Home

We've officially moved into the new house. It's official because we slept here last night. Our bed is still at the old place so we laid down layers of comforters to sleep on. Lauren didn't seem to mind and she slept through most of the night. We've been staying downstairs and I occasionally forget that there is an upstairs. I have to get used to the unfamiliar sound of Peter stomping up the stairs and tramping around the tiled master bathroom, who knew he had such heavy feet? I didn't sleep too well last night, I just couldn't get comfortable. I asked Peter, when and how exactly does a house become a home?

Our house is big. Maybe I should rephrase that. Our house is big, compared to our old place. We have an extra 1516 square feet to fill. Friends and family congratulate us and say how nice it must be to be in a big house, how exciting to decorate, how much fun Lauren will have running around in it, etc. etc.


Truthfully, I'm a bit terrified. Until now, we have been living in our cozy little 2 bedroom "apartment." We had rose bushes out front and a concrete patio out back. We bought the house because it required as little maintenance as possible. We didn't have a dining room, just a little nook with an old dinette table paired with chairs purchased from Target. We didn't own any REAL furniture, the whole place was filled with hand me downs and loaners. It was our first home..Lauren's first home. Where she first crawled then walked up and down our lone hallway. Where she maneuvered skillfully around the bed/desk/tv in our tiny master bedroom. When she giggled or cried in the nursery, I could hear her in the living room. If Peter farted in the kitchen, I could smell it in the bedroom. It was a small place. And we were happy.

Now, we are in this big empty new house. When I'm in the kitchen, Lauren could be exploring the kitchen cabinets at my feet one moment, and around the corner out of sight the next, most likely heading up the stairs--we had to install a baby gate for her protection. When I'm in the family room I can barely hear her cry when she wakes up from her naps. How much time and effort is it going to take to clean this place? Sometimes I stare out the vast expanse of space and worry that we won't be able to afford to furnish it. One of our favorite things to do is entertain our friends and family. How can we have people over if there's nowhere to sit?

I'm not at ease in the new kitchen with its hard, polished granite and the shiny, fingerprint-free stainless steel appliances. It's beautiful, but I'm afraid to mess it up. Will I be able to enjoy cooking and baking or will I constantly be fretting about scratching the stove top? I think I just need to get that first spill, the first stain, the first scratch out of the way. Once that's done I can relax. Then I can fling a knife into the stainless steel sink with abandon without worrying about ruining the finish.

I'm already missing our old home.


Oh, shut up, you say? What am I complaining about? I should be grateful! I am, believe me, extremely. I'm thankful that we have a beautiful house to live in. Thankful that our parents helped us out so that we can afford a place like this. I'm just saying that I could live without it. That all this is great, but I was just as happy in our tiny little home with the rose bushes.

This afternoon, I had to find a quiet place to nurse. I settled into the corner of the bedroom and sat cross-legged on the floor with Lauren cradled in my arms. My voice echoed in the empty room as I sang her favorite songs. She eventually fell asleep while nursing; rubbing the soft material of my t shirt between her thumb and index finger. And you know what? For the first time, it felt like Home.