Total Eclipse of My Plans

Emmie starts kindergarten in TWO DAYS.

I'm not freaking out or anything; I just couldn't sleep last night. 

Don't tell her that.

We've been trying to put on a brave front for Emmie, who's nervous about starting a new school in a new town. Well, actually, it's an old school in an old town, but not really to her.

You see, we did decide to move into my parents' house in Bruce's and my hometown, the same town we lived in when Emmie was a baby and we were living with my in-laws. (Try to wrap your brain around that one!) Now we're moving back, and Emmie will be attending kindergarten where I once went. My parents moved us to the town before fourth grade, and I started there the year the school opened - nearly - can this be true? - 30 years ago. Fun fact: I sang a solo of "My Favorite Things" at the dedication ceremony. Now my kid is going there.

Since getting back from San Diego (which was awesome, by the way), we've been taking the necessary steps to enroll Emmie. Bruce switched the gas bill at my parents' house into his name. He got a driver's license with my childhood home's address on it, which is really weird for me to see. I made the calls to the school secretary, filled out all the paperwork, took the kids a couple times down to the school office, and arranged everything. I also had to tell the school here in our current town she would no longer be attending.

We've also been slowly getting the house ready for sale. I try to do a little task each day, box up some books or tidy up a closet, but it's so hard to do with the kids around. Especially Hannah. Every time I get one part of the house clean, she goes right behind me and has her toddler way with it. Little hand prints on stainless steel, toys strewn about, crayon on the walls. It's maddening, but she's so cute she gets away with it.

How are we ever going to get this all done? This is on top of my work; I still have the two writing groups, the house museum, and an upcoming online class to prepare. Insert wailing-face emoji here.

Starting Wednesday, we will be driving Emmie to school, 40 minutes away. She goes from 8:40 to 11:15 a.m., which means on the days Bruce has a meeting and can't take her, Hannah and I will, and there isn't enough time to come back home and work on anything. Bruce's father has generously offered to pick up Emmie on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which helps out some, but I can't squash the rising tide of panic welling up in my throat. I feel completely overwhelmed.

We'll get through it, I tell myself. We've gone through plenty of chaos before. At this point, it will be such a relief to sell the house and be all moved in to my parents'. We just have to get it done.

Today is Emmie's school orientation. We are scheduled to arrive at 2 o'clock. Bruce has to go into the office this morning, so he will meet us there. However, there's a damn eclipse happening right in the middle of the day! Normally, I would be so excited. Originally I planned to take the girls to a viewing party. But like many plans I made for this summer, like working on my novel, practicing the art of wood burning, and getting some poems published, they have fallen by the wayside of motherhood, home ownership, and general adult responsibility. Now I have to get the kids over to my folks' house early this morning so we aren't driving when the moon overpowers the sun, potentially burning our eyes out and sending the world into partial darkness.

My plans, you could say, have been eclipsed.

Going Somewhere

Tomorrow I'm doing something I haven't done in over ten years.

I'm going to get on an airplane and fly away. 

By myself.

For many people, this isn't anything to take note of. Many people fly for work, to visit family, and take vacations without their spouses and families. Bruce even went on a short work trip to Tulsa, Oklahoma recently. (It was as glamorous as you'd imagine.) I, however, have not done so since I was single.

I'm pretty nervous.

If you asked me, and I'll pretend you did, I would tell you that I've flown my whole life. Some of my fondest memories are of being little, in my footie pajamas, being woken up by my parents in the middle of the night, to get dressed all sleepy-eyed and drive to the airport. There we would be greeted by familiar and unknown Thai relatives, who would wait with us in the terminal (you could do that back then, kids!), until it was finally time to board the plane and undertake the nearly-twenty-four-hour journey to Thailand. My brother and I were in awe of the double-decker planes (that was a thing, too). Sometimes the pilot would give us wings or a miniature plane (made of metal, not plastic). We usually flew an Asian airline, and the kid's meal was always exotic and served in a cute cartoon tray, like Hello Kitty. Flying, as a kid, was super exciting.

My parents were great about travelling. Besides Thailand, they would take us on long road trips across the U.S. and Canada. Sometimes we would fly other places, too, like the time I begged to go to Cancun, Mexico. I credit my love of travelling to them. I'm so happy they instilled in me the desire to discover new places and culture.

As I got older, I got the wanderlust. Hard. I was Belle on the cliff's edge, twirling and singing, "I want much more than this provincial life." I remember driving to the airport just to watch the planes taking off.

In college, the English department offered a credit course for a week in London to study theatre. I think about that now, and I marvel at how cool that was. We witnessed famous actors in famous roles (including Alan Rickman in Private Lives), toured Shakespeare's Globe, and had plenty of opportunities for sightseeing. That was the first time I flew without my parents.

In 2002, I met a German guy with whom I'd end up in a long-distance relationship. I applied to do my graduate studies nearby in the Netherlands, was accepted, and off I went. Thus began a few years' time when I would fly by myself, back and forth between Europe and the U.S., as well as on budget carriers to other European countries for short trips. Back then I liked to think of myself as something of a jetsetter.

That guy and I broke up, I graduated, my permanent Dutch residence status expired, and my dreams of living abroad came to a devastating end. But I believe everything happens for a reason, and it was when I moved back home that Bruce and I got together. We moved to Chicago, another dream I've had since childhood.

That was when I got robbed, and everything changed for me.

Gone was the fearless, independent adventure girl. Paranoia took her place. Bruce and I only flew a handful of times. Those times are marred in my mind by the fears I had - I didn't want to walk anywhere, especially at night; I worried about break-ins wherever I was. The flight home from our honeymoon in Italy was the worst, one long panic attack. I wasn't the same. My wanderlust wasn't just put on the backburner, it was left to grow cold. 

I've only flown a couple times since. Once was a short trip to New York City, when I was pregnant, and once again with Bruce and Emmie to San Diego for my friend's wedding. Prior to the latter trip, I went to counseling to get a grip on my fears. My doctor prescribed me something to take for the flight. That was four years ago.

I've been working on getting back to "me" since having Hannah. I'm pursuing my writing goals. I'm trying to make fitness more of a priority. And, thanks to various factors, my wanderlust is back in action. Later this year we're taking a huge trip with Bruce's family to Barcelona and Sicily. I'm obsessed with it, doing much of the group planning. I feel like myself again, excited about travel. But there is this growly feeling in my gut that asks, what if you can't handle it? Can you stay calm for an overnight, overseas trip with the kids? And the ever-present question a person with anxiety faces: what if something bad happens?

I feel shaky even typing it.

*walks away from computer to feed the kids breakfast*

Good thing I took a break from writing. I was started to revive those old feelings, the ones that presume if I think something bad, it could manifest and actually happen. That is a dark, misguided tunnel to go down.

I had breakfast with the girls and read the newspaper to clear my head. Then I got a text from my bestie in San Diego, whom I am going to visit TOMORROW! That's right; that's the whole point of this blog post.

My friend Lorelei, who lives in San Diego, had a new baby in March. I've been yearning to meet that adorable little guy every day. With the big trip coming up, we couldn't afford to go out to California as a family. So Bruce started encouraging me to go alone. He knows how important it is to me. But noooo, I couldn't leave the family, especially the baby! That would be blasphemous! Plus, I had an undercurrent fear of flying.

A month or two ago I had a playdate with another friend who has twins the same age as Hannah, and she told me that she went on a trip to South Carolina without her husband or kids. I was shocked. "What was that like?" I asked, mouth open.

"I bawled my eyes out on takeoff," she admitted. "The flight attendant had to comfort me. But it was the best decision I could have made, and I came home refreshed and better for my family."

Wow.

So I booked my flight. I'm going Friday through Sunday, 48 hours exactly between landing and takeoff. I got new luggage, a new journal (that says Wanderlust on it), a new book to read, and a pedicure. Bruce and the kids will have a nice time bonding, and I'll get away for a bit. I'm hoping to find some of the old me on this trip, or rather, work on building a stronger, more confident me. Let's do this.

The text from Lorelei was to tell me she has a nanny for her older son when she picks me up, so "we can go somewhere. Anywhere."

That sounds pretty good to me.

Moving In... Again?

I can't believe we're even thinking of it. To say it out loud, to type it, seems ridiculous. Can it be true?

We are thinking of moving in... with my parents.

That's right, folks, if you didn't realize I was a glutton for punishment before, this should do it. You see, it all started one night my father called me and left a voicemail saying, "I think I just bought a house."

I was devastated. My parents had been talking about selling our childhood home and moving somewhere more affordable for years now, but I didn't take them seriously. My parents both are still working full time. Their grandkids are here. Plus myriad other financial reasons why I never thought it would happen. But they did it anyways. Before putting up their current house for sale, they bought a house five hours away, in a different state.

Long story short, my parents' plan was to move their belongings and the pets to Indiana, then fix up the first house, put it up for sale, then rent an apartment somewhere in the area so that they can continue to work for the next two years. That is, unless Bruce and I want my old home.

If Bruce and I choose to do this, we would pay rent to my parents, while they continued to live in the house during the week for work. After two years, we would have the option to buy the house. Right now, it's worth more than we could afford. However, for the two years we would live there, the rent and bills would be fairly comparable to what we pay for our mortgage and everything here. Also, our neighbor in the unit attached to ours just sold her place for a significant amount more than we paid, so we stand to make a nice profit. There are so many angles to consider, financially. We want to be smart about this, so tomorrow our former real estate agent whom we trust completely is coming over to talk with us. We plan to pick his brain about renting-to-own, and his thoughts on what we'd need to do to sell our townhouse.

I love it here. In the four (!) years we've been here, since living with my in-laws, I've come into my own again as a person, and also as a mother. I have two girls now, and feel more confident than ever in my role as their parent (though I still feel like every day I'm winging it). I'm writing again, pursuing passions that were long hibernating. I run the writing group at the local library and still work part-time for the house museum in the next town over. I feel part of the community here. Plus, I love our little house, the size of our bedrooms, the backyard where we have vegetables growing and flowers blooming that started off as Mother's Day gifts. I love that we are so near to everything, just a street away from the doctor, dentist, Aldi, movie theater, gas station, restaurants. There are so many things about this house that I cherish.

I don't like that we have pretty much no front yard. Our driveway is shared with another unit and runs alongside a gravel drive to the apartment building next door. I don't love that my neighbors are right next to us, and all day long people everywhere are coming and going, often loudly with their spinning tires, souped-up pickup trucks, and revving motorcycles. When any of the neighbors smoke cigarettes, we can smell it. On hot days, the KFC nearby permeates the neighborhood with fried chicken smell. I tell myself that if we still lived in Chicago, we would deal with those kinds of things, and more, but truthfully, when Emmie's preschool friends' parents ask about a playdate, I usually suggest going to their house. I never considered this our forever home.

My childhood home is the complete opposite. It has a huge yard, bigger than we would ever need or want under other circumstances. There are weeping willows lining a creek that runs through the back. Past the creek, a farmhouse sits on a hill, and cows roam free on the property. The sunsets are incredible. We wouldn't even need curtains because the neighbors are so far away. It has room for me to have my own study/office, which is the one thing I would have wanted in a new house. There's a wraparound porch with a swing, on which I've had many happy times. Outside my old bedroom, a huge oak tree rises into the sky. I brought it as a sapling from my family's very first house and planted it there. Nearly 30 years later, it is tremendous. We always had a horse, and though I can't ride, I relished the sight of a steed in the pasture, swishing its tail. My childhood there was spent playing outside in nature from dawn to dusk, without a care. When I got older, and discovered Jane Austen, I pretended I was an English girl like Elizabeth Bennet, taking a stroll in the countryside.

I would love to give all that to our girls.

Now, I know that a kid doesn't need any of that to have a good childhood. I'm reading Born a Crime by Trevor Noah, and he describes growing up in South Africa, the complete destitution, violence, and injustice that he endured, but he tells it with such love, because he had a strong, loving parent to raise him up. If we have love, we can make it through with little else. His story reminds me to not take anything for granted. We have so much privilege.

The main factor that is driving Bruce and I towards making this choice is the school district. The schools here are just okay. We were fine with that when Emmie was a toddler, and we couldn't afford anything else. But this fall she starts kindergarten. It's all getting real now. The schools where Bruce and I grew up are a 10/10. As a college instructor, after many years of experience, I can honestly say that I see the difference in general writing skills from kids in the different areas. If we move Emmie now, she has the chance to build a foundation there. I think to myself, what would an immigrant do? If you've come to this country to give your kids a better life, you get them in the best school district and area you can manage. On this front, the choice is clear.

Then there's this: Bruce's 60-mile commute would be reduced to 36 miles. That's a 48-mile per day savings, which means fewer tolls paid, less gas consumed, less wear-and-tear on the car, less time driving, more time with us.

So many other reasons. Many of our friends live there, not to mention our families. We'd have a built-in support system. I have a steady job there (more on that later). More restaurants and culture. A more liberal mentality. The politics thing, it shouldn't be an issue, but it is. I won't deny it. I want our kids to be open-minded, accepting, and critical thinkers. Sure, they can be that anywhere, but I prefer for them to be surrounded by good examples in their community if they can be.

I woke up early to write, and sure enough, Emmie woke up not long after. It's the Curse of Mother's Free Time. Its's like Murphy's Law. If the kids can come in the way of you getting something done or doing something for yourself, they will! Want to hang out with friends? Suddenly your kid has a fever. Wake up and sneak downstairs? There's your kid, rubbing her eyes and asking for breakfast!

So this will be a To Be Continued post. I haven't yet discussed the negatives of living with my parents, though I'm sure you can imagine some of them. What do you think, reader? Do we move in with our in-laws... again?

All Kinds of Inaugurations

Transition of Power

This has been a surreal month, a bizarre start to the year full of emotions I can't quite articulate. The country is going through a tumultuous time; there's protests in the streets, and it all seems so much like the dystopian novels I read in high school it's eerie. On one hand, I am terrified about what some people want to do to the world my daughters will grow up in. On the other hand, we have seen so many people take to the streets to defend the causes they believe in, to promote love and goodness and fairness, and that makes me think maybe we'll be okay.

I've been having  lot of talks with Emmie about current affairs. Yes, five years old does seem too young to be discussing some of these heavy topics, but I try to reach her on her level. For instance, on January 21st, one of my best friends marched in downtown Chicago with her boyfriend, sisters, and her sister's children and husband. The hair on my arms stood up straight like static electricity at the images of the marches around the world. I showed the photos to Emmie, and we discussed that these people were marching to fight for what they believe in - that women are equal to men, that people of all colors and religions and kinds of love are equal, and should be treated fairly. She took it all in stride. To her open and innocent mind, that makes absolute sense.

Sleepovers

The reason why I wasn't out marching myself was that Bruce had his annual work party that day - and we got a hotel room! Awww yeah. Well, actually, the weekend before we had a hotel room, too! In the middle of the month, Bruce arranged for his folks to watch the kids so we could go to a craft beer release party, which I gave him tickets to for his Christmas present. Our friends from the city met us over that way, and we got hotel rooms and went out to eat at the Hofbrauhaus Chicago. It was pure merrymaking. Let's just say there were liter steins of beer, shots, shotskis, people's behinds getting paddled, dancing on tables to live oompah music... It was our own personal Octoberfest in January. It was also the first time Bruce and I have had an overnight by ourselves in - let me think - it was before I got pregnant with Hannah, so it has to have been since our anniversary, April 2014. Over two years ago.

This guy

Das ist ein großer Stein

Then we got a room for after Bruce's work party. The next morning, we ate breakfast in the hotel lobby, and it was odd: no mouth to spoon-feed, no one begging us for one more chocolate muffin. Just our coffees and our buffet-station omelets and each other. It was so peaceful, but then the sound of a baby crying elsewhere in the room made me ready to head home.

Emmie also had her first sleepover this month! She stayed over at the house of our good friends who have a niece Emmie's same age. They've been playmates since birth. I wondered if she would freak out, because I know I did when I had my first sleepover, but apparently for the most part, she was fine. There was nail painting, movie watching, and candy, so I don't think she had a chance to miss us. Me, though, I was a little verklempt about it. Each new step in Emmie's life is a cause for celebration, but also signifies a gradual distancing from us.

Rainbow-Heart-Deer Party

We also threw Emmie her first kid party this month. The kids in her preschool class have been inviting her to theirs, so we realized it was time to host her own. For months she'd been talking about wanting to have a rainbow-heart-deer party, so Bruce busted out his colored pencils and drew up a picture, which we scanned and printed out for invitations.

We held the party at a local art studio where the kids could choose a ceramic figurine and paint it. It went over like gangbusters - every kid from her class came, plus we invited her two best friends. The kids chased each other around the room, and then when it was time to paint, they sat still and concentrated on their brushwork like little Michelangelos. When their masterpieces were finished, they sang Happy Birthday to Emmie, ate cupcakes (with rainbow-heart confetti and forest animal rings), and then they each got super excited waiting for Emmie to open the present they brought her. It was so cute; Emmie soaked it all up. The whole thing lasted a measly hour and a half, but afterwards we were downright exhausted.

And speaking of steps - Hannah toddled around in shoes for the first time at her big sister's party. She had a blast watching the older kids and trying to keep up with them. She just smiled and smiled, no matter how many times she fell.

Not gonna lie, the whole thing kind of made my heart burst with rainbows.