We've made a monumental decision.

We put an offer on a house today.  In Nova Scotia.   It's a rambly old farmhouse that needs some work but it feels like home.  It's in a village we love, lots of friends about (both ours and every one of the kids) which makes the move a comfy one.  The kids should be able to stay at their current schools as long as I'm willing to drive them (Darkmirror to the bus route, Nature Girl into school).  We've been going back and forth about staying here or moving back to Quebec for several months now.  It just feels that life will FLOW more easily here.  It must be the force of the tides talking soothingly to me.

Today after we filled out the paperwork we visited next door to the  local school.  Nature Girl wants to go there (as keeps happening - her best friend is moving AWAY), but I'm not sure yet - have to suss out the admin.  However, right next door to the school is a cooperative parent resource centre and I think I've found Wild Thing his nursery school for next year. 

It *smelled* like home - kinda apple sauce and cinnamon and playdough-y.  There was a big poster for the Virtues project right inside the front door.  No Christian posters (the other good option I found was VERY Christian and it's part of their curriculum to discuss how accepting Christ saves you...not my child!)

Came home to find out we had another really positive showing.  Its down to two houses with them, us or another place.  I hope they pick us.  I find selling a house is a lot like being an overused dishrag that keeps getting wrung out.  I'm ashamed to say I put off a much needed shower today because I didn't want to mess up my bathroom!  The socks I'm wearing are still wet because I polished the entryway with them on my way out the door, atleast they smell like almonds!  I think my priorities are a little skewed.

This week has been rough.  My big sister has breast cancer.  I've ordered myself not to google.  I feel helpless to help.  I love her and I'm worried about her.  I'm worried about her son.  I'm worried about my other big sister.  I'm worried about my mom.  I'm worried about my daughter.  I'm scared and sad and full of emotions I can't even explain, they buzz around in my head too quickly to identify.    I look at my own breasts and feel like they are treacherous time bombs.  The little pink slip of paper with the mammogram screening number I was given at my last check up is a bookmark in my bedtime reading of Sense of Wonder.  I'll call on Monday.