I loved living in DC. Craig and I met there at Georgetown, we married there, started a family there and had no intention of ever leaving. And, really, if we had more money or fewer children we'd probably still be there. I could easily write a list of things I miss about being there right now, especially all my friends who still live there. I also have to admit that I, like many city people, was always a little smug about living there. The assumption being everyone would live in the city if they could, and those that said otherwise were just sad that they couldn't or, perhaps, delusional.
The truth is, however, that living in the city is hard, especially with kids. Schools are hard, space is hard, money is hard, crime is definitely hard. You get a lot out of it, don't get me wrong, but you have to believe that the city is the best of all possible worlds because otherwise it wouldn't make any sense to live there. Not when you could spend a lot less money for a lot more security and a lot less stress somewhere else. For some people, that belief never goes away but for others, like us, it does. Not because the city changed, it didn't, but because we changed or, rather, our lives did.
Four kids is a lot, four boys is chaos, and four boys in the city, well 'nuff said. Our lives simply didn't work there anymore. The time, energy and money you generally have to put into making life work in the city, we needed to put into our kids. Most of my close friends got it and, while sad to see us go, were incredibly supportive of the process. For people who didn't, though, it was hard to explain it. I remember seeing understanding in one person's eyes when I finally said that we had 6 people in our family, which meant a minimum of 24 coats to hang up, and no coat closet. Things that you can make work with fewer people, just didn't for us anymore. So Craig and I decided it was time to make the big sacrifice and head out to the country. We knew the boys would be happy and that was all that mattered. I figured I'd be lonely and a little adrift, but I could make do. The thing is, I love it out here.
I love my sterile little subdivision, just the type in which I swore I'd never live. There are 10 boys in the 9 houses immediately surrounding ours, all just around my boys' ages. For the first time ever, I am not in charge of my children's entertainment. I don't have to drive them anywhere or make play dates or do anything except feed them breakfast and tell them to come in for lunch and then dinner. Their play is completely self-sustaining. I love that I can go days without hearing someone ask to watch TV. I love that I know that, for the most part, everyone parents like I do so I don't have to worry when my kids go into their friends' houses.
I love how incredibly nice everyone is out here. One of our neighbors barely knew us when he helped get Drew registered to play on his baseball team. He's the same dad who was teaching Carter how to throw a football the other day. When I was stuck in traffic coming back from DC, I called a mom who actually left the grocery store to come home and meet the bus so my kids wouldn't freak out when I wasn't there. A complete stranger stopped in the store today to chat when Aaron used his new word, "hi," on him. The owner of the gym I joined started a conversation with me on Saturday, just because. These people are amazing. Everyone smiles and says hi and wants you to have a nice day.
I also love me out here. I'm not frazzled and stressed (which I handle oh so badly as we all know), Warrenton Laura is actually a little laid back. I get all the kids paperwork to school on time, generally know what I'm making for dinner before 4:30 pm and when I think of an errand I have to do, I simply do it the next day. I'm not constantly trying to catch up. My house is clean, our clothes are washed and put away and I'm reading books and, yes, even writing again. What's not to love about that? So I thought I came out here for my kids but, really, I'm here just as much for me.
When I left the city, I assumed it was temporary, that once the kids were gone I'd be heading back (maybe even when Aaron was still around). I could see myself living in a great condo just steps to restaurants and museums. And, maybe I will be living there in 20 years, or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll buy one of those quaint old houses in the heart of Old Town Warrenton that I love to admire when I drive by them. Because as much as I loved living in the city, that's also how much I love living out here.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Same old, same old
Nothing big to write about today. No burst of understanding or deep thoughts. Apparently, my life just isn't that interesting. I am, however, amazed at how much you can accomplish when your house isn't working against you. We've switched out 5 lights and decorated for Christmas so far this weekend. All without having to stop and take on a completely new project necessitated by some weird problem with the house, unthinkable in our old house.
Old houses with lots of character are sweet and I miss mine very much, but for this stage of our lives I'll take new and low-maintenance every time. I think there is actually a longer piece here but it will have to wait until tomorrow, because I'm exhausted.
Old houses with lots of character are sweet and I miss mine very much, but for this stage of our lives I'll take new and low-maintenance every time. I think there is actually a longer piece here but it will have to wait until tomorrow, because I'm exhausted.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Process or Product?
Today, for about the 5th year in a row, I thought that if we had a fake tree, we could put it up this weekend. The boys would love that, it's such a great way to kick off the holiday season. We'd love that it would be easy, with perfectly spaced lights, and that it would last more than the 2 weeks Craig and I can manage to keep a real tree going (we have watering issues, well, more like remembering issues). And really, fake trees are so amazingly well done these days, you definitely don't sacrifice anything on the looks end of things for all that easy happiness. My brother's had one for years and my parents all do also. We really should just do it, I thought.
But then, for about the 5th year in a row, I thought not about having the tree but about getting the tree. I love picking out Christmas trees. We moved a lot when I was growing up (really, a lot) and we developed two traditions for our first night in a new place. No matter what time of year it was, we always had spaghetti and we always decided where our Christmas tree would go. The spaghetti because it was easy for my mom to make and the tree because it was our way of claiming the space as our own. So what tree went in that space was also important. I have great memories from my childhood of standing around a tree lot and arguing over whether we wanted the taller one or the fuller one and which had the best all around look for our house. Then, we'd load it up and get it home - and wait. It was excruciating. My dad had a rule that it needed to spend so much time in a bucket of water so it was happy and the limbs relaxed before we could bring it in and put it up. I'm pretty sure it was out there a week or maybe a month, although he would probably claim it was no more than a day. However long it was, it was torture. But finally, the tree would come in and go up and we'd decorate it, and that anticipation would have made it all the more special.
And so, for the 5th year in a row, I thought about what it would mean to have a fake tree, not just this year, but every year. I know it would look the same and would simplify a part of our lives (something I'm usually all about), but it wouldn't feel the same. I simply can't imagine never again embarking on the quest for the perfect tree with my boys as my parents did with us, so embark on it we will. For at least one more year, I will take process over product and acknowledge that for us, for right now, in this one thing, inefficiency is not a problem but an essential part of the journey toward making holiday memories.
But then, for about the 5th year in a row, I thought not about having the tree but about getting the tree. I love picking out Christmas trees. We moved a lot when I was growing up (really, a lot) and we developed two traditions for our first night in a new place. No matter what time of year it was, we always had spaghetti and we always decided where our Christmas tree would go. The spaghetti because it was easy for my mom to make and the tree because it was our way of claiming the space as our own. So what tree went in that space was also important. I have great memories from my childhood of standing around a tree lot and arguing over whether we wanted the taller one or the fuller one and which had the best all around look for our house. Then, we'd load it up and get it home - and wait. It was excruciating. My dad had a rule that it needed to spend so much time in a bucket of water so it was happy and the limbs relaxed before we could bring it in and put it up. I'm pretty sure it was out there a week or maybe a month, although he would probably claim it was no more than a day. However long it was, it was torture. But finally, the tree would come in and go up and we'd decorate it, and that anticipation would have made it all the more special.
And so, for the 5th year in a row, I thought about what it would mean to have a fake tree, not just this year, but every year. I know it would look the same and would simplify a part of our lives (something I'm usually all about), but it wouldn't feel the same. I simply can't imagine never again embarking on the quest for the perfect tree with my boys as my parents did with us, so embark on it we will. For at least one more year, I will take process over product and acknowledge that for us, for right now, in this one thing, inefficiency is not a problem but an essential part of the journey toward making holiday memories.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Blue Friday?
Two years ago, I wrote about our annual Cawthorne girl Black Friday shopping trip. It was one of the things I looked forward to each year at Thanksgiving, not for the shopping but for the time spent with my sisters and niece. I am, therefore, sad that we will not be heading out tomorrow for the second year in row. In fact, the trip I wrote about could well have been our last one.
There are lots of practical reasons for not going this year. It is early in the morning and Erica has a 2 month old. Janine is in Hawaii, making simultaneous shopping more challenging, and we didn't tend actually to buy much anymore. I can understand all that but can't help thinking that it would be different if Samantha were still around. Shopping for Sam was never a treat (really, she was horrible at finding anything she wanted), but I loved the chance to hang out with her and talk that this one trip gave us and I hate that we won't ever be able to do that again. It makes what used to be one of my favorite days of the year a little painful and sad.
I'm thinking we need to come up with a new tradition to take the place of this one and I'm sure we will in time. Even then, however, it will be simply another reminder that our lives are forever divided into "before" and "after" the accident that took her away from us. I hate that most of all.
There are lots of practical reasons for not going this year. It is early in the morning and Erica has a 2 month old. Janine is in Hawaii, making simultaneous shopping more challenging, and we didn't tend actually to buy much anymore. I can understand all that but can't help thinking that it would be different if Samantha were still around. Shopping for Sam was never a treat (really, she was horrible at finding anything she wanted), but I loved the chance to hang out with her and talk that this one trip gave us and I hate that we won't ever be able to do that again. It makes what used to be one of my favorite days of the year a little painful and sad.
I'm thinking we need to come up with a new tradition to take the place of this one and I'm sure we will in time. Even then, however, it will be simply another reminder that our lives are forever divided into "before" and "after" the accident that took her away from us. I hate that most of all.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thankful...
We have an enormous amount to be thankful for these days, I feel like I could write a page just listing them all. That said, my most thankful topic is a no-brainer. I am incredibly thankful this year for energy, not the kind that is causing global warming, but the kind that means I can once again play with my children spontaneously.
For years, I've felt like I've been on the sidelines of my children's lives. It was hard enough to get through the chores I had to accomplish each day, much less have the energy left to play a game of soccer or go on a long hike. But with no more heart episodes since March, I was actually able to go off a lot of my meds this summer and am feeling great. This hit home last month when I was walking back to the car from TR's soccer practice. One of his teammates kicked the ball right in front of me. Instead of just stopping it and passing it back, I found myself taking off across the field with the ball in front of me, racing to keep it away from her. This one simple, impulsive act was profound for me since it was exactly the kind of thing I had feared I would never do again.
I love my boys and all their energy and especially love knowing that now I'll be out there keeping up them, at least some of the time.
For years, I've felt like I've been on the sidelines of my children's lives. It was hard enough to get through the chores I had to accomplish each day, much less have the energy left to play a game of soccer or go on a long hike. But with no more heart episodes since March, I was actually able to go off a lot of my meds this summer and am feeling great. This hit home last month when I was walking back to the car from TR's soccer practice. One of his teammates kicked the ball right in front of me. Instead of just stopping it and passing it back, I found myself taking off across the field with the ball in front of me, racing to keep it away from her. This one simple, impulsive act was profound for me since it was exactly the kind of thing I had feared I would never do again.
I love my boys and all their energy and especially love knowing that now I'll be out there keeping up them, at least some of the time.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
New Beginnings...
A week ago, I found myself awake at 6 am and everyone else was asleep. Ahhh, I thought, I should get up and do some writing. And, of course, five minutes later a boy was awake and needing something from me. So much for that, I thought, maybe tomorrow. I had some vague thought that writing would make a great New Year's resolution and, surely, in January it will all work better.
But here's the thing, nothing in my life will just work anymore. I have 4 young children, all of them busy boys, and if I keep waiting for the right time to come, I'll never write another word. My aunt said years ago that the goal should be to write something every day, it didn't need to be profound, it just needed to be. I've reminded myself of this endlessly, perhaps it is time to actually act on it? I'm not even sure on what I'm waiting anymore. The baby is sleeping through the night, so sleep is as much mine as it can be at this stage of my life. The move is complete, or as complete as they get. The boys are in school. My life is certainly not going to get less complicated than it is now.
I do find myself wondering what it is that I have to say that is important enough to put on paper and have others read, realizing that the answer to that question is quite likely, nothing. But then, most people who write don't do it for others. While everyone would love to find an audience that appreciates their words and heaps praise on them, if you ask them most people would say that they write for themselves, not for anyone else. It's true for me. I started this blog when we were trying to sort out life after CJ was diagnosed with a learning disability. I did send the link to family so they could keep track of our journey, but the point wasn't whether anyone else ever saw it, much less read it. The point was always that it helped me to make sense of what was happening around us. So maybe I don't need a theme or an angle, maybe I just need to write about whatever I'm trying to understand on any given day. Some days it might be a topic others care about, some days I might be the only one who bothers to read it.
Nonetheless, read it you can, starting today and every day. I can't guarantee more than a sentence, but there will be something to see if you care enough to check.
But here's the thing, nothing in my life will just work anymore. I have 4 young children, all of them busy boys, and if I keep waiting for the right time to come, I'll never write another word. My aunt said years ago that the goal should be to write something every day, it didn't need to be profound, it just needed to be. I've reminded myself of this endlessly, perhaps it is time to actually act on it? I'm not even sure on what I'm waiting anymore. The baby is sleeping through the night, so sleep is as much mine as it can be at this stage of my life. The move is complete, or as complete as they get. The boys are in school. My life is certainly not going to get less complicated than it is now.
I do find myself wondering what it is that I have to say that is important enough to put on paper and have others read, realizing that the answer to that question is quite likely, nothing. But then, most people who write don't do it for others. While everyone would love to find an audience that appreciates their words and heaps praise on them, if you ask them most people would say that they write for themselves, not for anyone else. It's true for me. I started this blog when we were trying to sort out life after CJ was diagnosed with a learning disability. I did send the link to family so they could keep track of our journey, but the point wasn't whether anyone else ever saw it, much less read it. The point was always that it helped me to make sense of what was happening around us. So maybe I don't need a theme or an angle, maybe I just need to write about whatever I'm trying to understand on any given day. Some days it might be a topic others care about, some days I might be the only one who bothers to read it.
Nonetheless, read it you can, starting today and every day. I can't guarantee more than a sentence, but there will be something to see if you care enough to check.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Opting out of the mommy wars...
I was talking on the phone to a friend, who works, and said I needed to go so I could head out to the gym. "Oh, rough life," she said, with the slight sarcasm that women seem to have so often when talking to each other these days. "Nope," I replied, "it's not. And I'm okay with that." It was funny how taken aback she was at my response, as I think many women would be. Somehow, we all seem to have gotten caught up in a competition over whose life is more stressful, working moms or stay-at-home moms. It is a competition in which I try very hard not to take part, because I don't see the point.
Is my life stressful at times? Hello, you're talking to the woman who shaved off all her hair last week because she just couldn't handle one more thing that day. Yeah, I have some stress. Is it more stressful than anybody else's? I doubt it but, and this to me is the central problem with the whole debate over whose life is more difficult, how on earth do you measure stress? How could you ever quantify the difficulty of any given life and decide how to balance that against another? Even within the two camps it can become an absurd endeavor to determine who has more stress. Is Michelle Obama's life, as she balances kids, a stressed-out husband and a very demanding job as First Lady, more or less stressful than that of a single mom who works in a factory and is constantly worried about money? Is this really a question we want to waste our time trying to answer? I don't think so. I'd rather stop worrying about who is more stressed out and put my effort into creating a balanced life for myself within which I can meet my needs and those of my family.
Yep, you heard me, a balanced life. The Holy Grail of parents, right? Everyone wants it and wants someone to tell them how to achieve it. But there's not a simple formula you can follow, because, and here's the rub, no two people see stress the same way so no two people will have the same balance work for them. What would seem unbearable to others might not bother me at all, and vice versa. To find your balance you to have find your greatest source of stress and then shift your life so that area is minimized, realizing that it will probably mean accepting a little more stress in other areas.
I figured out my greatest source of stress was not doing something 100% (so not shocking to anyone who knows me). I can't just punch the clock at home or at work and so I tried to do both as if the other didn't exist. I ended up unhealthy and unhappy and I'm sure unpleasant to be around. It didn't work for me or my family. So, I gave up a job I loved and left the city and my friends behind to live in a place with a lower cost of living. Except for 2 days in Williamsburg last March and time we spend with friends each New Year's, we haven't had a family vacation in years and we don't eat out much or buy a lot of clothes or new cars. I admit not having all those things is hard, but it's stress I can handle because in return I get to enjoy seeing my kids every day without wondering when I can get away to do work and I get to know that they enjoy seeing me because I'm smiling and happy and not rushing to get somewhere in a bad mood. This is what works for me. Craig's balance is different from mine because for him, my introvert, the stress of being around 4 loud and demanding boys all day is huge. He could never stay home full-time, even though he loves the boys just as much as I do. Neither of us is a better or worse parent, we're just different.
Hence, my answer to my friend's comment. I'm not ashamed to be in a good place right now and I won't apologize for it. She's right, I don't have a rough life and I've worked hard and given up a lot over the last few years to make it that way. Being the most stressed-out person in the room is not a prize for which anyone should be competing.
Is my life stressful at times? Hello, you're talking to the woman who shaved off all her hair last week because she just couldn't handle one more thing that day. Yeah, I have some stress. Is it more stressful than anybody else's? I doubt it but, and this to me is the central problem with the whole debate over whose life is more difficult, how on earth do you measure stress? How could you ever quantify the difficulty of any given life and decide how to balance that against another? Even within the two camps it can become an absurd endeavor to determine who has more stress. Is Michelle Obama's life, as she balances kids, a stressed-out husband and a very demanding job as First Lady, more or less stressful than that of a single mom who works in a factory and is constantly worried about money? Is this really a question we want to waste our time trying to answer? I don't think so. I'd rather stop worrying about who is more stressed out and put my effort into creating a balanced life for myself within which I can meet my needs and those of my family.
Yep, you heard me, a balanced life. The Holy Grail of parents, right? Everyone wants it and wants someone to tell them how to achieve it. But there's not a simple formula you can follow, because, and here's the rub, no two people see stress the same way so no two people will have the same balance work for them. What would seem unbearable to others might not bother me at all, and vice versa. To find your balance you to have find your greatest source of stress and then shift your life so that area is minimized, realizing that it will probably mean accepting a little more stress in other areas.
I figured out my greatest source of stress was not doing something 100% (so not shocking to anyone who knows me). I can't just punch the clock at home or at work and so I tried to do both as if the other didn't exist. I ended up unhealthy and unhappy and I'm sure unpleasant to be around. It didn't work for me or my family. So, I gave up a job I loved and left the city and my friends behind to live in a place with a lower cost of living. Except for 2 days in Williamsburg last March and time we spend with friends each New Year's, we haven't had a family vacation in years and we don't eat out much or buy a lot of clothes or new cars. I admit not having all those things is hard, but it's stress I can handle because in return I get to enjoy seeing my kids every day without wondering when I can get away to do work and I get to know that they enjoy seeing me because I'm smiling and happy and not rushing to get somewhere in a bad mood. This is what works for me. Craig's balance is different from mine because for him, my introvert, the stress of being around 4 loud and demanding boys all day is huge. He could never stay home full-time, even though he loves the boys just as much as I do. Neither of us is a better or worse parent, we're just different.
Hence, my answer to my friend's comment. I'm not ashamed to be in a good place right now and I won't apologize for it. She's right, I don't have a rough life and I've worked hard and given up a lot over the last few years to make it that way. Being the most stressed-out person in the room is not a prize for which anyone should be competing.
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