A Strong Foundation

foun·da·tion   [foun-dey-shuhn]  noun

1. the basis or groundwork of anything

2. the natural or prepared ground or base on which some structure rests.

3. the lowest division of a building, wall, or the like, usually of masonry and partly or wholly below the surface of the ground.

4. the act of founding,  setting up, establishing, etc.: a policy in effect since the foundation.

You might have heard, we're building a house and I am excited.  Yes, that probably means you are going to be subjected to numerous blog posts, conversations, texts, and phone calls where this very well might be the ONLY topic of conversation.  

It took a day and a half last week with 3 guys working in high heat and humidity but the forms were up and ready for concrete.

Tuesday was a big day here in Romanskiville - the weather cooperated and there were plans for a foundation to be poured.  I heard a rumor that there were 3 trucks of cement due in at 11 that morning.  The builder and crew arrived shortly after 7 and quickly got down to business. I am not sure what prep is required the day of .. but they were busy until about 10 and then they waited.  

At about 11:03 while I was sitting at my desk, working away I heard the tell tale sound of a big truck nearing the top of Case Street.  Then that familiar sound of the Jake Brake ... I spun in my chair to look out the window and there it was the first big red cement truck.  I'm a tad bit embarrassed to say, when that truck pulled into my driveway - I started to cry.  Not a full blown, meltdown, ugly cry .... just a few single tears fell from eyes that were brimming with several more.  Armed with my cell phone, digital camera and sunglasses, I made my way outside to watch.  Yes, watching cement slide down from the shoot might be the equivalent of watching grass grow to some .... but for me this was a once in a life time moment. 

Truck 1 starts .....

Truck 2 waits for direction

 It literally took my breath away to see these 3 trucks circled around those forms.  It was loud and the ground was literally shaking under the weight of those trucks.  Nothing short of awesome.

Almost as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone.  About 20 min later the 4th and final truck arrived ..... apparently 3 trucks wasn't quite enough.  

The next day the forms were stripped and stacked back on the trailer and there stood the foundation for Romanskiville - Rev 2.  

foun·da·tion   [foun-dey-shuhn]  noun
the basis or groundwork of anything; the act of founding,  setting up, establishing

Love Grows Best ....

Love grows best in little houses,

With fewer walls to separate,

Where you eat and sleep so close together.

You can't help but communicate

-Doug Stone

That's from an old Country song by Doug Stone and was always a favorite of mine. I think he was right - when you are so close together you can't help but communicate ... but sometimes its not the healthiest of exchanges. 


 "@#$% !!" after stepping on Lego in your bare feet


Screaming "If you don't pick this crap up, I'm throwing it out" at the top of your lungs.


Or the frustration that wells up inside you when you find that someone has written their name on the wall in lip gloss.


Not that any of that has EVER happened in Romanskiville *wink wink*


You might have heard, we're building a new house.  We've dubbed it Romanskiville - Rev 2.  The house, a 1968 sq ft 2 story colonial, will be constructed on our existing building lot just pushed back further.  We are allowed to live in our current home, a 1024 sq ft Cape Cod, until we have the Certificate of Occupancy for the new house.  After that, we'll have 90 - 180 days to demolish the old house.  Demolish. The. Old. House.  That was so easy to say when there was not a gigantic hole in the yard with footings poured and foundation forms constructed.  When there was not a projected delivery date for this new house that is a mere 4 weeks away.  Yes, I said delivery date - we are having a modular house built and it is under construction in a factory some where in PA.  It took months to get to this point and now things are moving so fast. 

The house we live in today never really seemed that small until the girls arrived and then all the STUFF that came with them.  Toys, dolls, little kid sized dishes, silverware, furniture and the clothes .... seriously how do they dirty, rip, change, wear them out, grow out of them SO FAST ????? They have no closets in their rooms.  Kristen has a room that is 7 x 10 with a knee wall.  There is no closet for games, puzzles, art supplies.  We are drowning in piles and clutter. Love is growing here, there is no denying that, but so is anxiety, frustration, aggravation, annoyance and bruised shins.  At times it feels like there is a complete loss of control. 


The new house has closets, a spacious and functional kitchen, and 3 bathrooms - THREE.  The downstairs employs the "open" concept and the rooms all flow together.  I fall asleep at night dreaming of the 740 sq ft, covered wrap around porch.  


Love might grow best in little houses, but I think it grows just fine in average sized homes with an open floor plan too.  

Puppy Love

It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them, and every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.  ~Anonymous

A little over a year ago, we said goodbye to our beloved Storm and he took with him a chunk of my heart.  This happened too when Suzie, Brandi, Gretchen, Ellie and Maddie left too. The writer of that quote knew what he was talking about ... 


On June 22, we received an amazing gift.  


Bradley, formerly known as "Mator", had the sheer good fortune to be rescued by a couple who were dog lovers.  Alone at a gas station near a busy TX highway he was "saved".  The owner was located thanks to an implanted Home Again Microchip but she did not want this sweet boy back.  The stars, moon and planets aligned to have Mator in the hands of responsible, loving caretakers.  My sweet friend, Vicki, sent me a message on Monday morning.  "I have the sweetest dog for you - he was abandoned, is neutered, appears to be housebroken. I want to send him to you, I know it blows your theory about waiting til you were in the new house - but doesn't this make more sense?  to mess up the OLD one?"  She sort of had me there ..... the next morning before I knew what was happening - he had a plane ticket, a vet appointment and a new air travel approved crate.  He would be here on Friday, at the Cargo loading dock at Bradley International Airport .... all the way from Austin, TX.


We told almost no one and spent the next few days shaking our heads in disbelief - how did we know he would be good with the girls? Did we think this through completely? We're trying to build a new house - is this the right time to be transitioning a dog into our family?  It is hard to explain, but it just felt "right".


He departed Austin and arrived in Atlanta, GA on time.  Then he was back in the air en route to Hartford.  Paul took the day off and we headed to the airport.  We located the cargo area without any trouble and made our way to the office.  It was then we learned the plane had been diverted ... yes, I said DIVERTED to Philly!!!! No worries, this happens all the time they assure us .. the plane is leaving Philly at 4 and will be here at 5, come back at 5:30.  I quickly download the Delta app to my phone and watch the departure time change to 5, then 6, then 6:45 ... OMG what the heck???  Finally the status changes to "Boarding" a little before 7 and the landing time in Hartford -- a few minutes after 8. By now, we are beyond anxious ... but by 8:15 his crate was being loaded into the back of the car.  We pulled to a quiet, empty section of the parking lot, opened the crate door and helped him to the ground.  Paul knelt down beside him and it was love at first sight.

Kristen met him first on Saturday morning and thought it was Storm .. we set her straight and she danced around the living room singing his name.  Brooke was in Cape Cod and was shocked when a dog jumped out of the back of the Pathfinder and licked her face.  "This is MY DOG ... really, you got us a DOG??"


Bradley Austin Romanski had a new home, new name and a family. He is filling this house with pure, unconditional, unadulterated love !!!!   Broken hearts are well on the way to being mended. 

It Really is Just a Number

Ten years ago this week I turned 30.  On Thursday, another birthday - you do the math. The number doesn't bother me like it did someone else who lives here [Paul] when it was their big day, it really is just a number. While the whole age thing doesn't bother me, it has gotten me thinking about the last 10 years a lot.

Ten years ago, I was divorced, living back home with my parents, up to my ears in debt, and wasn't really sure what my next move was.  All that being said, it still felt like it would be OK.  Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like it was me against the world .. I had the most supportive, loyal, generous friends and family you could ask for.  There was always an invitation to keep me busy, distracted and focused on moving forward. 

Then there was a chance meeting at a friend's 40th Birthday party ... which, come to find out, really wasn't much left to chance at all. Thanks Tom & Addie. It seemed like months later, but finally a first date. Then there was another and another.  Months later living together, then an engagement, a wedding, and a daughter.  Then almost 3 years later another daughter.  Promotions and additional responsibilities at work, friends moving on and out of our lives to be replaced with new friends. Ten years of mutual admiration and respect for each other.

When I got divorced, I always saw myself remarried, with kids, living my own little white picket fence version of the American Dream. The last 10 years were not always roses and lollipops and we have literally taken down every last piece of white picket fence in this yard (picket fences are overrated and a complete pain in the a$$ to paint.)  I can tell you the life that is my life today, at 40, is sweeter than it was at 20 or 30.   I never could have dreamed it would be this good.  In some strange kind of way, I am thankful for every tear, heartache, and experience that led me to the person I've become.   

May the journey to 50 be as rewarding.

Be Nice to Me ....

I don't care if your black or white, gay or straight, fat or skinny, short or tall, rich or poor. Be nice to me and I'll be nice to you ... its just that simple.

I stole that from a post on my Facebook News Feed and I'm sure that I've seen it posted there before but tonight, for some reason, it struck me.  It is sort of a casual version of "The Golden Rule", you know the one your parents repeated over and over again when you were a kid. It really doesn't stop applying when you turn 18 or when you graduate from college, one might argue that it is actually the most important thing you can remember as an adult.  Ever wonder what the world would be like if we were all just a little bit nicer? If people weren't so judgemental, close minded, or self centered?  Wasn't it John Lennon who said "Imagine"?

Be nice to me and I'll be nice to you ... it really IS that simple.

Here comes Peter Cottentail

 

We loved our visit with the Easter Bunny this year.  Kristen was happy with Brooke as insulation.  The girls picked out their outfits, complete with their favorite shoes.

Sometimes I HATE being the Mom ....

Paul loves being the father of two daughters .... seriously he does.  Brooke was instantly Daddy's Little Girl.  She loves to be outside with him, grocery shopping, or on one of their famous Saturday morning dump runs. When Kristen was born and Dr. Amdur declared "It's a girl" Paul literally fist pumped and said "Yesssssssssssss"  outloud.

We have a million pictures that look like this ....

I thought maybe I had a chance with Kristen.  For a good long time she was mine .. a total Momma's girl but I am starting to doubt my standing in the pecking order around here.  She is going through this thing where we all have to "be" someone.  If we are watching Tangled, Kristen is Maximus, Paul is Flynn Rider, Brooke is Rapunzel and I, I am Mother Gothiel .... hmmm gorgeous horsey, handsome prince, beautiful princess and Mother Gothiel.  OK, even if you have not seen Tangled 950 times like we have, do we think anyone named "Gothiel" - is sweet and pretty .... probably not.  Hmmm, maybe she is trying to tell me something?  When we watch Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses - Kristen (our animal lover) is Twila the Cat, Brooke is Genevive (the Princess played by Barbie) and Daddy is Derek the handsome man who routinely delivers the princesses new shoes.  I know you are all wondering what beautiful princess I am, I mean there are ELEVEN others to chose from.  No, I am Rowena, Ro. Wen. A. I am starting to sense a pattern.

Paul loves being the father of two daughters, well he does right now, check back with me when they are 12 and 14. Maybe he will have been relegated to Gargamel or Lord Farquar.  A girl can dream - right?