Our new digs in DC

It's hard to believe that four months have passed since we uprooted from Michigan and landed in DC. 
The first month was filled with organizing and unpacking and struggling with Lakeland over naps.  Our apartment, on the 15th floor of a highrise, felt much more like a hotel suite than a home.  Also in the first month, Seth and I relished the joys of not sharing a bathroom with each other. 
The second month was less about organizing and more about exploring our new surroundings, like finding a grocery store that doesn't have bum barricades for their carts, which was no small feat.  Lakeland and I spent hours driving around, GPS in my lap, looking for parks, libraries, playgrounds and bike paths.  I had no idea how awkward everything would feel in a new place. 
Also in the second month and much of the third, we hosted family and friends, went on touristy outings and found the best pizza places in town. 
Months three and four consisted of me grieving for our little yellow house with the worn but full of character hard wood floors, the back porch that my dad and I tiled (but never quite finished), the yard that my mom and several friends helped us keep up, the bright kitchen my mom painted, with the sunny bay window, the french doors in the dining room and the dark wooden table where we shared so many fun evenings with good friends.  I also spent a chunk of time bemoaning the $15K that we forked over to the bank to complete our short sale.  Oh, yes...and the loss of my gorgeous, fantastic and extravagant washer and dryer, a gift from Seth's parents (which is in storage, not sold with the house).
Having lived my entire life in West Michigan, I found myself with a monumental case of homesickness.  I ached for the closeness of family.  I wept over friends' newborn babies that I wouldn't be able to see smile and roll and sit up and eat cereal, over the pregnancies and showers that I'd miss.  I longed for family dinners, lunches with friends, play dates for Lakeland, and cocktails with our crew. 
I started napping instead of vacuuming, watching Netflix instead of reading, crying instead of laughing.  And then I went home to Michigan.  The first week home, I read a little, laughed a little, and let myself soak up home.  The second week, I dove into the feeling of being surrounded by familiarity, family and friends.  The tug of awkwardness that I'd been fighting was slowly ebbing back to confidence. 
After a weekend camping with friends at our land, and almost three weeks in Michigan, Seth, Lakeland and I headed back to DC.  And I felt ready.  Peaceful even.  The anxiety had faded, the grief subsided.  Michigan is home, and will feel like home always.  We just happen to live in DC.  And that feels okay now. 
Check it out...

View of dining room...if nobody ever ate there...but since we do, here's what it actually looks like...

This isn't really a good representation of how it normally looks.  Just know that you can't walk barefoot on the floor without getting noodles stuck to the bottom of your feet and slipping on puddles of chocolate milk.

The kitchen...fresh fruit, towels folded, rug shaken, and floor mopped.  LL photo-bombing is the only realistic part of this shot.

Notice the fresh fruit replaced by crayon tupperware.  A million dishes.  Where's the towel?  I don't know, but there is some cleaning stuff on the counter that I probably used 5 days ago and never put back under the sink.

My little nook. 

Oh, right.  Here's what it usually looks like.  Or worse.

There is always at LEAST one surface in the living room covered in folded laundry.  Usually there are multiple. 

Yeah.  It NEVER looks like this in real life.  I had to lock her out to put the books on the shelves.