Dear Sarah, Joseph, Thomas, Nathan and Esther,
I love you. Yesterday was a hard day. Coming back to Rochester for a short time, between living in a hotel and moving into our new home, has been very difficult for you. Each day seems to get a bit more challenging. You are sad. Very, very sad. All of you are grieving in different ways and trying to adjust as best you can. Maybe things are so tricky because we haven't slept well with this awful virus we contracted the moment we drove back into the 585. Maybe the sadness wouldn't be so incredibly overwhelming if we had more time to breathe. Maybe, just maybe, change is just really sad sometimes and I have to allow you to be sad.
Last night, at the dinner table, we did "High Point/Low Point/Moment Closest to God". I was anticipating your statements to be about the weather and your sicknesses...or maybe about how Daddy got out toys from storage that you haven't seen in months. But Thomas, sweet Thomas, you said that your low point was "emptying the boxes from the crawl space and the attic." I thought that you were complaining about helping out, but when I took a moment to look closer at your face, I realized the pain immediately. We waited for a while before moving on to the next child, because you seemed as though you were going to cry. Daddy offered to hold you. I told you that it was very important to cry if you were feeling sad. We wanted you to know that we love you and we were here to listen to you. I picked you up off your chair and handed you to Daddy. You melted right into his chest and Daddy looked so grateful that you trusted him with your sadness. We moved on to Sarah and Joseph. Their stories were the same. They were happy to be helping out with the move, but were sad about leaving "the small house". Sarah, you are most sad about leaving your bedroom. You are worried that your new room might not be as big and that you will not have enough space for your dollhouse and Esther's crib. Joseph, you are sad about leaving the small house because this is your only home. You have never known another. Nathan, you are sad because there is so much change and you don't completely understand why Mommy has been so emotional for the past year, why Daddy has been gone so much (looking for jobs, starting a new job that required so much time away from you, leaving that job for a new job, and commuting back and forth to Syracuse), and why potty training is so darn difficult. Es, you are a Hot Mess. Always.
~
Matt and I started our journey as a married couple in a one bedroom apartment, 7 minutes from each of our parents. We moved into the Pernot's basement after our first year of renting and as we waited to purchase our first home. They were so generous and allowed us as much time as we needed to shop for a house. Matt was in school full-time and working two jobs and I worked full-time night shift at Park Ridge Hospital. We stayed at the Pernot's house for a few months and moved into The Small House (about 5-7 minutes from each of our parents still) in mid-January of 2006. We were young. Matt and I were both just 22. The neighbors never came to introduce themselves and we didn't understand why. (We found out later that it was because they thought we were the kids. They were waiting for our parents to move in.) I was nervous about being in a new place and the house seemed so big for us. We had two couches, one bed, a table and chairs, a hutch and a huge console TV from Joyce and Pat. We had rooms that were totally and completely empty. We had no fridge, and the first time I tried to use the dryer that the previous owners left, I nearly burned the house down. My parents purchased us a new fridge. Matt's parents purchased us a new dryer. We thought we were settling in nicely. But when we got our first RG&E bill, I nearly passed out. How could utilities be so expensive? I called and told them that I counted pennies and there was no way our gas and electric bill could be over $400. I kept the house at 65 degrees, for goodness sake! (Poor Matt, I was psychotic.) They said that the bill was what it was. I had Matt check the gas pipes in the house for leaks and call later and tell them that he might have smelled gas in the basement. The gas company came within minutes. Matt's dad came too. I was a wreck. The gas company found 6 cracks in the pipes and needed to repair them that night. They also told me I had to leave the house for a while because they found mercury on the floor in the basement...and I was a very swollen Mama, expecting Sarah in the early part of the summer. Matt and Bernie stayed with the house when the HAZMAT team showed up. They sent me off to my parents and told me they would call when things were settled. I was able to come back that night into a freezing cold house, as they had turned off the gas. I made Bernie some tea (I had some random bags in the cupboard. I was new at the homeowner stuff and very naïve in the hostess department. My cupboards were truly bare and consisted mainly of free samples and whatever our parents brought over.) and sent him home. Apparently it was a caffeinated tea and it happened to be after 10pm when he finally left. He still, to this day, will not allow me to forget the night he sacrificed his time and I gave him Lemon Zinger and made him stay up until 3am.
Things didn't slow down after the first few weeks. They ramped up. I was put on bed rest and taken out of work. Matt was still working and schooling like crazy. Things in the house needed repair and attention. Life was crazy. Then I had Sarah. She was the first baby I brought home to this house. We filled up another bedroom. We put the finishing touches on her room the night before she was born. Painted purple with sweet curtains and fresh bedding, her room was the first "finished" room in this house.
Six months later, Matt got his job at GM...and I began my vocation as a stay at home mom. Things got batty at the small house. We found out we were expecting Joseph and Matt started feeling more comfortable ripping rooms apart and discovering the joys of homeownership. The upstairs bathroom was out of service for the better part of three pregnancies. Sarah grew old enough to stand and peel wallpaper. We needed to finish off another bedroom for the boys. The deck fell apart. We ripped up carpeting and found hardwood. The landscaping had to be re-done as it was growing into the side of the house. The hot tub was settling the patio and making all drainage settle too close to the house. We needed a new roof. The schoolroom needed to be refinished. We needed railings on the staircase. We started wondering, around the time we had Thomas and Nathan, if this house would hold us any longer. We talked about adding on. We loved our neighbors but couldn't stand the new flood insurance that was now mandatory on our property. We didn't have much time to think about it because work got really crazy for Matt and I found out we were expecting Esther. House projects, with 5 children, take FOREVER...especially when you are as wild about the children as Matt is. He kept choosing to wrestle with them and tuck them in bed and watch train movies with them...instead of finishing a job that "would still be there tomorrow".
Then, last year happened. Jobs got done real fast. Bernie practically lived at our house, to help us finish rooms off and get our home ready to sell, for an almost certain relocation. We hired some men from our church to re-do the kitchen and hallways. When people would ask us what they could do to help, I began asking for meals and help with spackling and sanding. It was a hard time.
The last room we finished was the bedroom I shared with Matt when we first moved in. It was supposed to be the first room to re-do. I didn't want a purple master bedroom and Matt wasn't wild about the mirrors being used as closet doors. But it kept being put off because there was always something more important than our bedroom. When I put the last of the paint on the master bedroom wall, just three months ago, I cried. I can't really put it into words. It was just so sad...being done. Having the house finished. Every room was now conquered. No room was left untouched. When the real estate agent came and put our house on the market, he wrote that all the next owners would have to do was move in and unpack. As much as I agree with that, it was so hard to stomach. Someone else unpacking in a house that I had just made completely my own. A house that I brought five brand new souls into. A home for over seven years. My children's only home. My brother, Matt proposed to Kylie in this house...under our Christmas tree. This house has been egged... and been lit up like an airport runway with Christmas lights. This house has been stretched to its limits and we have used every square inch of space. We have fit seven people into three bedrooms. We have had backyard campfires and sleepovers. We have cried, laughed, schooled, slept, dreamed, fought, yelled and labored in this home. It was a good home.
And now we will begin our new journey, with our new house. Some of the children will only remember The Small House through pictures, which kind of makes my heart ache. But, as Lisa reminds me, the dwelling is not important...it is the people inside who make a house a home.
~
So, my babies, please know that although we are leaving the small house, we are bringing along all the "things" that make it home for you. We will all be together in our new house. We will make it a home, I promise. And Daddy's and my room will most likely become the last room to finish there also, because you guys will ALWAYS be most important.
Love,
Mommy
