Tomorrow I will see my son and meet his lovely bride-to-be for the first time, unless you count skype. I'm walking the line between going crazy getting the house ready and not wanting to be stressed and only trying to impress. Let's face it though, I want her to be comfortable and not run away screaming, so I am a little stressed. We don't have a fancy, decorated house. We have a small, cottage-y sort of house with lots of books and pictures and yarn and food and pets and too much stuff and every single craft my kids have ever made on display. It's a bit like the Weasley's house in Harry Potter, but without the gnomes. It needs paint and some serious updating. Our spare room is an unfinished basement with fabulous foil insulation panels for walls. But, there are roses and petunias and iris blooming, and there are places to put your feet up and relax and there is often music playing and something good to eat on the counter, so I guess it will do.
Self-consciousness is a terrible thing, because when I'm not thinking about what someone else might think, or what sort of house I ought to be living in, I really like my house. Mrs. Weasley is one of my favorite characters in HP. The Burrow was the place where Harry felt the sensation of being home. My house does feel like a home and that always was the goal. It's enough.