Moving....

This post has been awhile coming, but I have been actively avoiding it. I'm a sentimental person. So, as soon as we decided to put our house up for sale, I knew that a time would come when I would sit down and write about leaving our house. And I knew when I did, I would sit and cry. Then we took it off the market and I thought I dodged that bullet. But then the offer came - the unexpected offer that we could not pass up.

Last night was our last night at home on Park Ave, and I was so avoiding feeling my feelings about it. I had some wine and watched Jim and Pam fall in love on a few episodes of The Office that I've seen a million times. And I giggled over IM on Facebook with my friend over silly emoticons that neither of us knew existed. I didn't want to sit and think about the fact that it was our last night in this place...

This place where our family went from two people to five. This house that we bought just in time to move in and settle before the twins came. This home where I sat for the second half of bed rest and watched Adam unpack boxes paint walls, and assemble furniture... all the while happily accepting his offers to run for the Culver's milkshakes that I craved.

This home where my two labor stories begin. This place where I heard first giggles, watched first steps, rocked sleeping babies. And where I felt fevered heads, walked crying babies until the carpet wore thin, washed accidents and cleaned smooshed blueberries out of the carpet. Where we have spent so many hours sitting on the floor, reading and playing, and later dressing up, playing house and school, listening to music and playing "puppies."

It's a small brick ranch with an unfinished basement. 3 bedrooms. But it has a great family room and a nice living room. It was beginning to feel like we were on top of each other. We wanted a bigger house. But for those first few years, I wouldn't have changed it. While the twins were babies, and then while they were little toddlers and Violet was a baby, it was perfect. I always knew where they were. I could hear them, I could get to them quickly. Yes sometimes I would have loved more space, and eventually we wanted a play room for the kids so badly that we put all their beds in one room so that we could make the other into that play room.

But truly it didn't matter how much space we had, or how little energy and time I had put into decor (which was very little), because it was our home. And we had a thousand dance parties there. And we spent hundreds of afternoons in the backyard. And I kissed a million owies there. And no matter where we were coming from, how long we had been gone, that was home, and that was where we all slept the best, felt the most peace, and could be ourselves. It was not the first home that Adam and I owned, but it was my family's first home.

Tonight we are sleeping somewhere else. And we've done that before. But Eden, my articulate child, was upset at bedtime. "I know we've slept here before, but now we are moving." Later, she got tears in her eyes, and told me "This isn't our home." Long after Sebastien and Violet had fallen asleep, she was laying there thinking about home. And I feel for her, I'm sad too. As an adult I know that we are moving to wonderful things, but to her it's the unknown, and she's feeling very uneasy.

So together we'll navigate our sadness and we'll remember the fun, warm and happy things. And of course we'll talk up the cool things about our new house and hopefully the excitement will grow. But for now I'm ok with the fact that she's sad. I'm sad too.