the keeping room

I'm not sure if it's where we are living or the type of houses we are looking at or if I've just been living under a rock, but *apparently* the cool new (but not really because you'll see) thing to have in your house is a keeping room.

One of the first houses we looked at when we moved was a sell by owner type of deal. When we went to see the house, the entire family was there to show us every. little. thing. to try to explain why it was such an awesome place to live.

I appreciate the effort but I'd like to decide that for myself, since I'm the one who will be living here, now.

When we made it to the kitchen (because every room had a chapter of information to digest), the husband showed us this area off the kitchen and was all, "This is a keeping room. I had no idea what that was until we started selling this house. It was a room where they used to put pies to keep them warm."

He was really proud of this fact. He wanted everyone to know how amazing it was that they had a room that was supposed to be used to keep pies warm.

And so I'm looking into this room that had a full sized table and chairs and nice windows and I'm thinking, "What a colossal waste of space for a pie. Who even makes enough pie to fill this space? And even if one does make that much pie, it's probably only on Thanksgiving and even then you wouldn't want to use that whole space for pie. I can think of plenty things that need space during Thanksgiving and none of them are pies."

A keeping room.

What is even happening here?

Keeping rooms and movie rooms and full kitchens in the basement.

That has been the running theme during our house hunting.

Full on projector, giant screen, surround sound speaker system, mood lighting, recliner chairs. The whole bit.

And kitchens.

Two full kitchens in the house.

That's entirely too much work for me and another colossal waste of space.

One kitchen is enough.

Apparently the reason for all of this basement renovation is for the mother-in-law.

If you ask me, this upgrade to the mother-in-law suite has gotten way out of control to the point no one even sees her anymore because she's so busy in her full sized kitchen and movie room and separate garage entrance.

Everybody knows that the whole point of a mother-in-law is childcare. So why are we trying to take that away? What are we thinking? We're only punishing ourselves.

While we are on the topic of punishment, since when is it imperative for every bedroom to have their own full bathroom?

I had to share a bathroom with three boys until my mom made one for me downstairs when I was in high school. And even then everybody used it.

But now we all have our own bathrooms, complete with that many more toilets and showers and sinks to scrub.

Wow….have I gone waaaaay off course.

Keeping rooms.

It allllllllllll started with keeping rooms.

And turns out, they're not even for pies (a little FYI history link for you).

What a farce.

(But really we are probably buying a house with a keeping room and I have no idea how to decorate it. That's really what I wanted to say but that obviously never happened)


missed the turn, he did

We still haven't found a house.

Well, wait. Wait wait wait WAIT.

Let me rephrase.

We found one house that we absolutely LOVED and put a contract on it and then they decided they didn't want to sell it anymore.

We found another house that got all the way through inspection and then failed the radon piece of it in a big way. Nix that one.

We found another one and they don't want to sell it for a reasonable price and apparently are trying to make $150,000 (yes, I put the correct number of zeroes) off the sale of said house from what they bought it for a few years ago.

We ain't payin' for no college, unless it's our own kids, yo.

So. Off we go again today to see five more houses. Yesterday we saw two inside and drove by four more to see if we liked the neighborhood enough to explore more in depth.

We didn't, FYI.

Tim's company thinks we are being picky and are looking for a "dream" home and we are just like no. All we are trying to find is one that doesn't have holes down to the wood in the carpet, backs to a huge retention pond with a gate that has a door leading right into it in their backyard for small children to fall in, a door on the second story that leads directly to the hospital with a broken neck because they didn't want to upgrade to a deck option so when you open the door, there is nothing but a rickety wooden "gate" to keep you from taking a 15 foot drop to the ground below (why they didn't just put a window there is beyond me), wallpaper and paint in the darkest most awful colors….I mean we aren't going to be living here for lots of years. Only a few years.

And because we know we will be moving, we want a house we don't have to fix for 50% of the time we will live in it and only have 50% of the time to enjoy it. And then have to worry if we will get our money back out so we have money to put down on wherever we end up next. It's a vicious cycle and we know how to play the game and really, Tim's company, you should be more helpful.

It doesn't make it any easier that we are currently in a sellers market. So now, all these people are looking at their house through rose colored glasses thinking it's worth $150,000 more than it was five years ago.

(One hundred and fifty. thousand. dollars. I still cannot get over that.)



This morning while Tim was making pancakes and Kellan and Hunter were playing and I was drinking coffee, probably, I said what I have apparently been saying every time we are about to go see a house. Something exactly along the lines of, "I really hope we like one of these so we can put a contract on it and be done!"

Right after those words came out of my mouth Tim was like stop! You're jinxing us!

I was like what? No I'm not. That's ridiculous.

I told him I didn't believe in those sorts of things until he reminded me of all the old wives tales I made him do to try and get knocked up last year.

(Whatever. It worked.)

He saw that I knew he was right and so he looked at me like, "mmmmhmmmm you know you do."

Okay, fine. We all believe in those things.

Even if we don't want to admit it.

My favorite number is two and I prefer living in a house with an even address number.


Moving on.

Tim: "We need to try and mix it up a little."

As in, stop saying how much I hope we like one of the houses.

So I looked at him and deadpanned, "I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO GO DO THIS TODAY."

Tim's brain immediately goes into solve it mode. "I'll just go or you can go and I'll stay…."

I looked at him, waiting for him to catch on and he just looked back at me like what??? I'm trying to solve the problem! You don't want to go so just one of us can instead……..

Mix it up you said.

Change the words you said.

Missed the joke, you did.

And Tim, who is not one to like the fact that he missed out on a joke, was like, "You sounded so serious! It was so real! And whooooshhhhh! There was a left turn and I wasn't on it!"

For the rest of breakfast I was given the Actor of the Year award and Tim's brain was a broken record because he couldn't believe he could set up a joke so perfectly and then one second later, miss the bus.

Beep beep.

I am *that* mom

I am that mom who lets her kid wear whatever he wants. Mismatched socks. Shoes on the wrong feet. Shirt purposely backwards. 

I am also that mom who has no problem letting her kid wear costumes on any day he so chooses, to any place we happen to be going.

The grocery store was Gotham City today. Kellan made sure everyone knew the Night Stalking Vigilante was there along with Batgirl and Bat baby.

One grocery store employee was like, “I’m impressed you can even say vigilante.”

And I was just like, “You have nooooo idea what kind of vocabulary gold mine you’ve stumbled upon.”

If the store isn’t busy, Kellan will run in the open areas more than he will walk.

He will find the villains.

He will have complete conversations with people as Batman. I smile and play right along.

If we are all in, then we surely aren’t breaking character.

I am that mom and I have zero issue admitting to it. I encourage it. I allow it. I am not at all embarrassed by it.

I am proud of Kellan’s ability to bring the real world into his imagination and manipulate it in so many amazing ways.

Maybe once upon a time, before Kellan, I would have been appalled at the mere thought of one of my kids running around like that.

That sure was a silly thought.

Without having children, I would have missed the magic of a child being allowed to be himself and play freely.

The only way I can do that is because I stopped caring what others think. After a few days of mom life, I realized that trying to force a baby to do what “they” say he should do was not going to work. Kellan doesn’t play by those rules, and because of his determination to go against the norm, I’ve also thrown all of the books and advice columns out the window all, “This is not my kid. This will never be my kid. We are going to do this our own way. To hell with advice.”

And since then….life has been peaceful in that department. 

Though I’d be a millionaire if I had a dime for every time I heard:

“Your shirt is backwards.”

“Your socks don’t match.”

“Your shoes are on the wrong feet.”

“You’re wearing two different shoes.”

And to all those we just smile and say, “Yes, they are. That was the plan.”

Kellan picks out his outfits very carefully every morning. Every single item, head to toe, is planned out and has a reason and a purpose.

It is one of my favorite things for him to come out of his room to declare who he is for the day and see how he has decided to express that in his outfit.

There is no way I am ever discouraging his imagination and his desire to be who he is, regardless if society agrees.

Society has it completely backwards, if you ask me.

And really, I should know.

I live with Batman, afterall.

the picky eater vs the foodie

When Kellan was starting his transition from solely boob juice to people food, I had all of these really hairbrained ideas like purée-ing up a variety of veggies and making all sorts of fun meals and doing all kinds of fun stuff with food!

First purée Kellan tried?


Second, third, and all of them went that way. He looked at me like, “If this is what people food is, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

(Really what I wanted to say was what his actual look said, but we are trying to be PG here)

I learned pretty quickly that there was this thing called baby led weaning and it basically went like this: put a food on the tray and see what happens.

The only acceptable foods were blueberries that I had to cut into quarters, a very specific brand of wheat toast with butter and cinnamon, yogurt with no fruit pieces, Cheerios (not the organic kind. General Mills, yellow box only), and probably one or two other things I am forgetting.

And during all of this I was thinking we were making progress and having some success and this is just how it works with  toddlers. They’re picky.

Then we went on play dates and lunch dates with friends the same age and OMG YOUR KID JUST ATE THAT??? HOW DID YOU DO THAT???

You don’t have to pack a special separate lunchbox of food?

You didn’t have to cut your apples a certain way???

They eat sandwiches????

You can order right off the menu?????

It was like seeing an impossible magic trick.

Not even kidding.

It took me ohhhhhhhhh probably until Mimi cut up Kellan’s toast “wrong,” to the point he wouldn’t eat it, even though it was made exactly the same way, for me to admit we had a picky eater.

Like level twenty when there are only five levels picky eater.

And nothing has changed except his repertoire of food. It has grown evvvvvvver so slightly.

It’s not like we don’t have him try new foods…over and over and over again. He still will not get on board with asparagus or grilled chicken or potatoes (unless they’re French and fried), or a large swath of other foods.

And we are brand specific, people. He knows the difference. He can smell if I used something other than what I usually do. 

This morning he told me his pancakes tasted different. Like “smoked pancakes” he said. And sure enough, because the temporary apartment we are living in doesn’t have a microwave (I know), I had to heat them up in a pan (barbaric), and one of them got a little too hot and burned ever so slightly with a little bit of smoke involved….and his astute senses sniffed it out.

The other day I tried using a new kind of bread and it had small seeds – completely undetectable if you’re having a sandwich type seeds – and he took one bite and was all, “Does this have….seeds in it?”


I don’t like it.

Well okay then.

The only vegetables I can get him to eat are baby carrots and snap peas. Both have to be raw. The only acceptable meat is crock pot BBQ chicken and “sloppy beef” (sloppy Joe’s). Sometimes deli ham but only a specific kind from Whole Foods and it has to be sliced to a certain thickness. Oh! I can put spinach in smoothies and he’ll drink those. Or if we make juice with beets and carrots and spinach and apples and cucumbers he will drink it. But he will legit gag eating a spinach leaf. Or a cucumber.

He’s tried broccoli, asparagus, squash, tomatoes (reallllly doesn’t like those unless it is marinara), zucchini, salad style lettuces….salmon, shrimp, steak…..and he will protest and make the most detestable faces every single time they are presented to him.

We are pretty diverse with fruit…well really okay, let’s be real. Apples (no red or golden delicious or Granny Smith), watermelon, pomegranates, Asian and Bosc pears, peaches and nectarines, sometimes bananas and blueberries and grapes. That’s our diversity. We don’t eat bananas unless they are at that perfectly ripe phase. No soft blueberries or grapes and no grapes that “taste funny.”

I’d say he likes carbs but again….only certain kinds. We are specific with our mac and cheese brands, style of pasta for “pasta and Parmesan,” and he will sometimes have toast and a PBJ or grilled cheese.

He also only really likes a very specific kind of cheddar cheese. He says others are too salty.

Only some kinds of pizza places are okay. There was one restaurant in Arkansas where Tim loved to get the pepperoni pizza but Kellan would leave the table or ask him not to order it because he couldn’t deal with the smell.

So, if the point isn’t clear yet, Kellan is really particular about food. And we have just kind of accepted this as his normal. We always make sure we have a snack packed for him because eating at a restaurant is really a lost cause because he just eats his apples and milk and cheese we packed.

I want you to know and understand that that was the level where my bar was set regarding adventurous eating when Hunter came along.

Kellan knows what he likes and doesn’t and as long as I don’t forget the lunchbox, everybody will be fine. 

And so now, as we begin embarking on people food with Hunter, it turns out that he plays by a completely different set of rules.

Hunter is not at all interested in wondering what he’s eating. 

He just wants to eat it all.

Whatever it is you have, he wants it, even if his body is not physically or developmentally prepared for it.

He will yell at you and get very upset if you don’t share.

Sharing is caring, mom.

He loves eating all food.

He does not discriminate.

Just today he ate everything that Kellan loathes: oatmeal, cooked broccoli and carrots, and bananas waaaaaay past the perfectly ripe stage.

Now I experience the complete opposite ends of the spectrum at every meal and I am still shocked every time like what?! 

You want to eat that???

And you want more??

You like it????

You mean we get to order off the menu?????

(While Kellan happily eats his apples and cheese and milk) 

rugs to radon

You know when you had this whole plan and it all seemed like it was going to work out, so much so that you started putting a lot of time and energy into acting on the plan and then even started writing a blog post regarding some of those pieces parts about said plan….and then.


You’re so funny, universe. I know you’re actually looking out for us but really. So funny. Appreciate it and all but still. Here we go again.

SO. The plan gets a kink and the kink is so serious that you’re not even sure if you’re going to carry out the plan anymore.

Hello, welcome to my life, the current edition.

Of course this allllllllllll revolves around the hazmat house. And this time it’s actually living up to its name! Way to be a team player, house. I guess if you describe a thing a certain way enough times it ends up taking on those properties. Murphys Law or something.

Probably not Murphy at all but definitely some kind of law the universe has in place.


We are in the process of having appraisals and inspections and all completed and yesterday we received the radon report.

What’s radon, you say?

You have no idea what I’m talking about?

Sidebar: If you live in Colorado, I hope I’m not talking to you.

Quick science lesson for everybody else: 

And if anybody has a better lesson on this or if I am describing this improperly, please share.

Radon is a gas that is created by the natural breakdown of uranium in soil. It comes up from said soil into your house. When you have this gas in an enclosed and well insulated/sealed area like a house, it floats around until it exhausts its half life, which is around 4 minutes and that is plenty of time for the particles to get into your lungs. Having this happen day after day, year after year can cause lung cancer. Because radon is a carcinogen and carcinogens are super bad for your body. Radon is more prevalent in some areas of the country (looking at you, Colorado…and now apparently also South Carolina…) and it is also more frequently an issue when you have a basement.

Usually you have a radon mitigation system in your house to combat this. It is a pipe that goes from the ground to outside to vent the gas. It doesn’t remove it completely but it gets rid of enough of it to get it to lower levels. Still a carcinogen…just not as much. Really that sounds ridiculous but it is what it is…because radon is everywhere.

The hazmat house said it had a mitigation system.

The radon test result said that mitigation system is not doing its job.

Levels that warrant intervention are at 4…..okay really it’s way more complicated than you probably want to know.

Brass tax is the house radon levels are high and we are concerned. I don’t want any of us exposed to a carcinogen at levels that are putting us at a much higher than average percentage of developing lung cancer. 

Yes, we know the system can be fixed. But the big question is will it really BE FIXED? Yes, they’ll do another 2 day test and it that comes back as acceptable…and we say we will go ahead with the sale…….

Okay really. It feels like I’m trying to justify us eating bowls of fried sugar washed down with soda and driving around without seatbelts – and we do not do any of those, for the record.
The most accurate radon test is 90 days and if we decide to buy the house and then do the 90 day test and find out that radon is still a big issue….mitigation system or not….then what

Do you see where I am going with all of this?

And to think this post was going to be about the distress we were having about how difficult and confusing it is to buy an area rug… email later and look where we are now.

where’s the money tree?

I know I briefly mentioned we were moving into a new to us house.

Honestly I feel like we keep moving into houses, making them nice, and then handing them off to someone else to enjoy as their forever home.

It’s like we are the home fixer fairies.

You’re welcome, families in Georgia, Colorado, and Arkansas.

Really though. It’s kind of nice to be able to give that kind of “gift” so to speak. It’s hard because we have to leave the lovely house we made, but it’s also fun to be able to give the joy to someone else.

At this point in our, “No, we aren’t a military family we just get moved around a lot” life, I’m fairly confident we can make a nice house. It’s kind of the obvious knock on effect when you have two super type A personalities living under the same roof who have ticks about certain things and cannot deal until they are made whole.

Each house we have owned has sold faster than the last. And by faster I mean one took two weeks. The next 1.5 weeks. The last a week exactly.

I’m going to be kicking myself in a few years if the house we are buying now takes longer than that to sell. Fingers crossed it doesn’t. 

Anyway, we are currently in the throes of figuring out what we want to do to this new to us house. There are lots of things we could do, but because we aren’t staying here forever, we have to be selective.

Selective means we can’t put more money in the house than we can get out. Don’t get upside down. Make money on the sale, don’t lose it.

I told Tim I wanted to make the coat closet by the garage door a makeshift mudroom because that area was really poorly designed, entirely too narrow, and who puts three doors in a tiny space within five feet of one another??

I needed a functional space for the boys to take off and store their shoes and such and I had to get rid of a door. 

Enter mudroom in a closet, aka remove the door.

And then Tim was all, “Take off the door???!”

I am a creative person. I think in ways Tim cannot conceive. I have learned I need to communicate in pictures.

I showed him the magic of Pinterest. 

His fears were pacified.

Project mudroom was on.

I even made a terrible drawing with even more terrible handwriting. I have never had nice handwriting and well, it is what it is, people.

I am beginning to realize that I really enjoy two things about moving. I like staging our house when we have to sell it and I like fixing it and making it nice when we are moving in. 

Really I would stage anyone’s house if they’d be able to deal with me and my “yes you have to take pictures of yourself down and yes you have to declutter like you’ve never decluttered in your life” mentality.

Hey…it works. It might be a PITA but it works.

However, I do not like packing or unpacking. Let’s be clear about that. I like beautifying. Finding the perfect spot for things. Making the house feel like a home.

Right now we are in a holding and planning pattern until we close on the hazmat house. Yesterday we had a marathon day with inspectors and carpet and flooring people and paint and handyman and security and fence people…along with me having a small conversation with our realtor to make sure that she communicated what we (read me) expected in a professional cleaning we are requiring. 

Because you guys. It’s serious. The amount of grime and dirt in places is…we cannot figure out how it even happened. It’s like they took a mixer, filled the bowl with mud and bits of leftovers, picked a random outlet in the house and flipped it on high. Or they just took a sock and dipped it in brown water and went around flinging it against whatever wall they could reach.

And then there are things in places I have no explanation for. Like caked smudges on wall mirrors that require scaffolding to reach.

But that’s not the point. Doing all of this tedious stuff means we are moving closer to getting stuff done!

We as in not really Tim or me directly but still.


The day of contractors definitely was not an easy one for Kellan. He had to do a lot of waiting around and in the rush out the door, I forgot his snacks for the hours long event. Really, I always forget something unless I put a post it on the door with all the things to remember…and still sometimes I forget. 

I told Kellan I would take him to the grocery store as soon as I thought I had a window. Then, when I thought that window was open, I handed Hunter off to Tim while he was still dealing with the floor guy and the inspector.

Kellan and I headed out the door and then the painter and handymen drove up right as we were walking to the car. 

I just looked at Kellan as said, “I’m really sorry but you’re going to have to wait.”

Let me just say he didn’t like that answer at all.

Ensue lots of tears and him reminding me how absolutely hungry he was (let’s pretend we forgot about how we talked about eating breakfast and how he’d be hungry later).

Luckily our real estate agent helped distract him while I went around showing the painter and handymen all the things we wanted painted and fixed. 

I also told them upfront, “Look. We are really particular people. We like everything to be neat and tidy and god forbid there be a crooked line. Hell hath no fury like a crooked line.” 

I think I made my point. Or I scared them. Hard to tell.

I asked Tim at the beginning of this particular relocation process if he thought we were high maintenance, fully expecting him to say, “Us?? Noooooo.”


“What??? No we aren’t! We just know what we like!”


Since then, I’ve just embraced it and have been upfront like, “We are difficult people. We know we are difficult people. We like stuff a certain way. Just a heads up.”

So, back to the STARVING child, by the time I was ready to take Kellan to the store, I’m pretty sure he forgot about eating because he was perfectly happy running through the aisles, picking out stuff, and telling me he wanted it to take a loooooooong time.

Probably because we were retuning to the house of no fun (yet). When we got back I had him go upstairs to the kid room to read the books that were there. I figured it was at least something he’d enjoy so he didn’t have to think about how hot it was. Apparently the owners don’t believe in air conditioning or watering their lawn and plant life.

Anyhow. Wow am I going all over the place. Once we knew our offer for the hazmat house was accepted, Tim made a spreadsheet of estimated costs before we started getting quotes and actual costs.

Anyone have a money tree growing out back because we need to pluck a few dozen or so benjamins.

Apparently I need to get into the handyman and carpet business. I’m not interested in the paint business because I don’t like to paint. Actually if I’m being honest, I’m not interested in the carpet business, either. But I can definitely get excited about some one off creative work requests.

I do think I’m going to have to start teaching myself how to do some things. Maybe go to a few Home Depot workshops or something. Then Kellan, Hunter, and I can build and create all sorts of fun! And save some dollars because WOW.

Obviously Hunter still has some major baby milestones yet to accomplish before he gets down and dirty with construction materials and I am not rushing those baby things at all. He’s already trying to grow up too fast and I’m just over here like wait! How are you almost at the age where you’ve been out longer than you’ve been in???

Dear Time: slow down.

Dear Money Tree: Kellan says you’ll grow if we just plant a dollar in the ground, cover it with dirt, and water it.

chicken bees

It’s my new little corner of the interwebs! Is that even a term anymore? Honestly I am so out of the loop….anyway, I had a blog…but I kind of grew out of it and decided I needed a new one and so here we are!


I haven’t exactly added anything to this so bear with me. Time to beautify is currently not on my side. 

To start of this brand spankin’ new blog, I’d like to share that we have a cute new little member of our cast who I have already nicknamed trouble…even though his real name is Hunter.

Ladies…I’m out.

But WOW is Hunter the complete opposite of Kellan. Instead of talking at seven months he is inch worm crawling. Trying to pull up on stuff. Getting into everything. Not afraid of anything. Throw all caution to the wind! What even is caution because who needs that?!

I already put Tim on high alert that we need to lock all the things. If it can be tilted or lifted, bolt it down. Install catch nets on walls and balconies because I am already calling it. He will be climbing anything with footholds and then flinging himself off because wheeeeeeee!

I repeat: He’s s-e-v-e-n months old.

Kellan? He didn’t walk by himself until he was over a year old. He crawled after he walked. He rolled and butt scoogied before that and even then he never left if you told him to stay put. 

Hunter? I cannot even get his diaper off before he’s flipped himself over and is crawling away all I’M FREEEEEE! Don’t even try to put a new diaper on me! I don’t need no stinkin’ clothes, mom!

Kellan, on the other hand, has issues if someone else isn’t wearing socks. Let’s not even go there with nekkid.

A friend at our old house (We just moved! More on that later!) had to bring her own socks to our house if she wore sandals. One time she didn’t and she had to wear my socks because life in Kellan’s world was not okay until her feet were covered.

Long story short: Everybody wears socks.

Anyway. Where was I going with this?…….my memory has become….well it has left me, actually. I now forget what I was going to say as I am saying it. I don’t even know how parents with more than two kids even have a memory. It must all be autopilot.

[re-reading my own blog to try and remember my point]

[It’s not coming back to me]

So anyway. We moved. As in relocated to a new town. Everyone is in transition. We are hopefully going to move into a house soon that basically looks like it came out of the Restoration Hardware catalogue. 

Scratch that.

Scratch allllllllll that.

We are instead moving into what we had deemed the hazmat house.

More on that later…well really here’s the low down quick and dirty version because I will forget I said that and later will never come and then you’ll always be wondering. So here we go, run on sentence style: we put an offer on the Restoration house the day we saw it and then the next day our realtor called me and was like you are not going to believe this…this has never happened to me ever but they decided not to sell their house. We were just like WHAT?! And so then we tried to go see all these other houses we didn’t really like and then Tim sends me a text one day and is all thaaaat hazmat house is starting to look better and beeeeeetter……and I didn’t want to admit it but it really was based on the houses we had been seeing and it wasn’t all that bad of a house, the owners are just very messy and sloppy (read: dog poo in yard, broken toys on steps leading to front door, kids underwear on the floor when we walked in, ginormous hair ball the size of a small animal in the shower door, teddy grahams up the stairs, smears of dog dirt all over the walls by the food bowls, dings and dents and all kinds of things…let’s just say our real estate agent said, in her sweetest southern voice, “it’s been lived in a little hard.”). But we can fix all of these things. The owner is obviously a mom trying her best with two kids and really, I get it. The kid probably hid that underwear in his shirt and then flung it out behind him backwards as they walked out of the house.

But this house has all the things I wanted, like a loft and a basement. Lots of space. So fast forward to today where we decided to put an offer on the hazmat house and we will be fixing all the things. I’m actually really excited about it. Hazmat house here we come!

OH! And guess what?! My point has come back to me after a long, slow circle around the track.

Chicken bees!

Why chicken bees?

Well, earlier I was going to correlate how Kellan decided to focus on vocabulary and talking versus physical abilities while Hunter has clearly gone in the opposite direction. Except I forgot about that correlation until just now, so I better say it before I forget again…

Kellan started talking at 6 months. His first word was DAT! Like I want to see DAT! He then moved on to two word sentences (“I do it” – okay I know that’s technically three….) and hasn’t looked back. 

Even though his vocab is insane, Kellan still says some really cute things. The most recent is “diswhisk.” As in, “I do not like carrots. I diswhisk them.” 

I have no idea where Kellan came up with diswhisk or if he actually means “dismiss,” but I am not correcting him and nor should anybody else because it’s only so long before he figures it out and so please let me have this moment.

Okay…yes…chicken bees. I’m getting there. I was just giving you a little background…so when he was little he used to call chickadees “chicken bees” (and maybe he still does, I’m actually not sure).

At the time I thought it was adorable and I still think it’s adorable.

And I think it fits this new blog perfectly because I am definitely going to talk about chicken and bees…along with plenty of other things that don’t really go together in the same subject area but in the end the room matches because there are enough common things to pull it all together.

That’s pretty much our life. We aren’t the everything matches restoration house. We are the throw a little of this and a little of that and oh yes that’ll probably work house.

Our lives are starting a new chapter and it’s a chapter I want to remember. 

This fresh start after our very, very bumpy ride to get here is making me realize I just need to do the things I want to do and share what I want to share. So I’m just going to hop up on the horse and do it.

Plus, Kellan is now privy to my old blog and he loves it when I read the stories about him. Or he reads them himself because oh, yes. He’s reading. And not just Hop on Pop. He reads everything and I mean let me break it down for you: he correctly read the word “rogue” without anyone telling him how to pronounce it. He told Tim the other day he needed to “bone up” on something and Tim asked him if he knew what that meant and he correctly defined the phrase. 

He’s five.

I don’t even know what to say except it all started with DAT!

Also, it is so fun to go back and relive memories and have this blog as a way Kellan and Hunter can always read about all the things we did and all the stories that would very well be forgotten had I not written them down.

So with that, giddy-up!

And Happy 4th! May you all celebrate with fireworks that I haven’t seen in five years and will be cursing come 10pm when you’re waking up my kids with your loud recklessness. 

My how times have changed.

(Kellan’s face is saying I’m smiling but someone is smoking so really I just want to leave)