We moved into our new house two weeks ago. (I am going to skip all of the typical whining about moving and being exhausted because it isn't at all interesting. But trust me when I say that I have lodged all of the usual complaints . . . mostly to myself).
But the move is over and the house is really ideal. We get to keep all that we love about our life in Wicker Park (lots and lots to love). Plus, we get a big yard with an apple tree in full bloom (see photo). And a playroom in the basement for those Chicago winter days when it is ten degrees below zero (otherwise we will be in the yard). AND a garage so I don't have to shovel the car out at 7:00 a.m.to get Ellie to school. What else could a girl ask for?
You have never seen a family completely mess up a lovely house faster than we have. Largely, because instead of pressing on with the unpacking, I have spent much of the last week sitting on my deck, watching Ellie and Brendan experience the joys of having a backyard. Sidewalk chalk. Blowing bubbles. Chasing balls. T-ball. Spraying each other with the hose. Making mudpies in the dirt. Playing with Aunt Meg's dog Penny.
Definitely a good move.