Sometimes Things Don’t Turn Out The Way You Expect…

Many of you have followed my journey and know that we ended up with our five little babies due to an unexpected and unforeseen pregnancy. Of course, since we have no children of our own, these dogs are our babies, our children. And this week, in fact the past 2 weeks, have been awful. My husband did some research to find that stomach flu is transferrable between dogs and humans. Can you imagine? With a sick household, dogs included, it hasn’t been easy. As of yesterday, the dogs are finally in the clear. My husband is the last one battling his second round with fevers and being sick. Hopefully it will leave him soon as well.

This week was not an easy one. The dogs are like babies, and because they cannot tell you what’s wrong with them and may not even really know, of course they cry. What else are they supposed to do? So my husband and I have been taking turns sitting with them, even at night. It hasn’t been easy and could very well be the reason for the second round of my husband’s stomach flu.

Despite the hardships, this week was pretty good. Monday night, we finally sold the Audi that we have been trying to sell for forever. I cannot tell you what a surprise and a blessing that was! I believe it was Monday night that we also watched the movie, “God’s Not Dead”. If you have never seen this movie, I cannot recommend a better one. It is not a documentary, but simply a video showing the doubt and atheist point-of-view of God, and the rebuttal with Christian standpoint. It was really, really well done. Tuesday night, I ended up in a conversation with an atheist woman whom I did not know. What started as a fiery conversation amidst many Christians and her, I was able to continue mainly on my own, and not only have a great detailed conversation with her, but in the end, she even apologized for some of the crude comments she had made and thanked me for the conversation. This is something I’ve never had the opportunity to experience before and it was truly a blessing. On Wednesday, my husband and I went to the gym for the first time in a week since the family has been sick, and despite being sick and out of the gym for that long, my strength had not left, and my body picked right up where it left off. I even did many more exercises that normal and left the gym feeling exhausted and worn-out, but proud. On Thursday, we were surprised from a colleague with two tickets to a Steven Curtis Chapman concert. And not only that, but we just happened to sit right in front of a cousin that I have not seen in over 10 years. What a God moment, planned for all the right things. My husband’s fever increased during the concert, but even he wanted to stay and listen. You have no idea what a blessing that all turned out to be for me. And last but not least, when we came home, nearing midnight, my husband shivering with a high fever, he ran upstairs right away to pile under the blankets. I stopped to get the mail. And his work permit was in it! We’ve been waiting 2 years for anything from the government for him! I know it’s not residency, but he can at least work. I couldn’t contain my joy that night. Something we had waited for so long. God really was turning our hard week into such immaculate blessings along the way. I was on such a spiritual, emotional, and physical high.

But then it happened. And I have no way to explain this to you except from what I learned and made total sense to me a couple weeks ago. It’s when God is doing something good that the devil attacks, and it holds true. For so long, my husband and I have been in a bit of a limbo. Happy we’ve moved, but got sick. Shorter driving times, but haven’t been tired as early as usual. Just kind of stuck in the middle of neither a high nor a low. And yet with such a hard week (2 weeks total), God blessed us so immensely. The grand scheme of it all, I’m not sure. But the blessings were undeniable.

And yet yesterday, I received a phone call from our landlady. Our neighbours complained about our dogs barking. I asked her when they were barking, whether it was during the day, evening, night, and she said it sounded like it was all the time. I explained to her that if it was this past week, that the dogs have been sick and yes have been more whiney than usual and apologized for that. She then went on to ask about the dogs that I have and was noted that I have more than allowed. When we signed into this place, the number of dogs was not mentioned, except where it said there were no dogs allowed which we asked about. The sign-up sheet for pets was the same as our previous rental where only one slot is available for information, which of course we filled out. The landlady at our previous place (same company) also had met our dogs with my husband in the hallway and had petted them and everything seemed ok. So we never even gave it a second thought. So I looked up the bylaws, and wouldn’t you know, despite the amount of people we’ve met, talked to, known, nobody has ever told me what they have said. In our city, you can have up to 6 cats, but only 3 dogs. I don’t think I have to tell you how much my heart sank, the panic that ran through me, the sadness I’ve grown. I have to get rid of two dogs.

I just can’t even explain to you the depression I feel. I wish the neighbour would have come and talked to me. I wish I hadn’t moved us here. Nobody complained at our previous place, and yet I thought I was doing something better by moving us to a bigger place, closer to my work, and no drunk neighbours stumbling through hallways at 3 and 4 in the morning. Sometimes I wonder why such seemingly good things have to turn out so bad. I’m struggling.

The thing is, had my neighbour’s asked, maybe they’d better understand. Maybe they’d understand that we don’t have kids and these are ours. Maybe they’d understand that my dogs aren’t normally that noisy, but instead have been battling sickness the same way babies do, and are better now. But the truth of the matter is, some people don’t care to understand. And that’s a sad truth of humanity. We worry so much about ourselves, about any annoyances to ourselves, anything that gets in our way, that we fail to try and understand the “why” of other people. We jump to conclusions with reason of understanding. And unfortunately, I’m stuck in the middle of one of these situations.

Thankfully, my mother is able to take one of my babies, and I know she will love her. I know her life will be good and she will be spoiled. But what saddens me is that she’ll be on the other side of the country where I will not see her for quite some time. My brother-in-law is also able to take my other dolly as he’s be in love with her since the first time they met. He is not married, no girlfriend, and has no other animals. She will most assuredly be spoiled and treated as his princess. Another good home, and not out of the family, but not in my home and hard for me to accept at this time.

The truth is, I hate this city. Not entirely strong, but pretty much. I never wanted to come back to this city after I had left. My superintendents had picked where I would work, and not where I had requested for the people who requested me. I was put here because they wanted me to be. I’m in a place, that no matter where I moved, if I’m still in this insanely large city, I cannot be with my children. And I hate it. It tears me apart. I am no different than a woman with five children. Some people don’t understand why people have so many kids. And yes, coming from a family of 4, the house can get crazy, but that’s the fun of it. I’m not an “animal collector”, which is my assumption why the rule was put into place. My husband and I are a child-less couple who had no intentions on having five dogs, and yet by unforeseen situations, grew our hearts to include the the three that came to be.

I’m just so distraught, so upset, so unbelievably depressed. I used to advocate so badly for being here while my husband had no work, wasn’t able to work, and I was. But I’m really starting to wonder if my job is really worth it. I know and feel so accomplished when I watch my students change into the people I hope they will become, but at the expense of my own family? I don’t feel that anymore. Family should always come first, and though my children may not be human, that doesn’t change they fact they are my children. And my heart is breaking. I say goodbye to my first baby next week, and I can’t deny the fact that even thinking about it, tears fall. I sit with my dogs, on the floor, in the basement, not caring how much hair they cover me with. I love them, and there is no love like a dog’s.

Without a doubt, I’d get out of this place if I could. But as my husband JUST got his work permit, he is now only searching for a job. As a teacher, I cannot just quit until the Summer, and even so, do not have the money to get out of our lease agreement until either my husband makes the money, or we have to wait until October when it is up. I am thankful for family that is willing to help, and able. I know that I will be able to get one of my babies back should the time come that I can, but the other I will probably not. Nor do I wish to tear the bonds that are made, as I know how loving and loveable my babies are.

I know God has a plan in all of this. I don’t see it at the moment, I don’t feel like this is all ok, but I know it is what has to be, and I will never cease to trust God as I know He sees the bigger plan that I can’t. I know He feels the heartache that I do, and I know He cries with me. These next few weeks are going to be hard. And though I struggle with feelings of anger, and retaliation of many things I could say about my neighbours in the month we’ve moved in, I will resist as I know God would not have it that way. Life is unfair, and can be super hard. Pain can seem insurmountable, but all through this time, God promises to be with me and to carry me when I grow too weary to walk on my own. I’m thankful for a God that loves me like that and knows more than I do what it’s like to lose a child.

Jeremiah 29:11 — For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Isaiah 40:31 — but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

 

Sometimes Being a Dog Mom Can Be Hard

I cannot tell you how many times I hear “Just wait until you have children.” In fact, this very phrase makes me cringe. Yes, I’m a teacher. Yes, I love kids. But no, I honestly know that I don’t want any of my own. And yes, I do know what it’s like.

See here’s the thing. My step dad started working away from home when I was in grade 7, possibly before I was done grade 6. We lived on a farm at the time that had horses, cows, chickens, turkeys, pheasants, goats, rabbits, dogs, and cats. I had two younger siblings at the time, one in school, one too young. My mother also held a job as administrative assistant at a nursing home. With Dad gone, guess who became the second parent of the household? You’re reading her blog, right now.

Not only was I loaded with responsibilities on the farm, I also had to help with all the daily activities, getting the children ready, cooking, taking care of my siblings when Mom was working or at meetings with home and school. This is where I started booking quite a bit of time.

Though we lived with Dad a bit here and there throughout the years, Dad eventually had to leave for the west again to work, and thus I was the second parent again. And not only to my younger siblings this time, but also to the new baby on the way. I can remember my mother being so sick with her last pregnancy (no longer working), and simply laying on the couch, eating nothing but baguette style bread with cream cheese and ranch dressing, being able to drink nothing but a particular brand of apple juice. She had the hardest time from being sick constantly. Of course this meant I had to pick up the slack. Thankfully, our school at this place was just a walk away, but that still meant getting ready and cooking and all the other parent-jobs. I can remember one night, my mother woke me up to drive with her to the hospital (didn’t have my license or learner’s yet) because she thought she was going into labour. We got to the hospital (on a school night), my grandmother had gone to the house to stay with the sleeping siblings of mine, and waited several hours as the doctors wanted to monitor her. Unfortunately, they did not want my mother to go home in the end, just to be safe, and my sister was supposed to have a birthday party the next day. My mom asked me to not go to school, to stay home and decorate and get prepared for my sister’s party. I honestly had no idea what I was doing, and I was not the child that liked to skip school. But my mom needed me. She had nobody else to rely on.

Of course, once my youngest brother was born, my mother was not allowed to do much of anything as she had a C-section. There was so much work to be done. Even going to doctor’s visits, trips to the mall, wherever, I had to help a lot. I can remember times I carried his car set into the doctor’s office and registered him while my mother would find a parking spot. Waiting in the room, people would always assume he was mine. It became a running joke that he was my baby no matter where we went as everyone always seemed to think he was mine instead of my mom’s.

So really, you can tell me I’m inexperienced, you can tell me I don’t know, but the truth is that I do. Even with my sister that is only 3 years younger than me, I felt as if I had to take care of her due to our parent’s divorce. Who else was there on weekends (except my grandparents…it was their place) when my Dad sometimes met up with his buddies he hadn’t seen in awhile? I don’t blame him. He was young still. But my sister was allergic to so many things, had separation issues for awhile from my mom, and even at that young of an age, I somehow knew it wasn’t all up to my grandparents. I’ve always been super protective of her, just as I had become of my brothers.

The other thing is that people are always shocked when I say “I don’t need children. My 5 dogs keep me busy enough!” I always get the same reply “It’s not the same”. Don’t get me wrong. They don’t talk back, they don’t usually cry, they don’t take as much money to take care of. BUT I’m here to tell you that there are days it is exactly the same.

Last night, not only was my husband stick with stomach flu, but my dogs were sick. Thankfully only one of them, but it was still really gross when they share an inside play pen and they don’t know how to be clean about it. Yesterday morning, my husband had given them all a bath (before he got sick). But by night, the one was sick again. Can you guess what my night was like? Filled with crying dogs (same as crying babies), massive messes (think explosive diapers), and very little sleep. Trust me. It was no different than the crying nights I had experienced with my younger siblings. The real difference is, picking my dogs up, rocking them back and forth, walking them around and singing does not even have a chance with crying dogs. The remedies are not the same. But the lack of sleep is.

I love my husband. I love my dogs. I love my siblings. I love children. I love teaching. I AM experienced. I KNOW what it’s like. But I don’t want my own children, and that is simply a fact. My dogs keep me busy, they do have their own needs, and that is good enough for me.

I’m About to do This My 27th Time and I Still Don’t Like It!

Doing something 27 times that you don’t even like seems crazy, doesn’t it? That’s because it is! Especially considering I haven’t hit my 27th birthday yet! And you would have total rights to call me crazy, if it had all been in my control. You see, these 27 same events spanned over my lifetime, starting from my newborn year. These 27 events are the amount of times I’ve moved. And yes, the 27th time is about to happen in less than a week. And no, I’ve never learned to enjoy it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I quite detest it.

I’ll take you on a little history ride since it’s the only thing that seems to make sense to me. Whenever I look back on my life, I’m only able to recall the years and ages that things happened because of where I lived or what grade/school I was in at the time. My life has been compartmentalized in my mind because there are so many things involved that it only made sense to tie them to the place I was since those are the smallest divisions I could make. So here we go!

When I was born, my mother took me “home”. Now I call this place home because it was the first place I had known as home and we still own this house today. My mother in fact has done many amazing renovations to it (magazine-worthy kitchen) and is living there now. At the time I was born, my grandparents (her parents) were living there and so she herself went “home”.

Very shortly after, my father had arranged an apartment for us to live in. This was about an hour away from “home”, but it was my mother and father’s first home together. We didn’t stay here incredibly long as my father was looking for a permanent house.

My father did in fact find a permanent house of which he still lives in today. Of course he has done renovations to his house as well, but he is situated on a nice hill where you can eat your supper, look out and see the city lights twinkle in the night. Great location, and I distinctly remember having a blue sign on top of my bedroom door with my name followed by the word AVE. My room was named after me!

Things did not go so well between my father and mother, and after a couple years, my mother went “home”. I can remember my father visiting us sometimes, but they were unable to patch their relationship. By this time, my sister had entered the world and she was a very sick baby. My grandmother and my mother would take turns driving, walking, rocking, etc… all night long because she would cry and cry. My parents of course headed to divorce.

Not too too much later, my father met the man that would become my step-father. This of course meant that we would not leave the town we lived in, but we would relocate to his place. As convenient as it was to go to his place, I loved being able to stay in my hometown. Of course I wished my father and my mother would get back together, but after some hateful months, my step-father did become my friend. The best part about the town is that my family was where. My dad’s parents, his brothers and sister with their families which meant my cousins and I all went to the same school. My mom’s parents were obviously still there. Basically my family was all there except my dad. And I looked forward to the weekends I had with him.

After several years of being “home”, we had to leave my family behind, the only school I had ever known, the closeness I had grown up with (to this point). I was sad, there’s no denying it. We moved roughly 2 1/2 hours away into a rental farmhouse (no barns but lots of land). The house itself was pretty nice, and we were so far in the country that instead of a school bus picking you up, there was a man with a boat of a car that made several trips picking up students along the way. Talk about interesting! I can even remember a lady with baked goods coming to our door as she did once a week to sell her baked items. Talk about country living at it’s best! I made friends fairly easily here, although I missed “home” very much. The reason for this move was due to my step father’s job relocation as he drove truck at the time and had switched trucking companies.

After a year, it was time to leave again. Again my step father was getting closer to his trucking work, and so I lived in my first city. We lived in an apartment, in a school that was ok but that I didn’t feel like I quite fit in. We were required to play the ukulele and I had never seen one before. The other students had been playing for years and so I was expected to pick it up right away. I struggled, but we only remained in this place for a little over a month before we left again.

My step father was again relocated. I believe this next place was called a city, but it was indeed a very small one. Again we were in an apartment building in the basement. It was small, but we had the police department outside our front door. If anything, it was a safe place to be. I quite liked my school here, and although I had missed the first month, I jumped right in (no crazy musical requirements) and made tonnes of friends. I loved being here. Sometimes between this move and the previous two, my brother also joined our family which of course made a 2-bedroom apartment a tight fit with 5 of us in it.

But of course, once again we had to move when the year was over. This time, we returned to a farm. My parents had been looking for one, and they found a beautiful, old farm that had land reaching down to a large lake. So large you would almost second guess it was the opening to the ocean. On our property we had fields, forest, a pioneer cemetery, we owned half of an open pond, and all of a pond that I considered “magical”. It was surrounded by tree and you only knew it was there if you walked into that circle of mini-forest. The pond was spring-fed and little streams of trickling water would run through the forest from it. When you were inside the circle by the pond, the rest of the world would fade away and you were left in this magical place. This place will forever hold my heart. We stayed on the farm for 2 years. We had everything from cows, horses, pony, chickens (both meat and egg-laying), turkeys, quail, rabbits, dogs, cats, goats, etc. We had never been farmers in our lives and we jumped right in! It was fun and at the same time, so laborious! Here, I made one of my best friends. We spent so much time together that we became like sisters. We were the 3rd and 4th stops on the bus which meant it usually took us an hour on the bus to get to school in the mornings and an hour to get home. But we loved every minute. However, as work would have it, this is the time when my step-father no longer had a job and had to go west, and travel back and forth. So the decision was made to go west with him when school concluded that second year.

We sadly sold all of the animals on the farm, and packed up. My mother and brother right away left to go west with my step-father, but my sister and I stayed with our grandparents so we could spend more time with our father. So for the time being, our belongings were placed back at “home” and we travelled between the two places. I had never seen my dad cry in my life until the moment he found out we were leaving not just to another town or city, but to the other side of the continent. This was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced.

At the conclusion of the summer, my grandparents, my sister and I packed up the van and hit the road. It was a 4-day journey to cross the continent. I was ever so glad to be off the road when we finally made it. Our new place was a townhouse, again with only 2 bedrooms. We had a very short amount of time in this house as after 2 days, we decided to travel to the big city to show my grandparents around before they made their journey “home”. We had a great time with them, but I was extremely sad to see them leave. That was my last little bit of “home” that I had with me. And these were my mom’s parents who no matter what, no matter where we went, made sure they always came and saw us and always made sure we had what we needed. We drove back to our place while they took off for their next 4-day journey. I think I had a total of 4 days in this new place before we got the phone call, and my grandfather had died in a car accident on his way “home”. My grandmother had called from the hospital. She would later need surgery to re-align her nose. The friend they had driving with them broke several bones. My grandfather had simply not made it. This was probably the hardest thing that has ever really happened to my family. This is the man I had spent most of my life with, the man I knew would do anything in the world for me. I was his first grandchild, my mom was an only child. He took care of us more than any other person, he was always there. I went into severe denial over this. I mean, the man who has chased us his whole life, no matter where we moved, is gone? That just can’t happen! Of course, we immediately went “home”.

My mother jumped on the first plane possible. I remember her falling onto the ground as I was trying to hide around the corner and hear what the conversation was about. The only words I remember was right before my mom started crying, she said “Oh… Mom… “. I knew immediately what that meant. Nobody had to tell me anything. I just went into mental shock. So she jumped on the first plane, while we stayed at my great aunt’s farm for a few days until plane tickets were cheaper to fly the 4 of us home. I started school late that year which ended up being ok because it was the school I had started my life in and I still knew everything there, including my cousins. But the manner in which I started school again that year was different. I was now back to living in my “home”, but it was just my grandmother and I. The house held an empty void, one that took forever to sink in. You see, my grandfather had an office in “town” for his used car business that also had a bedroom in it for the nights he didn’t feel like coming home. It was so easy for me to just think that Grampy was at his office, and sometime he would come home. The rest of my family had moved back to my step-dad’s place as we have never sold that either. But I knew my grandmother needed someone to be there. I wanted to be there. It was so hard to accept he was gone. Even now as I sit here and remember this, tears fall freely from my eyes. A loss that was not and still is not easy to accept. But I was “home” where I definitely needed to be for the next couple years.

At the close of the 2 years, my family met to discuss the problems. My dad had run out of work options (as an electrician) and after talking to his boss, there would be no other options for quite awhile. My mother did not work as we were joined by my second baby brother. We had to move west again. We literally had come back from a campmeeting, and had one week to each pack a garbage bag with clothes and whatever we wanted. That was it. And we made the journey west again with 6 people in a 6 person car. The arrangements were made ahead of time for us to have a place. However, when we got there, we were told that nothing was arranged for us, and so our first living space became a suite at a local hotel. As exciting as this might be for a kid, it was not for us. Try going to school and having your new friends ask you where you live, and you say a one-bedroom suite at the local hotel. Not the greatest.

Thankfully, my mom met a couple at church who had divided their 3-level house into 3 living spaces. Their parents had owned the middle floor, but were on vacation and had no problems letting us use it. We were into a 2-bedroom which was better than 1, but it was still pretty full.

The top floor was being rented by an actual tenant and we were promised her place as soon as she left. She did leave, we moved up a floor, but this is where the problems began. My dad was travelling back and forth for work, and so my mom was left to deal with the issues. The issues were things like mice, bats, bugs, etc. And the landlord would yell at my mom instead of offering to fix the problems.

Thankfully, a friend of my mom’s told her that she could get out of there right away and temporarily we could live in a spare basement bedroom she had. Although this was a good gesture for getting us out of our current problem, can you imagine the 6 of us all living in 1-bedroom with all of our belongings? I don’t have to tell you that this did not last long.

I was in high school at the time, and my mom came running into the school one day with the intention of pulling me out of class. She was so upset that we couldn’t keep living the way we were, and with my dad working away like he was, I very quickly had assumed role of second adult in the family. My vice-principal pulled her into his office before she could get to my class. He very kindly asked her why she was crying and she told him everything. Fortunately, his twin brother was head of the university that shared the same campus, and said he would call and see if we could have one of the college apartments. And this became our next living place. It was right on campus of all of our schools which was easy for us to go to school and easy for friends to come over. We made friends very quickly and I even had some that lived right on campus in the dormitories which turned out to be a great arrangement. Of course, when we first moved in, we had no furniture and so we ate, slept, and did everything on the floor. Eventually, my dad had been working enough that we were able to afford the necessary items, beds, table, etc…

Although that had been a pretty good place, it was a college apartment and we were not a college family. Plus, we had an option to move about an hour away from this place and Dad would actually be able to come home every night from his job placement. At first, we did not have a house arranged, and as crazy as it sounds, we put most of our belongings in a storage unit and bought a fifth-wheel trailer. Yes, the 6 of us lived in a fifth-wheel trailer. The front of the trailer had a master bedroom, and the back of the trailer had 2 sets of bunkbeds, so the 6 of us did indeed fit. We were kind of outside a small city, of course in a campground. And as fun as this was, this did not help us get into school. We instead started homeschool for the first time ever as we lived in this trailer for approximately 4 months before the campground closed.

We did buy a house finally! We moved to the big city, had a nice house. We lived here for just about 2 years, and after I finished homeschool for that first year (and held my first full-time job), I then went back to an amazing school for my graduation year (and of course was forced to drop back down to part-time).

By the end of the two years, my oldest younger brother had been diagnosed with epilepsy which was hard on the family. They had him on so many different medicines, some that left him so angry he’d punch holes in the walls. My father’s job ended for him being able to come home every night, and was forced to go further away so he’d travel back and forth again. My mother needed the extra help, she needed to have more family. And so the decision was made. I would have to decide what university I was going to attend because my family was going back “home”. And to get our house ready to sell, we moved back into the trailer, into a different campground, where we lived for another 2 months. Camping, to me, has developed a totally different definition.

When my parents left, I decided I wanted to go back to the campus we had lived on before. Most of my friends would be attending that university, and I knew the teachers and the dorm supervisors and everyone pretty well. Of course, since they had both university and high school dorms, they decided my sister would stay with me, which meant we had to split a room. Now, it’s ok for a university student to stay with a high school student IF they are in the high school dorm. But not for a high school student to stay with a university student int he university dorm. This is something I struggled with. This meant I had to adhere to ALL of the high school rules. I had to be in the dorm by 7:30, lights out at 10:30 (times may be slightly off, but close). Room checks once a week (maybe even once a day). It was totally restricting.

After Christmas, they said that they were expecting an influx of high school students, so they asked if I would move to the university dorm. Of course this meant I could have some more freedom, but I also had to find a person that was looking for a roommate and ask to move in. I did find a girl that wasn’t so bad, though incredibly interesting at times. It was only for a few months anyway and it ended up not being bad at all.

When university ended, I was not allowed to fly home until my sister was done school two months later. So then, I left the university dorm, moved across campus again back into the high school dorm, but luckily enough had my own room this time. It was so nice to finally have a room to myself.

She ended school, we ended up driving home with my step-dad, and only I came back out. They decided my sister wasn’t read to leave home yet. So this time, I actually spent the whole year in the university dorm with a roommate that had actually arrived after me, but was very studious and quiet. I spent most of my time with my new best friend up in her room anyways. All-in-all, it was a pretty good year.

The next year, I had made arrangements to move out of the dorm. I was tired of the bills, the extreme cost of cafeteria food, and was ready to make it on my own for the first time. I moved into a bedroom of one of the staff on campus. They inhabited the basement while they rented out 3 bedroom upstairs. My best friend also moved into one of the bedrooms. I absolutely loved living in this house for the last two years of my education. It was nice to have all that freedom, cook your own food, invite people over if you wanted to, no curfews, it was great!

When college ended, and I got my first job, I had to relocate as I was definitely unwilling to drive almost an hour each day to get to work. A girl I had graduated with got a job at the same school I had and so we were able to rent a very nice apartment and split the cost. This worked well for a year, but I had gotten engaged in that same year, as well as my sister was travelling back and forth from working for my step-dad, and you could tell my roommate didn’t like my people there as often as they were. She enjoyed having people around, just not the two I had and I ended up spending quite a bit of time either locked in my bedroom or out of the house walking around malls or wherever just to get out of the house.

And thus brings me to my present-day apartment. My job at the previous place was only a maternity leave, and had ended. My next permanent placement was here, in the big city I live in. I wanted to move out of my other place fairly quickly, so I looked for a place that was fairly cheap based on the size. We have had a few problems in this place, but overall, I don’t regret coming here first. This was my husband and my first home together. We have come to outgrow this place is the problem. It is a small apartment.

The next place we’re moving, next week, is a townhouse. A 2-bedroom with a large basement. It’s not the newest, but it’s pretty nice. It doesn’t have the large yard I’d like to have for the dogs, but it’s better than nothing. Right now it takes me about 1/2 hour to get to work, and it should take less than 5 minutes at the new place. When you consider big city stop-and-go traffic, it will save us so much money on gas. There will finally be enough room for our stuff. There will be a place I can have an office for my home businesses. I am so looking forward to this new place, as much as I hate moving. It’s so much work, but I think in the end, it will be worth it.

Now, the sad part is, I know this won’t be my last move. I don’t know where I want to be, but I know it’s not in this city. My husband has not yet received his papers and so I’m the only one who is able to work which means I have to maintain my job. And I do love my job, but I don’t love this city. I will always be a small town girl at heart. And someday, I’ll figure out where that place for me to be is.