Basement Burnout

The fact that we live in a basement is pretty well known. After all, we have been here almost a year and a half

We moved here back in August of 2012. Amelia was 18 months. I was eight weeks pregnant with Elsie. Our goals consisted of saving like crazy so we could buy a house the following summer. And then life happened. Wouldn't you know it, we're approaching spring and we are still here. 

Amelia is three, Elsie is 10 months, and I'm almost halfway through a third pregnancy. 

This isn't at all what we had planned. 

Because this is my blog, my place to record this crazy life of ours, my corner of the internet to just let it out, I'm going to do just that. 

I'm burned out with living in this basement. 

Hear me loud and clear: this living arrangement has gone as well as we could have all hoped. Our friends and the owners of this home, David and Lindsey, have been great to live with. I'm not even kidding when I say we haven't had one argument or disagreement. We have always kept an open line to talk about stuff but there just hasn't been anything come up. Honestly, I believe The Lord orchestrated this living arrangement from day one. And so His hand of protection is covering it all. That doesn't make it easy though. 

Our main refrigerator is upstairs in the garage. And I forget that I need stuff in it all the time. So up and down I go. 

The dishwasher is upstairs. But hauling dishes up and down is awful. So they pile up because I can't wash dishes and see the kids at the same time. 

The kitchen is upstairs. And Danny works late hours. He's often not home for dinner which means I have to cook dinner and watch the kids. Because we don't live upstairs, I feel it necessary to make sure the girls aren't touching everything of David and Lindsey's. Also, their only child is three months younger than Elsie. So they have only recently started thinking about baby-proofing {which is totally fine because I don't expect them to baby-proof for our kiddos}. Usually I would wear Elsie and let Amelia play a game on my phone. But since becoming pregnant, baby-wearing is tough. The ergo is not comfy and I haven't figured out my woven wrap yet. So tonight, we're having frozen waffles and scrambled eggs. Because it's easy. 

This basement space wasn't meant to have a family of four live in it for for over a year. Therefore, storage is weird. I'm starting to nest and it is overwhelming.

Two weeks ago, we put an offer on a house. And things are moving along. But it's still a question if we're going to get this house or not. Danny is content to walk away if God is closing this door. And I'm begging God to leave the door open, with my foot in the door because I want out of the basement and I'm emotionally attached. I've envisioned our family playing in the backyard. I've decorated the rooms and felt at home even in just the few visits so far. 

I'm writing this in my kids room, as they beg to be fed dinner. I'm writing this from a place of frustration and total burn out. 

This basement has done us well. But now it's time. The big question though... is it God's time? 

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