Home 'Sweet' Home

So listen.
I am a firm believer in all things comfy.

Top to bottom. You put me in some fitting clothes and in the back of my mind I am thinking, 'I cannot wait to get into my yoga pants and a tank when I get out of this place.' When I put on a freshly washed and dried, (heaven forbid), pair of jeans I am squatting and stretching, twisting and turning like I am readying myself to be in some sort of sprint race. 'Don't mind me here, just loosening up these here pants so I can actually take full strides without looking like I am in a straight jacket.' 

 My sisters and I bring a pair of comfy pants with us when we go places. The clock strikes a certain hour, and if around the right people, meaning those that won't judge us for our lower half attire choice, or those who's opinion we do not care about, we will  just casually slip away and return in some super awesome let it all loose knickers.

And I want the place that I live to have the same sort of feeling; can rock a pair of skinny jeans and look pretty decent, and when you let loose and relax, it also can get all cozy like in a pair of leggings. I want you to be able to come in my home with your kids, by yourself, with your Mom Mom, or with your significant other, and be able to wrap your hands around a warm cup of coffee and snuggle up in some quilt.

Recently I moved closer to home. Meaning closer to where I grew up. Meaning I could ride my bike to my parents house if I wanted, which I could, but I won't. I hate riding a bike. Unless it's a beach cruiser. And I don't even have one. But anyway...meaning we go there at least once a week for a meal. Meaning the empty nesters now have company.

 Chalkboards...the latest obsession. Don't even get me started. I could chalk you one right now.

I readily admit, that I, as well as every other member of my immediate family have an obsession with pinterest. However, you cannot go wrong when you find this on the side of a road and find a pretty awesome fellow to create the idea rolling around in your brain for it. Peacock Blue as a color? 
Why the hell not?

The place I moved to is teensy tiny and down sizing all our things was a must. But so was acquiring things that make a place my home. A place where three kids can just be themselves, have things accessible to them, but still be a place that I can call my home.

A  place for a random game of Life with a 3 year old...patience of champions. 
Cultivating creativity with markers...stain paranoia setting in....what the heck are they thinking!?!?

 Spots for Legos way up high, out of reach of even the most skilled climber. Cause let me tell you a think or two about Legos....in a future post...sister has a lot to say.
 I suppose to me, your home should mimic your personality, perhaps have your visitors be able to tell what interests you and what makes you, you, and happy. I believe that your home should be a bit of a retreat for you and those who live there. Your comfort zone.

I'm thinking you cannot go wrong with knowing where you came from and relying on your family to protect you & help you, so you know a random 'Lyon' statue. As well as a pretty significant pin showing up in your new place...more on that some other time.

This was very hard for me to start again. I had grown very accustomed to the place that we had lived previous to this. Despite moving close to home, it didn't, and doesn't always feel like home. Which is really hard when you have three kids to convince that they too can feel comfortable in this new environment. Despite it being a 'homecoming' of sorts, it still had me homesick. I came from a home I had brought all my babies to. I missed my neighborhood. I missed my routine. I missed my friends. I missed the small town feel. I missed my Target. I missed the kids school. I missed my gym. I missed my children's friends for them. I missed by library. I missed my Wawa. I missed the familiar faces. I missed the open door policy of kids coming and going throughout the afternoon. There were those that said I wouldn't miss it, yet I really did. But that too wasn't home anymore way before I moved. It slowly lost its heart and it was time to make a find a new one in a new place. It was time to make a new routine and a new comfort zone, and I needed to begin in my new place.

Alright...so maybe you think I have an problem with recycling furniture. Ask me if I care and if you will ever be invited over...
 Book reading under Mama's feet while she's baking and just leaving them there. Where and when else? Seriously.
The drop zone. Cause where else but the table we eat upon?
After we moved, there were nights I would come home from work and just could not settle. It honestly takes a lot for me to settle anywhere to sleep. So this did not surprise me. I rarely sleep anywhere well. Unless it is a home to me. So if I say to you...' I sleep so well at your house,' it is the deepest form of a compliment. Presently, I think I only say that to one person, and that's changing too. See this whole change thing? Yeah.

Please do not think for one bloody second that I am organized and neat. People. I have been known to be called Monica. (Friends). Open a certain closet...you're screwed. It's my mother's nemesis. But laundry is mine...as you can see.

So home. It is more then four walls to me. It is more then a place to store my things. I grow roots. Really deep ones. It is my safe place and it is my comfort. You know when you are young and you are scared
 or sick and all you want to be is home? This is how I always felt. A home has a cat. A home has love. A home has deep, well kept secrets. A home is a hiding place. A home is where you can stand in the middle of a room and turn slowly around and be happy because it is you...and in my case, your three little ones too.

So slowly I am picking and choosing. I am moving this in, and this out. I am rearranging this here. and this there. And as I do it, I am realizing how making this new home is mimicking making my life new. I am seeing where the center is. I am realizing by moving things in and out, rearranging this and that, is making a home to live in and a person who is learning to settle there.

Roots are forming.

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