Getting Back

I've spent most of the last year convincing myself that I've been too busy to write, too busy to do anything other than just hunker down and survive the overwhelming day to day. Part of that feeling is because blogging isn't just writing- there is a whole social component that goes along with it. And I'm not sure I'm ready to jump into that.

What I do know is that I must start writing again. No necessarily to be read, to be shared, to be commented on, but just to start creating again. Getting back to having something tangible come from my thoughts. Along that same line, I'm hoping to start painting and editing photos again. I've been stifling my creative side for the sake of to-do lists, and it's been unhealthy.

This last year has brought a lot of change. Sometimes, I look at myself and think that the me of even just two years ago would be surprised.

I've started running in earnest. I've run two half marathons this year. I've started trail running. I've gotten over the anxiety of being slow and feel like I can actually call myself a runner.

I've fallen in love with home gardening. My gardening technique is "plant and pray," because I had no real plan or understanding of gardening. Fortunately, my unjustifiable optimism in the spring translated to bountiful harvests nearly all summer.

As a family, we've continued to road trip, to deserts and forests and bright blue lakes.

Bug is nearly as tall as I am.

I would love to say that as a family, we are settling in well with all the changes the last year and a half as brought. But that wouldn't be true. We're struggling getting a social network set up. My boys are struggling making friends. We still feel overwhelmed by the size and scope of being in a bigger city.

So we keep to what works for us, what makes us feel grounded. Dinner times as a family. Long walks in nature.

And for me, getting back to writing.

Road Trip Recap Part 5: Arriving in Utah

September, and the end of summer, is now upon us, so it looks like time to wrap up this recap. About time, I know.

After our three wonderful, phone-less, internet-less, days in Yellowstone, we started heading south.

Our initial plan trips had included a day at Grand Teton National Park. However, we had used that day to spend extra time in Yellowstone. So our time in the Grand Tetons included a quick stop along side the road to change Duck out of vomit covered clothes while the older boys balanced on a rickety wooden fence over a ditch, neither of which didn't make me very happy.

After gazing at the stunning mountains for a few minutes, we promised ourselves we would return and give this national park its due diligence.

But breakfast at Jackson Hole was calling very loudly, so we headed on to the charming town, complete with it's antler arches and excellent pastries.

That afternoon, we crossed into our final state: Utah.

We took a small unplanned stop at Flaming Gorge to let the boys go swimming, since we had made excellent time.  The hot weather, red rocks, and water made for a great break from all the driving.

Our last night on the road was spent in Vernal, Utah.

The next morning, we back tracked a little to Dinosaur National Monument.

With the promise of fossils and petroglyphs, it was easy to see why our boys were looking forward to this stop. Even though none of us could have guessed that Duck's favorite part was going to be the shuttle ride to the viewing center.

The encased rock wall saturated with fossils was an impressive sight. The amount of preservation and detail awed my boys.

Getting to touch an actual dinosaur fossil was the cherry on top.

We then drove through the desert, stopping to view ancient petroglyphs (all while keeping a tight hold on the toddler who apparently had destruction of ancient history on his mind.)

With our last planned stop completed, it was time to head to Salt Lake City and our new home.

We hit the valley right at rush hour. As we sat there, stuck in traffic, with smoggy air partially obscuring the mountains from view, I had a small moment of tears, wondering if we had made the right decision. Everything seemed loud and busy and dirty and overwhelming.

Hubster, seeing my momentary distress, held my hand until we pulled up to our new address, a place we had only seen twice before.

We managed a quick family picture before the chaos of unloading and moving in began. One quick snap shot commemorating the end of the trip and the start of everything else.

Road Trip Recap Part 1: Leaving Iowa

Slowly but surely, I'm finding the time to sit down and process all the changes we've been through in the last couple months. (Even as more changes keep coming our direction!) Unfortunately, with my new schedule and work load, I have only been able to find one day a week to sit down and write about it. After catching up on some essentials (I was not going to miss Bug's 13th birthday), it's finally time to write about the exciting events of our summer.

When we found out we would be moving to Salt Lake City, we decided early on to combine our move with our love of road tripping, and make the transition from Iowa to Utah a vacation.  We planned out a 10 day road trip covering as many places as we could between the two states.

With our road trip last year, I summarized the whole thing in one enormous post. This time, I'm going to split it up, not just to make things manageable, but so that I can selfishly indulge in more details.

But before we could leave on this trip, we had to pack up and leave our home.

(How I felt about this process)

I had gone through various stages of mourning about leaving our Iowa home. It was our first home, where we had gone from a family of 4 to a family of 5, adopted our cats, and survived residency. The first time we didn't share walls and floors and ceilings with other people. The first time we could paint and renovate and fall in love with a house.

We had been paring things down as the house went on the market; all our family photos were packed, most the boys' artwork and toys already in boxes. I was dreading the rest of the packing. But as the movers came the first day and finished the packing, I did ok. I was busy chasing Duck around and answering questions about what should be packed and what was staying.

However, any stoic leanings left the next morning as the moving truck showed up. As soon as the movers started carrying boxes out of the house, I couldn't contain my emotions. I stood in the kitchen, the movers working hard around me, and just let the tears flow. That house felt like family, and I felt like I was abandoning it and all the memories we made there.

There was also the small issue of not actually having a place to live in Utah. Our home loan was still in processing, and each day, I spent hours and hours on the phone and they kept requesting more and more documents. We were supposed to close on a Thursday, and that day came and went. On Friday, they asked for more paperwork. That afternoon, all our things left for Utah, with us planning on following in a few days. Monday morning, the day we were leaving the state, they called and asked for more clarification. At that point, I was frantic. We were hitting the road in just over an hour, and it looked like we might be homeless since the loan officer wasn't sure the loan approval would go through.

As I was doing a final cleaning of the house, mopping the kitchen floor and washing the counters, and Hubster was loading the last few things into the van, I got yet another call from the mortgage company. This time, it was to say the loan approval had just gone through.

Once again, I found myself standing in the kitchen crying, but this time in pure relief.

We left a welcome home sign and a bottle of champagne on the counter for the new owners, locked the doors, and took one last picture with our first home.

Having leveled up in the adult version of Tetris...

It was time to say goodbye, and start the journey, not just for our summer road trip, but our trip to our new home.

The remainder of the day was spent driving through the softly rolling farmlands of Iowa, wondering when we might see them again, pointing out redwing black birds and the steady flicker of fireflies as dusk descended.

We made it clear to Nebraska before remembering we had left an entire box of popsicles in the freezer. Oh, well, just another welcome home gift, I suppose.

Playing Catch Up, Yet Again

Blogging is so much like exercise. It's so easy to find excuses to not do it. I'm too tired, my to-do list is too long, I'm too stressed, I just don't feel like it, I'll do it tomorrow. What I have to do is just actually do it. And just like exercising, it feels so great once I make the time and get it done.

I'm now writing from Utah.

For the time being, I'm just going to provide a brief overview of the last month or so, mostly to let myself process how much has actually happened.

The first week of June, Hubster graduated from dental school. Then, all our belongings were packed up, and we made the trek across half the country from Iowa to Utah, leaving behind our first home.

The getting to Utah will be a series of posts (to hopefully follow very very soon), as we decided to combine moving and summer vacation. We turned our move into a 10 day road trip, which (just like last year's road trip) was awesome.

Getting into our new home was it's own adventure, full of difficult negotiations and nail biting and more paperwork than I ever thought possible. But after several bottles of Tums, just a handful of meltdowns, and several hundred phone calls, we are settling into what we hope will be our forever home.

We still have quite a few boxes to empty (some that I'm tempted to just toss without even opening, because there is just so much stuff and I'm so tired of opening boxes and finding places for things.) We haven't done any decorating or styling, as we are still trying to figure out where everything should go in the kitchen.

Hubster and I have both started our new jobs. It's been an adjustment, since I was so settled in my last job. Learning new things and new schedules and new people is challenging. But at the same time, it feels great to be learning and pushing myself again, as I realized how mentally complacent I was becoming.

We are starting the search for child care for our boys. After throwing around ideas of au pairs, and summer camps, and everything in between, we are searching for a nanny (even though Bug insists that he does not need a nanny - apparently forgetting that he has younger siblings who do.)

We are exploring our new neighborhood and slowly adjusting back to the Utah culture. Even though we lived here in the past, after being gone for so many years, there was still a little culture shock on moving back. We apparently had become quite the country bumpkins in our small Iowa town, because the traffic, people, air quality, amount of stores, and time spent commuting have been difficult to adjust to.

But thankfully, there are the mountains right in our back yard, and those are just as amazing as they have ever been.

It's been a crazy month, full of stress and change and newness. I'm ready to settle back into a schedule, do some more hikes, make some new friends, and share a few more stories right here.

Dear Buyers

When our home went on the market, it was our first time going through the whole process of selling a home. From picking a real estate agent, to getting the house staged, to keeping it ridiculously clean, every step was new and stressful.

In fact, even Bug, who is adamantly against the move, said he hoped our house would sell fast. He said he didn't like having to keep things that clean, and besides, he hated all the art the house was staged with.

We had been mentally prepped before hand about the stress. That we would no longer be living in our house the way we normally lived in it, but we would be selling it.

What we didn't expect was for things to happen so fast. We listed on a Monday at 4 pm. That same evening, we had two showings. By 10 am on Tuesday, we had scheduled 6 more. At noon, an offer came in for above asking, and by 1 pm, we had accepted the offer. Our house was on the market for 21 hours.

Our agent had suggested that we right a letter to any potential buyers, about what we loved about the house and why we were moving, so that no one would think we were moving because there was something wrong with the house.

I wrote a letter about all the improvements that had been done to the house, about the great schools and neighborhood, about the large yard and how much we enjoyed the fireplace.  But I felt that I had to hold back a little about how much I really loved our home, because when I started writing about how I actually felt about the house, it started sounding like I was trying to sell it too hard.

So, here is the letter I would like to write, how I really feel about the home we are going to be leaving.

_________________________________________________

Dear Home Buyers,

At first glance, this house may seem like any other small neighborhood house from the 70s. And while it definitely has its quirks due to strange building codes back then, I assure you, this home is anything but typical.

You will be hard pressed to find a home that has been as loved and as lived in as this one.  And as far as all those quirks, we've made sure everything about the house is perfectly safe. But there a few stairs that squeak every time we try to sneak downstairs when the children are sleeping. And getting to the laundry by going through the garage is definitely not ideal, but after years of going to a laundry mat with children in tow, I couldn't have cared less.

This house was our first home as a family, the first time we didn't have to worry about sharing walls, floors, and ceilings with other people, the first time our children could just be children. We lived fully in each room, from family game night at the kitchen table, to story time in front of the fireplace, to pillow fights in the bedrooms.

When we first bought the house, most people gave us disbelieving, almost pitying smile. All they could see was the popcorn ceilings, the lack of lighting, and all the gray vinyl flooring. We, however, were beside ourselves with excitement about that potential in this home. We had seen over 30 homes during a whirlwind weekend of home shopping. But the moment we walked through the door here, we knew it was home. I never once saw the imperfection. I only saw a house that wanted to be loved, that wanted to become our home.

We have loved this house almost like a family member, slowly bringing it to its potential. We stripped away the popcorn ceilings. We put in all new flooring, flooring that would hold up to the antics of three active boys. We added as much light as we could. We painted every surface. I'll be honest. When we were picking things for the home, I never once thought about which would be best for resale, what would be most appealing for other people. I picked things I loved, that went with the feeling we were creating in our home. 

There are more memories here than I could possibly share. We've planted bulbs in the front garden. We've made enormous leaf piles in the back yard. We've eaten countless dinners on the deck and then watched our children chases fireflies under the trees and wondered how we ever got so lucky.

At a meager 1300 square feet, this house has never felt small (except when suddenly, we've had to figure out where 6 house guests are sleeping.) Even as our family grew, there always seemed to be enough room for us. 

This home isn't the fanciest, most spacious home out there. But nearly everyone who has ever walked through the front door has mentioned how lovely the home is. I like to think that it isn't because of the decor or the paint color (although of course, I'm quite partial to those.) I like to think it's because there is so much love and life here, everyone can feel it.

It's time for us to move on with our lives, and that moving on is taking us back west, closer to family and away from this home. I'm quite heartbroken about leaving this house. There were days that I actually pictured us living here forever. Maybe this is how everyone feels about their first home.

I definitely hope it's how you feel about this one.

Sincerely,

Katherine

The Only Constant is Change

Here it is, nearly the end of March, and I haven't sat down all month to write.  After our whirl wind month, it feels difficult to summarize in a way that is succinct enough to be manageable and in depth enough to be meaningful.

We are in the middle of a transition period. Transitions are always difficult, full of unknowns, stress, half-executed plans, and a feeling of being unsettled. 

We are moving.

Hubster and I have both accepted jobs in Salt Lake City, Utah. I'm originally from there, as much as I can be originally from anywhere. Hubster has taken his dream job in a private practice dental practice. I've accepted an academic position at the University of Utah, which is turning out to be the dream job that I didn't even know I always wanted. We are both extremely happy with our new jobs.

That still doesn't make things easy.

Hubster found out about his job in November, but just got the contract settled two weeks ago. I interviewed for my job mid January, and am still trying to get things completely finalized.

Since we were fairly sure things were going to work out job-wise, we knew that we would have to sell our home. I actually met with our real estate agent weeks before I had even interviewed for my job.

Before putting our house on the market, we had a long list of home projects to do, including redoing both bathrooms. I've already shared the hall bathroom redo. The master bath is also completely finished, and a post sharing that is in the works. Doing all the projects ate up all our weekends in January and February.

We also had to replace the siding on our house, because the woodpeckers and weather have had a heyday with the original wood siding. Working with the subcontractor for the siding ended up being immensely frustrating; the whole process was prolonged and drug out and painful. In the end, the siding looks wonderful, although maybe not so wonderful as to be worth all the stress (which included the inability to use our garage or driveway for a month and a half during the worst of the winter weather).

Finally, all the work on the house was done, and we listed the house two weeks ago. We got an offer right away (that is its very own story.)

Last week, we flew out with all our kids to do some house hunting in Salt Lake City. Financing is still hazy, because of our massive student loans, but we think we have found a house we want to make an offer on.

Top this off with trying to get a new medical license for the state of Utah, Hubster taking his dental board exams, being in charge of decorations for the school carnival, keeping our house spotless for pictures, inspections, and showings, Duck deciding to unleash the terrible twos in full force, and Monkey and Bug extremely moody and difficult because they don't want to move, things have been crazy.

I'd like to say that I'm sailing through this with grace and poise and optimism, but that wouldn't be true. It's more like I'm blundering my way through with a short temper, frequent tears, and occasional active avoidance. 

At least winter is over and spring is coming. 

I'm hoping that just like the seasonal change, these changes in our lives will all be for the best. We just have to survive the transition.

Curly Locks

As part of simplifying and de-stressing my life, I've decided to work on accepting my hair in its natural state.

My hair is naturally wavy/curly/very poofy.  I've always felt I would have had awesome 80s pop music hair, but unfortunately, by the time I was worried about fashion, the 80s were over. 

For the longest time, all I wanted was smooth, flowing, shiny, straight hair. I've spent most of my life fighting the waves and curls. I blow dried and flat ironed my hair daily for years. I spent ridiculous amounts of money on straightening products. I looked into salon treatments to chemically straighten my hair. In junior high, I literally ironed my hair, with an actual clothes iron. (Doing that by yourself is actually incredibly difficult, and I highly don't recommend trying, for reasons other than the complete obvious of not using a regular iron on your hair.)

As I got busier and busier, I had less and less time to spend fighting my curls. Gone were the mornings I could spend, meticulously dividing my hair into segments and running the flat iron repeatedly over each one.  My solution was to just wear my hair up, which is what I did most of residency.

Recently, I decided that I'm done fighting my hair. I'm ready to embrace it for what it naturally wants to do.

A couple years ago, I found a hair stylist that I really like. At my last hair cut, I told her I was ready to embrace my hair in all its wild glory. So she did a cut that would allow my curls to shine.

(This is also the point where I should confess that I am awful at maintaining hair cuts. It is all I can do to get in about twice a year to get my hair cut. I wait until my bangs are covering my entire face and then reluctantly admit that I really should get it cut again.)

Now, my hair routine consists washing my hair at night, combing through it with my fingers, working in a little mousse, then going to bed with wet hair.

This is what I wake up to.

This is my hair in its (nearly) natural state. I call it my "I just don't give a crap anymore" hair style. There is no more hours spent attempting to tame my mane on a daily basis.

Although, with my current cut, it's fairly easy to wear it straight, should I feel like it. I save that for special occasions, like date night or Thursdays. 

I was so nervous about starting to wear my hair curly. I was worried it would look unkempt or unprofessional. And maybe it does. But the response has been very positive. Which is good, because with how easy it is to do my hair now, there is no way I can go back.