I am a woman moved.
I’m sitting in the middle level of our townhouse, my front door is open to let in the light (the storm door is locked, but you and I both know that this is not really secure), the screen door that leads to my deck is open, letting in a very pleasant 74 degree breeze that is rustling through the mature dark green leaves of the ancient trees behind the house. My sons are taking naps after a fun time at the beautiful park down the street.
The Husband is downstairs, unpacking the last of the boxes in the basement, setting up the boy’s main play area as well as our desks and an area for us to watch movies and play video games.
I am a woman, moved.
Tomorrow, my husband will take our little car and go to work.
Then I’ll be a woman, isolated.
Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for. I always thought that I liked the suburban lifestyle. What I didn’t realize was that I’ve never truly lived in the suburbs. I grew up in and have always lived in something in between the inner city and the suburbs. I’ve never been far away from a bus stop or a train station (or both), with access to anywhere and everywhere. Since the boys, I’ve become an expert in navigating public transit with two babies and a double stroller. It isn’t really an environmental thing for me, it’s a freedom thing for me, it’s an access thing for me.
and I won’t have that anymore. Poof. I haven’t heard a single bus since we moved here on Saturday. This place shuts down at sunset and then it gets dark, like seriously dark. No warm glowing glow of light pollution. And quiet.
My husband is going to use the car for these three weeks and then he’ll start taking the commuter rail. I’m realizing that these are going to be a rough few weeks because there isn’t much around here within walking distance. I drove the boys to the park today–it isn’t far away, but you have to walk down two fairly busy roads to get there and they are narrow with no sidewalks. Soooo, about that.
and of course, this being New England, I’ve met none of my neighbors. What happened to the days when people knocked on the door and shook your hands when you moved in?
I had no idea what I was getting into, and I am only just beginning to understand the depth of the challenge that I’ve chosen…sought.
Let’s talk about awesome things:
1) We hired the absolute best movers in the entire universe. If you are in the Boston area and you need to move, you really ought to call Rare Movers. It is really, really hard to impress me. These men moved our entire 2-bedroom apartment, start to finish, in 3 1/2 hours. Happily. Carefully. All while calling me “ma’am” the entire time. I haven’t been treated so well since we left the south. They were phenomenal.
2) The boys (and my parents) survived their first over-night visit on Saturday and they were angels. This is WONDERFUL news! I’m so looking forward to planning a quick anniversary trip with The Husband. Our 5th wedding anniversary is in October and now I think we’ll be able to actually celebrate it!
3) The Husband and I were really efficient with our day and with our packing. The kitchen was completely unpacked before the end of Saturday and the Nursery was established by Sunday morning. We were able to bring the boys to a home that had a pretty good look and feel of “home” by early Sunday afternoon.
But that feeling of “home” is quite funny, because this isn’t really home. We don’t want it to be home. This is just the hop. So a lot of boxes are being tucked away into closets, remaining unopened. We aren’t putting up any pictures or other artifacts, as we don’t want to make holes in the walls and further piss off the management of this property. The husband has put wires in funky places to accommodate internet and cable stuff, and I don’t care. I keep turning to him and saying “I don’t care.” Because this isn’t home. The problem with this mentality is that this place has to be home to the boys. They don’t understand that we are still in transition. for the 60 to 90 days (or however long it’s going to take) that we live here, this place absolutely needs to feel like home for the boys. This move was hard enough on them (Ursa Major, especially) as it is. So we’re working really hard to make it feel good for them, even while we know that it’s going to be a pain in the ass to repack for us.
On Friday we got an e-mail from the realtor saying that the selling family of the house we’re in love with wants to go to closing as soon as Sept 20th. While we ponder the implications and many, many potential complications, we are having an inspector walk through the house today. 99.9% of me hopes and prays that the house is prefect without any problems beyond what we know. .1% of me hopes that there is a major problem so that I can feel fully settled into this place and really dig into this community. I think that this .1% feeling comes from me not wanting to look at another box again for a long while.
I hope to have good news for you about the house on Wednesday, and thank you to everyone who has sent your well wishes (I’ll get to that after I’m done with this post!). I need some good news right now because there is nothing but bad news coming out of my playgroup. I hope to post about that this week, too.
It’s good to be back and rewired. There is so much that I want to write about this week–I hope that I can get to it all. We’ve got to talk about the “Respectability” argument that that Talented Tenth is squabbling about and we’ve got to talk about my silly playgroup….Lordy, lord.
Until then, I hope your week is gearing up to be a great one!