For Sale

We began a journey last September, when Patric took the kids to their grandparents for Labor Day weekend while I dealt with this. It was time to deal with that. He greeted every person who came in our house through the front door. Him and whatever else that other mess was. Him and that frown. So menacing.

So my three days began.

Because everyone likes a personal touch in their decorating, but this wasn't what I'd been going for.

And over that weekend, I wound up with this.

And this!

And we thought to ourselves, that perhaps we could sell this house one day next year. Because now that all Stubers were potty-trained as of 2010, we were busting at the seams of our two bathrooms.

So I started to look at this about the time I was asked to consider re-locating for my job.

And I taught myself how to fix it.

And one of the realtor's said flatly we should tear it all down.

That is a good idea--for someone else.

Because we had spent our time instead dealing with the more yucky, very lived in, we've-brought-four-babies-home-and-raised-them-to-be-pre-schoolers-here carpet that if we were to sell this house would not fly.

And we turned it into this with the help of a friend who works at a construction supply warehouse.

This, by the way, is not nearly as ferocious as it appears.

In fact it was useless.

And around the time we started hauling things out of the house to a storage facility, we said yes, let's relocate.

Because the only thing holding us back, is this house. Our kids are still young. There will be great schools. The job is great. His job will transfer him. We'll be closer to part of my family. We loved it there before.

So we really dug in, and we cleaned the remaining carpets.

Then we had someone come in and re-clean the carpets.

Then I painted the rest of downstairs.

Then we had an electrician come by.

I painted the ceilings.

I painted the trim.

The evening that Benjamin flushed his own Superman down the toilet because Nicholas had fatefully swung at just the right moment and hit Superman out of Ben's hand, I just laughed.

Because why not call a plumber too?

(And it really was just a horrible, tragic-for-Superman accident. You can't really get mad at that.)

So we had the oustide cleaned and painted and re-caulked by other people because we were tired now.

And we listed it on the market.

One day as I cleaned up after dinner, Alida walked by with the dustpan exclaiming:

"All I do around here is clean!"

I think they are picking up on our stress.

Now we live in a house,

that we must have in tip-top shape every time we walk out the door.

Because you never know, when they're coming really.

Except that in the beginning there was a stampede of people.

And now, not-so-much.

And I hate selling a house.

Surprising to me--this is the hardest room to keep clean even though the room is all about keeping things clean.

Little known fact: I don't really like store-bought cut flowers as a gift. They make me a little sad.

Here Patric got me some in a pot, so that I would at least have the bulbs to plant when we get somewhere new. Yes, I don't say it enough, but the man is thoughtful.

So maybe, maybe in the end, we won't have to live in this because that fire isn't too warm, but we do own it out-right...