The Two Houses

Having two houses and the time to transition was all fun and games – until it wasn’t. It was wonderful to have a week to work in the new house and get it ready for us to move in. It was less wonderful to continue to deal with the remnants and responsibilities in the old house once we transitioned our lives to the new neighborhood.

For the final week of school, every morning, Mike, the kids, and I schlepped ourselves over to the old house so the kids could catch the bus. Because real truth, I was not adding “change the bus stop for a week” to my to-do list. [Fun fact: writing this reminded me that I need to call the school so that we are assigned to the right bus stop in the fall. Yikes!] Once they were off to school, we typically loaded a random assortment of things into our cars, toted it over to the new house, unloaded, and then went about our actual jobs for the day.

Then every night, usually around 9pm after all evening activities had ended and the kids were tucked in, one or the other of us would head back to the old house to continue packing, patching and painting, mowing, or cleaning. It.was.exhausting. And truly felt like we had no time to spend settling into the new house because whoever was left at home was paying bills or doing laundry or other such “keep daily life afloat” tasks.

By Wednesday night, we were mostly out of the house, Mike had patched and touched up walls and finished the yard work, and the dumpster (to his great chagrin) was still sitting in the driveway [it was supposed to be picked up on Monday. It was not.]. So it was my turn to head over after the evening sprint to do the cleaning. The final walk-through was Thursday afternoon, so I wanted things to look nice and tidy.

By the time I ran a couple errands and caught up with our neighbors, it was 10pm when I started. I buckled down and made good progress. I had just finished vacuuming the basement and planned to load up my supplies so I could mop myself out of the house. As I was eying the things to load, I decided to grab the last few things in our house – which were my houseplants – so we didn’t have to deal with them in the morning. I grabbed one of the plants and turned to walk to the car. Unbeknownst to me, this vine-y plant had intertwined itself with another vine-y plant and the two had become one. But I only had one. So other plant went toppling off the ledge, spilling plant, leaves, and dirt across the newly cleaned floor.

I was too tired to either cry or swear. I simply picked up the mess, re-vacuumed the basement, and successfully transported the rest of the plants to the car. Then, as I went to load up my vacuum, I somehow knocked the canister out of it, dumping everything I had cleaned up all over the floor. Again. WHY!?!?!

Against all odds, I managed to finish up without destroying the house. But since the dumpster was still there and Mike and I have been talking for a couple years about needing a new vacuum (we bought the current one when we got married), my vacuum and I broke up. Target loaded a shiny new one into the back of my car the next morning and by early afternoon, the old vacuum and the dumpster had disappeared from our house. Just in time for the final walkthrough. 

In the midst of all this bouncing between houses, Mike managed to bring our old living room couch and love seat up to a donation warehouse in Bloomington to help out lower income families furnish their homes. And he found a great charity called Keys 4 Kids, where we were able to donate our old piano. We had really struggled with what to do with it and were both so delighted to find it a new home. Hooray!

Meanwhile, I contributed by calling the garbage/recycling place no less than five times in order to transfer our service from the old house to the new. And not a moment too soon. Because we were up to our armpits in garbage and recycling at the new house. Where there were no containers. And we didn't want to be paying for service at the old place - where they had neglected to pick up the containers. 

For so many reasons, we were delighted and relieved on June 11 when our realtor stopped over with a large check and official word that the sale was completed. We loved our old house. But that last week really helped us all mentally (and physically) transition to the new one. We are ready to make new memories here and hope that the new family makes a wonderful life in the old house. 

Now if I could just find an unpacking fairy ...

The Move

When Mike and I discussed the actual move logistics, we quickly decided that hiring movers to carry the big stuff was well worth the money. I had no interest in helping move our giant sectional or hoisting the grill off the deck. Then after we lined up the movers, our sweet next door neighbors offered us their piano - meaning I had even less than no interest doing the heavy lifting ourselves. [It took two movers plus Mike to move that piano, so movers were a great call!] 

Moving day came and brought sweltering temperatures with it. The radio later told me was the hottest June 5 in 96 years. It was too hot to blink. So thank goodness we weren't relying on the strength of our friendships to move our crap. No one should have to be that good of a friend!

The movers showed up just after 8am Saturday morning. They were ... unorthodox ... to say the least. We are 99% sure that they were drinking on the job - but they were really hard workers and very careful, so we are going with it. While Mike had hired them to only move the big heavy stuff, they did so much more than that. Which was both good and overwhelming. We were not prepped for them to basically grab anything not nailed down. Mike finally told them to hold up in the garage - because they were throwing random things in random boxes. We will have to fully unpack every single thing. I finally found the rain coats tonight - buried under beach balls and bike helmets. We still can't find the levels. Sigh.

My favorite movers story comes courtesy of Thurman. Thurman was a tall, lanky guy. Probably 6'3", maybe 160 lbs. He was 60 years old and had a heart attack last year. Honestly, he looked like I should be lifting heavy things for him. Mike and I have a two-drawer file cabinet. It is heavy and takes both of us to move it. So when Thurman wheeled it into the new house on a two-wheel cart, that made perfect sense. Then he looked at the stairs to our basement and the 180 degree turn he needed to make at the bottom of it, decided that wouldn't work, crouched down, lifted the dang thing all by himself and carried it down the stairs! You are probably thinking "yeah, but you emptied it first." We did not. Moral of the story: don't mess with Thurman.

Once the movers were done, Mike, Gpa V, and I headed over to the new house to put beds back together and make sure things were ready for us to sleep here for the first time. Meanwhile, Auntie had come down to visit and was spending the afternoon in the tiny blow up pool in our old back yard with the small Vs. Turns out, hose water can be quite refreshing! It was an emotional day and the kids needed the fun that only Auntie can bring.

Sunday morning in the new house was interesting. We hosted an underwear scavenger hunt. Because the kids now have their own rooms, we have a bedroom furniture shortage. F got my dresser, Q got the big shared dresser, and D got the other shared dresser. M's dresser was built into his old closet. So if you are keeping up with the math, that leaves Mike and me with zero dressers between us. 

But I hadn't yet had time to switch the dresser contents. So ... F's underwear was in D's room. Her clothes were in Q's room. Q's clothes were in D's room. My underwear and shorts were in F's room. And M's underwear was in a suitcase. We lived like that for a week. It was a very happy day when I re-aligned the dressers. Unless you are older than 11. Then your underwear is still in a suitcase. Or sitting on the shelf of a bookcase, which is doubling as a makeshift dresser. [Have we had time to go buy new master bedroom furniture yet? Nope.]

Since we got rid of or redistributed all our master bedroom furniture, night one in the new house, we slept on a mattress and box spring on the floor. Like we are 19 again. The movers accidentally switched our mattress with the guest room mattress - so Brad was invited over on Sunday to help with a mattress swap. Because if we are going to sleep on the floor like college kids, we at least want to do it on our own mattress.

The New House

We closed on our new house on May 27. Since that day, our lives have been peppered with statements like “there are swimsuits in a yellow bowl on top of a pile of boxes in the living room” and “does anyone know where the Philips screwdriver is?” Facts: the swimsuits were in the yellow bowl. Why? No one knows. And it is virtually impossible to keep track of screwdrivers in a house where the previous owners must not have owned any. I’ve never in my life tightened so many screws.

Mike and I took the 27^th off of work. I would love to say that after we closed, we got so much done. We did not. Pretty much all we did was wander around aimlessly, feeling overwhelmed – feelings that were not aided by the rainy, gloomy day outside. But we got that out of our system before we picked up the kids at the bus stop and brought them over to finally see the house [because we had to move so quickly, the kids had not actually seen it in person].

The timing worked out so that we closed right before the Memorial Day weekend – which meant we had an extra day to work without having to burn down vacation. And holy smokes did we work. I spent the weekend painting Fiona and Quinn’s bedrooms while Mike and three of the best friends ever moved our playset over to the house. Thankfully the weather was perfect for hard labor outside and our friend J has moved many a playset over the years, so his expertise and muscles were invaluable.

F’s room painting went very smoothly, which put me in the dangerous position of over-confidence. The color was stunning from the get go, there were no major drips, spills, or mishaps, and we could almost get away with one coat (we did two because it just looks better). So naturally, Q’s room did not go smoothly at all. Yellow is such a tough color and after one coat, it looked terrible. Like it made me question my painting ability less than 24 hours after F’s room went just fine. Ultimately, Q’s room took three coats – and other than feeling like you are on the surface of the sun, it looks good. There are a couple spots that could maybe use a fourth coat, but I think only Mike and I and our sun-blinded eyes can see them. Most importantly, Quinn LOVES it.

By coat #3 of Chickadee Yellow, my over-confidence had been shattered and reality set in. We had made great progress over the weekend. But not enough. So we called in the pros – and Gma and Gpa J headed down on Tuesday with their paint brushes in tow to help out. First up with the Dude's room. He had been quite patient while the sisters' rooms transformed, but the lower lip was getting a bit out of joint as the days went on. So Gma and Gpa painted his room on Wednesday, to his great delight. It is Smoked Turquoise, which you may or may not remember is the same color their old room was. He is delighted. Then the grandparent painting team tackled the kids' bathroom on Thursday to get rid of the cave-like almost black navy blue color in there. It is now a happy gray and is much more cheerful.

Grandma also washed some walls and cleaned out my kitchen for me, so it was ready for me to unpack as soon as I packed it up in the old house. Gpa started mowing our new lawn ... and promptly joined the dark side, known as Team Mike, in the great We Need a Riding Lawnmower debate. Shortly before lunch on Friday, Gma and Gpa headed home while Mike and I continued moving things over and packing up - as the movers were due to show up first thing Saturday morning. 

Were we feeling ready? Not quite. Was it happening anyway? All one can do is buckle up.

Fiona's room: before and after

Quinn's room: before and after (coat #1)

Declan's room: before and after

Kids' bathroom: before and after

School's Out

Well, as you may have guessed from the weeks of silence, we have spent the past two weeks in the throes of moving. It’s not under control here at all, but nonetheless, we are doing our best to start to get back in the groove of regular life. Many stories about the moving adventures to come. They are worth the wait!

But before we get to those stories, I want to highlight that we have officially survived the 20-21 school year. The kids were such troopers as they went from hybrid to full distance and then, finally, back to school full-time! The second “half” of the year was definitely better than the first half – and they were so thankful to go TO school, learn in the classroom, and be with their friends. 

For the most part, they had such great attitudes about all the restrictions that were in place. We heard very few complaints about masks, social distancing, and cancellation of annual events (like track and field day... honestly I think F was thrilled that track day didn't happen). They were just thankful to be able to have some hint of a normal school year.

They had the most amazing teachers, who did all the things to make this school year magical despite all the challenges. Fiona's last class book of the year was Holes and then her teacher let them watch the movie. They were able to then compare and contrast the story - and vote which version was better. Fiona liked all the details of the book better, but thought the flashbacks were easier to follow in the movie. Her class also got to do a virtual field trip with the science museum in the final days of school and that was such a refreshing break in the monotony for her. Hands-on and interactive are the best kind of learning opportunities for our Bugs. 

Quinn's teacher read the first Harry Potter book to her class. Q read along and loved the book so much. They also did so many activities in class using concepts from the book. They learned about money and budgeting by going to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies (Q saved up all her money for sweet treats at the candy shop), a class owl delivered letters to their desk, and they were sorted into houses. Q is a Hufflepuff.* 

Declan's class did a research project on animals. He had to read several books about various animals and then write facts about them. Let's review life in December/January homeschool when getting Dec to write 2-3 sentence about anything was pure torture for everyone involved. Boyfriend wrote four pages about tigers! Granted, it was writing about his favorite topic: animals. But this is huge for our reluctant writer. He was so proud and we are so proud of him!

Sadness that school was ending hit them each at different times, but all three were quite emotional that the year is over. They are excited for summer, but are also feeling cheated by the shortened year. We all hope the next year has more shades of normal for them. I'll be over here in disbelief that we have a 5th grader, a 4th grader, and a 2nd grader! 

The kids took the bus home after school on the last day - as it was also the last day we owned our old house. We had a mini end of school | Dec birthday | Bon voyage party with our two favorite neighborhood families. It was wicked hot and we didn't have anything in our house (I had not grabbed suits and the neighbors had pools/sprinklers so Mike ran to the new house to get them), so we didn't stay long. But it was the perfect way to end the year, wave good-bye to our house, and love on our neighborhood family. 

*Per my agreement, once someone read the first Harry Potter book, the family was allowed to watch the first movie. This has kicked off full-on obsession. Fiona immediately read the first book after she watched the movie. Dec is trying to pick his way through it. And, because the obsession kicked off after I packed the books away in Lord-only-knows-which box, Auntie brought Fiona book 2 last weekend. She finished it yesterday and Q is now reading it. We are watching movie 2. And Fiona is trying to talk Gpa into sending Auntie's book 3. This.is.a.thing.

Keep Your Eye on the Ball

Monday night was the night that D and I have been waiting for his entire life. Opening night of his very first baseball season!! He played t-ball two years ago and then was unable to do baseball last year because of both covid and the fact that Spring Soccer started way later and became Summer Soccer. He was more than happy to trade in his soccer cleats for baseball cleats this year!

Mike took Dec to his first practice and said that there are three boys on the team who also played hockey with D (including Dec's buddy A). Apparently, the four of them were a tight little group and had the best time. D was all smiles when he got home and was so happy that he knew people on his team. 

Quinn begged to go with to practice - and my operating theory is that this is similar to when she tagged along to all D's rookie mite hockey practices and finally decided to play hockey at the end of the season. She's been debating softball as a summer sport and I suspect she's checking out the situation. Well, that, and Q just simply loves to watch sports practices.

All five of us went last night. The girls had a friend going because her little brother had practice at the same time, and they all wanted to play together. After several days of warm to hot weather, none of us were prepared for it being downright chilly last night. The kids who were running around seemed fine. But sheesh, the line of parents watching practice were feeling rather frozen.

Practice started off with a little drama as Dec took a baseball to the eye/cheek during warm ups. He's got a pretty good shiner with a goose egg - that simply refuses to show up in a photo. When he came off the field in tears, you could see the lines of the laces on his cheek. But we were really proud of him. He got a drink of water, a short snuggle from me, and then put on his glove and jogged back to the field. I also proved that I'm good at my job, because I convinced him it was pretty cool that he's the first one on his team to get a black eye from the ball. I even heard him brag to his teammates. Marketing at its finest!

Because he was very brave (and I was feeling generous), we took our frozen selves through the McDonald's drive thru for ice cream cones after practice. They weren't as satisfying as they would have been when the temps were 20 degrees warmer - but no one seemed to complain. Other than Mike, who ate his too fast and ended up with brain freeze.