Don't cry over spilled milk

So today I have been feeling a little down, I think about my house in sandy and how much I hated that house; but how much I wish we could be living there now. It will always have that nostalgic feeling when I think of all the first times. It was our first house, my first garden, my first pregnancy, my first time being a mom. I wonder how Cache would be living there and where all his favorite places to hang out would be? Would he love to play out in our big back yard without peeping neighbors (dave installed our fence right when we had cache.) Would we cuddle in my bed together and think of the long nights we spent in that room when he first arrived? I loved being so close to Tai Pan, we would get bored and walk over there to just look around. I miss all the visitors we would get stopping by (well there weren't really that many but since my dad's work was just around the corner and my sister lived one minute away there was always someone close by.) We miss you guys. Our house here in AZ just feels a little too empty so we try to be away as much as possible.

With all of this on my mind today I was with cache in the room and he dropped the glass candle and glass broke all over the place. I was so mad! Why does he always get into everything!!! I know it is ridiculous to think a 22 month old really knows what he is doing. But as I was cleaning it up I thought don't cry over spilled glass. I do miss my house in Sandy, not the actual physical house, but everything that came with it. The memories, the family, the friends. It has been hard to feel that here, but as I listened to myself complain about all the things I hate about living in this house, I thought how lucky I am to have what I have been given. Stop your whining you little brat (that was the voice in my head!) So although it feels empty of any of that nostalga (probably not spelled right) I do feel very blessed.

Our beloved home, except that we hated how cold it got in the winter, how hot it was in the summer, how steep the stairs were, how small the garage felt, how the slate would never get clean, how many weird angles the walls had, and most of all I knew it would never be safe with my crazy little boy running around the loft that overlooked the kitchen. I know he would find out how to fall from there somehow.