Savoring Summer's End

In the mornings recently, a deliciously cool breeze blows through our bedroom window, reminding me of the cool weather around the corner. By afternoon, the heat sets in, encouraging me to daydream about just which location would be right for a nice shade tree.

The Composer, in his own baby way, has captured this cusp of the seasons; he loves chewing on watermelon rinds and apple cores.

In a furious frenzy to pack in all the fun that we can before school starts, we've been, in the past week, to the museum, the beach, the movies, and apple picking. We sent the Painter off to visit with his grandparents for a few days, allowing me the presence of mind to remember to call the preschool to which I have been interested in sending the Inventor. As a result, I will now be sending two of my babies off to new schools in the next few weeks.

Suddenly summer seems too short.

Leaping

I still worry, but that doesn't mean I need to change my mind. Worry, too, is part of me.

We have made our decision. We are making our arrangements. Two adults, three boys, three cats, two vehicles, and a truckload of stuff will be moving soon to Wisconsin, an hour from my parents, and hour from my brother, an hour from my grandmother, aunts and uncles, two hours from the other grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins, to the land of much snow this winter and affordable housing, to a community we don't know, but will become a part of, and a place we will call home for several years.

In the end, it is a practical decision. We find two things in our new home that we can't get here: affordable housing and proximity to family. There is one thing here that we can't get there: my job. I can always get another job.

We bring our hearts and our love with us.

Ball is Rolling

Raw writing here. Acknowledging my emotions and trying to work through them for my own benefit. Feel free to read on, but I won't be offended if you turn back.

My thoughts are churning, swirling, as I fly head-over-heels inside the ball, rolling down the hill. I don't know what awaits me at the bottom of the hill, and I fear it. Perhaps the ball will be smashed to pieces, and life as I know it will end.

What will end? What am I afraid of losing? If I don't take chances, I risk losing myself.

My life these days consists largely of poop and pee and spit, and feeding and eating and sleeping. In between, I find myself busying myself with chores, with reading, in a desperate attempt to escape from my thoughts, those thoughts that muddy my sight, muddy my self-understanding. (They are still with me.)

Last week we went on a house-hunting trip. As we found something we liked, though it cost more than we were hoping, we put in an offer on a cute little old house with a biggish yard, two side-walked blocks from a park, walking distance to shopping, and a short drive from the shores of Lake Michigan. Closing is set for the end of March. All we await now is loan approval.

I find, in this land of bodily fluids and little rest, that I am not as confident about our choices, about my choices, as I was before little Composer was born. Things are not so serene now - I don't find myself happily watching the boys and peacefully acknowledging where I am. Everything is moving too fast. I'm not just afraid of what's happening, I'm downright terrified. I cling to the edge of the ship as it sails along, but I don't feel like I am setting the sails, or deciding which direction to go. Why? What is so scary?

I start to gain some insight, with the help of my mirror, AD. What do I want if money is no object? What do I want, if I see things with the right perspective? Nothing more than to spend time with my family, watch my boys grow and help them to learn as they teach me, to rediscover my own creative spirit, to live a little every day, rather than die a little in the grip of blinding fear of the unknown.

Ok, then it is a good decision to leave work and spend more time with my family. But when asked if I want to go back to work (or if I want to leave work) my mind seizes up and I can't answer. Why? What makes me so afraid to say "I'm quitting! I'm going to take 'their' advice and spend the next few years enjoying my babes while they are little. I'm going to live and love and create."

A big part of the answer appears to be money. We are picking up & moving across the country, to a location in which it will be difficult for me to find employment in my current field. AD's business is just getting off the ground, and may not make any money for months, or years. We will be living off of savings in the interim, and are locking ourselves into a costly (ever so much less so than in this part of the country) home loan. Now that we are investigating them in earnest, the moving costs are piling up. We are leaving behind my substantial salary and health care benefits for nothing. (No dollars that is.)

Voices in my head: "That's just not what you do! How long will our money last? What if the business doesn't become profitable on a convenient timetable? What if I need to go back to work? What if I want to go back to work?"

By moving across the country, we are cutting off a convenient "escape route" in my mind - that of going back to work, in the same place, a known quantity, a good job working on "cool" projects - just in case the need should arise.

But really, why should the need arise? We have a good standard of living, but we can afford to live on less, especially in a much less expensive part of the country. We can do without a lot of the little luxuries we have become accustomed to ... such as buying just about anything whenever we feel like it. (A side benefit from living on less might be that we are all more grateful and appreciative.) But say we really do need more money even after we cut corners as much as we are able? Well, hey, then AD, or I, or both of us can get a job. We are both employable, I am sure. Worst case scenario, if I decide I just must absolutely go back into my current profession, and I can't find a way to do it from the western shores of the Lake? Well, then, we will just have to move again. But we won't have to do that. We have other options.

What is important? Is it all these things in the house that are causing the moving costs to go up up up? Is it the "cool things" built by my current prestigious employer? Is it my fear of explaining myself to people? Is it my reputation, my salary, the "perks" of the job? Is it the warm weather and oranges growing in our backyard? Is it the number of dollar signs stored in the bank?

Jen's quote of MLK drives it home: I do this for me, but I also do it for my family. Nothing else is certain.

Ready or not ...

... change is happening.

What's happening?

For more on the details, check out AD's post.

What else?

I had at first thought my OB was being over-cautious, when suggesting I take off work at week 30 or 32. Now I understand her advice. The last few days, back pain has left me uncomfortable while I am sitting, and nearly crippled when I get up. Probably just the effects of too much exertion coupled with too much sitting in the car over the weekend, but it makes me glad I will soon be able to avoid the commuting, walking, chair-sitting, and stress that are by-products of my job.

Last but not least ...

Although a corner of my mind remains unwilling to admit that the 20th will be my last day of work, not just for 4 months, but for quite a while beyond, we have started admitting our plans to our family.

Come about April, we will move to the land adjacent to the south-west corner of Lake Michigan, although the exact location has yet to be determined. For obvious reasons, AD's mom, who lives near Boston was visibly upset by this news, while my parents, who live near Chicago, were delighted to hear it (even when we inadvertently may have given them the impression we expect on-call gratis baby-sitting services from them on a regular basis).

The two primary factors in moving to that part of the country as opposed to another are the cost of living, and, more importantly, family density. In addition to my parents, we will be within a few hours drive of my three surviving grandparents (who aren't getting any younger), a half-dozen aunts & uncles, my brother & sister-in-law who are working on adopting some cousins for our brood, and a smattering of my cousins and their families. I miss seeing my family on a regular basis, and I am excited that we will be nearer to them soon. Home is where the heart is ... and my heart is with my family.

Exploring New Cities (Virtually)

"After explaining themselves to befuddled family and friends, they packed up and moved across the country."

Having decided to do the same, it is nice to know we are not alone. The "explaining ... to befuddled family and friends" is one of the things that makes it difficult to go. Not only do we have our own fear of how we will sustain ourselves to deal with, but also the fear that no one else will understand.

I have added some lists to the sidebar: what we are looking for in a place to live, and possibilities we are currently considering. I put them in the sidebar so I can look at them often, edit as needed, and feel like we are making progress in this endeavor. In steering a new course for our lives, it is more productive to set our sights on our destination than focus on why we're leaving this place we've started from.

Articulate thinks it may be more difficult to live near family than elsewhere, because, in seeing family more often, we will have that much more explaining to do. But I think that if we are confident in our course it won't matter how often we are interrogated. As with the same kinds of questions from our children, we can explain until we run out of patience, and continue nonetheless to do what we feel is best.

To be fair ...

Our current locale does have some redeeming qualities.

1. Citrus trees in the backyard
2. Ornamental trees and shrubs flowering virtually all year long
3. Only an hour from the beach (used to be closer)
4. Mountains practically out the back door (subject to smog)
5. Lots of cultural opportunities (if you don't mind the traffic and crowds)
6. Long growing season (bring your own water)
7. No shrug-your-shoulders-up-to-your-ears-to-keep-warm- even-with-scarf-hat-and-coat cold weather

Reasons to Love Hate this Place

I mean, of course, the tangle of freeways in the midst of which we live.

1. Traffic
2. Sprawl
3. Crowds
4. Smog
5. Housing costs
6. Summer heat waves
7. No insulation
8. Too many chain restaurants
9. Too few sidewalks
10. No snow