“But Mom, why would we get rid of something that we love so much?” Talk about a gut punch. This is what my five-year-old said to me when my husband and I officially broke the news that our house had sold and we were moving. Despite having talked about it for months, prepping our two toddlers that we were planning to move in the Spring, it only makes sense that they didn’t fully understand it all until they started seeing their favorite superhero costumes and Toy Story figures being packed into an endless sea of boxes. The truth is, we were moving because of me. And when I heard the words come out so simply from my son’s mouth, it nearly broke me.
Having lived in what we like to call our green house (not because we have a million plants, but because this gal has the opposite of a green thumb, our house is just painted green) for almost eight years now, this little home was the start of our family. My husband, our dog and I started the house hunt when we were newly engaged, and after 10 months of searching, this little green gambrel became our home. We got married in this house, experienced three very trying hyperemesis gravidarum (HG) pregnancies, and welcomed our three precious boys into its walls.
Events are my thing, and despite not having the picturesque Instagram-worthy kitchen (our cabinets are maroon, you get it), an open-concept layout, and minimal square footage, we always made it a party. Christmas time was my favorite because it never felt cozier and since our backyard had a drop-off, this Mama preferred setting the kiddie pool up on our screened-in porch which made for the best summer days. Our favorite nights were spent by the fire holding one of our babies because they most definitely were not sleeping or having a porch night dinner under the twinkle lights with screaming kids, food covering the ground, and a bottle of red to get us through.
We grew so much in this house. Within the first year of our marriage, we had our first son. It made for a whole lot of holy crap moments. It sure made it interesting. He was a tough sleeper with a sensitive belly. This made for the perfect combo for countless sleepless nights, and endless tears from all of us. I also dealt with pretty serious postpartum anxiety, which I didn’t even know existed until I knew I needed help. Covid came and changed the world while somehow our little bubble stayed the same.
Our second son was born at the height of the pandemic, and our screened-in porch became the new normal way to come and meet the baby from six feet away. He was a teeny bit better at sleeping than his brother, which was amazing and he was just the happiest little guy. Then some early developmental delays and consistent patterns of motor skill issues later resulted in a diagnosis that rocked our world.
“There is a chance he may never walk but only time will tell the quality of his life.” This is a line that will stick with me until the end of my days. But we later celebrate my boy’s first steps in our living room is a moment that trumps them all. Seeing him walk, talk, and run. He ran absolutely everywhere I may add. Usually in the middle of the street because why not, that’s just how he rolls. And playing with his brother is all we could have ever asked for. The before-bed wrestling matches are a tad sweeter when you thought they might never happen.
Each baby brought me a little more confidence than the last but man has it been a trip. This past October I had my last little baby, and I finally feel like I have a tiny bit of my footing with this Mom thing. He’s a sleeper, which I never thought I would be able to say about one of my kids. He’s just such a calm, happy boy who seems to be along for the ride.
But with each baby came more stuff. There was more noise, less time, and more overstimulation towards the clutter, the dog barking, and the screaming kids. This little house started to feel like it was closing in on me. More space, more room, and a bigger house are all I’ve asked for over the past few years. And now that it’s here, I know just how much this little space has brought out the best of me.
These walls have seen all of the good and all of the bad. The laughs, the tears, and the fun (so much fun). I know this next home will have all that and more, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit how scared I am of the space. The coziness of this house has filled my cup in more ways than I can measure. For that, I am so grateful. So yes, it is so hard to get rid of something you love. But beyond bittersweet in all the ways one can imagine. I will continue to try and figure out how to best explain this to my son. But for now, all I know is that this little green house, whether we live there or not, will always be ours. I can’t thank this house enough for letting us stay.
