Make this place your home...

It's hard for me to believe, but a year ago at this time, we were throwing the final items into boxes.  (Boxes that I would soon discover were so unorganized that it took us almost this full year to unpack and reorganize.)  It wasn't the most romantic wedding anniversary, but the whole process was symbolic  of the vows and promises I had made on that day four years before.

Moving day was an emotionally confusing day.  Calling it bittersweet just doesn't do it justice.  There was so much sadness.  But, there were also moments of excitement about the long journey that was spread out in front of us.  I remember someone saying to me when they heard we were moving, "It's going to be sad, but there is a certain excitement to going somewhere entirely new and just starting over."

Whoever that was - thank you.  You were right.

I miss my home.  Yes.  There is a hole in my heart where St. Louis used to be and I catch myself aching for some of our traditions we celebrated yearly while still living there.

Cardinals in Postseason has kind of become a yearly thing. Just sayin'.

But, for every second that I miss St. Louis - there is a moment of pure, unencumbered joy and gratitude for the life we are living here and the people that we share it with.  There are things that have taken some getting used to (everything literally shuts down during football games, it's like a ghost town.)  Some things (traffic patterns, for example) I may never enjoy.  But, I truly just LOVE it here.  (So much so that sometimes I feel like I'm cheating on my city a bit.)

I remember on the day we left that I watched The Arch become a tiny little dot in my rearview mirror my eyes blurred with tears and sad songs blaring on my CD player. And yet, every time I started to get scary sad and ugly cry, I would have a message of encouragement from someone back at home.  Messages that promised me it would be okay.  Messages that told me that they missed me already. Messages that allowed me to hope that not only was it going to be good - that it might just be even better.

To all of you who contacted me on one of the most defining days of my entire life - thank you.  And?  You were right.  It is okay.

The past two years that we have been in the process of relocating ourselves here has taught me so much about our strength as a couple; as parents; as people, in general.  And now that we get to live here in the beautiful now - I'm just so grateful and blessed about where this journey has taken us thus far.

So, happy first anniversary, Chicago - I think I'll keep you.
And, happy fifth anniversary to my husband - you can stay too.

When I was young I knew everything...

Dear Non-Parent,

I have a confession to make.  I'm jealous of you.  I just read your Facebook update about how you just woke up from an uninterrupted night of sleep to go to Starbucks and the grocery store (alone) to prepare for the dinner you're having for all of your (also childless) friends tonight at your immaculately decorated and clean home.  Congratulations.  Are you enjoying your life right now?  I sure am as I live vicariously through it.

I love my life.  Love it.  Love it so much that sometimes I worry people will catch my (slightly insane) grin as I marvel silently over the happiness that is my day-to-day existence.

And?

I'm exhausted.  I am the sole entertainer and provider (okay, I have a great partner, but sometimes he goes on trips and leaves me alone and seeing as this is my blog, I am inclined to focus on the negative, obviously) for a very picky and opinionated and loud and spirited and ENERGETIC three year old monster.  I love him so much it frigging hurts and so I am willing to withstand a great deal of discomfort in order to make sure his little face never stops smiling.  (It often does, but not for lack of trying.)

So, pardon me while I sit here jealously, purposely not "Like"ing or even liking your status because I am pouting because I want to have an adult conversation over slowly prepared food (not made in a microwave) and relish in the beauty of nothingness that unfolds itself in front of me.  No one is going to ask you to change their wet sheets in the middle of the night.  No one is going to require your assistance in bathing them.  No one is going to demand you make them a frozen waffle at 5:30 am only to leave it abandoned on a plate in a mess of sticky syrup that you and you alone will be responsible for cleaning up (or, God help me, my house is going to smell like maple syrup for the next 6 months.)  Tomorrow you are likely going to meander over a long boozy brunch after you have completed another full night of sleep and at no point in your journey will you be required to drive a minivan that smells like a foot.

It makes me a bit resentful.  It makes me want to hide your posts so that I won't long for those days which seemed to pass me by so quickly before I really got a chance to enjoy them.  It makes me want to read only mommy blogs so that I can feast my eyes and say, "Yes.  YES.  Now HERE is a woman who gets it" and scroll past your newsfeed without the sense of regret I am currently feeling.

All this to say?

It's okay that you get a little bored with the 365 pictures I posted chronologically of my son last year. It's okay that from time to time you unsubscribe from my posts, complain about me to your friends, and roll your eyes when you see that I've written (YET ANOTHER) post about breast feeding.  Just so you know, I swore I wouldn't be like this before I had kids.  And look who's talking now.

So, judge me for the claims I make ("No one has ever been this tired before"), the stances I take ("I refuse to mess with my kid's vaccination schedule"), the opinions I hold dear ("I have the cutest child in the history of the world and if you mess with me I will throw his tricycle at you.")  I don't blame you.  I would have judged me too when I was sitting in your seat.

I'm exactly who I thought I would never be.  I'm kind of okay with it, too.
And I bet sometimes you think about clicking the "de-friend" button on Facebook because you just don't feel like reading another status about the amazing new thing my kid is doing.  That's okay.  Sometimes I want to de-friend you too when I hear about the amazing new vacation you're planning.  So we're even, okay?  No hard feelings.

I discipline in a different way than I ever thought I would.  I post more pictures of my child on the Internet than photos that existed in the 25+ years of life I lived before him.  I clean up puke and deal with tears and allow things I thought I would never stand for (dammit.)

I don't make my kid share if it isn't worth the fight.  I let him watch TV for more than the 1 recommend hour per week.  He wears t-shirts with licensed characters and leaves toys in places other than the toy box.

If I knew me now, I wouldn't recognize me.

So, dear non-parent friend, I don't know if you plan to have children now or ever or anytime soon, but before you do - pour yourself another glass of wine, immerse yourself in that adult conversation, turn up the volume on your favorite Pandora station for a bit (who is there to disturb?) and just really freaking enjoy it.

Because someday you're going to have baby poop in your hair and you're going to be reading Facebook because you're too tired to get up and clean it out, and you're going to see one of my posts about my frigging awesome kid (with the caveat that I'm exhausted from a day of playing with said awesome kid) and you're going to say, "Yes.  YES.  Now here is a woman who GETS IT."

And you're going to click "Like" on that status.  And so the cycle will repeat.


And I promise, I won't ever say "I told you so."



Love,
New Mom on the Blog