progress

Progress is being made at the farm house.

William driving the Gator in the front yard.

Thankful, thankful, thankful.
We are very thankful for the help we've had. My Dad and Sandi spent their entire weekend with us, working from sun up to sun down {literally} on the house. They painted, peeled wallpaper, scrubbed walls, ripped up carpet, pulled out staples. They put in hour upon hour of hard work and were patient with me as I made paint decisions and helpful with the boys as they tried to help.
I dislike asking for help and really don't like accepting it. But we've been shameless this week. It's a huge project and we move on Sunday. We have needed all of the help people are willing to give. Thank you.

And I've made progress.
My beloved peonies are growing. They are spotted with buds. It's become a waiting game. I'm willing them to bloom this week. Anytime before Wednesday, May 5, please. They are my most favorite thing about spring in my yard. I cried to Patrick that I hated that the buyer will get to enjoy them and I will not {awful, I know}. He asked if I'd like him to cut them down. Chop them down to the ground. As I said he's an understanding man. But as I've mentioned, I've made progress. I said "no". She can enjoy my beloved peonies.
But,
I'm still hoping they bloom by Sunday. Or May 5th at the latest.
Did you hear that peonies? You have a deadline.

happy

This boy is happy.
He makes me happy. {When he's not having a falling on the ground screaming fit in the middle of the Lowe's parking lot. This happened today. And the same people that were smiling at him while he was sitting on the different lawn mowers outside, I'm sure those people were glaring at me then.}
This memory makes me happy. William insisted on wearing this swim mask up on his head and carrying the snorkel with him on this particular day while swimming. Just wearing and carrying. But there was something magical about it to him; it meant swimming to him.
Content, playing, smiling children. That makes me very happy.
I want to frame lots of "happy" feeling pictures for the farm house. I've been terrible about keeping framed pictures around and keeping the ones that I have up to date. I'm officially going to add this to the list of my resolutions.

Home (but missing Destin)

What a perfectly timed week of warm weather, sunshine, perfectly grilled seafood, white sand beach, spending time with friends, vacation bliss. It was the perfect vacation. We loved every minute with the Hilgart family. I didn't want it to end. To come home to packing, painting, moving away. I wanted to stay. But we did come home. And I felt recharged and rested. Ready to tackle this whole moving thing. The timing was perfect. There's nothing like time away with friends who are not just friends but are family. And not just because they're family but because of how connected we are, they'd feel like that anyway.

I promise many more pictures to come. But for now I'm off to scoop a few stray sippy cups off the front porch, they are filled with milk and to be honest I can't be sure when they landed there; scrub whatever that sticky spot is on my dining room floor, it's been there since Monday and I'm finally sick enough of stepping on it that I will scrub; and wake the children, it's a beautiful sunny day and even though there are boxes to be packed they will have to wait. There is sunshine to be enjoyed. A park maybe?

mantra

 
I came across this quote on this blog {Clover Lane}.  I wrote it down right away and have thought about it every day since.
With less than two weeks until our move, this quote has been burned into my mind. I say it to myself throughout the day. And this morning I thought it would help my packing efforts if I jotted it down on the blackboard in the kitchen. {The blackboard that the buyer wrote into the contract; can you believe she wanted my blackboard? The nerve. Haha. Luckily I married the most understanding man who politely said "no" even though I'm sure he was dying of embarrassment.}

The part about something you "don't know to be useful" will help as I open the numerous drawers and cabinets in my kitchen. Some of the gadgets in my gadget drawer seem very handy, yet come to think of it I've never known them to be useful for a day in my married life. And those springform pans? I'm sure the cheesecake would taste divine. But have I ever known them to be useful? Um, NO!

And having nothing I "don't believe to be beautiful" will hopefully echo through my brain as I'm trying to decide whether to pack or donate the trinkity knick-knacks that students gave me when I was their teacher. I mean if I don't believe something to be beautiful should it really have a place of honor on top of my bedroom dresser? I'm thinking that I'm ready to pare down and let go. Chanting this new moving mantra all the way to the U-Haul.

breaking ground

We've been spending lots of time in Farmer City at the ole farm house. Friday night we planted some seeds in the vegetable garden. And Saturday we painted. All day. I painted like I have never painted before. I have always managed to be pregnant when it's time for real painting to be done, so I've been able to excuse myself from the tough jobs. But not this time. After 6 hours I noticed the blisters on my palm. After 7 I started hiding in the back room. Just standing there, hiding from Patrick. 5 gallons of white primer later we called it a day. We'll be heading there again this evening for Round 2.

Oh and if you believe all of that hocus pocus about real vegetables growing from seeds, these little ones should be turning into carrots peas this summer.

snapshots of our Easter

I am ashamed to say that I spent part of yesterday feeling somewhat disappointed.
Disappointed that I didn't buy the boys anything special or new to wear on Easter Sunday.
Disappointed that I never learned to make a quiche and instead ordered pizza for Easter lunch.
Disappointed that William wore those terrible shoes to church on Easter.

In the afternoon though, in a dramatic way of clouds parting and sun shining after some rain showers, God reminded me that there is absolutely nothing disappointing about Easter. In fact, He whispered to me as I watched my children search for plastic eggs hidden in the newly greened grass under the shining sun that Easter is all about hope. Easter is not about new clothes or fancy hams. Because of Jesus' sacrifice for us, we get to have life. Real, authentic, hope-filled life. Gigantic torn-shoe wearing, pizza brunch-eating, plain old-clothes wearing life. It's not perfect and not always neat and tidy, but there is hope. And there is nothing disappointing about that.

But very early on Sunday morning the women went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. They found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. So they went in, but they didn’t find the body of the Lord Jesus. As they stood there puzzled, two men suddenly appeared to them, clothed in dazzling robes.

The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, “Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead!

Luke 24:1-6

Marshmallow goodness

Before I show you a picture of a Peep wreath (and let me assure you, they are much more classy than they sound), let me explain how a great friend is someone who will sticky her fingers and get sugar all over her jeans while she crafts and drinks coffee with you at the dining table if only to help distract you from the chaos and emotion of the afternoon.


Last Thursday afternoon Holly was here, and she and I made these:


I'll never look at this wreath without thinking about the afternoon Holly and I spent making them.

She was here for a visit during her spring break. Earlier that morning we were at the Dollar Tree. I'm sure I was miles of aisles away following the boys when Holly remembered the idea. William had settled on a rubbery shark as his item of choice and Henry was walking back and forth through the toy aisles, completely unable to make up his mind. Who can really be sure if a Hulk squirt gun will be as much fun as a plain green one with two triggers? Which will squirt the most water? And why can't we use it on a rainy cold day anyway? Anyway, Holly and Rachel filled the shopping cart with boxes and boxes of marshmallow Peeps, several boxes of every color. Holly saw Peep wreaths on a friend's Facebook page and thought it would be fun to make some of our own. A good friend will fill a shopping cart with marshmallow bunnies (and chicks).
Later that afternoon was our home inspection. I didn't get to choose the date and if I had I would have gladly chosen a non-naptime duration and would have elected to be somewhere else. But the inspection was set for naptime on Thursday and alas we were home. During it all, while the boys rested in their rooms, Holly and I sat at the table with ripped open packages of Peeps, boxes of toothpicks and hot-glue guns fashioning these wreaths. During the three hours of inspecting, the inspector's wife typing away on her computer at her table in the living room. During the buyer's realtor knocking on the front door followed minutes later by the buyer and her father coming in. During the conversation between the inspector and the buyer in the kitchen and during the talk amongst them all in the living room overhearing the buyer share her excitement and some plans for the house.
If I weren't squishing those sticky, soft bunnies to that foam wreath and sipping coffee and chatting with Holly, I think I might have cried. Sticking bunnies helped pass that time and oh how I wanted it to pass.



Stirrings of excitement are starting to fill my soul; having a garden will be wonderful and there's even been talk of a hen. It's been fun thinking about fresh paint and using our decor in new and fresh ways. But I'm sad to leave. Sad when I think about the buyer making our house her home. I'm feeling quite nostalgic about all things 411 Leland. God is so gracious though. In my sadness He is reminding me through conversations with good friends and even an Easter craft project that the things that matter the most, those that have no monetary value and could never be sold, those things that are worth the most, will remain with me.