Not that I enjoy my ride on the crazy train to depression, I love when I begin to go into remission.
I kind of have a love-hate relationship with our house. I love it, but it is so stinkin’ big! As I was cleaning part of it today, I reflected upon the houses we have lived in since the beginning of our marriage.
Our first was a story and a half. That meant that the two bedrooms upstairs were tiny, cramped, slanted roof-size rooms. An adult person could only stand up straight in the middle of the room. Closet space was …. um …. minimalist.
The memories from that home will always make me smile. You see, it was a house that my dad bought next to the house I grew up in. I spent many hours with him while he renovated that house so that my grandpa could move in there. He gave me an old metal bucket to sit on while I read various books.
The house was on what I would call a pretty steep hill…in the South, they’re called mountains. My grandpa would walk up and down that hill many times a week to do his grocery shopping. I can’t remember how old my grandpa was when my aunt and dad decided to move him downtown—maybe 87? I don’t know who decided, but going up and down that hill seemed to be too much. You know, I think that’s what kept him young. Anyway, when he moved, my brother and I were fortunate to rent the house from my dad.
My brother married and moved on and I stayed in the house.
It’s the house my husband and I brought home our first two kids. The house we sectioned off a part of the living room to build a temporary room for the second child because she seemed to never sleep.
It was a house with one bathroom. We had to go down the stairs, around the corner, and through the kitchen to get to that bathroom. When my water broke in the early morning hours, I couldn’t believe I made it all the way to that bathroom without having to have a jar of pickles handy. (pregnant lady joke)
Our oldest turned one while living there. He also got his head stuck in the balusters that weren’t to code—my dad renovated it prior to all the new building codes of today. When our oldest was 2 he locked me out of the house and stood at the window, laughing at me.
The day before my daughter was born the temperature was 99F degrees . A temperature seldom felt in the Seattle metro area, hence, no air conditioning in our house—or many other houses for that matter.
We shoved our extended families in for holiday parties and birthdays. We almost sat elbow to elbow, but it is a nice memory.
The only bad thing about the house was the school district it was located. We moved to an area with better schools long before our oldest started kindergarten.
I loved our little house and cleaning it was a breeze.
But we moved…..