A little over 5 years ago I brought home my new little boy. He was absolutely perfect and wonderful and huge. When we brought him home we realized that the 4 of us really did not fit in our little 2 bedroom trailer and that we should begin looking for a new home. Four months later we closed on this beautiful house that we have called home for the last 5 years. It's huge and has more than enough room for each of us to have our own space. We added another baby to the mix and still-there was room enough for everyone. Looking around there are so many wonderful memories of the moments we have shared. Peyton's first steps, our first Christmas in our own home, the death of a pet, the water pouring out of the dining room ceiling, telling him we were having another baby, setting up a nursery, bringing her home, and then standing in my driveway just a month ago and realizing that my biggest fears were coming true.

As much as it hurts, this was OUR home, but it's not my house. My name is not on it and I can't afford to live here alone. I left my mother's house last night and couldn't make myself take that right turn down the back side of Jay Hill. I drove around aimlessly because I was avoiding this house. This house that I have worked so hard to make a home. I will be walking away from this house and all of its memories and it's killing me. I have always said, though, that I would rather live in a cardboard box on the side of the road and be happy than to have everything in the world and be miserable.

As ironic as it sounds, it looks like we might be going back to a little 2 bedroom trailer. It will be small and it will be crowded and nobody will have room for themselves and we'll probably fight like cats and dogs, but it's a start. It's a move in a new direction for us. As much of a change as it will be, it won't be forever. It's what I can afford on my own. And it will be way easier to clean ;) This will be our temporary home.