Rearranging

We are gearing up to put our house on the market. And no, you don't need to point out the fact that the economy is slipping through our fingers as we speak. I am aware and in denial. The decision comes after many months of contemplation and we believe it is the right decision based on the needs of our family. But that is a conversation for another time. For now, I must tell you about the humors of the process.

Today, the realtor had a person come "stage" our house. In short, she depersonalized everything and gave suggestions on how to arrange the house and make it look better for selling. It was a bit of a whirlwind. As far as I can tell, she came to a house that was fairly picked up and somewhat orderly, and left leaving behind Jen with a slightly bruised ego, big piles that are supposed to go in storage, and a list of to-do's that makes me weary.

The thing is, I know she was right in many regards. The last four years of our life have been focused very little on home interiorizing. We've been too busy with birthing, loving and attempting to raise two children, traveling to and from Detroit, and supporting Camille through her various surgeries. I just felt good on the weeks when the toilets got cleaned. Forget stylish curtains.

Still, I could see the realtor cringe when the following comments came flying out from the stager:

"Can you believe how much BETTER this room looks now that we've opened it up?" I heard this one at least three times. No exaggeration.

"So if I were you, I would take down those towels and replace them with cream ones. It looks like you've tried too hard to match them to the color on the wall."

"And that needs to come down...and so does that...and so does that."

Aye, yei, yei!

At any rate, you must know this fabulous story. All of this rearranging took place while Camille was at preschool. How cruel is that? To move all of the things in the house while your visually impaired child is off at preschool learning? No mom-of-the-year award for me.

There is coolness to be found in it, however. When Camille came in the door, she immediately wanted to go over to "the lamp chair," the big round chair with the lamp near it where she likes to roost, read and relax. From across the room, she knew the lamp had been moved. She stopped dead in her tracks and said, "Mommy, do you know where the lampshade went?" And then, "Mommy, do you know where my baskets went?" (Her baskets hold her beloved books.) She then proceeded to request her alphabet building blocks, which of course I could not find in the house stager-induced mess.

No need for me to find them. Camille found them in some pile all by herself.