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.

One of the last mornings in our first home

This morning we woke up to a massive thunderstorm, with an awesome crack of lightening and ominous boom of thunder shaking Taylor from her bed and causing her to scamper into our room and crawl up between Chris and I. And after snuggling into us, the sweet grunting pleas of our little man started echoing out of the nursery, begging us to free him from his crib. And then there were four of us curled up together. And then Ruby jumped up to make the quintet complete. And as we sat there and warped into one big ball of family love, watching the leaves and branches dancing in the rain out of our big window, I closed my eyes and took a mental snapshot. This is one of the last mornings in our first home.

So to say I’ve been riding an emotional rollercoaster the past few days would be a bit of an understatement. I am so excited to move into our new house. Let me repeat that:  I AM SO EXCITED TO MOVE INTO OUR NEW HOUSE! We close on Thursday afternoon, and hope to be sleeping there on Saturday night. But I just need to get in there. Because for the past week I’ve been cleaning out cabinets and closets and under sinks and above appliances, and have pulled out and dusted off enough memories to last a lifetime.

This past weekend I tackled the half-bathroom, and underneath the sink I found a paraffin spa, ten different head and back and foot massage tools and a dozen votive candles, all with two inches of dust on them. And I showed them to Chris and said, Hey! Remember before we had kids and I would light a bunch of candles and then give you hot-wax hand treatments and rub your back? And then he got all starry eyed and said, DON’T throw the massagers away. We might use them again... Right?!?! Ah. My husband, the dreamer. LOVE that man!

I’ve also been going through lots and lots of clothes that I’ve been holding onto forever. I had cleared out most of the maternity wear and loaned it out to Libba. And last night I found a big tub full of old pants and skirts that I stashed away after getting pregnant with Luke. I really don’t like my skinny clothes looking at me when I’m a heffer. So I decided to torture myself and tried on a bunch of small pants, and I’ve still got a little bit of work to do. But I did find an old worn pair of JCrew khakis that I got when I was a senior in high school, and THEY STILL FIT! They looked awful, and when I skipped down the stairs to show my husband the accomplishment, he took one look at the highwaisted, ankle length threads and laughed and said, You’re NOT keeping those, right? And I twirled around him and chirped, NOT the point. I FIT INTO THEM. Go put on your letter-jacket and let’s slowdance to Celine Dion.

And while it’s fun to find these hidden treasures, and equally rewarding to toss a bunch of junk I’ve been holding onto for the past nearly-nine years, it’s pretty much impossible to get any packing or cleaning done while the two little people in our family are awake. And it’s equally challenging for Chris to try to paint rooms and make wear and tear repairs with the kids following him. So our most productive hours take place during naps and after bedtime. Which means that while the kids are awake, it’s business as usual. And this morning was no exception, as after Chris got up and started getting ready for work, I showed Taylor a couple of treasures I found while cleaning out closets the night before:

And then Luke showed off his bed acrobatics:

We then moved into the nursery, and my little man continued to stress me out by flexing his climbing muscles:

Taylor declared it was a ballerina sorta day, especially since the storms foiled our pool plans:

And then we made our way downstairs to eat breakfast, which happens to be one of Luke’s favorite parts of the day:

Yep. All this fun before the clock struck eight. And since I had a couple cups of French Roast in my system already, I sat down to record it. And now I sit here and wonder what our morning routine will be like a week from now, as we make our way through strange rooms and start transforming this new house into our home. It’s an adventure we have been talking about for months, and now it’s almost here. And before this new chapter in our life begins, we must say Goodbye to this home. The place where we have been making memories for the past nearly-nine years. And it’s going to be very emotional. But we have many, many memories and milestones ahead of us, and a new, wonderful place to make them.

That's what little boys are made of

After Chris’s parents and brother came and left, Luke definitely missed the nonstop testosterone that had been surrounding him during the days with Greg and Ryan here. My son is turning into a BOY. Not a soft-skinned, cooing baby, but a real live boy. And he would rather be outside getting dirty than inside playing with toys. But it’s a million degrees out and we’re less than a month away from getting a good yard. So when we’re not at the pool or the gym or a playdate, we’re styling princess dolls and playing Candyland inside. Sorry, Buddy. It’s HOT out.

But when Chris comes home, he can barely get one foot in the door before Luke runs at him and throws his hefty-baby body at him and starts laughing. YEA! Another BOY! Save me from these crazy women.

And it really warms my heart that Luke is having this love affair with his Dad. Because Taylor has definitely always reached for me and runs for Mama when she’s happy or upset. Always has. But Luke... Luke just wants Chris. And my sweet husband can’t get enough. In fact, the other night after dinner, Chris realized he needed to grab a few home improvement project supplies before the next day, and because the boy immediately started shrieking and reaching for his Dad at the threat of being left at home with Taylor and me for the second time that day, Chris took him with. And they had a blast. 

And not only is he good at picking out lumber, but Luke is having a blast being out in the garage while Chris is working on house stuff. I’m not saying he’s the best Helper, as most of Chris’s hammers and nails have ended up in the garbage can, but he is having the time of his life. They both are. The little guy just follows the big guy around, touching different things and babbling and swinging his arms in excitement. It’s male bonding. Sweaty, awesome male bonding.

And the other day, after spending a few hours outside together, Chris brought Luke inside and peeled the little guy’s shoes off and a funky smell radiated off of them. And then I grabbed my son and breathed in the sweaty, dirty smells of his hair and my heart broke a little bit... He smelled like a BOY. Not a sweet smelling infant, but a stinky little man. And even though that boy-smell isn’t nearly as intoxicating as the silky baby lotion scent he has after baths, it was still pretty lovely. Because it came off of him.