The Little White House on E. Randall Ave.

A few months ago we were weighing our options. The lease on our house was coming to an end and we had to decide if we were staying or going. James's ship had moved to Norfolk, that changed things a little bit, and we had moved Mason's daycare closer to my office. What made sense for us? Stay? Move? In the end we made a decision to move into an apartment in Virginia Beach. I know, I know. An apartment? A what?! But, in the end James is gone ALL the time and I'll be honest with you. I do not mow grass. With the Roosevelt taking James Howard out to sea a majority of the time I wanted something easy, close to work, and very little maintenance. Since we always seem to wind up in Virginia Beach for dinners, parks, and shopping it made sense to head this way.

Most of you that have visited us or even just asked about our house, you know I rarely answer without somewhere in the conversation rolling my eyes about the little white house on E. Randall Avenue. While there are so many things about the house I love, there are far many more that I couldn't wait to wash my hands of (literally.) The house was built in 1946 and is a typical (old) Cape Cod. The bathrooms and closets are tiny, my kitchen is built for one person to cook, and sneaking out of Mason's room when he's asleep? Forget it, every floor board creeks with insane intensity. So when we made the decision to move to Virginia Beach and the For Rent sign went in the yard I was chuckling to myself. Hello walk in closet, big kitchen, and gated community, right?

Wrong. After I had taken the last load out to the Chevy and taken the last bag of trash outside and the house was completely empty I was sitting on the bottom stair in the quiet and I thought back on the two years we lived in this house. I all of a sudden wasn't so ready to wash my hands of the little white house. I looked at the downstairs bathroom and suddenly didn't think about the drain handle we've had replaced twice. I thought about the moment I stood in that tiny room looking at a positive pregnancy test. I looked at the living room and didn't see the times I wished it were bigger, I saw the first Christmas morning we spent in our home, pretending like Mason was so excited to open his presents and Mason taking those first three steps from me to his Dad. I looked at the front door and didn't see those front steps I wished so many times I had painted, I saw James carrying the car seat through the front door with our brand new baby, knowing life would never be the same, or Mason standing at the door waiting to see DaDa's car when he'd been away from us for so long. I walked into our kitchen and thought about the insane amount of times I would be standing at the stove and James would come up behind me and hug me or the times I had looked out the window at my sink and watch James and Mason in the back yard. And out that window to the garage where so many evenings my girlfriends who were visiting would follow me out there for wine and giggle sessions so we wouldn't wake Mason. I walked into Mason's room and remembered the love that went into painting the walls once we found out we were having a boy and James cursing as he hung the new blinds I had to have. I walked upstairs to our bedroom and thought about all that my husband and I had done in that room... the fights we've had, the problems we've solved, the tears that were shed knowing that was my safe place, the laughter he and I shared at the chaos of our life laying in bed at night, the 5 more minutes of cuddling before the day begins, the decisions we made in there...all of this came back to me as I walked around the empty house. It felt like so much of our son was in that house and so much of us was in that house.

We had a family hug before we put the keys on the counter, locked the door, and walked out and I cried all the way back to Virginia Beach. Totally my mother's daughter, James makes fun of me for the tears I shed over pretty much everything. I am so grateful for all the memories we made there. And even more, I am so grateful that when it comes down to it, we'll have even more memories in our new place because it is James and Mason that make me feel like I am home, no matter where we are. (And don't worry, a Mexican feast with fresh guacamole and fajitas cheered me right up on the way home.)

I am sure you are wondering about that new place. It is big and beautiful and this morning I dried my hair and James brushed his teeth and it happened all at the same time! It was a big moment for us. We can't wait for you all to see pictures of it but we have lots of unpacking to do! Stay tuned, if this rain would ever go away we are going to take the nugget to a pumpkin patch this weekend to pick out his first pumpkin.

Wishing you a happy Tuesday,
Three very tired, but finally moved Greens (and a very silly Lilly)