two years at the cabin
Have I ever told you how much I hate lawn mowers? Or the act of mowing a lawn. It always reminds me of being a teenager and my leisurely thirteen hours of sleep on the weekends being interrupted by my mum telling me I have to go mow the lawn. I mean I kind of get it now, it's like "I spent ten years of my life cleaning up after you, feeding you, not sleeping, etc... now it's payback." And I'm not going to lie I am greatly looking forward to the day that we can introduce Birdie to the wonderful world of chores, mwahahahaha... It's all a crapshoot with teenagers anyway right?? Those really were the worst years. It's such an awkward moment in development, you just can't say it better than Miss Britney herself "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman..." You don't feel like you belong at home anymore but you don't really know where home is either.
And then you fall in love, for real, you make memories with a person that you'll giggle over for the rest of your life. You marry that person and together you begin to discover what home means again. You get a puppy that chews all of your beloved (insert sarcasm font) Ikea furniture and a few priceless books. You learn to "be someone someone would want to be around." You grow up a lot. You make mistakes, together. You cry on the bathroom floor and for the first time you only want that person, not mama, not daddy, not your friends but him. You make a big mistake. Then you fix it by taking a big risk. You clean out/strip a thirty year old cabin and move your stuff in all within the same 24 hour period. You drive around a brand new town all morning long looking for any blessed soul that will take four old mattresses (turns out nobody will). You go to return that twenty-four foot Penske truck and beg the owners of the shop to allow you to dump the mattresses in their dumpsters. It starts pouring down buckets of rain. You find yourself soaked, tired, hungry and tired, and some more tired. And yet you just know you've finally come home.
Two years ago this month this little blue cabin was where our family truly blossomed. Belle was finally free to roam around leash-less to her heart's content. We created traditions and made memories. On Sundays I like to make pancakes and fresh whipped cream while papa bear plays dj at the record player. On cool crisp autumn mornings we take walks down the hill deep into the woods until we reach the beginning of the stream. We sweep the roof before the frost comes in. We go apple picking up the road so I can bake a new pie every week (sometimes from scratch and sometimes I cheat and just buy the good old Pillsbury crust). And then our family got a bit bigger and our house got a healthy dose of happy. There's bath time in the evenings with rubber duckies and bubbles. And lazy pajama clad mornings in bed. And dinner time is always a circus, food flying every which way, Belle catching what she can as it lands on the flood and laughter all around. When it's just the three of us and the doors are closed we are us, we are home.
And yet the clever north wind blows again. There are many changes in store in the coming year. One of them has already taken place as papa bear has left the little school and farm where he taught for two years. It was an incredibly difficult and heartbreaking decision but the right one for our family at this time. He will still be teaching though mostly online. The changes to come have reinvigorated us and we're bursting with excitement over what the future may hold for us. These two years we spent nesting and bringing stability to our life have been wonderful and so needed. But we're different now, we're older and we're parents, and life is calling us on a different path and it's a wonderful feeling. We love a good challenge in this family and everything that goes into it - the fear, elation, anxiety and promise.
Here's to a new year of changes, challenges and growth!