Because It's My House, That's Why

Note that the title above isn't in quotes. That's because neither Amy nor Andy has ever said it. And I don't think they ever will, not even in the heat of an argument (not that we have any). Frankly, this surprises me. Because it is their house.

Amy has posted before of her dismay that Matty and I will never think of this as our house. Walk through the house and you'll see why: All the framed photos on the table on the upstairs landing are of the Lutz kids. The framed posters in the basement are of the Eagles, not the Patriots. The black leather couches in the basement are a relic of Andy's bachelor days, and you can tell when you try to climb out of one. If I had my druthers, those would have been buried in the dumpster years ago. As we speak, Matty is renovating the billiards room, and guess who's deciding on the colors, the tiles, the pictures that will go on the walls?

But this is how it should be. The simple truth is, it's not our house. They bought it long before we moved in, and will own it long after we move out (whenever that may be). They have certainly gone out of their way to make us feel at home--Andy bought us a Red Sox blanket that is draped over the aforementioned couches in the basement; he also began the process of hanging poster-sized prints of all 7 of the kids over the stairs (unfortunately, the plan stalled after just Hilary, Ronan, and Gretchen were hung). But Amy and Andy paid a lot of money for this house, and continue to do so to maintain it. So it will never be our house.

It is, however, our home.