Getting My Move On

At long last, we're moving home. It's been almost two years since we left our house in town, and I've missed it for most of that time. We were able to find a tenant for our mountain house, and so early in June, we'll load up the truck and move back down the hill.

It was a hard decision for us as a family, because A loves the mountain house. He loves the solitude and the scenery and the space (both inside and out). But for me, things changed when Valentino was born. I don't want to put him in his carseat for 40 minutes at a time, twice a day, just to drop him at the nanny's. I don't want him to be limited to visits with friends and family to only those times we come down the hill with specific plans. I want to be able to plan days at the park or the pool and be able to come home for a nap, instead of having to plan my day around being gone from home the whole day, because it's too far to go home for a nap and leave again. I also want back that hour of commute time each day, so that I can spend it with my boys.

To say that I'm thrilled about the move would be the understatement of the century. I'm not even stressed about the actual move event (although for me, that part is trivial, I have lots of practice - this will be my 21st move in my 37 years). We have wonderful friends who've offered all manner of help with getting ready and the actual lifting of my furniture.

All of this reminds me is that things usually work out for the best. I was getting miserable in my home in the mountains, and I truly knew that I needed to move back. We were able to make that happen. I'm forever grateful to my husband for knowing just how badly I needed to do this, and helping to make it happen.

Happy Mother's Day

Today is the first time that I celebrate Mother's Day for myself, rather than honoring another mother. As I write, my boy is in his crib, refusing to nap. He's talking to his toys and intermittently yelling, but doesn't seem especially unhappy so I'm letting him ride this one out. He never naps well for me on the weekends.

Okay, now he's asleep. The idle chatter gave way to gasping, shirt-rending screams. I had to take him to my bed and lay down with him. It's odd, he doesn't give me any trouble about going to sleep at night, he's still awake most nights when I put him in his crib, and he drifts off quickly without a fuss. But naps, forget it.

I'm not sure what the purpose of Mother's Day is other than to make sure that our moms get thanked, even if only once a year. I do know lots of moms out there (including my own) who take it pretty seriously, so I get her the card and the little gift. I love finding fun cards for her, but the gift part does feel a little bit like an obligation, and I hate giving gifts under those circumstances. Oh well, suppose I'll suck it up and head over to Home Depot for a gift card (believe me, for my mother, that's almost as good as jewelry).

To all the moms I know, and all the ones I don't, Happy Mother's Day. I hope you all get (at the very least) a big kiss from your kid.

Balance

He is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. Without question, the light of my life. On the rare day that I get to be with him from waking in the morning to rocking to sleep at night, I look back and realize what a fantastic day we've had together.

I have to leave him every weekday and go to work. Some days are shorter than others, but I have to go every weekday. I take him to the nanny's house and I leave him. Sometimes he doesn't even notice that I'm going, already absorbed in a toy or the nanny's little girl or Teletubbies or whatever. When I pick him up in the evenings, he is happy to see me, but he is equally happy when he's playing his "goodbye" game with the nanny.

Sometimes I get so jealous of her, the way he smiles when he sees her. Part of me knows that he loves me, he knows I'm his mother, but the part of me that's a little closer to the surface is wounded. I am really struggling with this lately. I have no choice about working, we simply can't afford our life without my income. Hopefully there will come a day, not too many years down the road, when that will change. But for now, this is our life.

I have it better than most, I know that I do. I only work about 30 hours a week, I have a wonderful woman looking after him when I'm not there, and when we're home in the evenings, his father dotes on him in a way that makes me fall in love with him all over again, and again, and again. But I question myself all the time - am I doing right by him? Am I being patient enough, loving enough, to make up for leaving him? I hope I am. I am striving to find that balance between work and home that nearly everyone goes through, with my own little family's twist on things. Some days are hard, though. Today is one of those days.

Early Morning Quiet

Valentino is a morning boy, waking around 6, hungry and ready to be out of his crib. I bring him to our bed to nurse until he falls back to sleep, and then I get up for the day. First stop, coffee maker. Next, layer up on fleece and Uggs and take the poor dog out (but only after I step out and check for coyotes, bears or mountain lions in the yard). Once Ruby has danced around the yard for a bit and done her thing, I come back inside, prepare my coffee, and head for the living room upstairs. Our living room and sun room are on the top floor of the house, and the rooms face east, with additional windows to the north and south. I can see mountains out of every window, and the pine trees that surround our house provide some filter for the intense rising sun light.

I love this time of day. I have always preferred the mornings to the late nights. To be able to wake up and slowly ease into my day with my little routine makes heading off to work so much easier for me. Even on the weekends, when the work is at home or errands are the only things on my agenda, I still rise early, have my bowl of coffee with steaming hot milk, and settle into the couch to check email and news, catch up on the stack of magazines that I never have time to read, or just look out the window.

Our routine will change some in the months to come. We've decided to move back to our house in town, and find renters for the mountain house. When we bought this house way up in the mountains west of Boulder, we had no idea that less than a year later we would have a baby. I think that if we had known Valentino was coming, we probably wouldn't have bought this house. It's difficult to be 30 minutes from anything. If I run out of diapers, which has fortunately never happened, it is 30 minutes to the nearest store. I never head home with less than a half tank of gas, because I have been stranded on the road for hours. We can never go out for drinks or dinner after work, because the dog is always at home, waiting since morning to be let out. Once you make the 30 minute drive home, you don't leave again. Friends never come to visit, either because the trip is so long, or because the roads are intimidating for half the year. I miss having people over for dinner, miss running home in the middle of the day to take lunch in my own kitchen, miss taking the bus the to the farmers market in the spring and summer.

We finally decided that since we do have an alternative, we'll take it. We hope to be able to keep the mountain house by renting it, and someday if we're doing really well financially, we'll keep it just for us to use on the weekends. Either way is fine with me, I'm just happy to be moving home, back to the first house we ever owned, the house where we had our wedding celebrations for days on end, where we can (and have!) comfortably put up 6 friends, and where there are currently three other children under the age of four within 100 yards of our house.

I will miss my quiet mornings here though.