This week, for those of you who don't know, marks Kyle and I's fifth wedding anniversary.
Which means we've been living in this house coming up on six years ... a whole year past this blog's original intention of a five-year renovation/flipping plan to get us to Chicago.
Oh, the memories. And delusions.
I started this blog after a trip to Chicago with my mom and infant Kiedis, as an impetus to get us somewhere better than Dayton, thinking that would solve our problems.
Because we had problems.
About a month after I started this blog, I had a complete nervous breakdown due to untreated postpartum depression. A lot of awful things happened in that wake, and Kyle and I almost got divorced. And I don't mean like, oh, we talked about it and threatened it then decided that was a bad idea -- I mean papers were filed, custody was fought over, secrets were revealed, therapy was had, and excommunication was required before we made the very difficult decision to pull it back together and give it another go only a year in.
Then came Tova. Which was unexpected and stressful but made great blog fodder and she's kind of an awesome kid so you know, everything happens for a reason.
Anyway, Kyle and I do a lot of talking about how much longer we want to stay in this particular house, what point is "enough" on the projects so we can direct our attention, efforts, and spare cash to other things, where we might go from here. We've worked really hard to make our family what it is -- and it's not perfect by any means -- and we've done the same for our house, with the same caveat.
It's hard to imagine leaving this house. Aside from all the work we've put into it, beyond the recognition it's received on the interwebs and the opportunities it's provided me, this house is a manifestation of us, as a couple, from even before we were married, before kids, before all the bad stuff that happened so early for us.
But sometimes, it's really hard to imagine staying here, either. The schools are okay, but now that Kyle no longer teaches in the district, we've had to start advocating more and pushing back when they try to sort of gloss over things. Our neighbor situation is abysmal, though there may be hope on the horizon about that (but I can't say anything more about that lest I jinx it, however, if you know someone looking for a very small, very basic, very inexpensive rental home in Dayton, let me know).
It's just been on my mind recently as we enter this sixth year, a year we didn't plan for in this house when we bought it, with this family we've created, in a home that feels like such an extension of us that to extract it from our lives would be like cutting off our own arms. Never mind that it's parlayed into a career, of sorts, for me ... so it isn't like we could just up and move into a brand new build somewhere and be satisfied. I think we'll always love old houses, fixer-uppers, do-it-yourself projects that turn a structure into a place you want to be in, always.
And then, your city gets into the New York Times and complicates your feelings even more.
I'd appreciate some thoughts/input/random babbling on the subject. Give me all your feels!