2017: 12 Months in 12 Photos

Yes, I know the collage only has nine photos.

January
We faced down a long winter, and celebrated the second birthday of this little fashionista. Also, Mr. Husband and I took a first-time homebuyer's class.

source

February

We celebrated a fifth ring for our quarterback and started our home search. Also, winter in a two-bedroom apartment, which is a well-beaten deceased equus on this blog.

March
We traveled with friends up into the Green Mountains and spend a long weekend feasting, resting by the gas fireplace, exploring quaint little mountain towns, and letting our kids eat a shameful amount of Annie's Mac and Cheese. Then we went home, looked at a house, put an offer on it, had the offer accepted, and signed our first Purchase and Sales agreement.

April
We celebrated the fourth birthday of our oldest and my thirtieth birthday. Then we got the keys to our very first house and said goodbye to our shabby little apartment. God bless family, friends, and neighbors who were willing to help me break down outdoor play sets, schlep boxes and play sets in their notreallytiny cars, pack all of our furniture including a heavy washer and dryer into a truck and then unpack it all over again, surprise me by taking over all of the backyard stuff (including a plastic bin full of compost! my black gold!) I was planning to leave until the following day, and help with all manner of minor crisis like slow drains and rewiring the dryer. And all for the payment of a few beers and BJ's burgers grilled on our new (to us) back deck.

May
The renovating begins in earnest! Although our house was technically "move in ready," we learned during our first tour that there was a reason why no pictures of the second story were included in the listing. The upstairs needs a lot of updating, including covering up a gross tiled ceiling, major patching and repainting of the walls (who uses a staple gun to hang posters?!), and replacing a stained and filthy carpet.

June
Not pictured: repainted upstairs walls and ceilings. Or the office having its wallpaper removed over two sweaty weekends of steaming, then walls replastered and painted. Pictured: Kids enjoying the fruits of having a real outdoor water source.

July
We took a roadtrip to Valley Forge and Philadelphia! Mr. Husband and I enjoyed the history, architecture, and the art. The kids enjoyed the Please Touch Museum and the fountains.

August
Another month, another roadtrip! This time we went to Québec City and got on marvelously well considering neither of us speak much French. More beautiful architecture, art, and history for the adults, and Le Musée de la Civilisation for the kids. I may or may not have started casually looking at home prices in Lévis (where we stayed) while we were there.

September
We started MODG pre-K and youth soccer with Mr. B. I also stared de-beige-ifying our downstairs, and joined a local community orchestra.

October
We continued homeschooling, and Miss. A continued to try to join her brother's soccer team.

November
We bought laminate flooring and baseboards, transported them in our tiny cars home, and Mr. Husband, with his dad, installed them upstairs. Transformation nearly complete!

December
We had our first run with a Jessie Tree (using our faux fir as a stand-in). I felt like we had a very focused, anticipatory Advent, and was excited to host our first Christmas dinner. Then, starting two days before Christmas, Mr. Husband came down with a nasty cold +fever virus that proceeded to infect every other member of the family and transform our living room into a sick ward. I think this past week will be remembered as "The Lost Christmas." At least we have a few more days before the Epiphany to catch up!

Here's to 2018 and more frequent blog posts!

moving on

Time is a funny thing. When I'm anticipating something, it can seem like the weeks, days, hours, or minutes drag by--especially if I'm waiting for spring after an interminable winter. But four and a half years can go by in a flash.

Little Mr. B...a pumpkin among pumpkins.

When we signed our first lease agreement, we thought we'd be here for one year, maybe two. We were saddened to leave the more urban community where we'd been living, but we needed to move into the suburbs to find a reasonable amount of space to raise our yet-to-be-born Mr. B. Our apartment was, and still is, old (built in 1880!) and somewhat dingy, but it was in the perfect location for Mr. Husband to walk to the train and for me to drive to my teaching job. When we realized Miss A would be arriving, we looked at other apartments but ultimately decided to stick it out in a smaller but more affordable and convenient space.

Then our kids got bigger and more active, and 850 square feet got very, very small. And shortly after we started looking for a house, we found something that would work for us in a nearby town.

So now we are elbow deep in packing. When we moved here, we had yet to acquire any baby paraphernalia. Now our belongings seem to have tripled, especially in the Lego department. The last few weeks have dragged by as I eagerly anticipate more space, more privacy, a nicer yard, a parking spot next to the door. I bounce between frazzled packing and frustration that we can't pack everything that we'll still need before we close on the house. And I ask myself, will I miss this place?

I won't miss the backyard with the falling-down fence and the dusty soil that coats the kids until they look like Pigpen. But I will miss the impromptu playdates between Mr. B and his fellow four year old friend two doors down.

I won't miss the busy street with the constant noise of cars drag racing and truck jake brakes. But I'll miss being a less than a mile from the church, the post office, the bank, and the library.

I won't miss the constant stream of garbage being blown across the street from the shopping plaza into our front "yard." But I will miss the convenience of being able to walk over to Walgreens, even in a blizzard, and pick up prescriptions.

I skipped one week. ONE. WEEK.

I won't miss the constant dinginess of the apartment, from the dust lacquered into the floor, to the awful kitchen linoleum that looks filthy even when freshly mopped, to the completely obscene graffiti adorning the crumbling walls of our creepy fieldstone basement. But I will miss being able to keep the upper floors of the apartment from looking like a crack den with very little effort.

We may not live in a crack den, but sometimes my kids seem to think that we live in a frat house.

I won't miss trying to keep two active kids from climbing the walls when it's too cold, too snowy, too slippery, too rainy, too muddy...too anything to go outside. But I'll never forget that inside those same walls I labored with both of my children, cared for them as newborns, and watched them learn to roll, sit, crawl, walk, and talk. Even Mr. B may keep some dim memories of living in our "department."

So on we shall move, ready to make new memories in a new place, knowing that the days of unpacking and settling in will likely drag on, but the years will again fly by.