Home is...

A new (dormant but revived) obsession has reared its ugly head and I am starting to feel a bit out of control: buying and selling. Property Brothers, stop making this look so damned exhilarating!

In trying to talk myself down from the Ikea bookshelf, into my caffeinated head pops a very wise woman. I have this old friend I could best describe as a free-faller, a willing nomad, a happening-maker, true-believer in fate and faith and in-the-moment-ness.

An Earth-loving, magical, grounded mama, she is everything I am NOT. I am strung-high, prone to let things drive me batty, type-A all the way. Just as the people who allow me to live with them.

On the outside (she wears her insides on the outside) Old Friend is never stressed. Even when she is experiencing stress in her life, she does not appear to break a sweat. Well, she is one of those that only perspires while running marathons. She is one of those easy-going, passionate, full of life, let's-watch-what-happens-next and if-that's-what-it-is-that's-what's-meant-to-be chicks.

OH, how I wish I could think, process and plan like her. I'm just not made up that way, and all the inspiring Real Simple and Oprah articles I scour cannot change that about moi. It's ok. She tells me that. It's ok that I am like this. It was meant to be, me.

She is one of those friends that I don't SEE in person often enough but I think about her and her yogi ways often. What would that calming soul, Old Friend, think of these silly home selling and buying challenges I am mulling over?

She'd tell me that it doesn't matter where you live or where you fold the clothes... they are always going to be there, in unruly piles, beckoning your name. It's not the lane/circle/street that is attached to your house number. Or if your hardwood floors are gleaming or paint-splattered and scuffed by Matchbox cars and dog nails. Can the kiddos play outside and can you go for a peaceful bike ride or run and plant flowers and do you have a window to see the sunrise/sunset and chair to sip coffee or a cocktail? She'd say that my worries about Big Kid and a new school will all work out, they always do... maybe not without challenges, but as G says over on Momastery, we can do hard things. And then in the midst of writing this post, I happened upon this little nugget of wisdom over on A Mom's View of ADHD. And I felt ok again... about the school stuff anyway.

Old Friend would ask are you healthy and laughing and breathing and living? No? Change it.

Such a simple way of framing (in a rustic white-washed wooden mirror framed-type of way) things. Hmmm. Therefore, I am fighting off stress-induced complex migraines pretending to meditate at my desk during lunch. Don't try to call me, people! And also channeling my inner ninja warrior by running as much as possible. Take that muffin top from gorging brownies while scouring Howard Hanna.com, take that T.J. Maxx and Homegoods and Target with your gorgeous baubles and trinkets that must fill my soon-to-be-staged house and my-soon-to-be-someday-new-house.

'WHATEVER!' says my brain and this vision enters:


You need this for your dining room, Jennifer, says my inner Jeff Lewis conscious.

The jogs work as a distraction half of the time. Too bad that I'm constantly running past all of the For Sale and Sale Pending and Sold and (my favorite) It's a Beauty signs... fueling my crazy.

For reals... this real estate has me all in a tizzy. Finally, it's booming, and inventory is short. Panicked, I find myself in the middle of this phrase to the husband: 'We need to catch this hot trend before we're left in the dust...' I fear that I am officially turning into a mad woman. Husband is prying the remote out of my sweaty little hand when House Hunters comes on. I'm stalking David Bromstad's blog for ideas.

The anxiety only stems from the fact that we need to replace the roof and fix old plaster and someone who shall remain nameless needs to organize his work/tool/wood shop junk area in the basement and garage (love you, honey!); That's really only a snippet from the beloved old house that is a never-ending producer of projects. And I told someone who shall remain nameless that it might just be kind of a decent idea to do the projects over time and not all at once because the deadline is looming and... I am not that kind of spouse who would bring that up at a time like this. Ahem.

Here's a start, anyway. New dining room. Those of you that had the opportunity to revel in the tea cozy that was our previous circa 1982 floral covering? Ta-da, no more! I think I scraped off at least four layers of wallpaper. Soothing slate blue makes for a much less dizzying dining experience.

Someone will soon enjoy a family meal in this room as we have made so many memories... birthday cake icing smeard on the chair spindle, fish crackers crushed into the rug, chocolate milk volcanoes into the crack of the table and, hmmm, how exactly am I getting that out?

The danged house might sell for what we think it's worth, or not. Quickly or not until the last second.  I really just need to child lock the vortex that is channel 656 from my viewing options. I am sucked in with every episode of Love it or List It! Damn, you, Canadian HGTV!

Will we find something in our desired area? Where is that, exactly??? Can we agree? The jury is out.

Big Kid says, 'well, you better have another yard sale because we can't take all that old stuff in the basement with us.' Thanks for observation, buddy. But BTW, that's all daddy's crap!

Beetle says of the basement/storage/too-many-toys situation, 'no, no, no - you've messed up my plan. You've got it all wrong, mom.' Well put.

In the meantime, I am doubling my used treasures donation to Goodwill. I am avoiding home improvement and decor shows as much as humanly possible. I am concentrating on being grateful. I am trying to allow the process to happen (managed by me and my spreadsheets and sticky notes and lists) and enjoy the little bits that I can. Because apparently, we are where we are supposed to be.

Here's to you, Old Friend, my northern star. Spreader of fairy dust. You know who you are. So help me, I am trying.

To be continued...