6 days: hindsight is 20/20

We never should have used the words "snowed in" those few days ago.  Sure, the snow was pretty, and yes, it required shoveling, and not just the usual wait-for-the-sun-to-melt-it-technique but real true shoveling, but by using those particular words "snowed in" we jinxed ourselves and this morning we woke up to a winter onslaught of snow and ice that left us with over 1 foot of new snow to shovel after lunch.  Really, this isn't a problem for us–we love snow, and hope this means we will be blessed with the coveted white Christmas–but today we really were snowed in; the plow visited our neighborhood several times before the snow stopped around one o'clock, but he didn't plow out our little cul-de-sac, and the foot plus of snow combined with the throw from the plow made our off-shoot impassable in the true meaning of the word. But no worries; we had dinner supplies and plenty to do, especially with the fun that the snow itself supplies.  Shoveling took nearly two hours, the majority of which, I'm sure, was devoted to throwing snow balls, sledding the driveway, and climbing snow mountains.  Oh, and shoveling the lawn so our seven pound dachshund can make it out to potty.

The house does not make the home

A good friend warned us that moving is rated as one of the most stressful moments in life, ranking right up there with getting married or having a baby, but we have to disagree.  We think that's a deplorable understatement - moving seems way more stressful than marriage and childbirth combined.  It could be the monetary strain, or the physical one, or maybe it's the act of condensing one's whole life into boxes and hoping it makes the transition in tact, but we think it goes even beyond that.  We think it's less the act of moving and more the process of being between homes that elevates the stress level so greatly.  With our old house, once familiar and comfortable as an old shoe, now stripped bare and left for the taking, the new house has become our family base. But we are not yet familiar with the sights, sounds, or smells of the new house, and in some ways our first week here has felt a little displacing, like being on vacation and expecting go home any day now.  Glimpsing our possessions settled into their new arrangements has been unsettling as well - familiar but in the wrong context, like seeing a face at church that you had previously known only at work.  We truly love our new house - we love the layout, the colors, the deck, the neighborhood, the location - but it will take some time for it to fully become our home.  In the meanwhile we find ourselves marveling at and enjoying the new (the open kitchen, the larger bedrooms, the wood floors), but clinging to the old (the dogs and cats in the same old sunshine, our usual coffee in our usual mugs, Calvin's same toys on the same shelves, and hey - we painted his new bedroom to match the old) while we go through the seemingly unending process of unpacking our familiars.  We'll know we've come to an end point when Calvin no longer exclaims "new house" whenever we pull into the driveway.

More pictures in the New House Process alubm. 

The move is going well.

We're in the new house and absorbed in the process of unpacking, which means we'll have pictures to share very soon.

Saying goodbye.

Today we lost a beloved member of our family when we had to say goodbye to Diamond.  The past couple of weeks have been very difficult for us as we grappled with this decision, but in the end we know that it was the merciful and graceful thing to do;  her physical abilities had declined rapidly in the past few months, as we knew they would some day, and keeping her here with us any longer would have been selfish.
Diamond lived a very long and full life.  When she came into our lives the vets said she would not live more than a year, that her disabilities or our limitations would get in the way.  Since then she celebrated eight birthdays.  There is no way to sum up a life so richly lived, nor describe the courage with which she lived it.  Everything we gave her she gave us back a thousand fold in love.  No amount of time with her could have ever been enough, but we are thankful for the years we had, thankful that she met our son, and thankful for all the love she gave us.  
The vets nine years ago could not have been more wrong when they told us we would not have the strength to care for her special needs.  Keeping her alive was easy, it was letting her go that required all the strength we could carry.

If tears could build a stairway,
and memories were a lane,
I would walk right up to heaven
and bring you home again

 

Taking carrots from a baby

Calvin had carrots for the first time yesterday and they were a big hit, but there's more to the story.  Since Cortney makes Calvin's food there's quite a bit of prep work involved, so while she stood at the sink washing, peeling, and chopping whole, organic carrots, she gave Calvin one to play with.  It seemed like a good idea - it was too big to swallow, it was cold on his teeth, it was clean and organic, and it made Calvin pretty happy to explore the strange orange thing.  And while she stood at the sink peeling carrots she was not surprised to hear Moose trot into the room, because he is always checking on the baby.  And it was even less surprising that when she heard Moose trot out of the kitchen Calvin let out a little cry, because Calvin always gets frustrated when the animals get away from him.  But what was surprising was that Calvin didn't stop crying, and when she looked down his carrot was gone, and Moose was in the other room chewing happily on it under the piano.  The situation was quickly rectified - Calvin got a new carrot and Moose lost his, but it looks like both Calvin, the dogs, AND the parents have a new lesson to learn.