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The Brampton Guardian
A house is a home when the domestic insanity sets in
Friday July 25 2008
By Evangeline Moffat, Staff Writer
By Evangeline Moffat
 
And so we’ve finally moved. Out from my in-laws' place (word has it that they cracked open a bottle of bubbly on our departure) and into our own.
We started looking a year ago. We looked from Port Hope to London and finally— last November— found one not 10 km from the townhouse we were ready to leave behind.  
We’ve been here two weeks now but it's still not home. Not quite.  When I walk through the front door it doesn't smell like home yet.  
Though I'm doing my best to permeate the walls with garlic and curry to help matters along some. Perhaps I should find out if those raspberries the kids and I picked yesterday could be baked into a nice pie? Just for its aromatic properties of course.
We're starting to get those homey touches that help us to feel like we're not just visiting someone else's place— crumbs around, beside and under the toaster; 10,000  pieces of Lego on one bedroom floor (it makes an interesting floor covering), a half-finished game of Monopoly on another, seven pairs of shoes by the front door, Wii parts scattered on the rec room floor,   and "window art.” Some people buy stained glass to enhance their home. We have Arti' Stick on every window. There's a pair of ears dangling without a face on the patio doors, a frog sitting beneath a palm tree,  a witch's hat, a wand and a spell book ( I wouldn't let those go on the front door lest our new neighbours think they're symbolic of more than a nine-year-old's interest in Harry Potter).
Before we moved in, I studied magazines. I wandered through Home Shows and decorating stores. I dreamt of the beautiful home we could create. Ahhh the possibilities— perfectly organized kitchens, dining rooms set for royalty, bathrooms that look like spas— complete with maid service.
But this is our house.  All five of us. And so our bathroom tiles have stick-on suns, and frogs, and more ears (who knew these plastic crafts could be so versatile)?  The stainless steel appliances that we spent days wandering in and out of stores searching for, are now covered up with fingerprints, magnets (a sample: "We all must have a belief in something, I believe I'll have another glass of wine"), Grade 3 art too good to get rid of quite yet, and shopping lists (we're trying to set the record for how many trips we can make to Home Depot in one day).
There are still pictures not hung, flowers not planted and corners begging me to take yet another trip to Home Sense.  The garage floor is still layered in cardboard as I wonder just how much is okay to put out at the curbside on any given week.
My vision of a perfect home is somewhat dashed. We'll never have that showcase setting. We wouldn't feel at all comfortable in it.
But still I find myself walking friends through the house asking them to see what could be rather than what is (that gruesome green rocking chair in the corner? That's a medium oak stain. The laughably small dining table we bought for our first apartment and now covered with craft supplies?  That's a harvest table,  elegant in its simplicity.
But when I hear six kids racing through the house yelling "You're it!, I found you!" (aren’t those footprints they’re leaving cute?),  watching them finding new hiding places ("No you may NOT hide in the washing machine!"), and swing on the playset that would make  a landscape artist cringe, knowing that 14-year-olds aren’t too old for a game of hide and seek,  it feels very right to be here. Almost like home.  
Evangeline can be reached at
Evangeline@residentwriter.com