SAHM - day three of four

I'm getting a taste of this SAHM thing, and I need some Scope. I signed Sawyer up for the "Little Red School" Monday and, lucky me, the following night was parent's night. I had to make a ceramic mug for Sawyer to use on special occasions. It'll be a miracle if the thing holds water. Everyone else had goblets with dinosaur designs and I basically made him a test tube with his name scratched into it, only the rim wasn't straight so it'll be a challenge not to pour water all over himself. One woman I met invited me to join a mom's group, which meets within sight of my house.

The kids and I headed over this morning and we met a whole bunch of young-ins Sawyer's and Arden's ages. But it was basically a business meeting. They were filling their calendar for the month of October and it was like: Monday we'll go on a hike and Tuesday we'll make Indian headbands and Wednesday - should we go to the pool or the park? hmmmm . . . and who's interested in making soup together next Friday? I was all: Sign me up for wine night! But, I'll probably never be able to do any of the other stuff. This whole Stay At Home Mom thing is a bizarre deal if you ask me . . . no offense to all you all out there who choose to do it and do it well. I just feel like the chick in a business suit at a Dead Show sitting around these intense parents with their crafts boxes and binders full of . . . WHAT? exactly.

Now, the mom I want to meet is the one that asked to bring a 13-year-old blind wolf in to school for her kid's show-and-tell. I'd could have a glass of wine with her!

Along with my not-so-great parenting shtick, Arden rolled off the back of the couch this afternoon and landed on a wood box. No, I did not have my eyes glued like a hawk on the kids, who were supposed to be watching a movie while I put some boxes in the basement. And, no, I did not have a ready supply of frozen peas in the freezer or ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. So, after a quick head to toe assessment, and determining that her lip, once again, was the mass casualty of the day, we raced to the store, where I discovered that there was a widespread power outage (that would explain the dark freezer at my house). We bought Popsicles and Advil and raced back home. Arden had three pops, which I hope will deplete the swelling. But, once again, my girl looks like the Million Dollar Baby:



ps - that little 'emergency' officially broke my no driving to the store streak.

SAHM - day one of four.

One of the little perks of this move is that I get to be a SAHM for one week. Actually, four days, if you don't count Sunday. It's Monday, and this SAHM thing has already kicked my ass. I am wholly exhausted and it's not even 9 p.m. We visited three schools today (one twice), and Sawyer walked away from one stating: That's my school. (I agreed but, sadly Arden can't go there for another year.) It was, of course, the most expensive school and it follows the regular school year calendar (i.e. inconvienant). But, it's in a little red schoolhouse for Heaven's sake. After the school tours, we went to look for horses because Sawyer decided when he woke up this morning that his mission was to talk to a horse. We didn't see any close up but I did find him some in a field, which he yelled at. We explored YET ANOTHER awesome playground, ate lunch at Dairy King (which kicks Dairy Queens ass by the way) and then played in the driveway for the remainder of the day. And, I still managed to get a P.O. Box, which was my number one mission. I had to drag the kids inside (one kicking and screaming) and into the bath, and I haven't looked but I'm sure there's a filthy ring around the tub dirty as they were. I spent almost an hour on the phone talking to red schoolhouse teacher tonight, and now I'm going to collapse. But before I do, here's a photo I took from the driveway:

First Day

After a less than perfect night of sleep (compliments of Arden) the kids and I stretched our cold Colorado bones slowly this morning, taking in the better part of a Disney movie nestled under blankets on the couch before walking back to the store for coffee and a few more essentials. Now that I live within walking distance of City Market, I'm going to see how long I can go without actually driving to the grocery store. Then the kids and I headed to town (a whopping five minute drive) and started the day's adventures with a stop at the Granby Train Depot. It's just a little platform, but it was bustling this morning. An Amish? family was getting off the train, making me feel like I'd stepped back in time. The conductor was pulling suitcases out of the luggage car, and the kids and I sat, watched and waved to the engineer, who honked his horn, rang his bell, and flashed his lights at us, pretty much making Sawyer's life complete. Then we went to explore the playground and discovered three within walking distance. We tested out at each one before I managed to trick the kids into loading back up in the car to go see Mary - Arden's teacher and my friend from Kilmarnock - who happened to be in Denver this weekend visiting friends. Everybody happily took a short nap in the car before Mary arrived. We headed to Fraser for a hike in the Experimental Forest. Sawyer was an amazing hiker. Not one complaint. Went the whole way talking and singing to himself. Arden walked some, but melted down at the end when she took a digger in the dirt. We ended the day with Mexican food. Seriously. The only way that day would have been better is if I'd had a margarita with dinner. Everybody else took lots of photos on the hike, so I guess I'll have to wait to post them. Baths and bed by 6:45. I put the kids down in the same bedroom again on two crib mattresses side by side on the floor, but was having a difficult time getting Arden to stay put without a crib. After 30 minutes of Arden wailing and me struggling to get her to lie down, Sawyer said: "I don't want to live here anymore." I was heartbroken until the next moment when he said: "I want a different bed." I honestly couldn't blame him. I moved him into the queen bed I was saving for Justin and guests, at least temporarily. Everybody calmed down and went to sleep. Ahhh. . . . Now – Boxes.

Home.

The kids were troopers all day, especially Sawyer who wheeled his own luggage through three airports without complaint and not only braved the airplane without a tear, but a train, elevator (had to drag him) and parking shuttle bus (kicking and screaming). Sawyer took the whole thing like a little man and chatted up the lady next to him on the bus about how we were going to our new house and the bus was taking us to mommy's car. I was really impressed with his grasp of the situation. The kids and I had just enough time to walk over to City Market, appreciate the selection, come home and hit the hay. I convinced Sawyer to sleep in Arden's room at least temporarily. We'll see whether it works long term. As I was trying to get everyone to quiet down Sawyer said: Excuse me, Mommy. Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me . . . um . . . What are we doing here?

Here is a totally unedited 4-minute video of us arriving at our new house today. There's something I have to explain before you watch it. Sawyer is terrified of vacuums. Climb up on the couch and scream terrified. My Kirby 2000, which I bought for more than I will ever admit from a couple of door-to-door salesmen when I was single and living in Leadville, is guaranteed to be with us for the next 50 years, longer than I'll have the wherewithal to lift it. I considered getting rid of it before the move but decided it held too much sentimental value (not to mention that I may still be paying it off on my credit card). Anyway, Sawyer apparently shared that sentimental feeling about the old Kirbster as you are about to see.

Goodbye Pierceville!

Saying goodbye to the house today was more gut-wrenching than I ever imagined. Memories of driving the dump truck to Ikea with Sawyer in a infant carseat to buy kitchen cabinets, finishing the nursery first then building the house around him, finding out I was pregnant again, racing cars up and down the halls, wonderful dinners, nights on the deck . . . I lay in bed last night with tears streaming into my hair and onto the pillow thinking about this being the last night I would spend in the house we built, board by board, together. It isn't easy to walk away from. But the memories belong to us, not the house. And there are new memories to be created, elsewhere.

Goodbye Baptists!

Sawyer said goodbye to his friends at the Baptist preschool today. Tomorrow, Colorado!



Addendum: When we left my parents for the airport this morning Sawyer said: No more hugs. I don't have time. I have to go to Colorado. Wonder where he got the idea that hugs take a long time ;)

Rocky Mountain Hi

This is one of those 'Where do I even begin?' posts. I've sat down multiple times to write it, as evidenced by the three drafts in my folder. It's just too much to digest and regurgitate in one quippy little blog entry. This topic demands the time and attention span of a really juicy Vanity Fair article. Since I've been pondering how to write this post, people have gotten pregnant AND had their babies, so I need to just get on with it. This is the Reader's Digest version, and it's still long. So get yourself a glass of wine and your reading spectacles.

I've basically had a one-third-life crisis, as opposed to a mid-life crisis, which I'm postponing until 50. I woke up one day a few months ago (coincidentally not long after Scott lost his job) and said: I don't want to do this anymore. 'This' being living in a place that doesn't feel like home. 'This' being my marriage, in its current state. 'This' being the person I've become, who I don't even recognize when I look in the mirror.

Seven years ago, we came here from Colorado for a four-month vacation. We stayed because of a golden shimmer on the horizon, the promise of easy money thanks to a booming real estate market (insert sarcastic laugh here). We always planned on going back. The four-month plan turned into a one year plan which turned into the three year plan and that became the five year plan. I'm here to tell you that, seven years later, I've seen a lot of rainbows, but never have we found that pot of gold. Truth be told, I don't really give a damn about the gold. Certainly not at the expense of my family.

Having Scott living two hours north of here, seeing him for 24 hours on the weekend was not what I signed up for. I never planned to move back to Northern Virginia. I grew up there and left, decidedly, when I graduated high school. After he lost his job, Scott wasn't even looking for work in the Northern Neck. So, what was I doing here? As Scott continued chasing job opportunities in Northern Virginia, two hours away from home, I started sending my resume to every job opening west of the Great Plains. I got a hit in Granby, Colorado, scraped together the world's most meager travel budget, visited, and landed the job on the spot. I had four weeks to move.

I can't tell you how much my stomach churned after I walked out of that newspaper office. What do they say about being careful what you wish for? The reality of the situation set in. I worried about uprooting the kids and taking them out of good schools and away from friends for the unknown. I realized how much I love this house. I have a stable job. I have AMAZING friends here who I, maybe, underestimated at times. And, most importantly, I have Mimi and Pop Pop. How could I take the kids away from them?

Joining the Granby paper wasn't going to be a major career move in the up-the-ladder sense or the making-more-money sense either. Even they acknowledged that. It would be different, though, in a lot of good ways. It's a three-times-per-week community newspaper that is gearing up to be five-times and there is quite a bit of growth potential for me within the company. Really, it was about shaking life up and trying something new.

I realized that for these past seven years, I've just been along for the ride. I had to do this. For me. The kids are resilient. Mimi and Pop Pop travel. It's time for a new career challenge. The house had always been an investment, not a dream. The kids are young enough that this move won't permanently scar them. It was time to grip the wheel.

One foot in front of the other, I began by walking into my boss's office and resigning. That lifted an amazing weight off me. Now, there was no turning back. I took out ads to sell all the extra gear and stuff we had accumulated over the years. Three boats, two trailers, a step van, four computers, two crossbows, about two dozen fishing rods (never caught a fish), a partly built wooden kayak kit, clothes, outgrown baby gear . . . oh wait a minute - THERE"S THE POT OF GOLD!!!!!

We sold all that stuff for a song. Scott - to his credit - bargained his little heart out and then cried about it later. We made enough money to make the move. I started packing up the house. Meanwhile, Scott was STILL applying for jobs in Northern Virginia, because he hadn't really gotten IT yet. He was totally focused on getting back what he'd lost. The job. The stature. The money. Without seeing what he was losing.

Sometimes us women folk have to slap our men across the face and say: This train is leaving, Buddy. Get on board, now or never. We have to do that prepared for the possibility that in the next moment we'll be hanging out the window waving our handkerchief at the man we loved, standing on the platform as the train pulls away. I really had no idea which way it was gonna go for me. I'm still not completely certain.

But, by way of an answer, Scott announced Monday that he was going pack everything up and drive it out to Granby this week. He'd rent a house and settle things in. He'd drop the car off at the airport long term parking on Tuesday. Return here for a few weeks to get the house ready for renters (Fate kicked in and we found wonderful people to live here), finish a few quick projects and drive the last of the stuff across the country in his truck and trailer. Meanwhile, the kids and I would fly Saturday the 26th, pick up the car, move in and have a week to settle before I start my new job on Friday, Oct 2. We finally had a plan.

Two days later, Scott pulled out of our driveway. 36 hours after that he arrived, sleepless, in Colorado. He is there now, soaking it in and loving it, reconnecting with old friends and, hopefully, doing some soul searching. He has rented a place, a townhouse on a golf course. Apparently, I can walk to the grocery store AND Starbucks from the house (oh dear God help me), and I'll only be about five minutes from work.

I'm not kidding myself, the coming months are going to be hard. I'm gonna be poor. I'll still be coupon mom. The kids will probably be all freaked out. I'll have a new schedule and job to learn. They'll have a new school or daycare. And, at least for a little while, we'll be doing it all alone. But, I'm holding out hope for my little family. That we can pull it together and find happiness again in the place where we once had so much of it. Keep us in your thoughts (and prayers if you have 'em) as we depart on this grandest of life adventures. If nothing else, it's sure to make for some interesting blogs!

The new me

So last week I get a call from a producer at the Bonnie Hunt show . . . .

Oh, wait a minute. I'm not DOOCE. I don't make six figures off my blog and tour the celebrity docket and change diapers on live t.v. I'm COUPON MOM now. I seriously get a high from saving money at the grocery store. Like last week. I saved $50 using coupons and MVP savings. Just about danced my way out the door. I print my own coupons off the internet, and I even have friends leave me coupons on my desk and save me coupons they find. When the money is flowing, it's so easy to forget about coupons, to not bother. But when times are tight, I carry around an overstuffed envelope full of coupons. I become that person at the grocery store who you don't want to get behind. Particularly because sometimes I haven't actually taken the time to organize or even clip the coupons and I'm standing there in front of a line of people trying to find and neatly tear out the coupons I need. I'm YARD SALE MOM too, now. That book, yep, $2. That bag of non-washable Crayola crayons, $1. Yes, that is my infant son's mug in that picture frame. That will be $3. Poor Sawyer was clinging to his Ambulance with squinted eyes daring anybody to touch it. If only I lived in a state where they pay cash for bottles I might be digging through recycle bins too.

A.W.O.L.

Months ago, I scheduled a week's vacation at the end of August to go on a family vacation to the Outer Banks with some friends. When Scott lost his job, we had to bail out on the trip. But, I never canceled my week off. I was considering the possibility of a staycation until last Friday when I got a call that prompted me to purchase a last minute ticket to Colorado. (Air Tran only $69 bucks each way 48 hrs in advance). I decided that I was taking off for six days and promptly left Scott in charge of kids, house, dog, grocery shopping and laundry. See ya! It was the most liberating thing I've ever done. I never looked back. It was kinda unnerving, actually, to realize how easy it is to forget you even have kids. Since I was on the world's smallest travel budget, I got creative. I caught a ride from the airport with a friend's husband, borrowed a car or an old bike to get around, used public transportation whenever possible and never turned down a meal that was offered to me. And I made a $5 bag of oriental snack mix from the airport newsstand last the whole six days. I felt like I was in college. I even went to a keg party! I met up with two friends from high school, one of whom decided, on a whim, to relive 1994 and get a keg. It was the funniest thing. We barely made a dent in it, what with the adults being outnumbered 2-to-1 by kids, but my peeps and I parked ourselves in a corner and did our part. We staked out an Adirondack double chair, sat down at 5 p.m. and didn't give it up for the rest of the night. It became a challenge to see how long we could keep the chair. We would only get up one-at-a-time to get food or refill beverages or add layers of clothing. And when a campfire was lit later in the night to cook s'mores, we moved the entire 80 pound chair across the yard. I will say that Air Tran should be called Air Scam. We practically crash landed on the way in. And on the way out we had not one but TWO planes declared mechanically unfit for flight. The second time it was a problem with the battery and as we were sitting at the gate Scott asked me what they were going to do to fix it and I said: It's a battery. They're going to jiggle some cables and pour some Coke on the connections. A little while later, it turned out to be a circuit breaker accidentally flipped off. Doesn't it make you feel better about flying to know that there's a circuit box onboard, just like in your basement, that occasionally goes screwy. I'm not one of these moms who pines after the kids the whole time I'm gone. In fact, I didn't miss them until I was headed home and thinking about getting a big hug. When I pulled in the driveway, it was the oddest sensation to have my kids look at me like a total stranger. I hugged and kissed and cuddled them and relished their peanutbuttery smell. And I was ready for another three years of Motherhood. Next time I go AWOL, I expect it will be really big (maybe Mexico), and I plan to have more money. Perhaps I'll even get a massage!