We're home.

Saturday morning we sent the boys off for a day at Grammie's house, brewed strong cups of coffee before strapping the Keurig safely into my passenger seat (what? it's important.), and began the all-day process of getting everything we owned out of one house and into another.

I may or may not have filled a box with nothing but plastic pumpkins and pumpkin-spice candles and labeled it "OPEN THIS FIRST."  Cheesy seasonal decor is my therapy.

 I got choked up only once emptying out the old house, and it was when the movers were disassembling Remy's crib and emptying out his room.  We brought him home to that house as a newborn, and even though the same was true for River, Remy did so much growing up there--from squishy 5-day-old to a little boy quickly losing all vestiges of baby-ness--that it was harder to see all traces of him removed.  

So the first thing I did when the truck pulled up to the new house was to unpack the boys' bedroom.  The entire rest of the house was a crazy labyrinth of upended furniture and sealed boxes, and I was fluffing stuffed animals and hanging curtains with friendly vegetables on them.  Dave gave me a slightly concerned side-eye and steered clear.  But once that room was ready for our babies?  I felt better.  We were home.  Sometimes all it takes is a plush carrot from Ikea.

 

I do not like the in-between, are-we-there-yet stage of anything.  People told me that with two little kids, I should expect to be unpacking for a few weeks before it was all done and to not put too much pressure on myself.  My brain, naturally, translated this as "UNPACK ALL THE THINGS!  UNPACK ALL THE THINGS IN TWO DAYS!"  Thus, a 48-hour period in which I acted like a possessed psychotic unpacking demon from hell, but after which the house was all settled.  I like settled.  Settled significantly decreases my demonic tendencies.  

My little DIY leaf-stamp canvasses have hung over our bed since we first moved in together.  They're starting to look a little ragged but I like the continuity.

 (Not pictured here: the playroom.  But just imagine a bomb going off in a Toys R Us and you'll have a pretty good idea of what it looks like most of the day.  Also not pictured, the deck and patio, because until recently they were still full of empty boxes, aka The Greatest Gift We Have Ever Given Remy, He's Pretty Sure.)

 We have settled into such an easy rhythm here already.  The usual daily stresses are still there, but life flows a little more smoothly.  Dave is home every night before 6.  We eat together and pile up on the couch together for 57 consecutive readings of Madeline and just generally wallow in what feels like a downright luxurious amount of family time.  And in the mornings, Dave's gym and office are both so close that he can jog to his workout, walk home, shower, and say good morning to Remy before heading in to work.  Earlier this week he even got Remy up, dressed, and fed while the baby and I were still in bed, and I thought I was hallucinating. 

See if you can spot all 3 nappers.

I can't wait to see what kinds of memories we fill up these rooms with.  And I don't want to see another cardboard box for a long, long time.  Unless it's full of wine.