Abby, Jack & Finn (and the rest)

It occurred to me that up unto now we have always selected our house based on the formal living room. If it had incredible light, I was hooked. Steve disagrees completely. But *I* know the truth. Tanoble was no different. Personally I think we should have gotten more for Tanoble based solely on the formal living room. I still love that room.

The dining room was no slouch either. Very cool. I still love the chandelier that I fought so hard not to disparage. I had wanted one of those loopy pottery barn ones and Steve had been adamant - no this one. I was trying to make a point that I would listen to him. And low and behold not only was it like 60% off, but it was beyond perfect for that room. Could have been original. Had the same surface as the original fixtures. So cool.

The kitchen. The poor abused kitchen. If Christi hadn't been pregnant when we were decorating, this would have been an incredible kitchen. But alas, I had to be a big girl and tell the electricians and granite cutters what to do and without fail every decision I made on my own was wrong. Sadly, horribly forever wrong. This picture just reminds me of a picture of Jack when he was oneish. He would go in the kitchen, drag all the pots and pans out from under the stove and just make noise. It didn't make him happy - it just... it's just that he needed to make noise (I think he was teething) to voice his frustrations.

I remember when Steve first told me he wanted to look into Tanoble- I remember driving by the house and rolling my eyes thinking Steve was crazy - there was no way we would be able to afford this house. It wasn't exactly grand, but it had super character. I am so glad we got rid of the dead tree in the front. That is awesome. This picture, by the way, is literally the last picture I took of Tanoble. I had moved the last of the stuff out. I had put my key and garage door opener on the kitchen counter and locked myself out by going thru the back door. And just as I left... took the last picture.

There is still a lot the new owners will have to take care of (I disclosed everything I could think of believe me), but besides a new roof, plumbing, electrical system, getting rid of asbestos, mold, etc the best thing we did for this house was make the sunroom windows pretty.

The living room decorated for show. ALL this stuff is in storage right now. I had just finished putting up pictures with my mom in January.

The downstairs - the luck and the bane of the house. Basically there was more square footage below the house than on the main floor. It was awesome. It was incredible. It was like living as mole people. I really have a hard time with the downstairs because done right - that space would have been absolutely amazing.

The kids eating their last McDonald's meal in the downstairs. I remember chasing Abby around with applesauce and oatmeal trying to get her to eat. And how easily Jack & Finn ate their babyfood. I remember bringing Finn home to meet the kids. Lots of Wii Dancing. Lots and lots and lots of cuddling and napping.

Oh the fights we had about this house. All homes are in some way or another a constant source of stress I think. But I think this one had a little extra. It had, in fact, so much strife in it symbolically for me, that I was somewhat lamely insistent that the ending of it - the leaving of it be relaxed, simple, unrushed and unharried. It didn't exactly work like that, and that bothers me a little. I think, because it was so hard, but there was so much good about it, in it, to remember, I needed to finish well. I wanted to. Mostly I did.

We kept the kids away for months, fearing that they would pine for their stuff, want to stay, or just plain grieve. I think it was a good plan, and, that way, when we came the last time to clear more stuff out and to say goodbye, it seemed to naturally take on the significance I wanted it to.

The foot thick plaster walls and arched ceiling bedrooms are something I'll always love about this house. But time to say goodbye?

Right now, it's hard to say with certainty that it was time. We were rushed out - not by people, but by the opportunity for a new and better house. I felt it was a poke from God - GET MOVING. I knew that that house might not be available when we were done, but as I was the one in our little family that was going to have the hardest time moving, I knew that my willingness to take this drastic step in and of itself was a sign from God.

I felt like once I gave the okay, God took me up, shut off part of my brain, and just told me to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I'm sitting here with those sorts of allusions and it was NOT like the Little Blue Engine. At no point did I think "I think I can, I think I can...". No, it was much more like Dory from Little Nemo, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming."

Just. Mindless. Not because I was mad or sad or wrong or... whatever. But because I felt like I was following a prompting and I didn't know where the hell it was going to lead, and I'm certainly hopeful I know now... but we're not quite there, so I'm going to be cagey about saying it specifically.

As far as personal growth - at my lowest of lows, I accept that God may have prompted us along this journey for no other reason but to make us better. Believe me, I accepted it and resented it at the same time. But begrudgingly I must accept that this situation which I only got thru by some sort of miraculous lobotomy has made me more flexible.

So, whether or not it was time. It now is time to say goodbye to Tanoble. Goodbye to the place Abby sang and danced endlessly. Goodbye to where Jack and Finn came home from the hospital to. Goodbye to where we spent Christmas mornings and endless nights comforting our babies. Goodbye to the place we fought for and struggled thru and finally had to let go. Bye-bye Tanoble.

Our House. You know how contractors and builders and repairmen and installers come into a house and they can't make it look like whatever they are doing is a no-brainer because that might make you think you can do it on your own? So they have this bravado like, "Ah, geez, wow, well of course I can do it - here is my estimate..."

What I think is funny in a sad way is that our house doesn't just kick our butts. It kicks everyone's butt that has ever worked in it. I don't use any of the companies that originally did work for us because they groan when they here it's our house. And believe it or not, it is NOT just me they don't want to deal with. I am a consistent, non-whining payer, they LOVE me. My house? My house has kicked their butts. People bring in other people to train in my house and they tell them horror stories about their first experiences.

I hope whoever takes this house from us whenever we are ready to sell loves the challenge and all the beautiful oddities because this house has potential - you just have to be an ironman to work on it.