Good Bye

When my sister and I were young children my grandpa had a friend who built doll houses. He made several doll houses for his loved ones. Then he helped my grandpa build a doll house for my sister and me.

One day we went down to his house to visit. I was probably between 8 and 10 years old, my sister two years younger than I. He unveiled his master piece. It was an amazing  yellow 3 story house with black shutters. The front opened, the back opened, the attic opened. The windows and doors moved. It was wired for electricity. It seriously had little lights you could turn on. It even had a tiny little fire place that would flicker. He and his friend wallpapered each room. There were tiny wooden floor boards. The front door had a stained glass window.

It was truly a labor of love.

Because it was such a delicate labor of love and I, being only 10 years old and the eldest of 4 children, my grandmother became steward of the house.

It was decided that due to space and the fact that you can't really trust a bunch of children with something so easy to destroy it would stay at my grandparents house until we were older.

My grandmother loved that house greatly. She went to great effort to make sure it was furnished. She decorated it for Christmas. Putting tiny wreathes in the windows, a Christmas tree in the living room as the seasons changed. She arranged the people in different positions for when we came to visit. She would proudly show us what she had done.

Ya know, what she had done with my toy....

There was to be no touching. You could look, maybe if you were really well behaved they might open the doors to show you, but don't even think about opening it yourself.

When I was in the Jr. High School my grandmother died.  My grandpa decided he would be dying soon also ( fortunately it took him 12 more years to do that.) So he cleared everything he could think of from his house.

So the doll house was moved to my parents house. After all, we were old enough to take care of it now right?

Sadly, also old enough to not really care all that much about it.
There is such a tiny window of when children will lovingly and carefully play with something like that vs either destroying or being uninterested.

The house stayed at my mom's.  Occasionally we would show a visitor, maybe play with it when a friend game over. It was special and important to me, but really only in a superficial way. "See how much my grandpa loved me? He made this really impressive doll house for me."

Eventually my mom decided it was maybe time for it to actually get played with and it was moved to my house. So it came to live here.

My kids loved it. Sometimes. They would go through spurts of caring and playing with it, nearly always when friends had come to play. Ruby played with it most consistently. She tended to horde things inside. Missing a hair brush? Check the doll house. Where is your pen? Did you look in the doll house?

Mostly it sat there. Getting dusty. Getting broken. There was no way to put it away and take it out as the occasion called for. Small children are hard on things. Snap, there goes a porch support beam. Snap, there goes the railing. Humidity had bubbled some of the flooring up and how satisfying it must be to peel them up when mom isn't looking. Or to use it as a practice writing surface because mom never climbs behind to see.

So I had a doll house. What was once a magnificent doll house,a house that was a gift of love. That house was now being torn apart.

There goes another shingle.

I went to an event at my church where we discussed getting our houses in order. Getting rid of the things that we don't need. The extra. I went home and pondered over the whole message. I realized that doll house didn't bring me joy. It was supposed to, it used to. But now it brought me only guilt and irritation. I felt guilty at how much damage it had sustained under my watch. It irritated me to watch how thoughtlessly children played with it even when I tried to show them how to care for it. And it just took up SO MUCH SPACE.

I realized that I loved the idea of the doll house, but not the house itself. I love that my grandpa loved me enough to put in hour after hour of work to present such a wonderful gift. I loved that it reminded me of him. But I didn't love the physical object.

After talking it over with my sister we came up with a plan.

There is a really amazing woman who goes to my church who LOVES doll houses. Who delights in restoring them. Who had been to my house and spent much time admiring that doll house.

So today my doll house went to a home where it will be loved. It will be cared for. It will be restored.

My heart feels so much lighter as I sit and type with a view of where the doll house once stood. The house my grandpa built to bring me joy is now bringing joy to someone else.

Worth noting (at least to me.)

Here are some quotes from happenings around my house in the last 24 hours.

While sitting in the kitchen talking the 6 year old decided she was finished with the conversation. She  then rushed over to me, pulled both sides of my sweater together and announced "Mom, no one should be able to see your nipple crack!" Then she left the room.

********

 

Speaking to the 2 year old-

 

Me: And today we are going to go to the dentist.

2 Y.O.: Why?

Me: So he can clean my teeth and make sure there are no cavities.

2 Y.O. : Cavities?

Me: Yes, cavities. I hope I don't have any.

2 Y.O.: I have cavities. I have a cavity for you. I got one for you.

 

*********

 

 

While cooking some scrambled eggs for breakfast the baby started fussing.

 

Me: Why don't you go give the baby her binky?

2 Y.O: NO, I'll just hit this button.

Me: That button will give her her binky?

2 Y.O.: Yes. Then she will stop crying. (Hand poised over imaginary button.)

Me: (Spoken with great suspense.)OK, I'm ready. Hit that button.

2 Y.O. (Slams finger down on imaginary button and stares at me.)

Me: (Listening to baby cry in background.) Did it work?

2 Y.O. : .... Um... a little?