The Road Not Taken

While I was cleaning out some old files the other day, I found the listing for one of the homes we saw in 2006 when we were looking. It was a townhouse in the city, extremely near where I lived on my own when I was in college (so close, in fact, that in talking to the realtor, I found out that she had actually sold my college house a few months earlier). We made an appointment to go see it, and found out that the realtor was actually having an open that day. It was really hard not to gush around her - we absolutely loved it. I'm sure she thought we were about to reach into our pocketbook and write a check that day. I remember it so well. It was a rust color on the outside, with dark brown shutters. There was a front door, and a backdoor (which backed up to a small yard with flowers planted alongside the house). It was in a small, four unit association, and the fees were only $50 per month. You walked inside, and came to a huge living room, painted a really pale blue, with light wood laminate floors. In front of you there was a small kitchen, but it was open to the living and dining room; it had white painted cabinets, brushed nickel hardware.

 

The ceilings felt really tall, and there was a staircase up to the top floor that felt really open. There was an Ikea light fixture on the ceiling as you went up the stairs. On the second level there was a big bedroom, a bathroom and a second bedroom staged as a kids room with a charming little nook/crawl space.

 

I wanted to live there. I wanted that house.

 

But, we didn't buy that house. The image above is why. It was such a wonderful little home, and everything about it felt so right, except one huge drawback. It was directly across the street from a railroad track. The listing touted "watch the exciting Amtrack go by twice a day!" Hah. The realtor kept telling us the noise was no big deal, but I remembered from my little college apartment, about four blocks away, listening to the trains go by late at night when I had my window open. And then there was the matter of having small children so close to the train as well (although given my son's fascination with trains, maybe it would have been a good thing!)

 

We tried our best to incorporate a lot of what we liked about that townhouse into the one we did buy, but there was just an indefinable quality about it that made it so open and homey, that I still feel like our condo lacks.

 

I still think about that place sometimes. And wonder.

Slowing Down

This weekend was a whirlwind of house projects. Matt installed a new faucet in our bathroom, as the old one started spraying a dripping. It's something I've wanted to do since we moved in, since the faucet has always been ugly and 80s. So that project unfolded with lots of soaked towels, piles of unused lotions and potions on the bathroom floor, and tools and caulk taking up residence on the vanity.

 

Instead of just focusing on that and getting it done, we also decided to spend Sunday morning at Ikea, and buy a blackout shade for Sebastian's room, and the gray rug I mentioned in my last post. And we also sold our old yellow couch on Craigslist, and delivered it to the buyer. There was a lot going on.

 

I still need to set up the playroom, since now it just looks like a weird mishmash of furniture instead of a neatly defined room. But last night, as tools were everywhere, and rooms were a mess, and I could feel my blood pressure rising since it seemed like it would be FOREVER before we could get things back to normal, I just had to take a timeout. Slow down. Pack a makeshift picnic, throw it in the stroller basket, and head down to the park. Where the cool breeze whipped around my hair and I squinted into the sunshine, watching a tiny little boy reach for his daddy's hand and scramble up the stairs of the slide. Then the two of them came twirling down with big grins on their faces, and I was able to leave the mess at home, not worry about "accomplishing" things, and just take in the moment.

Seasons

For me, one of the best things about my move from California to the Midwest was the chance to experience seasons. As a California girl, I'd only ever seen two "seasons": cold and hot. Now that I live in a place with seasons, there's such a rhythm to the year. There's the slow, languid, humid summers, the crisp, cuddly autumns, the batten-down-the-hatchet and stay indoors extreme winters, and the sigh of relief, slushy, sunny springs. And there's that inbetween time, like right now. It's hot as hell, but you can tell summer is winding down. My teacher friends and husband are preparing for the next year, weekends are crammed with last minute BBQs and swim parties, and the farmer's market's offerings have come to a full crescendo. It's obvious that we're coming to summer's end, and soon, we'll be breaking out the sweaters, picking apples and crunching in the fallen leaves. Fall is absolutely my favorite season: as a nerdy kid it always meant fresh notebooks, new clothes and the start of a year full of possibilities. Now it means chili bubbling away on the stove and long walks through the nature center to take photos of the brilliant orange and red leaves. (Even though I've lived here over 15 years, I still marvel at the fall colors every year).

 

When my husband and I were condo/townhome shopping in 2006, each of the three homes I liked evoked different seasonal images for me: there was a city condo with a big communal deck that I could imagine sipping mojitos on and barbecuing in the height of summer; there was an airy townhome that I could imagine a chilly spring breeze rustling crisp white curtains as we cleaned and danced to music on a Saturday morning. And then there was the condo we bought, where the image that came to mind was a fire in the fireplace, reds and golds outside my window, and friends gathered to snuggle under blankets and watch a football game.

 

This year I can't wait to host an autumn brunch, like we did last year; to buy Sebastian a silly Halloween costume he'll probably hate us for when he's older, and take him around with his other little buddies; to trade splash parks for apple picking; and to wrap my hands around a cup of tea and get lost in a good book.

Playroom Plans

One of the first things that attracted me to our condo was its many areas in which to eat. We have an eat-in kitchen, a breakfast bar and a formal dining room. We eat in the kitchen every night for dinner, and if I am eating alone, or surfing the web or doing some work on the laptop and need a change of scenery, I use the bar. The dining room used to get quite a bit of use when we entertained more. We used to do pretty frequent dinner parties, game nights, brunches and of course, our bi-weekly dinner with our friends. But now that we all have little ones, dinners often happen in the kitchen (where there's easy to clean wood laminate instead of carpet), and our entertaining has gone from a frequent occurance to a couple times a year event.

 

While I still really love the way our dining room looks, it's not getting much use these days. Since condo living means that every square inch of space should be used to its maximum potential, we need to make this room into something that we'll actually use. The plan? Turning a formal dining room into a cozy reading nook for me, and play room for my son... all on a tight budget.

 

We're going to use some things we already have, like my beloved blue chair (top left). Sadly, the chair doesn't look anywhere near this nice anymore (there are two big rips in the vinyl). I'm planning to recover it, first trying a pre-made Ikea Karlstad cover, since the shape is nearly identical. If that doesn't work, I'll be employing my mother-in-law to see if we can cook something up (she's much better with a sewing machine than I). My husband and I also have grand plans for turning a honey oak coffee table that's currently in our storage room into a train table for our son. It's a great, square shape and low enough to the ground that it'd be great for his trains. Plus, it has a drawer where we could store extra tracks. Some painted landscape and a cute train drawer pull would hopefully be enough to make it work. Currently, our Ikea Expedit bookcase is serving as a china hutch and liquor cabinet. Not exactly kid friendly. I'm thinking of swapping some of the cubes out to store books and toys instead.

 

We'll cozy up the space using cheap accessories, like this $19.99 rug I fell in love with from the new Ikea catalog.

 

Hopefully it'll work. It's sort of a long range plan - I hope to be snuggling up in the chair with a book come fall, and maybe Sebastian will get his train table for Christmas. Anyway, I see an Ikea trip in our future... and maybe one last dinner party.

Hot Pink Vegetables!

The farmer's market is a great place to get color inspiration, especially this time of year when everything is blooming in season. There's flowers, shiny purple eggplant, bright red peppers, deep green zucchini. And this crazy Swiss chard I picked up for $1.

I cut the ribs up, braised them in cream and added them to pasta, sauteed the leaves, stirred those in, and added a few slices of crumbled bacon for smokiness (but that could easily be left out to make it vegetarian).

Yum! And so colorful.

Bedroom Mini-Makeover

When you like bold color like we do, it's a good thing to really, really think it through before slapping that color on the wall. Because while paint is an easy, inexpensive way to completely transform a room, painting something bright is a bit more time consuming. We primed and did three coats of red in our kitchen, and there are still areas I think could stand a fourth coat. For our bedroom, a deep orange called "pumpkin spice" by Pratt and Lambertt, we didn't have to prime, but we did need three thick coats.

So when I started to desire a lighter, airier look to our bedroom, repainting was not an option. Especially not with a mobile little one. I needed to make the orange work. Which is why I redecorated using linens and accessories to brighten the space.

Here's the before:

Master bedroom before

We had fully embraced color in this room, and played off the wrought iron Ikea bed by creating a Moroccan theme. It was fun for awhile, but it started to feel too heavy, dark and, well, theme-y.

Wow that's a lot of accessories! Picture frame, three candle holders, two ring boxes, a fancy-pants Chinese takeout box and a Japanese fan. Culture clash!

 
So we pared down the color scheme from the deep jewel tones of red, gold, purple and of course, orange, to a simpler scheme of orange, cream, slate blue a little brown, as I talked about a few posts ago.

I got new bedding for my birthday; it's from Target's Dwell Studio line, and it was just the thing I think the room needed. Not only did it add sophistication, but it's WAY brighter in here now.

Master bedroom after

We replaced the previous bedside tables, which were old, dark wood end tables, with new, birch tables (also end tables. Hey, they weren't being used in our living room anymore, so why not?) Then we pared way down on accessories (because not only did it make our bedroom too cluttered, but they were also just things to be thrown around and broken by our son). What accessories we did choose, we bought in colors that went with the new bedspread.

Ahh, much better

After our son was born, we moved our office into a corner in the master. It's not ideal, but we have a really large bedroom, so it made sense. There I added a couple of desk accessories to brighten the space: a pretty mug from Pier One and a cream paper tray from Target. These help keep the desk clear and organized. I also took a magazine file I had sitting around from Ikea and placed our modem inside. I was inspired by this post.

It solves a lot of issues, since I not only hated the cord mess, but the little blinky led lights kept me up at night!

There are still a few more places that need some brightening - we have heavy blackout curtains and a window seat covered in a wide-wale corduroy. I also want to get new artwork for over the bed, since what's there right now seems too small in scale and is pretty dark. But it's already made a huge difference! It's a much calmer, more serene space. And aside from the new bedding, it was maybe $20 in new accessories. And far less hassle than repainting.

What Is Home?

http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/07/12/moving-your-family/

 

A recent study showed that moving multiple times in childhood can have an emotional toll when those kids grow up, especially if they are introverted.

 

I could have told them that.

 

I moved approximately nine times in childhood before our final move to the Midwest when I was in high school (I moved one more time with my family after that, from a rented townhouse to a single family home).

 

Many of these moves were in the middle of the school year, which was a huge challenge for a kid like me - I was very shy and anxious, and had trouble making friends at first. A move was always presented to us kids as a big adventure, and I would immediately start daydreaming and planning about my the new image I could cultivate. A new school meant a clean slate, and I always felt I could somehow pull off being beautiful, popular and well coordinated enough to join sports or cheerleading. Of course, the reality was always that no matter where I went to school, I was still the quiet girl with the braces who liked to read and write.

 

And while I was a good student, the moves often caused gaps and disparities in my education. For example, when I moved in the third grade, the new school was already doing long division, which my old school hadn't started yet. Or I was learning the violin at another school, and then moved to a school that didn't offer orchestra.

 

The worst move for me as a child was the one we made in the sixth grade. We were moving from a medium sized city in California back to the small town I'd attended kindergarten through second grade in. On paper, it seemed like it'd be a seamless transition. I could reunite with friends I'd had in elementary school and we knew a lot of people in the town. I'd start middle school at the beginning of the year, just like everyone else. However, nothing was that simple. The old friends I'd had in elementary school had changed, moved on, and all had their own groups of friends. They were nice enough to me, but they had their own lives, ones that I didn't know anything about. When we got our classroom assignments for the year, I was not in class with anyone I used to know. I started with high hopes, and found a table with some girls who looked nice. "This seat is reserved," they told me with a suppressed snicker. The year went downhill from there: I was teased, bullied, things were stolen from my desk, a rumor was started that I was a lesbian (and at an innocent age 12 I had no idea what that even meant!), once I was pushed down in gym class and kids forced used gum into my mouth.

 

Once seventh grade started, we could switch classes and I got on friendlier terms with my old friends. My mom started working part-time at the school, so that helped too. Things got better, but I never really felt accepted or welcomed in that town.

 

So our best move was the next one, to the Midwest. On paper, that seemed like the move that might have caused the most social upheaval for me as a kid. It was halfway across the country to a place I'd never been, where we had no family and it was the middle of my freshman year of high school. But it was the one that changed my life. The school we enrolled in was a big brick building with lockers (our school in California did not have them), more academic programs and a large student body. On the first day I met one of my closet friends to this day. A couple years later I'd meet my now husband. The people there were warmer, friendlier, and while I never became hugely popular, and experienced plenty of ups and downs, I got to know people, they got to know me, and I found my place in the world.

 

Anyway, I'm a pretty happy and well adjusted adult now. I still live in the same metro area where I went to high school, am still friends with many of the same people I met over 15 years ago. I finally feel like I have a history with people. Moving every 2-4 years as a kid meant I never had life-long friends. I didn't share inside jokes, have the same funny stories or memories. I was constantly "getting to know" people instead of just knowing them. That was hard.

 

In terms of this blog, I also never had a real "home." When people ask where I'm from, I hesitate, not knowing quite how to answer that question. We always rented, so while we did live in single family homes, they were never ours. I couldn't paint my walls, and if I tried to redecorate, it might be pointless because we could move a year later.

 

My upbringing is probably the reason I am so focused on stability and home. I certainly don't begrudge my parents for moving us so much, but it's not what I want for my son. Once he starts a school, I want him to stay there. So it could be why I fret so much about where we live now. I can't see us living in a condo with elementary school aged children, or teenagers. It feels like sort of a "temporary" place. It was meant to be a "starter" home. A rung on the ladder to a larger, single family home. We may end up living here longer than we planned, because of the real estate market, which means we may end up tied to this area for good. Which could be okay. It's just not what I'd planned.

 

It's funny; I've already lived in our condo longer than I've lived any one place in my entire life (at 4.5 years). I can paint the walls, tear up the carpet, and make it mine. I can live here forever, if I so choose. So while it was meant to be a starter home, maybe it's okay that this is where my son will someday say he grew up.

 

And, even if we do move to a house before he goes to school, or even after he starts, I think the community is more important than the physical dwelling. We have a large group of close friends, all with toddlers around the same age. My son has many "aunties" and "uncles" and we have a huge, makeshift "family." That, to me, is home. Perhaps we'll live in the condo until we're 80. Perhaps the market will skyrocket, and we'll buy a house in 5 years. One thing I know is that we're settled in this metro area, and not going anywhere. We have too many friends, too much family, and so many ties. We have a home.