Just some thoughts

James says the word "tomato" panato (puh-na-to) and i don't ever want it to stop. He also says his 'v's with a 'w' which means that we watch Weggie Tales, his best friend's name is Wincenzo, and he isn't allowed to touch the wiolin. I took him in to Child Find, to see if perhaps he'd qualify for services (i.e. free preschool) and he didn't. Which is good for me--I can keep encouraging his wocabulary to dewelop the way I want it to.

Abby stayed home sick a few weeks ago with some nasty cough that would not go away. She was supposed to finish her book report, but got distracted doing anything else that wasn't her book report. She prepared a wonderful Family Night lesson. She cleaned her entire room. She read some books, played with James, and didn't watch any TV. I should have her work on her book report more often.

A month ago Grace decided she really truly wants her ears pierced. So much so that she was willing to actually DO the chores on her chore chart for 4 straight weeks. Four weeks felt too far away, so she offered to clean the entire house if I'd bring it down to 3. And since I don't believe in child labor...but am no fool either, I got a shiny clean house. The chore thing only lasted 10 days, however, and she has since decided that she doesn't want her ears pierced.  She had a wonderful time at High Trails, her 4th grade three-day camp. After so many months of agonizing over it, I'm proud of her for deciding to do. She's still telling me things she learned while there. The house was quiet with her gone. No fighting. But not as much laughing, either.

Eliza was beside herself with Grace gone. She refused to enjoy those three days. She literally protested playing with friends at school and enjoying herself at home. She loves her big sisters. Eliza is reading pretty well. Everyone but her is aware of this fact. If you ask her, she'll tell you that she can't read. She'll probably yell it, actually. But if you DON'T ask her to read something, she'll read it just fine. She and James have been at each others throats the past few weeks. it's been aggravating, to say the least.  It took too long before i realized that I hadn't reached into my bag of bribery tricks!  "If you and james can get along for ___minutes I'll let you watch a show." Workin' like a charm, that trick is.

Reid, who is always awesome, and makes me pretty much the happiest woman alive, was super dad on Mother's Day. I slept in, woke up to pancakes and farm-fresh eggs and OJ. He got the kids ready for church, didn't pressure me when it was clear that I was the one keeping us all from getting there on time, and didn't get too mad when I drove by him at the bottom of the slushy/snowy driveway and splattered mud all over him. He let me play the piano all afternoon while he got dinner ready. I played all the songs that I'd heard my mom play a gazillion times. I snuck out of our church and went to my old ward to hear a friend speak. I thought I was going to support her (since her dad had passed away just 2 days earlier) but quickly realized that it was MY soul that needed to be there that day. Without even talking with most people there, i felt reconnected, and kinda like i was back in my home ward with the people who, five years ago, supported me and loved me through such a hard time.

My brother Jared graduated with his PhD last month. Which makes me feel old. And makes him pretty freaking awesome. Dad and Nathan were there for it, which is so wonderful. Cynthia's suffering more pain than she should. I called her Dr. last week to yell at them about changing her prescription. I'm not entirely sure it worked, but it felt good to yell at someone about her situation. Julia and I are going out there next month.

I'm feeling more and more settled here in this house. I bought my spinning wheel. And every time I admit that I age three decades. The sheep are coming in a few weeks. We're not exactly ready for them, but getting there. We've got 16 teenage chickens in the small coop (which is better than the sunroom--they were stinking up the house.) And 14 old hens in the coop, missing feathers and free-loading (giving about 7 eggs/day). So, we're trying to figure out how to swap out the old with the new and not completely devastate Grace, who loves those old hens more than her siblings.

School got out on Tuesday, and we took off Wednesday morning for a 4-day vacation up to Estes Park with Reid's family. We hiked, we played, we puzzled, we fished, we relaxed and pigged out.  It was a perfect start to what will hopefully be a perfect summer.

Dream house--a fairytale come true?

Life is good.  Really, really good.  We are really happy, and our kids are really happy.  And often, when life is good I don’t sit down and write about it.  I should, of course.  But I don’t need it as an outlet, so it gets put off.   But that doesn’t explain why I didn’t write more during the first few months of owning our current house.  I surely needed an outlet then! I guess I just drowned myself in rice krispy treats and took out my anger on Reid...and anyone who dared ask “how’s the house?”

So, how is the house, you might ask.  There’s a long and a short answer to that question.  The short one is: it is full of character and charm, it’s been more work than we’d anticipated, but it keeps us together and warm.  We’re enjoying the space, and LOVE having a more rural life, especially the chickens, the dog and the upcoming sheep!  

The long answer?  Well, here it is:

Once upon a time, in the royal suburbs of Highlands Ranch, there lived a wife and mother of 4 who, with the loving support of her knight in shining 2-piece suits, decided to buy a farmhouse in the country. While packing all of her family’s belongings, she injured her lower back.  This happened just days before the purchase was complete--really unfortunate timing.  Understandably upset by this set back, she resigned to the fact that she needed help. She reluctantly welcomed volunteer maidens from her village into her home to help with final packing and cleaning. Though extremely embarassed that her secret hoarder's stashes were now seen by all, she was more overcome by gratitude, love and appreciation, making it that much harder to leave this village she'd come to love so dearly.

Confident that healing would progress quickly in the fresh country air she looked forward to the moment when the last walls would be painted, the last carpet piece nailed down, the attic fan installed, the countertops (generously donated by her royal father!!) in place, and her family would move in to their dream home.  For then, the rest and relaxation could begin. 

Little did she know that the farmhouse they’d purchased was actually hiding secrets. Very bad secrets.  Such as a completely rotted subfloor, which had been hidden by the bright turquoise carpet.   What a dirty secret to hide!  (The image of her husband standing, waist deep inside of her floor, was too much to bear.  Hadn't Tom Hanks found himself in the floor, too? She simply had to take a photo and share it in this eact moment.)

The swamp coolers, which had been covered with snow at the time of inspection, turned out to be older than the house (which the plumber found to be interesting and impressive) and were spewing rusty and otherwise hazardous materials in the house.  Another dirty secret!

The lovely and charming spiral staircase, which had been such a draw to the farmhouse in the first place, is literally falling to pieces.  That is to say that pieces are literally falling off of it, and it has been deemed “unfit for use until repaired.” This is perhaps the dirtiest secret of all. (And has yet to be taken care of.)

The cabinets, though beautiful, hand-crafted by the previous owner, and all made from one cherry tree(!!) were also falling apart.  The hinges were all broken, and so were some of the actual doors. The tops of the base cabinets were even, which made the countertop installers very unhappy.  Many hours of repairs went into the cabinets.  And many, many, many hours of restaining.  

before

after

The beautiful French doors which lead from the sunroom to the gardens have an oversized gap between them which is tragically large enough for any and all moths to fit through.  Whilst this poor mother and wife was dealing with more house- worry and house-stress and house-remorse than her back and soul could bear, her farmhouse became an sanctuary for moths every night at sunset.  Her knight in shining armour, who was equally as exhausted by all the tedious work being put into the farmhouse (e.g. applying weather stripping to all the doors, repairing hinges, replacing every single grimy old outlet and switch) possesses an unfortunately high tolerance for moths.  And so she was left to take care of the situation on her own.  From approximately 9pm-11pm, every night for the first 4 weeks in the farmhouse you could find her with two flyswatters in one hand and her shopvac in the other.  And a disturbing expression of horror and glee across her face.  Happy was the day the weather changed and the moths migrated to the west.  

This is about 1% of the moths killed

Heading west doesn't seem like a bad idea

The first, second and third washing machines she purchased for the farmhouse had vastly different, though equally as major defects.  So intense was her frustration that she considered hand washing all her clothes, and hanging them to dry on her not-yet-existent clothesline. But then remembered that she hates cleaning.   Luckily, the fourth time was the charm. Or maybe it was the colorful language she used with Customer Service. At last she has a magical machine that does in one load what her previous machine could do in three. 

All of this was enough to make this mother and wife question herself intensely.  Had she allowed her selfish desires of country-living to cloud her vision such that now her entire family would suffer a long and miserable life in a run-down farmhouse, with a disgruntled father and a permanently crabby mother? Was this all a mistake?  It had felt so right, but was it?  Should they have just stayed in the suburbs and lived a normal life?  Why was everything going wrong??!?! 

These questions weighed heavily on her mind for the first two months in the home. 

And then they arrived.  The first of many farm miracles.  Without any efforts or battles or debating or deciding, they just showed up on the property one Saturday morning, coop and all.  Nineteen beautiful feathered multi-colored egg-laying pieces of paleo manna from heaven.  

The story of why they were given to this little family isn't as interesting as the timing and effortlessness of their arrival. This mother and wife was at the end of her twine, ready to call uncle,  hang a white flag over her head and move to a condo.  And believe it or not, those chickens saved her!  Watching her kids feed them corn, pick out their names, (which was a terrible idea, by the way) and bring in the first eggs reminded her of her why they'd come here in the first place. Their money pit fixer-upper had tried to quash her dreams, but they were alive.  She was alive!    

The day those hens showed up was the first best day of Life at the Farmhouse.

And they are all living happily every after. (The family that is, not the chickens. Three of them became dinner.)

The End Beginning.

Nothing Else To Do But Blog: Take 2

I don’t know what it is about sketchy motels in the middle of WY that inspire me to blog. I could pretty much copy and paste my first paragraph from last Januray right here.  Only this time I have just Grace and Abby.  And they’re not even pretending to sleep.  Grace is standing outside the door cause the heater is set to Death Valley, and Abby is complaining about how tired she is, but keeps asking questions like, “So, if this motel doesn’t even have continental breakfast, are we just going to starve to death?”  At least neither is being too dramatic.

We’re on our way back from my bff’s dad’s funeral.  Carrie’s dad was flying his plane when it crashed last weekend.  Carrie’s dad was an inspiration in so many ways, and hearing more about him made me want to be better at living life.  I only got to spend a few hours with Carrie. I hated leaving, knowing that the hardest is yet to come.  I’ll never forget the low I hit in those days after my mom’s funeral when the constant flow of calls and prayers had stopped and real life had the nerve to try to return.   Carrie and I were talking about how different our experiences were from each other, and agreed that trying to decide which is better is as futile as trying to choose which one of your children to rescue from a sinking boat.  In both cases a permanent hole is made in your heart, one that fortunately gets smaller over time, but never goes away.

My girls enjoyed their “big girl” trip, and loved all the attention they got from family.  Grandpa made Abby a birthday cake (cause she’s 8. Yeah.  How’d that happen??).  And when he wasn’t telling them stories, riddles and jokes, and teaching them songs like Bill Grogan’s Goat, they spent their time exploring all the nooks and crannies of his house, the likes of which can only be found in long-inhabited homes.

While I miss Reid, Eliza and James, I'll admit that it’s been nice to have a little break from our new house.  We’ve been living there for nearly 8 months now.  Would it be too dramatic to say that it’s been the best of times and the worst of times? Probably. We absolutely love where we are--the land, the neighbors, the town, the school, the ward, the views (seriously, the views!) the rural feel, the SuperTarget around the corner, the view of the stars, the neighbor’s horses and donkey, the space, our very own backyard bridle trail, the everything about the location.

The house? Not quite as dreamy. While there are still countless things we love about it, it's kinda falling apart.  But that's another story.  In fact, that’s probably 15-20 other stories.  Loooong, bad, stories.  I’ll blog them when I feel like bringing myself down. 

Tonight I wanna write about the dreams that I’ve had for years that are coming true.  Like the one about raising some livestock.  We’d been planning on goats all this time, but after much debate and discussion, most of which centered on fencing, we’ve decided to go with sheep.  There are three reasons to keep sheep—for dairy, for fiber (wool) and for meat.  Most are only used for one thing.  But there is a breed that has been used for all three, and you better believe that’s the one I want—Icelandic Sheep. They’re hardy, they birth well, they’re resitstant to parasites and disease, and they’re gorgeous.  We have 3 lambs on hold for us in southern Colorado that will be born this spring, but we’re getting antsy and want them now! Which is why we actually just visited a farm outside of Park City that has Icelandic Sheep.  The farmers are basically giving them away.  And I was sure we’d take a couple.  But sadly those sheep did not like us.  The ewes were skittish and wanted nothing to do with us.  And the rams were absolutely crazy.  I have never, in my entire life, ever seen anything or anyone or any creature actually bounce off a wall.  But when Grace and I entered their pen, the sheep started charging and romping and literally bouncing off the walls.  The lady told us that they rarely get to see people.  Reallllly. I never would have guessed.  So, we're back to waiting a few months for the lambs, and we’ll see to it that those little lambs are around people a lot.  (I have a feeling that won't be a problem.)

In August we were given a whole brood of chickens, along with their coop.  We’ve got 15 hens, and one feisty rooster (feisty is quaint for “we all hate him and want him dead but need him in order to have baby chicks”).  We love the ladies, though. And I now know for myself that there really is nothing like a fresh egg.  We get about 8-10/day, which is more than we need (and not as many as we should from that many hens).  Reid and I and the kids still get excited about how many eggs we get, which ones are still warm, and how they can vary so greatly in size from day to day. Often we give the extras away, but recently we got our first client. Grace has been hired as the egg-cleaner/sorter and is in charge of putting the carton in the newspaper box when she goes to catch the bus in the morning, where our client can pick them up.  We haven’t decided how much of the proceeds she’ll get to keep.  From Day One she has been a great help with the chickens, filling their water, giving them scraps, cleaning up their poop (which is substantial), refilling their food buckets and nesting boxes, and of course, getting the eggs.  So we’ll probably just let her keep it all. And then make her pay for her own groceries.  

Tomorrow, on our way home, we’re going to get our egg incubator in Laramie, WY.  This little device will do what our hens have been bred not to—warm and turn the eggs till baby chicks pop out!  We’ll probably start the first batch of eggs in about 3 weeks.  The kids are, of course, ecstatic about this.  They do know that 50% of them will be roosters, and that there’s only one thing to do with roosters.  Grace, who is extremely opposed to killing any of our animals, seems to be coming to terms with this and knows that they'll become somebody’s meal.  Maybe not ours.  Or maybe so.  We’ll cross that road when the chicken does.

In the past few months, amidst all the wonderful things that have been happening, I’ve found myself griping and complaining excessively about all the work that this place requires of us.  Not so much about the land/animals—that’s still fun and new.  Working on the house however, is aggravating, stressful, and expensive.  I spend much of my time whining about it.   But I was reminded at the funeral that our life’s stories usually come as a result of hard work. So I’m resolved to stop putting so much energy into avoiding it and a little more into enjoying it.  

This is really happening

With much help from many helpful hands we got our house beautified and on the market on April 4th.  Real estate in Denver is pretty hot right now, so we probably didn't have to do as much as we did, but I kinda liked the mindlessness of painting the baseboards, Reid rocked the bathroom remodel, and we all LOVED putting all of the "stuff we don't need" (aka "crap!") into a storage unit.  It made our house feel so spacious!  Reid and I had calculated that we'd need a 5x5 storage unit, but followed the counsel of a friend who said to get more than you think you'll need.  So we went to sign up for the 5x10.  But they were running a special and the 10x10 was actually the cheaper option.  And i'm ashamed, embarrassed, and mortified to admit that we nearly couldn't close the door on that unit when we shoved the last items in!!  You have to understand.  I am a non-practicing minimalist.  So I take great offense to my own hoarding habits.  And honestly, if it weren't for the fact that these are in said unit ...

...I'd probably take a match the whole thing!

(no, i didn't put my kids in there.  Though that would have kept the house MUCH cleaner! I mean the precious Christmas stockings that i hand cross-stitched and show off at every chance i get.  Like this one.)

My mother-in-law came the week before our house went on the market, and she was so extremely helpful i have NO idea what i'd have done without her here.  She read endless books to and played endless games with my littlest ones.  Not to mention all the cleaning and organizing she did!  I really can't imagine a more helpful person to have come to visit at a more helpful time.  Everyone should have a Marie come help get their house ready to sell!

And of course, all the credit for the decor and beauty of my house goes to my friend Gina.  She had already beautified my front room a few years ago, but the rest of the rooms were a little lack-luster.  She brought a van full of flowers, pillows, throw blankets, curtains, art, towels, etc and gave my house an extreme make-over.

As usual, i forgot to take many "before" pictures.  I did snap a few of the kids' room.  These give you an idea of A) how we managed to fit four kids in one room (can u see James' pack-n-play under Grace's loft bed?)

and B) how insanely messy it often was. Do these kids not have any parents???

 And here's the AFTER:

 Here's our Master Bedroom

 the Family Bathroom (Can i just say here how excited I am that our new house has a bathroom just for the kids???)

The Guest Bathroom

I'm going to miss this awesome faucet!

Guest Room (previously known as Reid's office)

 

 Guest Room/Craft Room

 The Basement

And here is that stage that I believe i promised photos of quite a while ago!  Behind the curtains there's a rod with dress-ups hanging on it, bins with props and hats and shoes, our water shut-off valve, our sprinkler shut off, and the wizard of oz.

 I loved loved LOVED these shelves.  They were a breeze to make, and were quite simply the BEST way to organize my piano music.

The kitchen was ridiculously impossible to live in.  We had to hide our broom, garbage can, dish drainer, dish towels, and everything else we actually use in the kitchen.

The entire house felt more like a museum than a home.  My kids couldn't eat, play, sit or breathe without me yelling at them. I wasn't sure how many days I could possibly live like this, which is why I was so grateful that we went under contract in less than 36 hours!  We had 35 showings in two days, with 6 offers, all at or above our asking price.  That is INSANE!!!  But the market here is crazy.  People all over the country are realizing that it's the best place on earth and flocking here by the thousands!  It is a great time to sell. (not a great time to buy...but that's not what this post is about)

I was surprised at how emotional we all were when it came time to actually accept an offer and sign a contract.  The girls and I were in body-shaking face-wrinkling tears about the whole thing.  The reality that we'd actually be leaving this home that we have loved so much, and the people here who we love so much was such a hard reality to accept.  I truly wanted to just back out, lose our earnest money on the new home, and stay here.  I mean, look at this house now--it's beautiful!  Why wouldn't I want to stay here??

Luckily Reid was coherent enough to ignore me completely and sign our life away.  That really is what it felt like.  Not only have my kids done all of their growing-up in this house, but i really feel like I've grown up in this house.  I've gone through major identity crises, I've loved and lost significant people, I've brought children into this world and, quite frankly, come close to taking them out.  Within the walls of this home are most of the greatest (and hardest) memories of my adult life.  And I am so, so sad to leave.  In our neighborhood are some of the greatest friends and neighbors known to mankind.  At our schools are caring, loving teachers who adore my children.  At church we're surrounded by amazing people, peers and mentors.  

Why in the world are we even moving??? That's what I've asked myself about a hundred thousand times in past few months.  

It's only when I talk to my friends who are on the tail-end of child-raising that I feel more confidence in our choice.  And when I think about our little hobby farm and orchard and gardens.  And when I imagine my kids getting bigger (which I am in real denial about), enjoying the bigger spaces to spread out and invite friends over.  I do think this is the right and best move for our family.  But i'm sure glad that there were contracts and deposits involved, otherwise I'd have backed right out. A hundred thousand times.

Dream House

After 1+ year of searching and making offers and getting denied, I'd started to wonder if I should give up on my dream of having a little land, and just settle for a house with a little more space and sunlight to grow a garden.  The market is so crazy right now that houses are going to so fast, and there just aren't many out there.  And I wanted to be close to the schools, and I wanted Reid to be able to bike into work.  The houses that we were looking at didn't offer all of our criteria, and I was giving up.

In early February we'd made an offer on a house in the boondocks and it was, yet again, rejected.  I was so discouraged, and so sick of hearing myself talk about all of this.  And then i checked the MLS for the 14th time that day, and voila!  There was a house in a great location in the little town of Foxfield.  It's on about 3 acres, and close to the schools! I called immediately and set up a showing to go see it the next day with the whole fam.

Now, for better of worse, we've included the kids in this entire process. They've seen more houses than Reid, and know more about mortgages and septic systems than most kids their age. Sometimes they loved the houses, sometimes they inexplicably hated the houses.  But at the end of the day I knew that if I was going to pull them away from their friends and classmates here, I was going to need their stamp of approval, or I'd hear about it for months, maybe even years.  And honestly, apart from one house last summer, there hadn't been a house that 100% of us loved.

When we walked out of the house in Foxfield, Reid asked everyone who loved the house to raise their hands.  I will never forget the thrill and excitement as i looked around and saw everyone, including James, had their hand in the air.

Everything about this house (well, almost everything) is perfect for us.  And the things that aren't perfect can be changed (like the carpet).  The house is charming, with wood burning fireplaces, exposed brick and beams.  It's a little bigger than I'd wanted (have I mentioned that I don't clean?) But  Reid loved the size and the vaulted ceilings (which i hate, but can live with). Reid can bike into work on trails, not busy roads!  The kids can walk, bus or drive to school!  And there's a SuperTarget and Sprouts about 1/2 mile away, along with a 24 hour fitness...where I believe I have a long-forgotten membership!  It's zoned for 3 large livestock and 12 poultry, including a rooster.  There is ample area to plant our orchard, and a big old garden.  It's everything we wanted.

We prayed about this decision, and felt really, really good about it.  We made our offer and found out that there were 5 other offers that came in with ours.  So in our offer we included a little letter about our family and what we love about the house and how long we've looked for the perfect house, yada yada.  We even included a family photo :)

 Then we waited. and waited. Two days felt like two years! The girls would come home from school and shout "have they accepted our offer yet???"  And Reid called about 100 times from work because he couldn't think about anything else.  I spent countless hours reading about goats and chickens and pasture and fences and fruit trees and bees.  It was a very unproductive few days.

And then the call came.  The broker told me that they'd received an offer quite a bit higher than ours, but they're choosing us!!  The screaming in the house was unlike anything I'd ever heard.  We called Reid on his way home to tell him the news, and at first he couldn't even hear what we were saying--only screams.  He was thrilled, and we all were elated.

And then the reality of it all set in.  I started to think about our life here, and all the millions of memories we've created in this home.  I started thinking about our neighbors and church friends and my girlfriends and all the people who've seen my babies grow from infants to sassy little kids.  I started looking around at our little home and missing everything about it.  I started to cry.  And cry.  Then the girls joined in.  And by the time Reid walked through the door, ready to celebrate with us, we were all a mess.  He was, of course, speechless.

And so have been the past 6 weeks since we went under contract.  An emotional roller-coaster.  I have doubted this decision and freaked out and wanted to back out ALMOST as much as I am in love with the house and the area and our future there.  It's been exhausting and exciting and scary and thrilling.  The sellers needed some time to find a place so it's been a long process, which I've actually been grateful for. I've needed this time to go thru my ups and downs.  Not to mention that our kids want to finish the school year at their school here, so the later we close the better!  Right now the closing is set for the end of April, but I wouldn't be surprised if that got pushed back a bit.

Our house is going on the market in 8 days.  The count-down is on.  Homes in my hood are selling like hot-cakes, so i shouldnt feel too stressed...but i do.  The list of to-do's is slowly shrinking.  I've painted all the baseboards upstairs (why didn't I do that earlier? it looks awesome!) And I've had my brilliant designer friend over to stage the rooms.  I'm stressed about all that is left, and I needed every single minute this week.  Which is why it was particularly bad timing to catch grace's awful stomach flu today.  My fever won't break, and my subconscious won't let me expel the contents of my stomach. In fact, i'm not sure I'm in a state of mind to be blogging right now, but I'm so bored out of my mind that it seems like a good idea.  Thankfully Reid was able to work from home and be the dad and mom.  He's amazing, he really is.  We're in the middle of the world's worst Spring Break, and the kids have been at each other non-stop.  Yet today?  they did great.  He really should be the stay-at-home parent.  And the bread-winner.  Is that asking too much?

Anyway, here are a few photos of the house. Maybe it's not everyone's cup 'o tea, but we love it :)