Why we will always keep a full gas-can in the garage from here on

One of the things we negotiated into the final contract on our new house from the previous owners was that they included the riding lawn mower. With nearly an acre yard, Chris knew he would need to upgrade from the push-mower he had been using the past nine years at the old house. Plus he was pretty excited to have a new toy.

And the kids were happy about the new tractor mower as well. Luke loved crawling up on the driver’s seat, but would get pretty scared when Chris would start it and ride with him on his lap. The little man always gets a bit sketched with loud noises, especially motors. So once Chris got down to actually wanted to mow, Luke would run inside and hide.

Taylor, on the other hand, was thrilled to ride with Chris while cutting the grass, mostly because she got to wear the big, orange ear muffs and sing at the top of her lungs. She almost treated the tractor as a stage, and I could hear her singing on the farside of the yard while inside the house and over the mower noise. The girl’s got pipes. And she also loves being able to help her Dad steer once in awhile. 

But then after getting used to the noise from a distance, and after seeing how much fun his big sister was having on the tractor, the little man realized that he was ready to help Dad mow too.

Yeah. He REALLY wanted to get on that mower.

And because life can be cruel sometimes, as Chris and Taylor were finishing up the front of the house, the mower ran out of gas right before Luke’s turn. Bummer. But we made it up to him by letting him wear the ear muffs. 

And you can’t feel too bad for him, as I’m sure in about eight years he’s going to be pretty sick of riding that mower every five days in the summer. I mean, that’s why we had kids, right? For the free slave labor. And for the unconditional love and kissable cheeks. 

Welcome to the neighborhood

I have already mentioned that the lovely Scully family lives just up the road from us now, and we’ve also had the pleasure of meeting a handful of our other new neighbors. We are not situated in a sidewalk-laced subdivision. We are actually on a long, dead end road and most of the houses are located on acres and surrounded by lots of trees. In fact, our neighbor across the road has an orchard in their backyard. Within our new yard, we have lots of room to run, and lots of privacy as well. It’s not like we’re bumping into our neighbors, so for people to stop by and introduce themselves, it’s completely out of their way to do so. And so far, I’ve been very pleased with the people that have come by to meet us. And I also respect the people that haven’t. And from what I can determine, we have just moved into a very friendly atmosphere, yet not overly smothering. Which is perfect. When a neighbor drives past, they wave but they don’t stop to chat. And after being hijacked on a daily basis by our last overly-nice neighbor, we are thrilled to have a little more breathing room in our own yard.

And we’ve also acquired many new non-human neighbors in our new house. You would have thought we had moved to another part of the state, as the wildlife is so much more abundant here then in our last neighborhood. We now have hummingbirds and goldfinches, and an obscene amount of wild turkeys.

Before moving, I had encountered flocks of turkeys wandering in yards and crossing the roads while I was on the north side, but I had no idea how many of these haggard, savage birds roam within these neighborhoods. It’s unbelievable. They are everywhere, picking at our grass, sleeping underneath our shady trees and having vicious turkey brawls in our backyard. You think is sounds fun and exotic, but it’s so annoying. They’re not at all scared of humans, and gobble at you as you try to shoo them away. There’s turkey poop all over our back patio, and Ruby has been so sketched out that she’s resorted to hiding under the work bench in our garage.

And it doesn’t help that one of our neighbors, who has yet to introduce himself and looks a lot like Colonel Sanders, feeds the dirty, winged beasts from his hands. FROM HIS HANDS! Every night we spy him walk onto his front porch and toss and feed cut up bread to the dozens of feathered dirtbags who are waiting in his front yard. It’s pretty ridiculous. And Chris is seriously considering buying a slingshot. For the turkeys, not our neighbor.

The kids are still a bit weirded out by the big birds as well, so whenever we leave I always peek out and make sure a flock isn’t waiting for us. And the other day, as we were leaving to head to the pool, I peeked out and saw this:

Awesome.

Now let me note that this wasn’t in my yard, but right off Colonel Sanders front porch. And by the end of their visit, they had knocked over the birdbath and nearly torn down the bird feeder.

And this isn’t our first bear encounter, as we have twice had our trash-bin mangled by the giant animals at night, who tore open all the bags and then proceeded to throw our garbage all over the yard. And the other day I was walking up to Paige’s house with Luke in the stroller to pick Taylor up from a playdate, and a bear walked across the road 50-yards ahead of me. And I immediately wheeled us around and got us into the car to drive the two blocks. That’s scary, y’all. Bears! They can rip your face off!

And because I made such a big deal about it, Taylor has since run in from the porch a few times and squealed, Mama! I just saw a bear and her cubs run from our yard to the woods! And each time I hurry out only to see nothing. And even though I suspect she’s fibbing in order to get everyone worked up, Chris and I are still in total agreement that we’ll put a fence up in the near future to protect the kids outside play area. And the trash-bin. Bears! They’ll steal all your honey!

First day of Pre-K

Miss Taylor started her second and final year of preschool this week. One of my favorite things about our new house is it’s super convenient location, and we are now a mere two minutes from her preschool. Which allowed me a lot of extra time to take pictures of my little girl before her first day of Pre-K.

And a video:

So I don’t know how good you are at deciphering Taylor-talk, but she was exuberantly telling you that her teacher’s name is Ms Leigh, and that Elliot is in her class this year. Yeah. It’s gonna be a pretty awesome year.

And then Chris met us at her school and we all walked her in.

And she showed us her new classroom.

And we hung up her big-girl backpack on her hook.

And then she became so preoccupied with her friends and her awesome teachers and all the new toys in her classroom, that she barely flinched when we waved our hands at her and said our goodbyes. In fact, she could have cared less. And when I picked her up after lunch, Ms Leigh kept saying over and over what I sweet girl I have and how excited she was that Taylor was in her class this year. And I couldn’t agree more. 

A moving story

Ugh. I’ve put if off for long enough, I guess. The trauma is still fresh. Why do you think it’s taken me so long to update this site? Moving. And now I’m throwing my arms up in the air and rolling my eyes and shouting, MOVING! It’s awful. Truly, truly horrendous.

I used to move all the time. Every year. On the first day of August, my parents and I would move all my college possessions from one apartment to an identical apartment across town. And it always would turn out that my current-roommates and I would rent on the top floor. Meaning lots of stairs. So when my relationship with Chris got serious in college, my father fist-pumped the air and rejoiced, YOU! You are going to be the one to move my daughter’s heavy furniture from one penthouse to the next! Welcome to the family!

But then, nine years ago, Chris and I decided to start the rest of our lives together in Asheville, and we did what any normal newlyweds do:  We bought our first house. And to us, as that time, with a tiny chocolate lab puppy, we thought that place was a palace. But then we had two kids. And then we were tightrope walking around all the toys and gear that come with little people.

So it was time to upgrade. And after a long time searching, we found this perfect little spot in the area of town we really, really wanted. And now we can’t wait to make this place ours. And so far, everyone has really adjusted exceedingly well to this transition. Well, almost everyone. Ruby is still wandering from room to room and finds interesting hiding spots within the house we are still trying to figure out. Two days ago I found her in our shower. And she loves to escape from us by sneaking herself under one of Taylor’s beds.

And, you know, moving across town is way more harrowing than moving from one coast to the other. Because when you make the commitment to relocate to another time zone, you hire professional help and are required to be organized. Our move from one house to another that is a mere 12 minutes away was a total dumpster fire. We were so unorganized and had no real gameplan, other than Chris insisting we be sleeping there on that Saturday night.

And I am certain I mentioned how productive it was to pack with Luke in the room, right? He was a big, big help. So we really waited until the complete last minute to pack up the house. And when Saturday morning came along, I was instructed to take the kids and leave, in order to give Chris and the people who were suckered into helping us some room to transport all of our belongings from one place to another. Poor guys. Needless to say, my husband was extremely sore the next few days.

So I packed up Taylor and Luke early that morning and took them on an adventure. First stop, Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Next stop, Kohl’s to pick out new comforters for Taylor’s room, and where Luke proceeded to ride out his syrup-high by leveling several hand towel displays. Next stop, Target to look for organizing units, and where Taylor wouldn’t stop talking about how much she needed a new toy for the entire errand. Next stop, Crazyville. I was running on very little sleep and just couldn’t take the constant in-and-out of the car dance with two tired kids. But when I threw in the towel, I realized I didn’t have a home base to take my monsters, as all of our furniture was en route.

And that’s where my hell began. So I opted to go to the old house, and tried to put Luke down for a nap on one of Taylor’s new comforters on the floor of the nursery. Yeah... No way was that happening. He kept running into the other bedroom and trying to tackle Taylor and I, and since the air was shut off because we were moving everything, the entire house was hot and muggy and sticky, especially with two children laying on top of you.

So I decided to put both kids in the air conditioned car and drive slowly from the east side to the north side. And by the time I got to our new house, both kids were snoozing and I wasn’t sweating anymore. But then I was assaulted by the sight of about ninety-percent of my belongings in random boxed pyramids throughout our new, massive two-car garage. And I just sat in the drive way and tried to savor those fleeting anxiety-free moments. Because now I have to UNPACK. And organize a whole new house. Strange closets, different shaped cabinets and foreign drawers. Alright, let’s go! Let’s move into this new house!

And I did get a few rooms started before leaving for the beach. And after returning from my five days of bliss and zero-responsibility, I walked into a disaster zone. It was staggering, and I basically avoided the house for the next 48 hours. But then I started digging into boxes and dispersing all of our items into their new spaces.

We haven’t done any repairs or fix-ups to the new place yet, as all of our – read: Chris’s – spare-time for projects is being delegated to sprucing up and selling our first house. But we have moved some of our essential, basics into their temporary spots. And here’s a random compilation of photos I recently took, and some captions, of the progress at our new house.

View of our side yard off our upstairs porch.

Luke showing off his climbing skills on our new table and chairs in the dining room.

My kitchen, complete with the first oven ever made. It's vintage. 

Look at all that countertop space! It's literally double of what I had in the old house.

Yes. I LOVE my kitchen. It was the first room I unpacked.

I even have fancy glass-fronted cabinets. I all grows up!

Hallway to our bedrooms.

Stairs down to the basement. Garage to the left, greatroom to the right, which also has an office, half-bathroom, laundry room and storage room.

Taylor's bedroom.

Luke's bedroom.

The master bathroom. Chris and I had been sharing a jack-and-jill bathroom with the kids at the old house, so this is heaven for us. 

Ah. Home sweet home. A total work-in-progress, but we can't wait to make it ours. 

Just keep swimming

While at the beach, Libba generously offered to let me borrow her underwater camera until my return visit to Birmingham at the end of September. Her exact words were something like, Hey! Take some pictures of my niece and nephew at the pool so I can see them swimming.

Thanks, Lib! 

Tooties ahoy

So what does any normal person do in the first few days after packing up and moving every item in one house and then driving it 12 minutes across town and putting in another house? Go to the beach, of course! You see, we had scheduled our closing on the new house about nine weeks out. And about two weeks before it was even listed, I coordinated and confirmed for myself to join my mother, sister, aunt and twin cousins for a long girls-only beach trip on the Gulf. And even though it wasn’t the best timing, there was no way I would have backed out of this trip. For two reasons:  One, my sister is only a few months away from having her first baby, and my cousin Blair is entering her final year of law school. It was hard enough to schedule around everyone’s current schedule, so we knew there weren’t many other chances in the new future for us to take this trip. And Two, this Mama needed a break. After a summer of around the clock chaos, CFPs and moving, I was due a kid-free beach vacation. Love my life! But needed a break.

And there was no way I would have been able to leave Chris with the kids for five days if his parents hadn’t offered to come in and help so he wouldn’t have to miss work. I am ever grateful to them. And they even made the through-the-night drive from Wisconsin to be here in time for me to leave Wednesday morning. Seriously the best inlaws ever. In the history of the world.

And after writing about six detailed lists and leaving my house two-thirds full of boxes, I drove to Birmingham in record time – Amazing how fast you can get someplace without taking a million restroom breaks! – and had lunch with my dear Granddaddy before meeting up at Libba’s and hitching a ride with her, Blair and Sarah. It had been a very, very long time since just the four of us had been able to hang out together. And you can be guaranteed there was lots of laughing and question-answer sessions on our nearly-five hour trek to the coast, as well as some detailed labor and delivery descriptions that I’m sure pushed my twin 24-year old cousins to the brink of insanity. And even though we pulled into the Sandy Key parking lot in time to catch the sunset, we were too busy hugging our respective mothers and aunts, and rehashing each of our journeys that led us all to that table on that Wednesday night. After months and months of planning, we were finally there.

So the next morning we all met down on the sand, each of us eager to relax from our daily obligations, read our books, eat our cheesecurls and gawk upon all the other guest of our condos, which all happened to be stereotypical lunatics. And little did our rednecked neighbors know that each and everyone of their families and backstories were being speculated upon and fabricated about by six fabulously creative women who all had Barbara Blackwell’s blood coursing through their veins. And I do believe my Gomar was looking down on our tight knit group with a big smile on her beautiful face. The other people in our condo, however... Well, she surely would have been giving the once over while picking at her lower lip and glaring her eyes at. Ah, Go-Go! The original tootie.

And while the weather wasn’t perfect, it didn’t really matter. Because when it was nice, we were out on the beach together, catching up and telling stories, and when it was raining, we were taking naps or reading our books in silence. It was heaven. It was what each and everyone of us needed.

Because both Jane and Lib had been working hard for a long time on scanning all of our family photos, we were treated with two separate slide shows that showcased tons of pictures of all of us through the ages. Not many families have digital copies of the ancestry, and I am indebted to both of them for preserving our memories with such enthusiasm.

And we also ate lots of delicious food and drank lots of refreshing cocktails. We each took turns laying our hands on Libba’s belly and coaxing the newest tootie of our gang to be known. But she was she shy. But if she’s anything like her Mama, YaYa, Aunt, cousin Taylor, Great Aunt and second cousins, she’ll find her strength and character early. And Lib’s gonna have her work cut out for her... The female Blackwell personality is naturally fierce.

And exceptionally good looking.

And after five, wonderful days of peace and relaxation at one of the most beautiful places on Earth, I was ready to get back to my husband and kids. I missed them terribly, and trekked ten hours in the car from Perdido Key back to Asheville on Sunday. And when I walked in the my new front door, Chris, Taylor and Luke tackled me to the ground and covered me in hugs and kisses. And that feeling was just as wonderful as being at the beach with all of my fellow tooties. 

A new chapter begins

We finally closed on our new house on Thursday, August 2. After months and months of waiting, Chris and I did one last walkthrough before driving to the lawyer’s office, signing the papers and winding the keys onto our keychains. And, of course, during our ultimate inspection my practical husband walked through every room, opened every closet, pushed every lightswitch and kept eyeballing every little scratch or flaw with such recognition that I finally laughed out loud at him and said, Um, Babe. We are buying this house. I mentally moved in months ago. And he smiled, clapped his hands together and announced to our realtor, Alright, then. We’ll take it.

Insert big smile and deep breath here.

And after squeezing each other outside the law office of Best & Best, we each got into our separate cars and I went to get the kids at Paige’s and Chris went back to work. Because someone has to pay for the big, awesome house we just bought. Love ya, Babe.

But before grabbing the kiddos, I stopped at the store and got some snacks and juiceboxes and a bottle of champagne. And then I drove to my new neighbor Paige’s house to pick up Taylor and Luke. Seriously, I now live nine houses away from my best friend. Unbelievable! I don’t know if I could by any more excited to live that close to anyone. So naturally, she and the kids were our very first visitors ever inside our new house. And I think these two may be a bit excited as well.

As well as these two.

Then the Scully family WALKED back to their house, and the kids and I continued to run from room to room and check everything out. The previous owners/renters left us a bizarre mix of items, such as mirrors, drapes, random clocks and wall attachments. There was also a tattered flag out front that will soon be replaced by a shiny new Hawkeye flag, which will certainly be one of the few in the Tar Heel state. Gotta represent.

And then Chris came home, and we ordered a pizza from our favorite pizzeria, which only caters to the north side, leaving the delivery woman an obscenely large tip in order to notch a couple stars next to our new address. Hey, it worked. We have since ordered delicious pies from Asheville Pizza at least four more times, each time getting the goods hot and fresh within 30 minutes. Score for us.

And since we didn’t even have chairs in the new house, we finished our picnic, cleaned up, turned off all the lights, locked the doors, and drove back to the old house. And as emotional as I thought I’d be over leaving our first house – read previous post – I really wasn’t all that sad to walk out the door knowing I’d never sleep there again. Maybe it was because the actual moving process was so awful. Seriously one of the worst things Chris and I have ever had to do. But that’s a story for a whole other post... For now, let me end with this happy picture of me and the kids standing on my new front porch. Let the adventure begin.