On being homeless

We miss having a home. We miss having our own stuff.

It's not the actual stuff we miss, you understand. Although we do have some stuff that we will happy to have back once we're in America (mostly the kids' toys and our photos and books), we can live without it quite happily. The issue is living with other people's stuff. People who don't have kids tend to have stuff that's in really nice condition.

I'm tired of constantly saying no. "Don't climb on the table. Don't jump on the couch. Don't bump that into the wall. No textas on the carpet!" Of course we talk about all of the whys, and we explain (over and over it seems) why we don't want any marks left on the walls and why some people have issues with their couches being used as trampolines. But it's really boring! I just want to have a home again where the kids can be free. Our stuff is never so precious (with the exception of books) that we feel the need to adjust their natural play in order to protect it.

I'm so grateful that we have been invited into this home to stay for as long as we need to. We have so much room (a whole level to ourselves!), a big backyard, and a few extra adults around which is fun for us and for the kids. They very rarely say anything to the kids (or to us) about the house or their stuff, but they put a lot of effort into their house looking nice. We totally understand. We want to be out of here before any permanent damage is done.