So, we moved.

The past 10 days have been a whirlwind of packing, moving, crying, sorting, unpacking, ssshhhing, and adjusting. Saying goodbye to our first house-- where we settled back into life in Iowa after the Big Apple, welcomed and said goodbye to two dogs, struggled with infertility then celebrated and tried to manage super fertility, and watched all three of our babies learn to walk-- was a tremendously difficult thing for me to do. A lot of tears were shed and repeated goodbyes were in order, but it will be a long time before I feel at home anywhere else.

We had a moving party with our favorite neighbors and friends



The men caravaning to the apartment and storage unit with the rest of our stuff

The best damn neighbors on the planet. Period.


We took the boys back to the house to say goodbye. They weren't nearly as sentimental as I was, and were more interested in racing around from room to room and being silly.

Saying goodbye to old bedrooms...


Where all my babies got rocked and nursed and toweled off after warm baths...




Where I spent 60% of my time


Where I spent the other 40% of my time



I remember so, so many snowy, cold days, sitting in the living room with overactive kids, staring out this front window, and wondering when the snow would melt so we could get outside again.


Goodbye House.



I know I shouldn't feel sorry for myself since this was a self-instigated move. We were lucky to sell as quickly as we did, lucky to be building a home we will likely love, and lucky to have a healthy family that will be our home wherever we go. Unlike thousands of other families who lost their homes to foreclosure, we are moving out of choice, so for that I am thankful. But I'm still allowing myself time to grieve.

I'm also trying to focus on the positive of apartment living. I've been creating a mental check-list of the benefits of this apartment:

1) No shoveling when it snows.
2) No stairs means no baby gates means no worrying about Gavin falling.
3) Cheaper rent and ulitity bills. No water bill (and for a family of 5, with 3 boys who change clothes at least twice a day, and a baby in cloth diapers, this is a BOON for us)
4) Someone else fixes stuff when it breaks.
5) A laundry room right off the kitchen (strangely, I'm really enjoying the centrality of the laundry room here)
6) I'm told sharing a room is good for siblings
7) I get to see the cats more. There are fewer places for them to hide. I really love my cats.

I was going for 10, but so far this is where I stopped. Still, seeing the silver lining seems like a positive start on adjustment.

Home Sweet (apartment.)



So far the boys have adjusted really, really well. They adore the bunk beds and sharing a room hasn't fazed them. At least not after 3 nights of it...

and the boys aren't the only ones enjoying the bunks


Gavin's new favorite play spot



So, we're here. I'm working on moving on. Hopefully as the new house picks up speed in the building process I'll get more excited about what's yet to come. For now, I have only fond memories of 431 53rd Place.