We interrupt this regularly scheduled broadcast for a quick patio progress report: the wallet-draining patio supplies mentioned earlier have arrived. Now we understand why they were so expensive. They’re larger than our car, a giant truck delivered them, they weigh over 19,000 pounds (not a typo — it’s on the delivery ticket), and they’ve completely taken over the carport. John’s working out there today (T minus one week until Clara’s party), so here’s a sneak peek at the current patio chaos. More details to come.
But now back to the whole question of “Home Sweet Home?”
Those first few weeks in our new house didn’t feel like it was truly ours. It didn’t quite feel like the previous owners’ place either — it was somewhere in between. Call it House Limbo.
Even after unpacking every box, setting up Clara’s crib, and sleeping in our new bedroom for about thirty nights straight, it still felt like we were living here but not exactly “home.” Then we painted the master bedroom — the first room besides Clara’s that we tackled — and something shifted. Suddenly it felt a little more like ours.
Maybe it just took a few more noticeable changes, like switching wall color, for it to sink in that this really is our house and we can do whatever we want with it.
I remember feeling that way when we moved into our first house — the novelty of no landlord telling us we couldn’t paint or hang curtain rods. It took time to grasp homeownership. It was surprising to feel that uncertainty again with our second house. We didn’t expect anyone to bar us from changing light fixtures or opening up the wall between the kitchen and the future dining room, but we still felt like we were “playing house” at first — dating the house rather than being committed. Lying in bed after painting the bedroom, we talked for hours about how it finally felt like ours.
That’s a big concept: feeling that a house has become your home. It seems to happen gradually, in stages. Recently we reached another deeper level in that process. What triggered it? The personalized frame gallery we created in the hallway…
…and finally having a real working dresser and an organized closet.
Both changes were unexpectedly transformative. I can’t believe we waited so long to hang something personal on the walls — the hallway gallery took over three months to start and more than a month to finish. And being able to stash socks and underwear in a proper drawer after months of clothes piled on the closet floor was a huge relief. With sentimental pieces up on the walls and everyday items tucked away, the house began to feel like the way we actually live instead of a temporary vacation rental.
Of course the house feels most like ours when we have people over. Houseguests make it feel cozy and full, even if we just order pizza…
…or lounge in the living room.
We expect another milestone in feeling at home once the patio is complete. Creating an outdoor space that’s uniquely ours — somewhere no one has ever hung out before — feels especially personal. Here’s a current snapshot of John’s progress out there:
Have you noticed it takes time to really feel at home after moving? Or did you settle in immediately and call it “home” right away? For us, it never stopped feeling amazing — we were thrilled from the start and still marvel at the house a couple times a week — but certain changes made us feel more settled. What did it for you? Cooking your first big meal in the new kitchen? Painting every room and trim for a fresh canvas? It’s interesting how both small and big updates can completely change how you feel about your four walls.
Psst — we announced this week’s giveaway winners. Check if you’re one of them.
Psssttt — did you hear that Mariah Carey named her son Moroccan after an interior decorating motif? Any thoughts on that? And should we name our next baby Quatrefoil after our favorite mirror shape? Quatrefoil Petersik does have a nice ring to it…