Isn't that ridiculous?
I mean, it's pretty hilarious, right?
We literally made a circle. Well, more like an upside down pyramid, but nevertheless, nearly the biggest wobbling pyramid one can make in these United States.
I know what some of you are thinking--"Can't they just make up their minds?"
"Do they actually like doing this?" "Have they no sense of direction?"
To be fair, the answer to all of these questions can be partly answered "No."
But in all honestly, it's 90% yes.
1. Each move we've made has been brought about by careful fasting and prayer.
Each move has been agonized over and included extensive pros and cons lists, with carefully constructed maps of where the best pizza and gyro places are.
2. We actually do like moving. Although each move has been more difficult to make than the last, we have had some pretty stellar adventures, seen amazing things, done amazing things, and been influenced and forever befriended by some pretty incredible people.
3. Our sense of direction is always moving upward. And with every move, we've been lucky to do just that in not only our careers, but in our closeness as a family and the joys we've experienced together.
That being all fine and good--I'm sort of over it. Now that Jude is on the verge of Kindergarten, I'd really like this one to be the last for awhile. I know awhile for us isn't awhile, but give me like, I don't know, five years and then we'll see what happens?
How was it moving from Austin to Seattle?
How nice of you to ask.
It was unbelievably difficult.
I'm still in denial.
You know when they talk about how for a young mom the perfect utopia would be for girls like me to live in the same area, with kids all the same age, with all of us in the same stage of life, with the same interests, same sense of humor and same instinct to give one another and one another's kids the shirts off our backs at any given moment, and to have our kids play together nearly every day, eat lunch together, and do regular girl's nights together?
I had that village. The same village most women are only lucky enough to have hazy visions of--only to be cruelly snapped back into reality by the sound of their kid being screamed at by some perfectly shaped helicopter park mom (are those moms really always coming from the gym?)
Leaving the village of genuine, down-to-earth, beautiful moms, dirty leggings and day-old-makeup and all, has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
I remember the moment it happened, too, when I realized I had it.
We were at JoDee's house. The place was in pandemonium. No one cared. The kids were alive. And then I overheard someone say, "Hey, can Scout eat this," and my beautiful friend said, in her familiar, matter-of-fact way, "Oh yeah, go ahead. Scout can have anything."
And then it clicked that my daughter didn't have one mother here. She had 20. Twenty young, energetic mothers that loved her and loved my son and would take them, without question, anytime I needed to go grocery shopping, to the dentist, to a work meeting, or would even just grab Jude on their way to the park while Scout napped.
I could go on. And on. And on.
Like, how Liz always told me how hot I was that day, or gave me her crazy eyes of "tell me what's going on immediately" when things were less than awesome that day.
Or how whenever Anna found out Adam was out of town she'd immediately coordinate doing dinners together that week.
Or how they all reassured me that my crazy was also their crazy and that nothing was all that bad because we had each other.
And then, to make it even worse, these friends threw me a beautiful outdoor surprise going away party, with twinkle lights, sit down dinner, games, memories and even a freaking painted Space Needle backdrop.
Up until then, I had bottled up my expanding emotions to be unleashed at another time. Preferably while on my own, in Seattle, in a dark closet for 12.5 minutes (hours?)
But instead, I lost it. Right in JoDee's shoulder. I couldn't think of anything more touching, or more personal, from women who's efforts towards me I felt like I was being disloyal to.
They're my people. And so the real question is, Carrie Bradshaw:
How do you find the motivation to make new friends, when you already have best friends just a plane ride away?
To all my loves in Austin: I love you. You've all been there for me during a time in my life when I didn't think I could do anything on my own (I mean, when do I ever?)
Thank you for being more than friends, but true sisters.
Bye for now! I have a feeling a few years down the road some of you will leave Austin and maybe be that much closer to me!
Come visit! Anytime! You can sleep in my bed!
Seriously, I mean, Adam won't be there and I'm not giving a beautiful, ]flying unicorn some dumb air mattress to sleep on.
text me all the pics I have with each one of you from that night and I'll add it here to have forever!
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