Becoming a parent has meant having to accept certain “situations”. Like, one glass of wine with dinner instead of a margarita (apparently babies frown upon hard liquor, or maybe adults do). And when a friend asks you to a movie, you can only imagine a panicked babysitter texting you in the middle of Ryan Gosling removing clothing (don’t judge- you know you watch too) to call you home. So you end up staying home a lot more. BUT, and there is a BUT, you become much more in tune with your home. You start really thinking about what it means to be in a home. Equaling a breakthrough.
    When I was younger (Oh. My. God. this makes me so sad) my “home” was essentially a crash pad. Trust me, I added things to make it more “homey”- like my fish tank in Greensboro, or posters in Raleigh, or the Carolina gnome that has been mysteriously missing for the last few years. But overall it never really mattered what was happening there because there was so much else going on in the outside world. I was gone almost constantly so when I came home it was to go to bed, occasionally have a 90210 marathon watching session, and to eat. That’s why it never bothered me to move all the time- what mattered were the experiences I had while I lived in a place, not necessarily the physical walls that surrounded me. But as we become older our homes become so much more.
    I moved into my husband’s house when we got married and there was a lot going on in there that was, to put it lightly, not really my thing. Some things I can accept (like the fact that he’s always going to want a giant TV, and even if we have a big TV, secretly be dreaming of a bigger one), but some things just had to go (the sofa held up by textbooks). We began to discuss what we wanted our home to be like. What colors, what plates, what bedding. And ever so slowly, as we discussed our home came together. What is great about our current home is that we picked it out together, came into it as a team, and then became a family here.
     SL has been a game changer when it comes to how much we enjoy our home. First of all, I’m here a lot more. Getting out the door with a baby is not the same as getting yourself out the door. It actually seems to be an art form that I’m learning about. So naturally we spent more time in the house. Often I would find myself consulting her on everything from colors for cushions to where artwork should go. Beyond her natural gravitation towards primary colors, she wasn’t the most help.
     Slowly our home is coming together. I vaguely remember us moving in with a newborn, and then a moment in the fall when I thought the boxes would never be unpacked. But they have been or are being and with each one we move towards settling in in what I hope will be a forever home or close to it. We talk about long term projects in a more serious way than we used to, and they don’t all involve painting the office (definitely a “someday” project). And now we can even go out more. SL is finally at an age where she enjoys going on “adventures”, and loves seeing people and animals. We can easily head to a friend’s for lunch or an early dinner, depending on bedtime  We can go to the library and the mall and the museum and the park with greater ease, and I am much more comfortable doing it. But I find myself treasuring the moments at home so much more. She’s belly crawling all over the place now and lying on the floor with her makes her laugh to the point of tears, and it is SO. MUCH. FUN. Matt and I are missing other things left and right- parties, shows, events. But I’m becoming much more okay with it. I used to mourn a little with each invite we had to turn down. Now I mainly kind of want to say “Y’all should come here and watch this baby! She’s hilarious! She’s determined! She is ridiculously cute!” Instead I try to enjoy watching this hilarious, determined amazing baby who spent her whole Sunday trying to get the cat to get close enough to rip out some hair. I think about how fast the time is moving- how last week at this time she could only turn in a circle, and the week before she was just starting to stretch out. And she loves our house. She begins kicking her legs and getting excited to see her toys and the cats. She loves her room and I completely believe she knows what is hers and what is not and has this awesome sense of ownership over it.
     Isn’t that what we want for our kids? To know what home is, to get excited when they pull in the driveway or see their room. Who remembers being obsessed with their room when they were a kid? Who is obsessed with their home now and actually doesn’t mind hitting up Home Depot on a Sunday? Who wants to come over and watch a ridiculously cute, hilarious baby?  When that’s your question, you know that you have finally reached a point when your home is no longer your crash pad.