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Earlier this week, we turned in our thirty day notice for the apartment.  The apartment that we only planned on renting for the extent of our one year lease.  The apartment managed by a company that is anything but professional, respectable, and efficient.  The apartment that we stayed in because the rent was very reasonable for three bedrooms in an old house, oh yes, and the husband lost his job, a year ago.

The apartment with loud neighbors, drafty rooms, no bathtub – just a huge shower,  and cute old fireplaces that suck up way too much heat.  Even though, we are delighted to be moving and even more delighted to sever ties with this company, we’ll probably look back on this time and remember more good than bad.

 

We moved in three weeks before we brought our little boy home from the hospital.  This was our first home as  family of three. We fell in love with him here and fell more in love with each other.  This is the place where he learned to hold his head up, to roll over, to crawl, to walk, to run, to climb and to fall.  This is the home where he learned to laugh, to scream, to say, mama, daddy, bop, ball, bear, book, more, elmo ‘mo,’ hello, what, and we are convinced that one day he said, “Am I your mate?”

 

Here, I learned how to knit, to bake bread, to decorate and redecorate on practically nothing.  I ground coffee beans twice a day, sometimes three  (oh the amounts of coffee we consume). We filled our little home with second furniture from friends, yard sales, and the free section on craigslist.  We covered the walls with lots of art, that we got at a really great price, because conveniently, we make lots of art.

Today, we started packing, which I love because it means a change is coming and I get to give away tons of things, but I also dislike it because, well… why do we have so much stuff?  I’ve almost convinced my husband to get rid of almost everything, doesn’t that sound exciting??

**If you’re interested in learning more about our next step, go here.