Home Sweet . . . wait, where are we?

When we were buying a new garbage disposal (disposer? apparently, both is correct) at Sears today, the lady asked for our address. I guess even the smallest appliance requires endless amounts of personal information. Anyway, I watched as Marty hesitated with finding the "right" answer. Do we give the address of the house we are currently camped out in, but won't be living in for a year? Maybe we give the address of the house where the new disposal will be placed but hopefully won't be ours for long? Or how about the address of the corporate apartment in Connecticut where our credit card statement is sent, and where we must grudgingly return after this hiatus? Put them all in a hat and see which is pulled out?

This kind of confusion has been happening all week. "Hey honey, I'm going to go clean the cabinets." At which house? Because, of course the cabinets in both houses need cleaning. My tip: don't close and move into a house and prepare another house for the market at the same time. Cleaning two sets of cabinets (and bathrooms and floors and kitchens) is no fun. Or at Lowe's, "That plant would look good on the porch at home." Which home? The one we're trying to stage or the one we are moving all our stuff to? Add to this confusion the presence of my mother, who wants to buy an outdoor riding toy or wagon for Oliver to use "at home." She means at her home, where we're headed next, but also to use when we return to our new home next year. Let me digress to emphasize that her presence has not at all been confusing, but quite the opposite as she has kept me sane through all this craziness.

So, I guess we must play the cliche game and say that it's true . . . home is where the heart is. Amidst all the chaos and the stress of this past week, I found a little peace yesterday, and was reminded of what makes a house a home. Here is my heart:

My boys playing basketball with the ball Oliver got Dad for an early Father's Day gift, because our new house has a basketball goal. 

Oliver has the moves! Too bad he doesn't have the height!

Testing the sprinkler system.

Wet fun on a hot (almost) summer day!

Hey, why are my clothes all wet?

Who cares about wet clothes, let's play basketball again!

 Home, sweet home.

Happy naked boy eating strawberries in his chairplane.

Life is good. Nevermind that we had to buy a garbage disposal for a house we aren't going to live in. Or a new washer and dryer for the house we'll live in next year because the ones the previous owner's left smelled like mold. Or that the bushes all along one side of our old house died and had to be dug out and replaced at great unexpected expense. Or that the highest gutter on the new house is plugged up and full of stagnant water and must be fixed. Or that the a/c in the new house died the day of the closing, the hottest day of the year. Or that we still have to move, paint, put in new countertops in the old house, and clean before we can put out a for sale sign. All by Sunday. No problem. Life is good because there are strawberries and sprinklers and basketball. And smiles like those. And a house to come home to.