My heart is torn.  It's torn between the rural and the urban, the small and the big.  Life has been good in our new house, but it's been a big adjustment too.

It's July 2012, and my life is spewing transitions.  July 4th doesn't consist of visiting our friends, like usual, nor is it another hospital stay, but it's a weekend of working on packing and making the most of the time without a toddler underfoot to get the cabinets packed.  My dad graciously comes and helps and the curtains are washed and rehung in the kitchen, the floors are vacuumed, the 15 passenger van is filled with as many boxes as I am able to squeeze in, and I'm totally fine when my dad and my step-mom leave that night.

My world, and my daughter's, are turned upside down in less than a blink of an eye.  I wake up nauseous and my upper abdomen aches.  I haul myself to the bathroom and get sick, but also take my blood pressure, which is high.  I've conveniently forgotten the numbers now, but I know they were in the realm of 186/110.  They were dangerous and I decided I was going back to sleep.  No one else was home.  They were at a wedding.

The next morning, I finally decide that I will call the hospital and talk to the on-call nurse.  Nonchalantly, the nurse says that I can come in and they'll hook the monitors up if I want.  At least this time, I have a small bag packed with some clothes and I drive myself to the hospital.  In a matter of twenty-four hours, I am admitted to the hospital, for hospital bed-rest until the baby is born.  There's hope to get me further along in my pregnancy, but they'll settle on the two steroid shots administered 24 hours apart.

I know I headed to the hospital on July 8, but only because that was my sister's birthday and I know that Easton was born in the middle of the night on July 10th, but I don't remember much else about that time.  I have no connection to the little bugger and have no way of bonding, except (after the mandated 24 hours of magnesium drip) standing by his bed and shoving my hands through the holes to rest on his head and feet.  I cannot hold him for a whole week, just because he is born two days shy of 31 weeks gestation.

So when Tori comes home from Aunt Brittany's, her life has been altered immensely.  She's a big sister and she isn't quite sure what that means, other than mommy can't pick her up anymore.  That weekend, after I am discharged, my sister has organized a whole packing party at my house and everything gets labeled and moved, except the toaster that I explicitly told my dad to make sure got thrown out.

A week later, I am sitting in the NICU, Bay 2, at UIHC and am told that we may not get to close on our house, because the abstract hasn't gotten to the bank yet.  I'm an emotional wreck by this point.  Tori is adjusting to mommy being away from home while she goes to day care, but she also plays at friends' houses who have children that are a little older than her.

To top it off, I'm just not feeling very well and when I mention this to a NICU nurse, she recommends that I trek over to Mother-Baby and have them look at my incision.  So I go and it's split open.  It needs packing, and "it's such a tiny hole, it will be healed in no time," echoes around me.  However, the packing lasts and lasts and lasts and lasts and it's not until Easton is safely home and I'm almost back to work that the packing is finally over!

So from the beginning of July to the 20th of July in 2012, Tori has had a weekend away from her mom, a week with her cousin at her Aunt's house and her Papa watching the girls, a transition to being a big sister, AND she gets to move to her new house.  That's a lot to take in for anyone, but even harder when you're two.

So we move from our little tiny 824 square foot house to our 1300 square foot house with a dry, usable basement 10 days after our little man was born.  He still has 40 days remaining in the NICU, but the nurses keep saying, "It's getting close," and "He's doing so well."  I cling to Tori and want her with me as much as possible, but also have to send her to daycare.

I go daily to see my little Easton Beaston, whom his daddy has nicknamed, "Tank."  Growing seems to come naturally for him, which is quite contrary to his sister.  After his Social Security card comes, we need to put it in our safety deposit box.  Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, except on this day, I parked in the ramp 3 minutes before 9 AM (three minutes)!  This caused me to pay a $17 exit fee, because I had gotten to the ramp before the graduated rate went into effect.  I cried and I cried and I cried, because when you've moved, you have no money.  When you have an early baby, you have no money.  When you work part-time, you have no money.  I couldn't take all the pressure of the transitions any more.  My mom suggests I talk to my doctor.

Yep, postpartum depression.  At least there's a treatment and I do participate in the counseling sessions offered.

I feel like I've left the life I've known for seven years behind.  I don't have a support network in my new community.  I just feel like I'm floundering and then our renter, because we couldn't sell our two-bedroom house, gets a job transfer.  With Easton finally home, I'm transporting two children on a near-daily basis to our former residence and trying to find another renter.

Oh, have I mentioned that the day that Easton comes home is the beginning of an 8 month stretch of my husband working nights?

So we go often to the old community, but are finding a groove with the new community.

We still visit often.  Today, was one of those days and I long for the simplicity of it.  I long to let my kids run through the town square without constant vigilance on my part, because people care.  I want to let my children lead me from the swings, to the slide, to the equipment that has no way up, except ladders.  I long for this, but I thrive in the hustle and bustle of the city too.

Is there a place that has the simplicity of a small town, but the offerings of a city?  If there is point me in the right direction!

The decisions that we've had to make in the last three weeks have been plentiful.  We had to pick out laminate color, carpet, vinyl, faucets, sinks, siding color, inside paint color, tub colors, cabinets and counter tops.  The final selection that we actually have a say in will occur tomorrow (we hope) and that is the choosing of the dishwasher, microwave, and stove. 

Last Friday we had our electrical walk-through and the electricians were going to begin the wiring today.  The walls are studded, the roof is on, the door is on, the stairs to the basement are in, and I'm ready to fast-forward to August so that it can be done.  However, I need more time on the side of getting our current house rented out for this fall. 

Lot Leveled

Upon a trip by our lot, it appears that the ground has been leveled, but we haven't heard for sure when our builder plans to start building.  We walked around the property today and guessed as to how much yard we would end up having and where the house would approximately be.

We've decided to go with a triple-plated ceiling in the basement, a finished bathroom in the basement, and hard-surface flooring in the common areas of the house.  We also decided that we'd take the bedroom in the basement through the dry-wall stage and see where we end up.  According to the agreement that we have with the city, we absolutely cannot exceed a purchase price of $150,000. 

Our targeted completion date had been June 30th; however, we are probably looking closer to the end of July or the beginning of August for this to actually happen.  With an expanding family and the arrival of a new baby expected sometime in the middle of September, I just really want the house completed before the new baby comes.   

Patience, but no Progress

Today I have a lot of patience that there has been no progress on the construction of our house.  It's been more than thirty days since our offer was accepted, but the lot remains unchanged since we signed the purchase agreement.  Our builder told us that it was possible, (but not necessarily probable) that ground would be broken by next Friday.  However, we haven't been in touch with the builder since Veteran's Day and essentially have no idea if the EPA and the Historical Association have completed the tasks required prior to groundbreaking.  Perhaps we'll know more soon.  At the moment, I'm content having patience.

Offer Accepted

Our offer was officially accepted and submitted to the City of Cedar Rapids, which means that we have a little more freedom as far as what we can do with our current house.  Our official plan is to rent the house out until perhaps the economy turns around.  Once we have a little more equity in it, it won't be as difficult to sell it for less than what we paid for it.  However, I'm hopeful we'll find a good renter.  For the time being, we'll be living in it.  Today I'm excited, though, because our smallest bathroom in our new house will be bigger than our current bathroom!

A Tough Decision - Pre-existing housing or new construction?

Once upon a time I would have loved to find a fixer-upper type of house that I could make into my own.  However, after having owned a house that was built in the 1940's, I was not as anxious to find a fixer-upper this time around.  This time I wanted a house that I didn't have to "settle" for and one that, if necessary, would actually sell down the road.  After almost two years of looking at pre-existing houses and having our current house on the market for 9 months out of the last two years, when the option to build came along we couldn't afford not to take it.

This week, we met with our builder and put a formal offer on the property that we want.  Our main floor square footage will increase by about 500 square feet from our current house and our basement will be dry and usable.  We will also gain main floor laundry and potentially three bathrooms.

At the moment, we need to decide what exact ceiling height we want on both the main floor and in the basement.  I would like to stick with 8 foot ceilings, but my husband would like to explore the possibility of 9 foot ceilings.  Other options would be to change one of the windows to a long and narrow window in the master bedroom and moving the basement stairway.

What's Better a Triple Plated 8 ft Ceiling or a 9 ft Ceiling?

Since we decided to go with the city grant to purchase a new home, our options are not only monetarily restricted, but are also tied to certain requirements by the city.  Yesterday, we visited a couple of different model homes and were quite please with the amount of space we'll be getting.  I'm sure that it will still fill up rather quickly, but after having lived in just over an 800 square foot house for the past five years, we can finally see some light at the end of the tunnel. 

Our purpose for visiting the model home was simply to view a triple-plated ceiling in the basement, which gives you a full 8 feet of space in the basement, rather than only leaving 7 1/2 feet or so.  My husband bought a projector capable of having a 16 X 9 foot screen, so he really would prefer 9 foot ceilings in the basement.  However, there is a significant cost difference between having a 9 ft ceiling and triple plating the 8 ft, so we've agreed to do the triple plate.

My only requirement was that the bathroom in the basement be complete before we move in.  Is it entirely necessary?  Probably not; however, I believe it will save some headaches down the road.  What we've agreed on so far is that we will finish the bathroom in the basement and we will have a triple plated ceiling in the basement.  We are still trying to decide to what extent we'd like the bedroom in the basement finished.  That is not a decision we have to make right now though.