It was the end of our first week in the new house. Doug was at Home Depot (second trip of the day). I was cleaning up dinner, fixing bottles for the boys, had just pajamed the girls, and was encouraging them to find something to do while I put the boys to bed.
Eliza pulled out her crayons as sweet light moved softly along the mountains outside our kitchen window. An orange orb hovered over the sink through the opposite window, slowly setting. The kitchen in our new place is large (larger than before) and has plenty of room for our kitchen table. We can finally fit all the chairs in without scraping walls as the kids push them out.
I doubt I will ever get used to the brown and blue carpet in the kitchen – especially with two boys in high chairs who recently decided dropping their food off the edge of the tray is a sneaky and hilarious game. But after hours of scrubbing wallpaper in the kitchen – just to get it clean – wiping down the dusty blinds and removing the drapes, this space was beginning to feel almost, maybe, just a little bit, kind of like home.
I spent a few minutes washing dishes, changed the boys’ diapers, then swooped Gordy up to carry him to their bedroom. As I was about to walk out of the kitchen, Eliza brought this picture to me.