Every year I buy a planner--this year's was the planner the for Moms Who Do It All--and I have such high hopes of using it. Needing it. January-February are usually filled up; March-May have a smattering of entries. By June--nothing. I so badly want to need a planner--kind of like when I was younger and wanted braces so bad that I regularly unbent a paper clip and delicately laid it across my teeth, spending several minutes contouring it to the shape of my mouth, and then leaving it there while I talked to everyone. I was pretty sure that it looked real. And by "pretty sure" I mean I was 100% convinced it fooled everyone. I don't know if I want to feel important or just feel like a grown-up (in my mind a planner=adult) or just admire my handwriting, but in the incorrect word of a former boss, irregardless, I would just like to depend on a planner. It's just that I don't forget appointments. I remember dates and numbers--kind of in a creepy way. I can rattle off birthdays, addresses, and other-information-I-shouldn't-know-about-you. So I just don't have a need to write it down.
Until this week. I overlooked THREE scheduled things this week. This is unprecedented. This doesn't happen. That makes me wonder: where is my brain?!
It could be that between getting too much sun last week on vacation and trying to decide how to fit our life into 10 pieces of luggage that will fly to Mexico in less than 3 weeks, I just don't have room for anything else! Maybe my wish will come true--I may actually need to start writing things down! A Christmas miracle in July!
Really, though, the task of packing up our house--the house we've spent almost 8 years in; the house we brought our babies home to; the house where ice used to form on the inside of the windows because we had to keep our heat so low; the house where we haven't had a working downstairs bathroom for 2 1/2 years (God bless Alan!); the house that at some point or another contained the following rogue animals: a bat, a bird, several mice, thousands of ants, dozens of oriental roaches, and 2 opossums in the backyard (R.I.P, buddies)--is overwhelming at times.
At first the excitement of moving outweighed the sadness of leaving. Now, as our moving day approaches (we settle Sept. 7), sadness is creeping in. It's sad to take down all our pictures and pack them away. It's hard sifting through kitchen equipment and deciding what I can live without for now. It's sad knowing someone else will get to enjoy this house and make their own memories here.
This move isn't a "trip"; it really is a new season of our lives. Even if we only stay in Mexico the two years we've committed to, we won't be moving back to the same house. We won't have the same jobs. Our kids won't play with the same toys they are playing with now. It will all be different--we will hopefully be different. And so much of that is good!
Though change is good, for me, it has required some "grieving." The same kind of grieving that happened when we had Olive. Not because there was something wrong with her or I didn't like her, but because being a mommy was brand new for me and completely overwhelming. It represented a new season of life, which required saying goodbye to the previous one. I went through a time when I grieved my former life (read: the life where I felt confident and capable and rested) in order to thrive in my new, totally unfamiliar role (read: the role in which I felt the opposite of all the adjectives listed in those other parentheses). Once I accepted that life would be different, I felt like I was finally able to be present. And when I was present, I was able to learn and grow and become confident in being a mom to my firstborn. And most importantly, I was able to find new joys about this season of life and not just focus on all the things I missed. And it turns out, I can't even remember much about life pre-kids, because life is just that good now. Had I never properly said goodbye to my independent, kid-free life, I fear I would be discontent and maybe even a little resentful and miss out on the beauty of life. Kind of like those people who always refer to the "good 'ol days"...
I don't want to be in the good 'ol days--I want to be here, in the present. I want to live today. I want to savor these last two months of living in farm country, getting together with friends and family, and making memories with my girls. I am remembering to appreciate the fact that I am considered competent here in the U.S., because in a few months I will be utilizing my toddler-sized-Spanish-vocabulary along with lots of hand motions and I'm pretty sure I won't be taken too seriously. I don't want to shove the sadness inside, but I don't want to wallow in it either. When moments of sadness come in this process, I want to acknowledge them and cherish what I have now. Because the life I have now is pretty amazing.
And just like I found my way as a mommy, I'll find my way in this season too. Hopefully with a lot less poop and pee and a lot more delicious tacos.
- M
Until this week. I overlooked THREE scheduled things this week. This is unprecedented. This doesn't happen. That makes me wonder: where is my brain?!
It could be that between getting too much sun last week on vacation and trying to decide how to fit our life into 10 pieces of luggage that will fly to Mexico in less than 3 weeks, I just don't have room for anything else! Maybe my wish will come true--I may actually need to start writing things down! A Christmas miracle in July!
Really, though, the task of packing up our house--the house we've spent almost 8 years in; the house we brought our babies home to; the house where ice used to form on the inside of the windows because we had to keep our heat so low; the house where we haven't had a working downstairs bathroom for 2 1/2 years (God bless Alan!); the house that at some point or another contained the following rogue animals: a bat, a bird, several mice, thousands of ants, dozens of oriental roaches, and 2 opossums in the backyard (R.I.P, buddies)--is overwhelming at times.
At first the excitement of moving outweighed the sadness of leaving. Now, as our moving day approaches (we settle Sept. 7), sadness is creeping in. It's sad to take down all our pictures and pack them away. It's hard sifting through kitchen equipment and deciding what I can live without for now. It's sad knowing someone else will get to enjoy this house and make their own memories here.
This move isn't a "trip"; it really is a new season of our lives. Even if we only stay in Mexico the two years we've committed to, we won't be moving back to the same house. We won't have the same jobs. Our kids won't play with the same toys they are playing with now. It will all be different--we will hopefully be different. And so much of that is good!
Though change is good, for me, it has required some "grieving." The same kind of grieving that happened when we had Olive. Not because there was something wrong with her or I didn't like her, but because being a mommy was brand new for me and completely overwhelming. It represented a new season of life, which required saying goodbye to the previous one. I went through a time when I grieved my former life (read: the life where I felt confident and capable and rested) in order to thrive in my new, totally unfamiliar role (read: the role in which I felt the opposite of all the adjectives listed in those other parentheses). Once I accepted that life would be different, I felt like I was finally able to be present. And when I was present, I was able to learn and grow and become confident in being a mom to my firstborn. And most importantly, I was able to find new joys about this season of life and not just focus on all the things I missed. And it turns out, I can't even remember much about life pre-kids, because life is just that good now. Had I never properly said goodbye to my independent, kid-free life, I fear I would be discontent and maybe even a little resentful and miss out on the beauty of life. Kind of like those people who always refer to the "good 'ol days"...
I don't want to be in the good 'ol days--I want to be here, in the present. I want to live today. I want to savor these last two months of living in farm country, getting together with friends and family, and making memories with my girls. I am remembering to appreciate the fact that I am considered competent here in the U.S., because in a few months I will be utilizing my toddler-sized-Spanish-vocabulary along with lots of hand motions and I'm pretty sure I won't be taken too seriously. I don't want to shove the sadness inside, but I don't want to wallow in it either. When moments of sadness come in this process, I want to acknowledge them and cherish what I have now. Because the life I have now is pretty amazing.
And just like I found my way as a mommy, I'll find my way in this season too. Hopefully with a lot less poop and pee and a lot more delicious tacos.
- M
