We’ve been in this house 17 days, and I am – as expected – still tripping over boxes occasionally and looking endlessly for things I remember packing but can’t quite remember where they ended up.  I moved in 2004, 2005, 2007, 2013, and now again in 2015.  Frankly, I am really tired of it.  That said, at least this is a familiar dance for me.  I can remember having that feeling that  I’ll never be settled or never have things looking the way I want them only to find things exactly as they should be with the passage of time. Time.  The answer to everything lately it seems. It all takes time.

We are getting settled little by little.  I’m using what is, I’m assuming, a formal living room space at the entryway as a kids’ reading area.  They are loving it. (Yes, I’m careful to secure bookcases as best I can with this little monkey.)

It’s funny how liberating some of this feels.  That I get to set the tone of the house, for instance.  I don’t have to get anyone else’s opinion or approval before making decorative choices.  I have been veto’d in the past when I wanted any sign of kids’ and play spaces near the common areas of the house.  So it feels good to have this little space greet us as we walk in the door.  Yes, children live here. Yes, you can tell.  It feels authentic and lived in and comfortable that I am not trying and hide that.  I want this to feel like their space as well.

Their rooms have a lot left to be desired. But beds are there. Clothes are in closets, and as of this weekend, I began putting a couple of things on their walls. I am hoping to paint a bit this summer when I have the time. We shall see.

We settled in earlier tonight with a movie and a huge bowl of popcorn after their bath time.  The comfort of old routines feels good, and this rainy weather we’ve had all week has encouraged some cozy indoor hours anyhow.

I’m also finally feeling my kitchen motivation emerge again.  Moving is so terrible on dietary habits. I hated that we went a good 7-10 days of mostly eating out as we packed away anything left in the old house and took a day or two to get unpacked here.  The kitchen is always the first thing I unpack when I move. I feel like the moment I can cook a meal and sit at my table to eat is the moment the house really starts to feel like home, you know?  My fridge and pantry are stocked now, and I shopped today for some really great meals I have lined up this week.  It feels good to eat and cook like my old self again.  I’ve also got two lettuce pots on the patio, thanks to my grandparents and their gardening expertise, so we’ve got salad for days and days ahead.  I love spring and seeing all the fresh food return to my table.

A new house is like any other new relationship.  It takes a while to see what you value most about it and what annoys you or drives you crazy. The eccentricities and sounds and details aren’t apparent yet, and for that reason, it still feels a little foreign here. But we’ll get there. I’m learning its patterns and quirks a little already.  The best light is late morning through the back side of the house, especially the patio door.  The laundry room is my favorite of any house I’ve ever lived in. My bedroom feels perfect and safe and cozy, even though it’s hardly got any furniture in it. The kitchen window makes washing dishes tolerable and even a little pleasant. Most notably, the neighbors are kind and showering us with gifts and hellos already.  I have absolutely no idea what the future holds, but I think I want to stay here a good long while.