burnt toast life

here’s why she’s not getting any new toys for Christmas (seriously)

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There’s something undeniably pathetic about the pile of worn, pre-loved presents that I set aside to wrap for Madeline. Do I not love my third child enough? the critical voice in my head demands.

I felt guilty about it for about five seconds. Then I move on.

I remember Molly’s first Christmas well. She was six months old and even though Eric and I promised that we wouldn’t go overboard because she didn’t need anything and wouldn’t know any better, we swiftly broke our own rule. Somewhere, in my iCloud, there’s a video of both of us excitedly ripping open the same presents we wrapped a few days before as a bewildered (yet adorable) infant gazes on. Predictably, she only wanted to play with the boxes.

This year I actually stuck to my word for several reasons. The first is a matter of practicality. Eric is a consultant who only gets paid for hours worked, which has never affected us before but has suddenly become a real and important detail of his job. Almost zero billable hours available in December has meant a round of layoffs (which he survived, thank God), several people quitting, and the two of us gritting our teeth and having to make a few tense phone calls to people like our mortgage company.

But don’t fret for us too much — this is all supposed to magically turn around in January (and if it doesn’t, he’ll have to look for some other sort of employment). Of course, when we’re literally counting pennies while grocery shopping, it doesn’t leave any wiggle room for extras like Christmas gifts. I was forced to rein it in this year.

The second reason is my desperate pursuit of minimalism, or as close to it as I can feasibly get with three kids. If you think about it, our financial crisis couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve gotten really good at limiting the number of new items coming into the house (see above, re: our income took a nosedive), but not so great at purging all the stuff I accumulated before my minimalist epiphany.

There is a medium-sized basket full of baby toys that I know Madeline will play with and enjoy. Since my firstborn was female, most of the toys are even pink and stereotypically girl-themed (a fact which never bothered infant aged Liam in the slightest). The only reason I’m putting forth the effort to wrap them is because of my 3-year-old, who will surely cry if her beloved baby sister doesn’t have any gifts from Santa (I can just imagine the conversation now: “Mommy, was she BAD? Does Santa think our baby is a BAD BABY?”)

As for the explanation over Madeline receiving pre-loved gifts, I’m still trying to figure out how I should explain it (and am open for suggestions if you have any). For now, I’m thinking I’ll tell her that Santa knew she would love Molly’s toys better than any new ones and so he stopped by, brought them to his workshop to polish them up, and brought them back all wrapped and ready. Or, Molly will be so enamored by her own presents that she won’t even notice.

The other two did get brand-new-purchased-from-the-store toys… but not very many. Ask Molly what she wants for Christmas and you’ll be rewarded with a list of three items that has not changed one bit since early November:

“For Christmas, I want Shimmer and Shine a big giant LOL Ball and Satin and Chenille.” Now imagine this said in one giant breath as if she’s being timed on it.

Shimmer and Shine are characters from a Nickelodeon cartoon that I’m almost certain she’s never seen. Satin and Chenille are from Trolls. A big giant LOL ball is a total ripoff and also one of the hottest toys of the Christmas season. It’s sold out everywhere and enterprising Ebayers are gleefully charging double what they paid. Obviously, I got her one (not from eBay).

She also has a couple other things I saw and purchased because the girl is so dang easy to shop for. Liam is the total opposite. He’s not really “into” anything yet, besides the show Beat Bugs on Netflix, so he got some appropriately-themed items. We also picked up a used Strider balance bike from my SIL as his big gift for the year. (Cost = free).

Eric and I agreed not to purchase anything for each other either. Overall, it’s going to be an extremely light Christmas, gift-wise. But I’m getting to be OK with that.

I’m trying so hard to be grateful every day for what I have. A friend of mine just shared a link about the horrible situation going on in Venezuela where children are literally starving to death thanks to a corrupt government. I read things like that, or articles about real poverty in our own country, and I can’t help but feel ridiculous for complaining that my kids won’t have mountains of presents on Christmas morning. Money may be tight, but for God’s sake we’re eating. I don’t go to bed at night wondering if my children will starve to death. I just cannot fathom.

So that’s my spiel, a.k.a. justification for skimping out on baby Madeline’s first Christmas. I can’t feel too bad for the kid since the only thing she’s interested in is boobies and, lately, examining her hands. It’s a fact: 4-month-old babies don’t care how many presents they get on Christmas morning.

Madeline, if you’re reading this in 20 years, know that mama loves you immensely. You might not have stacks on stacks of brand new presents, but you do have a pre-chewed Sophie the Giraffe.

And that is enough.

remembering that she’s just a little girl

Some people are guilty of babying their children. I’m the opposite.

When I say Molly is exceptionally well-behaved and mature for an *almost* three and a half year old, I’m not saying it because she’s my kid or because I like to brag. Heck, in the same breath I’ll be the first to admit that Liam is a real handful (a sweetheart who will win your heart and then promptly trample it in a fit of wailing and screaming during a textbook terrible twos tantrum). In other words, Molly’s extraordinary self-possession is not a testament to my exemplary parenting skills, but is rather just a “hit” in the ol’ parenting lottery that we all play when we have children. Some kids are naturally easier than others. In that regard, we’ve been abundantly blessed.

So imagine my surprise when our little angel child started acting out at dance class on Saturday. From day one of class 12 months ago, Molly marched in and owned that classroom with barely a backward glance in my direction. (I’ll pretend I didn’t look around the room with a smug smile, trying not to look too pleased with myself in front of parents whose children were crying as though they were being led into a pit of hungry lions rather than into a dance studio). She was so brave and outgoing that I could not fathom why, as a year veteran and the oldest child in the group, she suddenly dissolved into a pile of tears this past Saturday two minutes after the class started.

Trying to speak to her calmly and rationally changed nothing. She didn’t want to dance; she needed mommy to hold her. No amount of bribing with candy or threatening to skip the other fun events we had planned for the day would change her mind. I was completely mystified.

Her dance teacher, a grandmother many times over who is adept with crying children (probably one of the reasons she’s brave enough to offer a dance class for 2 and 3 year olds), suggested that maybe she was having trouble adjusting to the new baby.

“That’s ridiculous!” I scoffed, “She loves the baby, and she’s already used to being a big sister. It has to be something else.”

Her teacher gave me a patronizing smile and said, “I’m sure she’s a wonderful big sister. But I’ve been around the block a few times and I can tell you that kids act out sometimes when there’s a big change like that.”

I nodded so that the conversation would end but inside I still disagreed. I figured she must have seen something that scared her (one girl was wearing aggressive blue eyeshadow for a Halloween parade later… maybe that?), or perhaps she woke up too early, or maybe she was just overstimulated thinking about our busy day ahead… it just couldn’t be the baby. Right?

That morning I had been getting ready while ignoring Madeline’s cries in the Rock n Play. With three kids, there’s just no way for me to instantly take care of her needs the moment she starts fussing or I’d never get anything done. Usually she’s forced to scream for up to five ten some number of minutes at a time while I finish whatever I’m doing, since Lord knows all she wants to do is hang out on my boob forever. So anyway, I was there blow drying my hair (which these days only happens about once a month) and throwing on some mascara when Madeline got the memo I must be taking some much needed me-time and started wailing like I hadn’t fed her in 62 years (untrue). I made up my mind to let her cry for as long as it took when all of the sudden she got quiet. I peeked around the corner into the living room to find Molly gently rocking her chair back and forth, whispering, “It’s ok, little baby, Mommy will be here soon.”

First of all… heart eyes emoji, right? And second, it took all of my restraint not to humble-brag post the whole thing on social media. But I didn’t have time because, remember, blow dryer and mascara. I knew even with Molly’s help I only had five minutes to finish, tops.

But that’s my point! She loves her sister. She’s happy; she’s adjusted. Right?

The dance class incident got me thinking about the past couple weeks. Molly has been unnaturally clingy. Like at Madeline’s baptism, where I was running around like a chicken without a head like I do anytime I host a party. Fun-loving, party-loving, relative-loving Molly had a total meltdown and refused to be comforted by anyone besides me… which seriously never happens. Every time I rushed out of the room to refill coffee or cut up fruit or hide from the guests in the bathroom, she’d run along behind in a panic as though I were fleeing the building forever. At the time I attributed it to the same factors — being overtired, overstimulated, or some combination of those.

At a trunk or treat event at her school the same night as the failed dance class, she once again stuck by my side like glue. It was dark and crowded but we were there with ten people we knew and there was no reason for her to act that way. One instance may have been a fluke and two a coincidence, but with distinct events in our recent past I think it’s time to admit what this is: a pattern.

And actually, she’s been clingy other times too. She seems unnaturally frightened of me leaving her places, even though I’ve never left her anywhere and now that I work from home, I am literally with her 24/7 most days. Maybe that’s part of the problem?

I was getting ready this morning and once again Madeline was crying in her Rock n Play (it’s a lot like Groundhog Day around here, the weather may change but our routines do not). Remembering the sweetness and, let’s be honest, the convenience of Molly’s help the day before, I asked her if she would rock Maddy for a couple minutes while Mommy finished getting ready.

She said no.

At the time I was annoyed because despite my dear husband’s suggestion, I cannot simply ignore the baby crying. Her little cry makes me stressed out and rush through whatever I’m doing, as it’s biologically conditioned to do. But then I thought about it logically for a minute. My daughter is not even three and a half years old. Why in the world was I expecting her to stop playing and soothe a screaming newborn?

I think part of it stems from my own stereotypical first child experience. When you are the oldest and especially when you are naturally mature and extra especially when you are female, adults naturally place more responsibility on your shoulders than you probably deserve. Right or wrong, sexist or not, that’s just the way it is. When I was ten I was scheduling my own dentist appointments. When I was twelve I was solely in charge of my two younger siblings when my parents were at work.

At the time I resented the responsibilities but in retrospect, I’ve come to appreciate them for shaping me into the adult I am today. Yes, it’s partly just my nature to be trustworthy, but I also think that having adults trust me that much gave me self-confidence I wouldn’t have otherwise. And as a technical millennial, I’m happy to be a functioning member of society, not one of those stereotypical overgrown children who can’t make it out of their parents’ basements.

I don’t remember the exact age that people started treating me like a mini adult. It was probably older than three, but who knows. I do know that I’ve been guilty of expecting that from my little firstborn. How can I begrudge her little tantrums when I have my own mini meltdowns on a daily basis? How can I hold her to some ridiculous “perfect child” standard when in the same breath I concede there’s no such thing as the perfect mom?

I was so busy worrying about how Liam would accept the new baby that I forgot to consider Molly might need to adjust to her too. Maybe she is having a hard time sharing her mom, just as I’m having a harder time juggling the three of them than I’d like to admit.

I really need to remind myself that she’s still just a little girl, even if she doesn’t always act that way.

even the best big sisters need a break sometimes

even the best big sisters need a break sometimes

currently

I promised myself I’d get around to posting something BEFORE the birth of the baby, which now is just three days away and who am I kidding, it’s not going to be some epic summer recap full of photos like I wanted it to be.

Just know that our summer was glorious.

It was truly everything I wanted it to be. Relaxed, fulfilling, joyful. Stressful yet satisfying. At this point I’m 90% positive you’re sick of hearing how much I love working from home but I don’t even care, I’m saying it one more time: IT IS SO GOOD. I had pool days on Tuesdays, I had afternoons free to do whatever with the kids, I had farm visits for my lunch break. I had 11AM snuggle time and exactly zero stressful commutes. It was trying at times (whining kids + deadlines = stress), but also worth it. Now that I’ve tasted this side of life I’m never going back.

I’d say my biggest complaint about the summer has been the physical demands of being 7 then 8 then freaking 9 months pregnant. Two days shy of 39 weeks and I’ve hit a wall. I’ve figured out that every day I’m able to complete one physically demanding task — anything from grocery shopping to carrying a box up to the attic to visiting a playground — and after that I’m useless. My to-do lists are laughable thanks to these limitations and now I’m totally out of time. Everyone has been making fun of the fact that I haven’t packed my hospital bag yet… well, I’m getting there. But that will be the only thing I do that day and so far it keeps getting bumped in favor of more exciting stuff.

But anyway. In an effort to keep this blog on track and actually produce some content, I’m going to try some writing prompts. Without further ado, here is my edition of “currently” for 8/21, aka Solar Eclipse Day, aka today.

Reading…
I’ve been reading A LOT in the last couple of weeks, mostly because that’s the only thing I can do that doesn’t cut into my “one thing per day” quota. Also, my neighbor is a teacher and home for the summer, plus she’s a book-a-phile like I am, so she runs to the library (since Lord knows I don’t have the energy for all that), picks up a big pile, and we swap back and forth. I read so many books this way I lost count, including one book in a matter of 24 hours when I was laid low on the couch recovering from the stomach bug. The kids watched movies while I tore through a novel. Probably the only thing good about the stomach bug is not having any guilt about “wasting” a perfectly good summer day literally not moving from one position except to flip a page.

If you want to know all the titles I’ve been reading lately, check out my Goodreads. But at this very moment in time I’m about 100 pages into Swimming Lessons, which is OK not great.

Watching…
It’s amazing how little TV I watch, especially since cutting cable over a year ago. I watch Game of Thrones and that’s really it. However, I do anticipate wanting to watch more stuff once I’m up at all hours breastfeeding because I don’t know if I’ll have the mental capacity for books like I do now. I’m actually dreading my hospital visit because my sister told me there are literally NO good channels; they don’t even have HGTV! It’s a little sad how disappointed I am about that.

BUT, I do have Netflix and Amazon Prime. So any suggestions you have for someone who is unapologetically ruthless and picky in regards to television, I would love to hear them.

Listening…
To silence. Can I get an Amen for kids who nap at the same time? It is one of my favorite things.

Drinking…
Water + flavor drops out of my new Atlin cup! It’s supposed to be a Yeti knockoff and so far I’m loving it. I can’t believe how long it keeps my drink cold… I’m talking insulated enough to keep ice cubes intact for 12+ hours. Plus, I got it on Amazon for $11, as opposed to like $40 or whatever for the almighty Yeti. #winning

Eating…
Nothing. Shockingly. I am already thinking about dinner, when I’m making some sort of very healthy concoction of crescent rolls and chicken that resembles chicken pot pie.

Wearing…
Last night’s pajamas. At 3 in the afternoon. Not ashamed.

Loving…
My job! And not just the work from home aspect, though that’s clearly the main appeal. The exciting news of the hour is that they asked me to go full-time following my maternity leave. This was after I said I didn’t really need maternity leave since I’d be home, but they kind of insisted. Which, I’ll admit was sort of an awkward phone call with HR but thankfully it all worked out in the end.

So basically I admitted that I can’t afford six weeks off with no pay. They agreed to let me work when I wanted, logging hours as I wanted, but no pressure throughout the month of September, then start up full-time hours at the beginning of October. Which is like, absolutely perfect and everything I ever wanted.

I even get to set my own schedule, so I’ll be working 7-3 and still off in the afternoons. AND I found a mother’s helper. It’s just… it couldn’t be better. Everyone from my boss to HR to my whole team is so friendly and chill and accommodating, and now I have the added bonus of making a full-time salary to boot. I could not possibly be more satisfied with how it all worked out.

Anticipating…
Uh, I dunno, how about HAVING A FREAKING BABY ON FRIDAY?

Hoping…
Really hoping everything goes well with my c-section. This is my first planned section, so I have way too much time to Google complications and stuff. I may or may not have asked my OB/GYN how she “knows when to stop cutting so she doesn’t slice the baby.”

Wondering…
If I’m the only one who isn’t 6,000% jazzed about a solar eclipse. I’m just not that excited. There, I said it.

Trying…
To motivate myself to pack a hospital bag.

Worrying…
About surgery and recovery, plus Liam dealing with not being the baby anymore. I think he’s really going to have a hard time adjusting and I’m just dreading that part.

Planning…
I’m pretty proud of how much I got done in anticipation of Molly starting preschool ten days after the baby is born. I finished her back to school shopping, got her an outfit… she’s ready to go, and she’s so excited about it.

Contemplating…
A nap. But I really shouldn’t.

OK, time to go maybe take that nap and/or read some more! Have I mentioned how much I love coordinated nap times for the kids?

We had such a great summer.

We had such a great summer.

reflections on one month at home

It’s been juuuuust over a month of doing the work-at-home mom thing and I thought I’d recap a few observations I’ve noticed in that time. So I can look back and laugh or cringe in a few years when everything is completely different, obviously.

Observation 1: There’s time for boredom.

Those first two weeks were a total whirlwind of figuring out my schedule and settling into a new state of being, but now that I’ve kind of gotten into the groove there are plenty of moments where I’m just… bored.

It’s so weird to be bored.

Granted, I have two young children and they keep me busy, but without the added stress of commuting and working a full time schedule, now there’s actually downtime in my afternoon that wasn’t there before. I have a list of random little projects to tackle that I’ve been chipping away at but it really feels weird to actually be doing them rather than just endlessly adding items and knowing they’ll never get done. I finally cleaned and organized my spice rack and one shelf (baby steps) of my linen closet. It’s incredible. I shudder to think what I’ll be able to accomplish when I’m not 7 months pregnant and super lazy.

Observation 2: I could never be a full time SAHM.

I already knew this about myself but now I REALLY know it. Even working part time makes me a little antsy, like I need to fill my hours with something else or like I’m forgetting to do something. I also find myself allotting way too much time for simple tasks that I used to schedule much differently. Like, I’ll mentally block off an entire afternoon for a quick grocery store run that I used to accomplish in 30 minutes.

Plus, being stuck in the house on rainy days is some particular form of torture. I’m not creative enough to come up with fun activities plus I am working for the mornings. So I’m just stuck with antsy kids who need an outlet. SO FUN.

Observation 3: The weather rules my life.

No offense to old people but… wow, I’m like an old person with how obsessed I’ve become about the weather. I’m constantly checking it and planning my life around it, mostly because our main excitement every day is going to my MIL’s pool, which of course we can’t do in the rain. Last week was crappy and we were going so stir crazy that I loaded up the kids and took them to McDonald’s so they could run around the play place (#parentoftheyear).

Actually, I felt really good about myself because Molly has literally never been to a McDonald’s in her life and kept asking if we were going to see “old McDonald had a farm” and I haven’t been inside one in so many years that I didn’t even know their screens are all digital now. The kids loved the play area and it was just what they needed. Molly marched up to two little girls there and said, “Hi. I’m Molly. I like you guys. Let’s go play.” It’s truly a shame about how shy she is…

But then she was having so much fun playing that she forgot to tell me she had to go potty and ended up having an accident. In the climbing structure. Fun times.

Observation 4: I will never go back to an office. Ever.

So I thought a part of me would miss hanging out with coworkers… or office life in general… but as it turns out, NOPE.

Seriously, I’m sure you’re all sick of hearing this since my last three posts have mentioned it, but if there’s any feasible way for you to do your job from home – make it happen. It’s sooooo good. I’m not going back and you can’t make me.

I supposed that’s it for observations. The end of June was particularly crazy but now on the other side of that it looks like I have absolutely nothing going on between now and Baby Girl’s arrival besides our family beach trip the first week of August. The lack of busyness is actually kind of sad, and I’d love to find something to fill the space between besides just really long grocery store outings and weather checking. It’s sort of annoying to be a faux SAHM, as I like to call myself, because I can’t schedule things in the mornings when I have office hours and by afternoon it’s nap time and after that time to make dinner. I know, I know, FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS.

I do truly enjoy all the extra time spent with the kids and the other morning I came to the realization that I would not have to supplement this baby (hopefully) due to decreased milk supply after returning to work. I know I’ll have to pump so I can get a little stash but it’s not like I’ll have a 3-times-a-day date with my breast pump in a closet somewhere. That is so cool.

Finding a mother’s helper for the fall has been a particular sort of torture because no one seems to have accountability anymore. The first girl I messaged with for several days sounded like she had so much potential. We scheduled a meeting – she bailed – and then disappeared off the face of the earth. Ohhh kaayyyyy…

The second girl rescheduled twice on me and then showed up late. (Traffic. Obvi.) She was very nice but seemed very young, shy, and quiet for a 19-year-old. Was I like that at 19? Not that there’s anything with being shy… she just seemed, I dunno, immature. Maybe because I already had some negative first impressions from the scheduling issues. And the lack of punctuality.

My third candidate was supposed to come today but – surprise! – she had to reschedule! And she was my favorite, too. WHAT IS UP WITH PEOPLE? If I had a job interview, I would be there when I said I was going to be, and on time. I’m giving her another chance because I’m reaching a point of desperation. Good thing I started my search early…

Anything else? No. Time to go check the weather (again).

7QT on a Thursday

A lot of the bloggers I read now do this thing called 7QT, an acronym which took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out and even when I Google it, nothing helpful comes up so maybe it’s just a v. v. small subset of the blogosphere using it. 7QT = 7 quick takes = 7 random things going on right at this moment.

So since I can’t seem to get my ish together to write a long post with any kind of cohesive theme and since I have so many things to cover all the time, I’m just going to go with it.

1. My baby is turning 3 tomorrow. MY BABY. IS TURNING. 3. TOMORROW.
If I’m being honest though, I feel like she’s been 3 for a while now because I do this thing where I round up my kids’ ages, which my mom calls me crazy for but sometimes it just makes sense. Like, she was calling my little sister 11 literally the day before her 12th birthday and I’m like, mom, get over it. She’s 12.

Maybe I round up kind of early but oh well. Part of it is that she acts 3 and has been exceptionally mature for such a long time, I just can’t think of her as 2. And because it’s been so gradual I haven’t exactly noticed it, but at times I’ll go back and watch videos of her from as close as 6 months ago and just be amazed at the difference in how she speaks. I’ve been taking for granted how easy it is to communicate even complex emotions with her and as much as I hate that she’s growing up, I also love it. She’s becoming her own little individual with quirks and mannerisms and I can’t wait to see what’s up next.

We’re having a very tiny get-together at our house tomorrow with pizza and cake. Half the family can’t be there and since my sister is so close to popping out her kid, I’m truly expecting her to call me tonight and announce she’s in labor. Which would be cool since Molly and her cousin would share a birthday, but would also NOT be cool because her family is half our party guests and Molly is so thrilled about her little not-really-a-party that I can’t bear to break her little heart.

2. I’m also, ahem, 30 weeks pregnant as of yesterday. WHAT.
No closer to being ready for the baby to come, but I did buy an obnoxiously large box of baby wipes at SAMS Club yesterday and got a little weepy when I realized that many of them would be wiping a tiny baby bottom very soon. Very, very soon.

3. Molly gives birth every day.
Not surprisngly, Molly’s favorite thing to play lately has been “having a baby.” She stuffs dolls and balls under her shirt, insists I call the doctor, and even has a green plastic saw that she uses to get the baby out. I’m not sure how she knows to lie down with her knees up and to wince in pain when the baby is actually being extracted… (seriously…), but she does. Maybe it’s some innate woman thing.

4. Working from home is absolutely glorious.
I cannot stress this enough. I love it. Loooooove itttttt. There were definitely some bumps in the road and there still will be, but overall I am completely happy and feel like I am where I need to be. On beautiful days, I pack up a lunch and bring the kids to my MIL’s pool around lunchtime (along with my au pair, who watches them until I’m done working). So when I sign off at 2PM, I’m literally poolside. That’s how I’m spending my summer. Not stuck in an office… not counting down the minutes until the weekend… at the pool, with my family. I am so grateful for this job it’s ridiculous.

And while I wasn’t expecting this, I actually like the job itself, too. I became so obsessed with the idea of working from home that I would have taken any opportunity to do so, even a really awful sounding one. But I really like my team, I like the things I’m writing, and I felt this definite surge of pride when I got companywide props today when one of my articles was trending on Yahoo.

I’d say my only complaint is that I’m running into the issue Eric warned me about with working from home… since my office is in my home, I’m always at work, and I have noticed I seem to work more now than I did before. I’m one of those people who likes to have things “done,” so if one of my articles is ready for the next step at 7PM, I’ll totally want to log on and do it, rather than waiting for morning. I need to stop doing that.

5. Liam is talking…and eating… and eating.
I found the best swimsuit for Liam that says “Always Hungry” with a giant open shark mouth on it and it’s truly like it was meant for him. He eats and eats and eats and eats and then announces he’s hungry. The only time he isn’t eating is when he’s sleeping… and he has totally fallen asleep while eating. Bottomless. Pit.

He also picked up the phrase “I want to get out,” but not necessarily the proper usage for it. So “I want to get out” could mean anything from I want get out to I want to get up, get down, go there, open that, eat this. It’s really universal.

Also, he says it in this pretty awesome Arnold Schwarzenegger-esque accent, so picture it repeated 100 times a day as sounding like “I wanna get AHHHWWWT!”

6. I’ve become obsessed with Jane.
As in, this super cute daily deals site. I’m not actually buying things because hello, 7 months pregnant, but I am pining over them and anxiously awaiting a day when I’m NOT super fat so I can get all the things for none of the monies. Check them out.

7. This is the busiest week ever.
Molly’s dance recital dress rehearsal was today, her birthday/mini party is tomorrow, her recital is Saturday, and Sunday we leave for a week of camping. I’m pretty excited to be extending our normal weekend camping jaunts into a longer trip because getting everything packed and ready for camping is no small feat and then it seems like such a waste to only stay for a weekend. After our camping week, we head back home and thankfully don’t have much going on for July besides our annual beach trip. So maybe I can spend some time getting stuff ready for the baby. HA!

I would promise to speak soon, but that could be a total lie, so how about I’ll just leave it at I’ll see ya when I see ya and goodnight (it is almost 9PM, after all).

minimalism on my mind

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This post has been ruminating in my head for so long that it actually feels silly to write about it now. It seems like old news.

As I’m prone to do, I caught on to the “new” trend towards minimalism a full five years after everyone else. OK, not quite, but basically.

A few things happened that made me move from “minimalism sounds sort of interesting” to “yes, I’m going to pursue this.”

  • I started following blogs and watching Netflix documentaries on the topic. Turns out it’s fairly addictive. The irony is now that I have so many thoughts churning, it’s actually stressing me out, which I realize is HIGHLY ironic because the whole movement is supposed to make you feel more calm and peaceful.
  • My makeup collection includes eyeshadow from ten years ago. Seriously. I don’t wear it (ew), but I hold onto it because hey, maybe my 6 months pregnant 30-something-year-old self WILL need bacterially questionable jet black eyeshadow for a night on the town one day soon. Also, it was expensive.
  • I just keep thinking of a funny story about my mother-in-law. For a really long time she had this gigantic collection of cookie tins lining a wall in her dining room, stacked up to the ceiling. She took them all down a few years ago when the room was being repainted and she had every intention of putting them back up but never did. Once they were down she saw it looked way better without them.

I feel like I have a similar relationship with my “stuff” – it’s there now and I’m used to it, but if I could just bring myself to box it all up and see how the room looked without it, I know I’d like it better.

  • Sometimes I get super jealous of my friends’ kids’ toy collections. I mean, some are truly staggering. Wall to wall bins of every imaginable plaything… kitchens with all the handcrafted wooden play food, bins upon bins of Barbies and action figures, train tracks and train tables and Legos, costume closets with adorable mini dresses and shoes, garages packed with scooters, basketball hoops, and Power Wheels, you name it. It makes my own collection feel truly inadequate.

But then I watch my kids playing. The other night they occupied themselves for several hours with some old birthday party decorations they found in a cabinet. Molly took a plain piece of string and invented a whole backstory and life of fun for her “snake” while Liam walked around gleefully with one of those colorful weights you use to hold down balloons. Meanwhile, I know for a fact that some of the friends who have mountains of toys have a hard time getting their kids to put down their iPads. So…

It all fits in nicely with some new research I’ve seen about preschools and kindergartens taking away toys for periods of time to force kids to use their imaginations again. Sure, it sounds extreme… but is it?

My kids definitely have toys and now that I’m reading all this stuff, apparently too many toys, but I think the point is that they play with what they have and the only person who sees what they have as inadequate is me. Then again, I might just be adopting this mentality because I’m too cheap/poor to compete with the mega toy moms. Minimalism is the trendier and cheaper option.

  • One of my big holdups was always my husband, a collector. He likes to be surrounded by souvenirs and has a collection of graphic t-shirts large enough that he could avoid doing laundry for at least 3 months and never wear the same one twice. I knew he wouldn’t see the appeal of minimalizing with me, so I figured doing our house half-assed wasn’t worth doing at all.

But then one day this month without warning, he totally gutted his closet and made it into a minimalist’s dream. Space between hangers! Nothing extra at all! Oh AND he got his pile of crap off the dresser so now when I look with disdain at all the trinkets still left there, I only have myself to blame. Apparently, he is on board – at least for certain things. Who knew?

seriously, you should have seen it before

I grew up in a collector’s house. I won’t use the “H” word (ahem…hoarder), but let’s just say my parents don’t get rid of A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G and they buy A LOT of stuff.

This was really nice growing up because I was very spoiled and whenever you see those lists of toys that will make you nostalgic for your childhood, it’s guaranteed I will have owned 85-90% of them AND even better, could probably still find them with a few hours of digging in my parents’ basement.

True story: I wanted to take my old Dream Phone game on vacation last summer and wouldn’t you know, my mom totally found it in her basement. So you can see that the saving tendencies come in handy when a group of 30-somethings want to drink wine and relive their girlhood.

Despite genetics, I’ve always been more inclined to want less stuff/clutter and have been frantically picturing all the places where de-cluttering needs to happen in my house. I know what needs to get done – mentally, I’m there. But time wise I’m strapped. Besides working full-time during the day and being a mom from dinnertime to bedtime, the weekends are packed full and I never want to start a project I can’t finish or feel rushed doing it.

And I realize now that part of minimalism is actually finding more time in the day and clearing your calendar of all distractions… but it’s hard. All the things I’m doing are pretty fun and I’m sorry not sorry that I’ll never be willing to skip a birthday party so I can clean out my linen closet, no matter how badly I need to get rid of old towels.

As I’ve been cryptically hinting for months, I’m still working towards a solution that would give me more time to be at home and less time spent on the daily grind. Unfortunately, I’m no closer to solving that particular problem, though I know once I do I can fit more minimalist pursuits into my life.

I have tons more to say on the topic and I do want to document my “journey” once I finally get it the hell started, so who knows, maybe this will turn into a blog about going minimal. I’m sure that’s more riveting than long rambling posts about what my kids have been up to – or worse – not posting at all because I can’t figure out what to say.

I’ll never be that super awesome Insta photo with white walls and bare floors because, hello, this is real life. That level is beyond me. But I am working really hard on caring less about the stuff I don’t have and appreciating the stuff I do have. It all boils down to the fact that the stuff will never fill the void – only love can do that.

How about you? Are y’all a bunch of minimalists, or have I secretly-not-so-secretly envied your toy collections?

 

 

hey, remember me? I’m still here…

This time I’m not even going to bother accounting for apologizing for my lengthy absence. Where have I been? Not writing. Not motivated to write.

I alluded to my life slump in earlier posts and my post-quarter pre-mid life crisis which unfortunately is still going strong. The only thing I know beyond a shadow makes me happy is my children, and family in general, which is tricky because my absolute satisfaction with all of them only highlights how dissatisfied I am with everything else going on. Like, if every portion of my life made me as joyful and fulfilled as motherhood, then I’d be shooting sunbeams out my eyes and trailing glitter everywhere I went. But in reality, nothing else even comes close.

I’ve also been panicking over plans for the summer and beyond, childcare-wise. Remember how a few posts ago I was all, “Yeahhhh, no worries, it’ll all work out?” Well, that feeling has passed and super stressed out control freak Amanda has returned in force. WHAT are we going to do? HOW could this possibly work out? I’ve been feverishly prepping in the only way I can see this possibly working but even that is precarious at best and may not happen. I realize this all sounds very cloak and dagger but this is a public blog and for the moment I cannot say more. Maybe that’s part of the reason I’ve been gone from this space – I have a lot to say but cannot say it just yet. Hopefully soon.

The kids are great and the pregnancy is good, moving right along as baby Toast hits 17 weeks (turnip sized in produce analogies) today. I’ve been feeling tiny movements and of course that’s reassuring. I posted a while ago on Facebook about my big bloody scare and had every intention of posting a more detailed account later, but it just never happened. Long story short I woke up to a giant gush of blood and it was scary as hell, but it’s just a subchorionic hematoma that they’ll be monitoring but which shouldn’t really affect anything going forward. Other than that, not much except finding out the gender on 4/14 (I was going to wait but who am I kidding, I can’t wait) and frantically trying to figure out a realistic childcare solution for the not-so-distant fall.

We went skiing a couple of weeks ago, of course I didn’t get to ski, but it was a really good year for me to miss as temperatures stayed stubbornly below zero the entire time we were there. Molly did a fantastic job on skis this year especially compared to last and I have high hopes for enrolling her in the daycamp/ski school for pint-sized skiiers next year. It’s going to be freaking adorable.

I can’t remember if I told you guys that Molly named the baby already. At my urging, she started referring to him/her as “Emma” because that’s the girl name I really like and I was hoping hearing it in her adorable little voice would help sway Eric on the issue, as he is not convinced. My plan worked perfectly except for the part where she decided that if it’s a boy he will be named Byron… which is totally out of left field. It’s not a name she’s ever heard (that I know of) and Eric swears it’s not a coaching attempt on his part. Weirdly, it is a family name for him but again this is a deceased relative, not someone she’s met, so it’s super odd that she picked that name. I also don’t care for it so I’m kind of hoping it’s not a boy because everyone knows Molly gets her way on everything… probably on naming, too.

Liam is growing like a weed and talking up a storm, mostly gibberish but also plenty of discernible words. He definitely knows what we’re saying and follows directions surprisingly well. The kid literally eats more than I do – I’m talking full servings and often seconds at dinnertime and snack grazing throughout the entire day. If this keeps up, he will singlehandedly necessitate a weekly Sam’s Club trip once he hits teen years.

Speaking of eating… I do think it’s a girl a little because I want nothing but sugar and that’s exactly how I felt while pregnant with Molly (with Liam, it was more craving meat/protein). It’s kind of gross how much sugar I’ve been consuming lately and I’m considering a mini sugar detox to get myself together. Remember, I gained 70lbs with Molly and I have NO intention of doing that again.

I hate to ramble on and on just to have something to post, so I’ll cut it out now. Hopefully more to come soon.

Here are a couple snapshots from that ski trip:

cousin breakfast every morning

cousin breakfast every morning

on the bus to go skiing

on the bus to go skiing

happy Hardings at Smuggs

happy Hardings at Smuggs

little red riding hood & the princess paradise bear

I like to think of myself as a semi-savvy shopper.

And while I don’t do any extreme couponing (because I have neither the time nor the storage space for 700 free tubes of toothpaste), I do participate in my fair share of discount shopping. Some things I don’t mind paying full price for. Some things I am vehemently opposed to paying full price for.

Example: Halloween costumes. Those chintzy polyester outfits that children wear for approximately 2 hours for one day of the year. I hate the exorbitant expense of Halloween costumes, especially since most of them are terrible quality and have a ridiculously high markup because, of course, parents neeeeed them.

I’m happy that Molly doesn’t fully grasp the concept of Halloween yet, and that I was still able to choose her costume for her (next year, I imagine I won’t be so lucky). A coworker actually came up with the idea for this year’s theme. She told me about a cute costume duo she saw for sale on one of those Facebook online yard sale sites: little red riding hood and the big bad wolf. I said, “Yes! Yes! I want them!” but of course they had already sold.

Even though I missed out on that deal, I still forged on with the LRRH/BBW theme in mind. Determined not to pay full price, I turned to my favorite of all discount sites… eBay! I found plenty of reasonably priced LRRH outfits but they were all made from that shiny, cheapo polyester, and many were missing vital components (like…THE RED HOOD). I scrolled and scrolled until I hit the jackpot – a handmade, beautiful costume with the dress, bloomers, hood, and a coordinating little basket, all for $14.99 (+$6.80 shipping). UM, HOW ABOUT YES PLEASE? I literally sent the woman a thank you note for offering such a beautiful item. It was the score of all Halloween costume scores.

Next up – BBW, which was a little trickier. Those fuzzy, cuddly baby costumes don’t come cheap, even on eBay. Most were in the $40-$50 range, and as much as I loved and needed the costume, I couldn’t quite justify that price on something he’d wear for one stinkin’ night. Just as I was about to give up and order one of the expensive options, I noticed something interesting in the “People Who Viewed This Also Viewed” section. The description said “Princess Paradise Bear Costume Size 12/18 Months” BUT the photo was exactly the same as the other wolf costumes I was looking at. The best part? It was $4.88 (+ $6.45 shipping). I was so excited! I figured it was worth the $11 gamble to see if it really was named incorrectly. (And since I was shopping in September, uncharacteristically ahead of deadline, I had time to buy a new costume if it did turn out to be a princess bear).

The week it took to ship the costume was excruciating. I kept wondering… would it be a wolf? Would it be a bear? Would it be the exact thing I was looking for and somehow only cost $11? I knew it sounded too good to be true, but I still held out hope. When the package arrived, I ripped it open and… hallelujah! It was the wolf costume I wanted! (Further research uncovered that Princess Paradise is actually a brand name, but the whole “bear” part still confuses me because it’s clearly a wolf).

little red riding hood & the big bad wolf (a.k.a. princess paradise bear)

little red riding hood & the big bad wolf (a.k.a. princess paradise bear)

So all told, I got a handmade/non-chintzy little red riding hood costume and a cute furry big bad wolf costume for a combined total of $33.12 – less than some people spend on just ONE costume. I was feeling good.

But don’t think it’s all sunshine and roses over here, because my next eBay shopping experience didn’t go nearly so well.

Last year I found this awesomeness right here:

My husband is a Star Wars fan, and I am a let’s-coordinate-a-super-cute-family-photo-Christmas-card fan, so I figured we could combine our loves and get some matching Christmas jammies. WELL. Hanna Andersson makes high quality apparel and it is (justifiably) pricey. To order the organic cotton, Star Wars themed, matching Christmas pajama sets for my family (not including the dogs) would have cost $244. YIKES. Then we also would have needed to pay for a photo session, order cards, and pay to mail all the cards. So no, we didn’t do that.

This year I figured I’d keep up my winning eBay streak and search for those same Star Wars pajamas from last year. I thought that since it was a year ago, maybe I could find them for much cheaper. And I did! The first results that populated were those exact same pajama sets that I saw last year, same photos and everything, only this time ranging in price from $6.99 to $15.99. I happily purchased four pj sets for under $50.

Now, one important fact to mention: I did notice that they were shipping from China. But in my little eBay fantasy daydreams, I imagined that the factories who made the Hanna Andersson sets from last Christmas were simply unloading their excess inventory at a low, direct-to-consumer cost. Or that they had done some extra runs on the sly to sell for themselves. I used to work in the apparel industry but I’m still quite naive as to how it all works. Those two scenarios both sounded plausible. High on my Halloween costume success, I imagined receiving perfect organic cotton Christmas jammies with Hanna Andersson quality and China-low prices.

As I said, this story doesn’t have happy ending. The first two pajama sets arrived 3 weeks after I ordered them and they were terrible. The fabric was very low quality (basically the opposite of organic cotton). They smelled like chemicals. And worst of all, the sizes were completely off. The pants were narrow and tight while the shirts were comically short and wide. It reminded me of this amazingly hilarious post from a couple years ago about the perils of ordering cheap clothing from overseas.

I went back to the listing to check out the return policy and noticed that the vendor claimed to have shipped all four sets, yet I had only received two of the four. So not only did I need to figure out how to return the horrendous short & wide pjs, but I was also stuck disputing the shipping claim and hoping for a refund on the two missing sets. Oh, and while the seller does accept returns, the customer (ME) is stuck paying for the return shipping. To China.

The moral of this story is that you win some and you lose some. Your amazing, too-good-to-be-true eBay deal might be a crazy cheap and awesome mislabeled wolf costume, or it might be a crappy pair of wide & smelly pajamas.

Hope you all had a lovely Halloween, and happy discount shopping to all!

trick or treat night with the fam

trick or treat night with the fam

ALL THE CANDY!

ALL THE CANDY!

FOMO sales & santas

I’ve been stressed out lately for really stupid reasons.

These are not real problems.

And yet I’m still stressed.

I know I’ve mentioned my extreme case of FOMO before. In case you didn’t know, FOMO is a real affliction that stands for “Fear of Missing Out.” This applies to so many facets of my life – it’s the reason Eric gets annoyed as I’m trying to rush everyone out the door to arrive at casual gatherings on time, because in the back of my head I’m always thinking, “…but what if we miss some of the fun?” FOMO is the reason I rarely say no to activities, even if I end up scheduling multiple things in one day. It’s the reason I get so bent out of shape when friends hang out together without me (those bitches).

Lately I’ve started to realize how much my FOMO affects me in other ways. Namely, discount shopping ways.

You see, I’ve always felt a little twinge of anxiety walking towards the entrance of Marshall’s. If I see someone walking slightly ahead of me, I’m always thinking, “What if she’s also a size 6.5 shoe and grabs the perfect leather booties on clearance before I can get to them? What if she is also coincidentally shopping for a gray and white striped storage cube and snatches up the last one?”

It’s ridiculous. Yet, this is how my mind works.

So you can imagine my distress when it comes to things like sample sales. We just had one at work and I was a bundle of nerves for the whole week leading up to it. It’s not even like I wanted anything specific – I didn’t even know what would be in the sale. But still, I was so nervous about it and kept re-confirming with my friend (thankfully, the sale organizer) that I would be helping her set up (in other words, getting a first look at All the Things). I panicked over how the setting up would play out… would I be able to set things aside as I was organizing them, or would that seem greedy? What if someone accidentally started going through the box of things I set aside? What if I missed out on the most perfect cheap thing ever? I kept getting angry at myself for freaking out over something so inconsequential, and yet I kept freaking out nonetheless. I tried to remind myself, 1) that I did not deserve or need the things more than any of my coworkers and 2) that there are people in this world with real, ACTUAL problems who were probably handling themselves with better composure than I was.

The sale happened last week and I got a huge box of stuff that I definitely did not deserve or need. With my items safely packed into the back of my van, speeding away from work, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. And felt stupid for ever being anxious in the first place.

And then Santa Claus came to town.

A little backstory on this one – ok, not much backstory, because there isn’t much backstory to give. About a week ago my sister mentioned Santa photos with a local photographer. Seems innocent enough, right? Except no, it’s not simple at all. You see, this particular photographer has the best Santa (who she creepily refers to as the REAL SANTA so many times that I’m convinced she actually believes it). Apparently there are 275 spots available for 10-minute, $50 sessions with Real Santa and last year they sold out in 7 minutes. This year they were predicting (and I think accomplished) a 30-second sellout. These Real Santa sessions were hot, hot, hot.

And yeah, he does look like a good Santa – real white beard, kindly face. My sister was sending me photos of last year’s Santa photos from the gallery and they were really cute. But the hype seemed a tad extreme… Facebook posts with numerous multi-paragraph explanations of how to secure your spot. Complicated instructions. A go-live time of 9 pm and imperative warning that the sellout would be SWIFT and BRUTAL. May the Wi-Fi gods and quick typing fingers be with you.

The way it would work was the link would go live at 9pm sharp, then 550 people would be able to register before the link disappeared forever. The first 275 of those registrants would get a guaranteed time slot with Magical Unicorn Real Santa while the remaining 275 semi-losers would be put on a waiting list. Spots would free up from illness/bad scheduling availability or from generous single-child households offering to share their ten minute time slots with other single-child households. No one on the wait list would know their order, or if they would have a chance at getting a session… they would all just have to wait it out.

A few things. First – I literally didn’t know about this hulabaloo until two days before it happened but suddenly, upon realizing the hype and seeing the (arguably convincing) REAL SANTA, I became very anxious about getting it for myself…I mean, my kids. And second – the Santa who came to my church last year for free and who was probably coming again this year was pretty good. I liked the pictures a lot.

But still. Real Santa. Magic Santa. Everybody-Wants-Him-So-He-Must-Be-Amazing-Santa.

FOMO Santa.

So I asked Eric if he had any “tricks” for quickly filling in forms and, to my surprise, he didn’t make fun of me for being so insistent over needing some stupid overpriced Santa pictures. He told me that he had it under control. At 8:58 I anxiously wrung my hands as he kept refreshing the registration link over and over again. Finally – at 9 sharp – the form appeared! He tried to right click to autofill the form and… nothing. Thrown off his game, he started typing as I hopped up and down behind him, yelling, “FASTER, FASTER!” and cursing myself for having the longest email address in the entire world. We were able to submit the form but had to wait several hours to see if we made the cut or got stuck on the wait list.

I was so anxious over this non-event that I actually woke up at 2am and saw the email – we were officially wait listed. Which is better than nothing but still… wait list? Dammit. My sister is apparently a faster typer because she got one of the coveted guaranteed spots.

And now that it’s over, I’m so much more relieved and honestly not that upset about it. Maybe I’ll get bumped off the waiting list and get to see real Santa and maybe I won’t. Either way I’ll get a cute photo of my kids sitting on some bearded man’s lap (screaming bloody murder I’m sure) and it will all turn out fine.

I repeat: THESE ARE NOT REAL PROBLEMS.

My next annoyingly stressful FOMO event is happening this Friday. There’s this huge rummage sale in a swanky town and I’ve been driving my two shopping addict friends nuts about it. I’m so anxious – for myself, but also for them because I invited them to go with me and promised lots of good stuff. We’ve been going over “the gameplan” on a daily basis and at this point we’re arriving two hours early to stand in line before it opens.

And after that, maybe my nerves will calm down again.

Until the next big sale, of course.

our village

He got another call this week.

I don’t know why I’m surprised. Despite how many times he has explained to me how good he is at his job, and as much as I don’t understand half of the skills listed on his resume, I still stubbornly think of myself as the brains of our relationship. And that’s not to belittle his intelligence at all… he’s wicked smart, otherwise I wouldn’t have married him. But I was always better at “school stuff,” whereas he’s better at common sense, life experience stuff. It’s always nice to have both in a marriage to help balance each other out.

And yet, here I am with my fancy, oppressively expensive liberal arts degree and the student loan debt that goes with it, and I have to fight for any job I’m lucky enough to get. Meanwhile, my community college educated husband is constantly being contacted by recruiters, even when he’s not actively job-hunting. I’ll admit, it makes me a little jealous. That has to be SO validating.

Most of these jobs require relocation. Some are easy to turn down —Detroit. Cleveland. But then there was one earlier this week, in Seattle.

Eric is in the tech industry, so any jobs on the west coast are guaranteed to pay significantly more. One of my non-negotiable stipulations for even entertaining the idea of a cross-country move is that I must be able to stay home with the kids (as much for practicality as anything else… I shudder to think what two kids in daycare would cost in Seattle. YIKES.) In other words… the salary would need to be what we make combined, or ideally more than that, especially since our cost of living would go up considerably.

It’s also understood that moving that far from home would be temporary. It would be the means to an end. On one hand, we’d want the life experience of actually living in another state. But also, it would help to catapult Eric’s career to the next level, and would then open up more positions here at home once we returned. We’d also try to do it all on a budget, and use any extra money to pay down our debt, therefore putting ourselves in a much better position once we did come back.

But it would take years.

It’s always fun when he first gets these calls. I dreamily Google “Seattle family activities,” start looking at apartments and picturing our stuff in them, imagine our once-in-a-lifetime cross country road trip to get there. When he mentions the salary range, I imagine my eyes light up with flashing gold dollar signs, like a retro cartoon character. Apparently, all it takes to put us in a new tax bracket is a cross country move.

Plus, of course, my babies. I could spend all day every day with my beloved children, and I would no longer miss out on the largest chunk of their weekdays. My life would be more awesome than it already is, and as I’ve mentioned before, it’s pretty damn great right now.

And yet.

And yet…

Whenever he gets these recruiter calls, I always say, “This is the problem with having a close family. If we had shitty parents and awful siblings, decisions like this would be so easy.”

And it’s true. It would also be easier if, say, we were already spread out all over the place. If brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins lived hours or plane rides away from each other. But the fact is, every member of our extended family on both sides lives within an hour of one another. As for immediate family, with the exception of my brother (who is about an hour away), we’re all situated in a 5 mile radius. Five. Miles. With the right amount of effort, that’s walking distance.

Moving to Seattle would mean no more Saturdays sitting poolside with the Harding clan, keeping an eye on all the kids splashing joyfully in the shallow end and taking turns putting our babies down for naps in the communal crib. It would mean no more Sunday dinners with the Hurds, which often includes marshmallow roasting in the fire pit after the sun goes down.

We’d miss the craziness of Easter at my aunt’s house and the Christmas morning jammie party at Eric’s sister’s house. If we needed to borrow tools or trucks or a cup of sugar, we couldn’t just run down the street to our choice of family member. Our trusted babysitters would go from plentiful to none.

Imagining Molly growing up without her cousins makes me want to cry. She wouldn’t go on daily park outings with her Nana. We’d make other friends, sure, and she and I would have more quality time together. But those potential friends are still strangers. When I think of what we’d leave behind, I already know what I’m missing.

We contemplated moving before we had children. Back when we were in the throes of infertility, with no end in sight, I was desperate for a change of scenery. We took a trip to Denver in hopes of getting a feel for the area, to see if it would work for us long term. Even then, without the added complication of kids growing up without family, the thought of missing out on everything felt physically painful.

Eric claims that I’m more sentimental than he is. That I’m the one holding us back. But in reality, I think he’s just as bad, but maybe not willing to admit it. He claims his parents would come visit, and I’m sure they would, but it’s not the same. To go from seeing our families weekly to seeing them twice a year, if we’re lucky, is a huge change.

When we were first married, we rented an apartment in a charmingly quaint city 25 minutes west of where we grew up. We still attended plenty of family events, but it wasn’t quite the same. The drive was annoying. We missed out on casual weekend get-togethers because we didn’t feel like driving there and back. Even though we were close, we felt too far away. We were both relieved that we had opted to rent and not buy, and vowed that our home would be in Nazareth. When we did start house hunting the following year, we had one requirement for our realtor: 18064 zip code only. No surrounding neighborhoods (even the cheaper ones). We wanted Nazareth. Our home.

If it takes a village to raise a child, then we are doing just fine where we are. Our village is full of loving relatives who are all just around the corner. Molly knows them by name, Liam knows them by sight. I feel at home in every single one of their houses. I love our village more than words can describe.

But am I limiting our potential by stubbornly staying put? Am I keeping us from greater things? It’s about the money, clearly, but it’s more than just that. How about adventure? How about excitement? Is my obsession with family ties actually hindering my ability to experience the vast richness this world has to offer? These are the questions.

So clearly I’m torn. Granted, there are plenty of what-ifs… It’s not like he has a job offer, just the theory of one. But if it came down to it, could we go? Could we really live that far from our family, even if it’s only for a few years? My head says yes and my heart says no. My bank account says yes and my emotions say no.

I don’t know the right answer. Maybe there is no right, no wrong… each side has pros and cons. What I do know is that no matter what happens, the future looks bright.

And maybe he really is the smart one. (Dammit.)