Tom Petty-“if you want a band, you should go back home. Go back home and get one.”
Karen Blixen- “All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story, or tell a story about them.”
We packed the garage today. My husband and I did.
Garages are almost as important as offices and kitchens. They are sort of the useful parts of a home. It’s where you go to look for a hammer and nail when you need to hang a photo on the wall, for a wrench to fix the flat tire on your kids bike,or the battery charger for the car that won’t start. The stuff that makes you feel awesome lives there.
Now mine is empty. I don’t know where all that stuff we packed into containers will be going when we finally unpack it. I feel a little helpless for not having all my stuff where I can get to it.
My office has been empty for weeks. It has been condensed to a rectangular basket next to my bed containing pens, bills, a laptop, and a few yellow folders. Tomorrow I will pack the kitchen. The kitchen is the heart of a home. Once that is done we won’t live here anymore.
My grandmother used to make the most delicious sourdough bread in her kitchen. My brothers and my sister and I used to sit on the floor in my moms kitchen and talk. I miss that. I miss them. I miss that kitchen. My kitchen isn’t that one though. I won’t miss this kitchen.
I’ll miss the few folks here that I call friends. I’ll miss my kids school, and the teachers that have made it awesome. I’ll miss the flowers outside my backdoor, the hummingbirds and the butterflies that like to hang around the red honeysuckle vine. I’ll miss the collards and mustard greens I planted that grew so well here. I’ll miss the sun in January.
I’ll be ok though. The kids will be ok too. We will find other things to love, and new things to miss. What those will be I don’t know yet, but there will be a home for us to sit on the kitchen floor of soon.
Kid #4 is home from school sick today. She has an icky cold, but seems to be feeling a little better than yesterday.
I got a C on my english paper, which makes me feel much better since I have been panicking about failing for the last 3 weeks. I decided to do my next and final english project as a photoessay about bicycle trails in Volusia County. This will give me some much needed artistic relief, get me out of the house and doing something fun with my kiddos this weekend, while accomplishing my project at the same time.
Moving is going very slowly. Currently, my house is about 90% devoid of furniture, but still scattered with various belongings, and generally not done yet. This will be addressed further this coming weekend, but for now I am trying very hard not to obsess about it.
I have four kids. Not just any kids. My kids are special. Yeah, I know. Everyone thinks their kids are special, but you don’t understand. My kids are really something else. My kids will wear you out, exhaust your sanity, eat everything in your house, disassemble your car, send the neighbors to the E.R., somehow manage to be elected class Gestapo leader, and start a new cosmetic company all in the same day. They are going to be president some day. At least my third one is. The first is going to be her lawyer though, the second is going to be her demolition crew, and the fourth is going to be her celebrity endorser.
I also have a dog. This dog runs like a greyhound, sheds like a himalayan cat, eats like a Saint Bernard, chases UPS guys like a junkyard Doberman Pincer, and pulls on his leash like a Siberian Husky in the Iditarod.
So while I was attempting to pack, my kids let the dog out of the house, and down the road he went. His gleeful bounds across hedges and yards put the nearby deer to shame. My son followed after him in his dad’s golf cart zigzagging across the edges of neighboring yards in a vain attempt to rein him back in to the relative safety of our own yard. I finally got in my Jeep and told Son to go home. I went after the dog and finally caught up to him nearing the end of our street about 3/4 of a mile away, where he promptly came lumbering over at my demand as I opened the door to the car. He loves the car. He must’ve thoroughly enjoyed his romp through the neighborhood judging from his satisfied panting and drooling all over the backseat.
The house is still not packed yet. We are all still alive though.
Friday afternoon, Hubby got home a little early so I talked him into taking back the kids for a bike ride down the road to the gas station for slushies. We had a ton of fun, and I got a little more sunburn to top off what I’d already gotten that morning walking at the beach with my friend. Slushies were enjoyed by all, only one mishap when #4 tried to hand hers off to #2 and dropped it on the pavement.
We came home and attempted to make Philly cheesesteak sandwiches but found that my youngest had eaten all of the steak that I had previously cooked for them. So we improvised and made veggie quesadillas instead.
We spent Saturday loading furniture onto the storage container for our move to Tallahassee, and cleaning out the garage. I listed my son’s dirt bikes for sale and had a buyer pick them up on Sunday morning. We packed up the entire master closet and bathroom Sunday morning and afternoon. Getting ready to move can be a real test of patience and emotional fortitude for sure. I’m ready to get outside and pedal some more and get out of this house. Two more weeks is not very long though, so for now I’ll have to buckle down and get it done so that fun can happen later.
Yesterday I successfully got my kids to school on time, got myself to the county Title and Tag office to buy a license tag for my 80 lb lab mix dog, sat in a college english class attempting to write a review of a 1930’s blues singer names Memphis Minnie. By 11:00am, I was taking an exam in my General Psychology class, then back home to grab lunch before driving to the school to pick up my kids.
My son and I spent the afternoon taking apart, sanding, painting, and patching inner tubes on an single speed beach cruiser that he found in the trash in our neighborhood. It is amazing what you can do with a little elbow grease, and the stuff that is haunting a garage. 2 sheets of sandpaper, and a lot of elbow grease later, we had successfully renovated it enough to make a decent bike for my oldest daughter.
They had a blast riding it around the block. Of course the real challenge is convincing him not to keep on taking it back apart now. Ah…. raising geniuses can be hard work!
Later on my friend brought her 3 girls over to play with my 4 kids while she attended a meeting, and we all went swimming, painted some pretty pictures,
played tea party,
had some dinner.
Hello there! I am a fairly average person. I’m a mom. I’m a wife. I love adventure. I’m a little bit cuckoo sometimes. I tend to bite off more than I can chew when it comes to projects, I have done quite a bit that many people have not, and a few of the things that most have.
Some of my earlier adventures were chronicled in the antique world of Myspace years ago, but have since been lost to the sands of internet time. Facebook is nice, but not customizable enough for my wants. For this reason I decided to host my own blog, where I can build, plan, create and share the parts of my life that need a little more space than my own brain from time to time.
I am not a writer. I am not an english aficionado, or a grammar nazi, but then, neither was William Faulkner. Autocorrect has already chastised me three times during the formation of this paragraph. If you do read my blog, please don’t hate me for the inevitable sins that I am about to commit.