Our house

Once upon a time our house was our house.  Davis and I not only had our shared space, but we had space for our loves - painting and printmaking, woodworking, inventing...and we had time to do said activities.  Then, once upon a time, a little boy was born and things began to change.  A chair got moved and a small box of toys and books appeared downstairs.  The other day I looked around and noted that, somehow, there was not only the little boy, but also a little girl (ok, the belly, the labor, the personality...I knew Henni had arrived) and that the small box had grown and multiplied - significantly.  

Over the past four years one couch and four chairs have been removed from the house in order to accommodate trucks, a trampoline, baby strollers... Somehow our house house means a totally different thing.  It means that if you want to join me in the living room, where I am now, you are going to have to sit in the large tent, lay in the tunnel, or bounce (or I suppose you could sit) on the trampoline.  Your glass, sorry, you are going to have to hold it.  Yes, the coffee table has been moved off to the side to make way for a large train track.  Oh, the other end of the couch.  Well, you could try to sit there, but you will have to talk to a 100 pound dog who has made himself very comfortable.

Our house also means 5:00 dinners and 7:00 bedtimes.  It also means three people and many toys in a shower.  It also means that, despite the fact there are three bedrooms, only one bedroom will be used tonight.  In said bedroom there will be four people, four dolls, one squid, two (stuffed) dogs, a parrot, a bunny, two water bottles, and god knows what else  - all in one bed.  This means snuggles - ones which I can't quite give up.  While sleep no longer means the same thing, I have come to love and embrace our crazy bed.

Our house now suffers from projects which have not been done, but it is teaming with projects that have been done.  We have beautiful art work on the walls - some condoned, others not so much (Oliver, I know it was you who wrote on the walls, because although Henni knows her letters, she can not write them).

After spending far too long looking for a bat (pretend) the other day I was frustrated and wondered when we had ceded the house to the children.  However, in stepping back (after finding said bat and after a night or two of violent snuggling in an overcrowded bed) I realized that we did not cede the house to the children, but rather the definition of "our" changed.  While hosting an adult cocktail party might prove difficult here, the reality is that I am not sure I could stay awake for an adult cocktail party nor do I think I could find the dress for one.

There are moments of insanity when I wish I could snag a Groupon getaway, but the majority of the time I am utterly in love with our home and all the beings which occupy it (even the fish).  And while I don't get to do the projects and activities I used to do, I get to experience things like this...a rare event.  After close to two hours of sledding and hiking through the woods, Oliver and Henni fell asleep, snuggled, in a sled.