We’ve gone to get coffee, the mail and made a ton of phone calls.

My daughter has decided it’s time to deliver tickets to the neighbors. “Tickets” are pieces of paper she makes and then hands out to people who she thinks should be invited to something grand she has planned. I’m never “in the know” on her details, but apparently it’s a lot of work and she’s ready for the task.

She has decided she would like to deliver them alone. She promises not to go across the road.

I’m not OK with this so I’ve convinced her we’ll have an adventure!! And I’ll chaperone her friendly deliveries.

I’ve enforced a no TV rule for the day and it’s working nicely so far. Although my son is getting into WAY more naughtiness than usual. He’s so curious. A little monkey, that one.

Words I’ve decided I say way too often are “Be Careful”, “Calm Down” and “NO!!” or “Stop it!! RIGHT NOW!!”.

I freaked out about being a horrible mother last night because my reservoir of patience has been running on empty and I don’t want to be that parent. The one I see in the mirror every morning. The one who, last week, had the happiest moments of her day when the children finally went down for naps.

Nope. Not interested in that kind of life. Not interested in that kind of parenting or relationship to depression.

I try really hard to keep people out because I’m safer that way. History has prepared me for these kinds of walls, these kinds of battles I fight daily to keep the barriers down, to let the people closest to me in.

This is my life, today, as I know it.

I am loved. Cared about. I’m am precious to a few and that’s what matters.

I am His.

Except, I’m not going to. Not yet. I’ve been over exposed and burnt on being an open book. I’ve been guarding myself lately because I need to. Because I want to.

Not because you’ve been cruel, I’m very lucky to have such a great online community who holds me up and supports me and I think that’s happened because I continue to be vulnerable with you, I continue to let you in.

Big changes are hard for me. I tend to keep people out when big changes happen. I know this about myself and I’m exercising it right now. I just need the space. I need the quiet.

I need the mystery and secret to be veiled a little longer.

The last year or so I’ve been doing an awful lot “living” just for this website. Events, outings and every day opportunities turned into something to write about, something to share. There were months when I wasn’t writing for myself any more, I was writing for an audience, most of whom I know personally …

It’s just … that’s not what this is for me. I’m back to writing things that I want to remember. For now, for this season.

The other writing and sharing won’t stop and I won’t morph into something else, this website won’t change into compartmentalized places for thoughts, tips, cooking etc etc. I’m a one page girl with a 100 thoughts per post.

WORDS! WORD VOMIT! WORDS! I guess what I’m saying is, I understand your need to know and thank you for being so patient.

to be able to move past it.

Welcome to the other side.

Tangent: Weekends have proven to be the most difficult because that’s when I have help. I have someone there to tackle this task of moving with me, another set of hands. Another parent to parent and to read books to young children so I can clean a room, box up a memory and price away possessions. However, the details are still so fuzzy. We haven’t inked a contract other than the one that says we’re homeless in less than 2 weeks and things are starting to feel stressful. Aaron asked me tonight after seeing a commercial for depression how I was holding up in the area of my life? Which is funny, how they know when to ask those types of questions, because I was just thinking about that earlier today as I was washing dishes by hand, even though our dishwasher works … and we’re out of detergent. Because I don’t know if our new-to-us rental house will have a dishwasher and I’m dutch.

So I start thinking; if I let myself I could be really really unhappy right now. This whole ordeal has the power to break part of me again. To tear me down and keep me in the alley of my own thoughts, my own deafening thoughts about how bad it is. How it’ll never get better. How many mistakes we’re making, have made, will make. I could get really really sad and then really really angry right now.

And I could feel it. I could feel the anger and needed a distraction. I needed something ELSE to happen in my mind because walking these halls and seeing the empty walls, watching the boxes collect dust bunnies because we’re still here when we should be there was making me feel INSANE.

I felt powerless to the situation in which I thrust myself into.

Life, y’all.

I am [re]learning lots of wonderful lessons through all of this. I will frame this house when the time is right.

Until then, I’ve also been busy else where …

Taking photos of Aaron’s offices at Elevator Up for The Garage to highlight for Steelcase.

You can see all of the photos here. I’m just sharing some of my favs.

I’ve been busy with the garden, harvesting my sugar snap peas and trying really hard not to eat all of them right off the vine. I do try to save them to put into meals, but they. are. so. good.

I can’t wait to tell you about making cyanotypes in depth – I did this a few weeks ago with a reader turned friend (Hi Katie!) and she writes about the process here.

Summer is flying by and I am really am loving all of it. Even the stressful days, because in-between wanting to scream and being frustrated and figuring out how to deal with huge life changes … I’m beyond blessed to see this face.

and this face.

And the Summer Jar has kept us occupied and happy as well. More to come …

** I am still super excited about everything and don’t want to whine and complain about the decisions we made, but I also sort through those decisions and emotions here. I have been for 10 years. This is what keeps me from going to that dark place. This is my therapy.

***Hey folks, I am not pregnant … just recycling posts.

You know you’re pregnant when:

- You’re in public and you lift your shirt up to expose your belly because you’re hot, very, very hot and it’s cool outside. It would only make sense that you would expose your belly.

- You use the public restroom so much in the hour you’re shopping you actually get to know the janitor who’s been cleaning the bathroom since you started frequenting it.

- You have to find alternative ways to “clean up” after going to the bathroom – nice way of saying “wiping” because there’s a mountain in the way and you’re arms don’t grow during pregnancy, only the belly.

- You check your shirt, inside out, every morning for leaks.

- You consistently wake up at 3:30 to pee. Then again at 4:30 and then again at 7:30 – by then you’re actually awake and in order not to disturb the still sleeping husband, you start to clean. In the morning. At 7:30. With the cleaning.

- You have no joint at which to bend from at the waist. There is no bending. At all.

- You giggle when you see your toes.

- You can’t find your belly button.

- Chewing ice cream is the best past time EVER!

- You fart. Period.

- You burp after being in the same room as something carbonated.

- You need assistance to get up from the sitting, laying, kneeling positions. I’m lying – you need assistance to get up period.

- Anything baby is worth giggling about, or crying about, or dreaming about.

- You find your old dolls you used to play house with and resume where you left off, with the playing of the house with the dolls … you might even “try on” the new outfits, just to make sure.

- You rock yourself to sleep every night in the rocking chair.

- Naptime is more important than the Internet. (I know, I know, I’m terrible)

- You feel free to speak your mind in any given situation. I mean why not, people feel free to give you unsolicited advice DAILY; you should be able to return the favor. Sometimes you’re even nice.

- You cry because your husband said hello. And didn’t you know that’s the magic word, EVERY SINGLE DAY – and he still says hello EVERY SINGLE DAY.

- You make 3 main dishes for dinner because at some point in the cooking process all 3 sounded SO good.

- Arby’s and Wendy’s should be paying YOU to drink their milkshakes.

- You drive all the way out to Grand Rapids for a drink from your favorite coffee house. (Yeah, you know you’re definitely pregnant then)

We’re back to the Summer Jar this week as the past 2 have been full of VBS attending, picnics and crazy evenings spent driving around looking for a place to live.

Today we picked out something that didn’t sound good to any of us, so we threw back in the jar and said “TRY AGAIN!” then we chose the Fountain, which was perfect because our daughter has been talking non stop about wanting to go there again. I didn’t actually bring my camera with me. {GASP} So no photos for the jar today.

We had a great Fathers Day last weekend for Aaron.

Lunch out, Boatwerks.

We ended the night with a BBQ with his side of the family at a home his sister was “house sitting” and “dog sitting” for. (Which, if you ever need a recommendation, I can give you a great one … she is amazing and LOVES animals!)

4 Generations.

We’ve been having a blast, amidst all the big-grown-up decisions about where to live, what to do and how to break it to the kids. (More on that soon.) I can’t believe it’s almost July already. Which means we have just over 2 weeks left in this house.

It’s time to break out the champagne … maybe throw one last party for this place, love it, remember it and get Her ready for the next family to walk Her floors and care for Her old bones.

**Actual thought that went through my mind.

Then I decided I would treat myself to one of McDonalds’ chocolate dipped ice cream cones. Which I never did, by the way. I just decided I could and then I drove away.

That was yesterday. Today I stood next to my washing machine and cried while my two year old boy was watching Sesame Street. I was crossing things off my To-Do list of the day which happened to be “Price garage sale items, basement” … so I was being an adult and staying on task when it hit me.

When I could feel the panic rising I called Aaron and started to sob on the phone while he was in the car with 2 other professional folks. I could hear them through my sobbing – on the other end, sitting near Aaron, having a normal conversation and I am losing my fucking marbles.

It was not fun to be an adult this morning. I got overwhelmed. We are so excited and so very terrified at the same time about moving. Yes, we’re done with this house and have done what we can to it without doing too much and we’re not, in fact, in the school district we thought we were – we’re ready.

But it’s easy. It’s complacent to stay here. To just go on living here, shoving things in the cupboards we don’t use and putting the garage sale off another year. And it’s comfortable. We know the neighborhood, the kids have only ever known this house, we started our life as a family here.

And there’s so. much. to. do. to move.

It didn’t help that Aaron was out of town for a night and I had to carry on conversations about mortgages and banking with people he was originally having the conversation with. I had to jump in and assume that I knew the details of what was already discussed, the ideas that were swapped. It didn’t help that I was solo parenting 2 children and trying to pack up a house, get ready for a garage sale and set up times to see rental homes for the interim.

None of it helped. It was all too much. I caved. I cried. I sobbed.

This house is somewhat of a band-aid for me. The last house my (step)dad saw before he died … he walked through it weeks before he passed. Gave us his blessing, in a way. He got to see where the baby (who is now a 5 1/2 year old female) would be sleeping, she was only 5 months into being formed in my belly.

We went from 900 square feet to this house, 2,400 square feet and all kinds of ideas and dreams. Our income has only changed once since we’ve lived in this house – and that happened within the first year of being here.

We were building our “5 year plan” on the fact that we only ‘planned’ to be here for 3 of those 5 years. We’re going on six. We had another baby here, who is now a 2 year old male and sleeping in what was the office when we bought this house. He is named after Him.

This house, to us, was a stepping stone in the journey of being mortgage free. Buy, fix up and sell until we accrued enough equity to own a home scott-free.

This House.

Just goes to show that a plan is really just an idea – something to be considered. A fluid situation.

I am ready to tear off the band-aid and get going with all of this, but we’re not really changing much other than an address when we leave here and it’s really really difficult to see the silver lining when I’m knee deep in old flatware and pillow forms that I no longer need.

We’re still on a journey, just happens that this leg of it is the Roller Coaster.

Well, I didn’t think I lacked … but I’ve been told many times that I need new cookie sheets, that my closet is very small, that my make up drawer looks like a sample size bag from the department store.

Less is always more.

I’m finding that out once again as I unpack the second kitchen and am finding things we kept around because we had the room to not be bothered by them. I’m disgusted with this notion, we MIGHT need it in 3 years, so store it in the drawer.

I also understand this notion, the need to save, keep. It’s frugal, to a point.

I’m all for quality and not at all for quantity but when something works just fine, why are we always replacing it?

We have a sick amount of towels – bath towels, dish towels, beach towels … because they were gifts and because they work. They still dry me, even if there’s a bleach stain. They still wipe up the spill even if it’s tattered around the edges.

I’m terrible at spending money on the monotonous things of owning a house, or being a human. Like socks. And underwear.

Holes don’t bother me, no one sees them … and if they do … I just don’t care. It’s a SOCK. Not the seat of my pants.

I don’t know. I’m bothered by the thinking around THINGS – I purposefully don’t open magazines that come in the mail from stores that make me WANT stuff I don’t need. The magazines I would otherwise dog-ear and covet for months until I couldn’t take it anymore and in a desperate afternoon I’d spend money we didn’t have on something we didn’t need.

We have goals. Of living debt free. Of living without a mortgage. Of paying for tuition in cash.

A cookie sheet is not going to get me there.

** A garage sale is planned and in the works for July 8, 9 and 10. If you’re in to that kind of thing, mark your calendar! I’d have a “previewing” sale if people wanted one on the 7th. Just speak up.**

I bring this to you:

A list of Documentaries and a snippet about each one. We’ve enjoyed watching documentaries and don’t do it often enough. Now that I have a list of recommended ones to go from, we’ll be smarter in about a month.

Also, I’d love to have a movie night in our drive way with wine and pop corn, out door chairs and a huge sheet on the garage door with documentaries. So 1957.

I’ve added a few things to my life list … #103 being to do all 50 of these with my kids. #104 being to try 20 of these foodstuffs.

There are Role Models and then there are Influencers in one’s life. A Role Model, to me, is some one you look up to you but never really believe you’ll be able to meet. Think, Oprahesque. A Role Model is an idea of someone that you love to emulate. You love to believe that it’s possible to be that {fill in the blank; good natured, wise, kind, etc}. An Influencer is someone you can watch from afar, and blogging has made this easier, but there’s a possibility of meeting a key Influencer in your life and thanking them, in person. They’re attainable. They’re tangible. They’re amazing.

It’s not a secret that I have kind of a huge “Influencer crush” on Maggie Mason and to sum this up – here’s why.

What lists are you enjoying these days?

Like today.

We’re in all kinds of flux right now. With our house, with our summer, with where lots of things are heading. I’ve been enjoying articles and blogs on subjects that seem to flow from this flux in our lives and I absolutely love that there is, somewhere it seems, always someone else going through the same thing we are.

Insert huge internet hug.

I’ve grown to love the friends I’ve made from this blog and others, from facebook, from conferences and from meet-ups with this awesome little sisterhood feeling. We get each other. And even that statement … they understand.

I feel like I belong to this really fun, really knowledgeable Star Wars league … only we breast-feed, some times. And well, we don’t play with light sabers.

I never did the college dorm thing and after being married and having kids – I never will. But I get to do this blogger thing. I get to spend weekends and evenings and special events with them. I GET TO.

Not have to. Not need to.

Want to.