HALLELUJAH!
We have just moved into our new house, built by my husband, Wade. It is our new baby. Unfortunately, Baby is going to need Social Services soon. The boys have moved right in, hanging and jumping off of every ledge. I thought I had them in mind when I was designing the house but I guess I was a little short sighted when it came to removing all ledges. “Great designing Mommy,” “too bad we didn’t put in your requested interior skateboard ramp, instead of stairs,” Wade sadistically jokes.
I had to sheepishly apologize to the crew for moving in before they were ready for us. I couldn’t stand to live in our tiny condo anymore. Two years was enough. I agree that living in small areas keeps the family closer together but I’m not convinced this was healthy for our particular family.
All three boys slept in the bunk beds adjacent to our room and the bathroom was where I went for privacy while on the phone. The worst part of suburbia was my neighbors who hated the thumping. “What is going on in here?” they would inquire as I turned down my loud music to yell at the kids to stop doing 720’s off of the couch. Why did I never hear a thing from their two little girls?
It is unbelievable how much happier we all are. We actually all like each other again. Perhaps I should exclude Wade from the equation. I don’t even mind that the oven is disconnected and sitting unusable in the middle of the kitchen.
It would be nice to have a yard with sod. April in Colorado is not beautiful like back East. It is muddy and messy. Even the children don’t like it, unless they are deeply immersed in it, buck-naked. As soon as all their crevices are filled with mud they traipse through the house yelling for me to hose them down and throw their clothes away.
I am convinced that children are directly related to the swine family. All my life I knew I wanted to have kids but was so unaware that what that really meant was that I would turn into the modern, female version of, Sisyphus. My huge boulder is the endless loads of laundry and the hill I must climb is the pigsty I am always cleaning. Parenting classes have helped me to understand that I am doing my children a disservice by cleaning up their mess for them. I will let them decide who will be their maker. Boot camp drill Sergeant, Jillian with whistle and clipboard in hand or toy gun slinging cowgirl, Jillian with chaps and a lassoing rope?
(the view from our breakfast room of our local coyote neighbors)
Oh, Jillian! This is too wonderful for words. My all time favorite line, “Even the children don’t like it, unless they are deeply immersed in it, buck-naked.” – It’s like you are describing my boys word for word! What is it about boys and being stark naked? I can’t believe how they walk in the door after school and immediately strip down to their underroos and start wrassling each other!
What an adventure you all had. I’m so glad it ended happily. What fun to move into a home you had designed yourself!
I hope you revel in every precious boy crazy second of it!
~Lisa-Jo
Lisa-Joe,
I can honestly say that I do revel in every precious boy crazy moment. As for the un-precious crazy moments?? Those don’t always merit my affection!
[...] morning after we moved into this house, in March of 2008, eight coyotes played in the sun outside our windows as we ate [...]