these are the things that pull me away from writing. Waves of exhaustion - be they physical or emotional - pull me deeply into a comfortable sleep at night before I have time to share what we are doing. Yet, this outlet is my diary, so to speak, a document of our lives while these little people I am blessed to share my life with grow quicker and taller by the waffle and the cup of organic milk. Hubs and I hit a rocky patch for a few weeks with the trials of preparing the house alone while he traveled for those three weeks. We have weeded the patch and look forward to the prunings ahead.
If you're still there, then you must be a true fan.
Love, from the 'burbs,
k
