Did I Shave My Legs for This?: August 2014

You guys.

Remember when I told you that I keep an immaculate home?

And how I don't do dirt, and I don't do clutter, and how I like surfaces to shine?

Well I am a big fat liar.

When I said it it was mostly true.

If you were to pop over to my house on any given Thursday of my normal life, you would find my sink cleared of dishes, my floors recently vacuumed, the kids' bedrooms tidied up, all toothbrushes neatly in their place out of sight, and my pantry organized, labels out.

There would be a meal plan for the week stuck to the front of my fridge.

I'd probably even have some semblance of healthy and maybe even fresh food on hand.

If you were to pop over to my house TODAY, you might say we're living like squatters.

In fact, I will even go so far as to tell you that today I stepped on a smashed goldfish cracker on my kitchen floor and do you know what I did? I shook it off my foot, high stepped over some dried up scrambled eggs that apparently didnt make into my son's mouth and just decided to pretend like it never happened.
I don't even know who I am anymore.

But here's the thing: we're moving.

Again.

Y'all have been with me for at least 3 or 4 moves now.

I know what you must be thinking: Are they mental? What could possibly be a good reason to move so many times? Are they just some kind of spastic, nomadic gypsies?

To answer these obvious questions: No / There is a good reason, we promise! / And we are so not edgy enough to be gypsies.

It's all because we have been building our dream home.

It feels kind of vain and bratty to even use the phrase "dream home".

It is just a house made of wood.
I know it is not the most important thing.

But it is the realization of a longtime dream of ours.

To have a small bit of land.

To live somewhere quiet with a country feel.

To have a home with the spaces we need.

Somewhere we can establish hospitality again.

I am a big believer in hospitality- but not the brand that is about throwing the perfect Pinterest party, and showing off a perfectly decorated house, and perfectly behaved children, and perfectly cooked quiches (because we all know that's not happening anyways).

I believe hospitality is welcoming people not just into my home, but into my life.

It's about inviting people in and making room.

So it was this little dream, a bit of bravery, and a bit of insanity that compelled us to sell our last home, rent a smaller home for the interim, and build our forever home- bringing us to our 9th and 10th addresses in our 12 years of marriage.

I'm exhausted just remembering all those moves.
It has been a considerable amount of buying, selling, building, moving, and general upheaval over the
years, but we have always been working towards this goal.
I dare say, this is really it.
And if I ever try to move again, just punch me in the face and wake me up when it's over.

So it is with a foreboding sense of déjà vu that I give in to this phase of the process.

That part where everything feels chaotic.

I have started everything and finished nothing.

I open the barren fridge, briefly consider grocery shopping and then immediately abandon the thought. Because- why? It'll all just have to be moved soon anyway. Plus, let's all be real here, I quit cooking legitimate meals about a week ago.

It's that old familiar feeling of wandering from room to room, surveying the damage, and not knowing where to start or what exactly to do next. Im sort of just shuffling things from place to place right now.

I HAVE purged bedrooms and closets and toys which feels great. I am all about getting rid of things. Except now all those things are filling up about 13 trash bags (I know. Trash bags. So

undignified) in the garage.

I literally cannot believe I'm showing you this.

What's funny is that this is the clean half of the garage.

While we know it is very soon, we don't have an exact finish date for the new house so I hesitate to pack up anything really useful like cereal bowls or bath towels or the remote.

You all know you always pack the tv and remote last. Don't act like you don't.

I have spurts of high productivity mixed with long bouts of total worthlessness.

I lie in bed at night making about 7 different lists in my mind. The new house list, the old house list, the school list, the guest list, the yard sale list, the finances list, the event calendar list, the to-do list, the get-rid-of list, the keep list....wait that's already like 10 lists. Apparently even my inner sanctum of mental organization has now succumbed to chaos.

We have 4 relatives and 2 dogs rolling into town for a couple weeks - an admittedly welcome distraction from the drudgery of moving.

The littles both start school during this time as well, thus requiring all manner of gear, supplies, clothes, snacks, and cool lunch pails to carry their snacks.

Throw in one concert, one bridal shower, one 5k run, two hair cuts, one three day
trip to Redding (because there is still some fun to be had this summer),

one birthday, one bible study, and two littles starting new extracurriculars (horse lessons and karate) and that is my life for the next two weeks.

It's not even organized chaos, it's just straight up chaos.

Ah, but lest I find myself tempted to think that these are problems- here's the thing about that-
they're not.
It's all stuff I GET to do.

I GET to take my healthy kids to their safe schools. I GET to run errands and run miles and do the things I need to do. I GET to move into the house of my dreams. I GET to spend time with family- both human and the furry, four legged variety.

Things are going to be totally bananas around here for a while yet so I may as well "give in to the power of the tea" (Name that movie!) and remember that life is pretty dang good.

Just don't judge my dirty floors.

This Sunday marks 12 years of marriage for Husband and I.

It is no surprise that after so many years together, I feel our relationship can best be summed up in a Billy Madison movie quote. Movie quotes are kind of our thing. In fact, Husband may be my only equal in remembering and quoting movie lines. I guess the larger point there is that he GETS me.
But anyways.
TWELVE years! Go us!

Photo credit : Traci Buck Photography

Look at that. Just a couple of kids in love. And clearly I married someone with a sense of humor, because, I mean...just look at those sideburns he had.

Here we are, roughly 12 years, 2 kids, 8 houses, and countless date nights later. (Sans sideburns)

So it's been 12 years of Husband taking off his socks EVERY night, rolling them into a ball, and throwing them at me (double points for when he can get me in the face, of course).

12 years of him ruining all of my yawns by sticking his finger in my mouth mid-yawn.

So gross.
Do you understand how annoying it is to have all your yawns interrupted? Do you have any idea? I can't even tell you...

It's been 12 years of him holding his hand up patiently for a high five and then dissing me the second I reciprocate. By now it's not even like I'm falling for it anymore- I know exactly what he's going to do. It's just that he'll leave his hand in the air for SO long, that I finally just give in. And then whoosh- my hand falls through the air at the last second, much to his delight.

12 years of me leaning in for a kiss- you know, really closing my eyes and leaning in- anticipating a good romantic kiss (or even just a regular kiss) only to be startled by him biting my lip or blowing air into my mouth, or letting his mouth hang slack while he pretends to have come down with a sudden bout of narcolepsy.
12 years of him letting me get into bed first, giving me a full ten seconds to get cozy in the dark, then leaning on the mattress so I think he's getting into bed (I mean he really commits), but actually he's just getting a good grip so he can yank the covers entirely off the bed in one swift motion.

Much like a 5th grade boy, his efforts to annoy me are tireless and without bounds.

I know, try not to be jealous.

But here's the thing: It works.

Somehow...it works.

He knows how to make me laugh. And laughter is huge for me.

I don't know if it's juvenile and ridiculous or if it's cute and funny, but banter is basically our love language. Whether it's by getting a rise out of me, catching me off guard, or simply going to extreme lengths he can always make me laugh.
And THAT is invaluable.

In our 12 years together we have had our share of real struggles. Our love has been seasoned with joys and hardships and it's grown down roots and weathered some storms. And I'm sure there will be more storms to come. But if I'm going to burrow down into a foxhole with someone until the storm passes, I want that someone to be him.

He is my person.

He is strong and tender and wise. He is clever and kind and good. But at the end of the day it's the
funny that I find so charming and adorable.
Do yourself a favor. Marry someone funny.