I thought we would live in our house forever.
But then life happened and my husband accepted a job in a new city 1200 miles away.
Here’s what happened when we told our kids that we’re moving, with some helpful tips if you find yourself in the same position.
Do you remember when Sundays were a day to sleep late, meet friends for leisurely Bloody Mary brunches, followed by a yoga class? Well, snap out of it. Those days are long gone.
Moving to the burbs morphed me into a soccer mom, a world I knew nothing about. It should be no surprise that I showed up at the first practice completely unprepared.
Here is the checklist I wish someone had shared with me:
In reality, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year is Mother’s Day. No sick days. No lazy Sundays. No Netflix and Chill days. I don’t want Mother’s Day. I want a Mental Health Day.
Suspend your disbelief mothers (you’ll know which parts):
It is the morning of Mother’s Day. I am still sleeping. No one crawled into my bed last night. No one screamed at 3 a.m. because she heard a bug in her room. Uninterrupted sleep at its best.
Quietly, my family tiptoes throughout the house. My husband takes the kids out for a while. Unbeknownst to me, my daughter’s hair is brushed, her teeth are clean, and she has matching socks. My son successfully locates his shoes on his own. Someone remembers to feed and walk the dog.
In our quiet house, I sleep until I get to my “I can’t believe I slept this late” moment. Ladies, I know, I know that our children have completely messed with our sleep clocks so that we wake with the birds no matter what. You digress . . .
I first heard this quote years ago, well before the rise of social media. Now, more than ever, it speaks volumes to me.
As far back as middle school, and possibly even elementary school, I remember girls comparing themselves to one another. It didn’t stop there. Girls judged: on looks, on clothes, on choices of friends, on anything and everything. It’s so much a part of our lives as women that you have to wonder if it’s part of our genetic makeup.
Unfortunately, this comparing, judging, and self-doubting behavior continues well past puberty. Gossip brings women together. It’s a bonding mechanism. How many times have you had lunch with a friend, only to have the topic change to discussing so-and-so, a mutual friend. “Can you believe she lets her husband get away with that?” OR “I don’t think she works out as much as she claims.” OR “She must have family money.” You name it, women have said it.
For the first time in months, my kids got along the entire day. I have no idea if it’s related to “Fun Mom” day, but it was nice. More than nice. My son also seemed to go out of his way to help me around the house today.
On the ride home from camp, I let them in on today’s challenge. It’s not that my kids don’t have fun: I take them on adventures, they play sports, they have playdates, they perform shows for me and my husband, and the list goes on and on. They have a great life. But I usually take the backseat to their fun. “Go outside and play,” I tell them or “go upstairs and watch TV.” It’s not often that I’m an active participant. (See Day 1 of the challenge).
Today’s challenge was the least stressful of them all. It took me all of two minutes to set up an email account for my kids, with the hardest part being finding an available username. There’s nothing like a completely clean slate. This is a screenshot of my son’s account. Think about this: one email, with zero responsibilities. He has no one waiting for a response.
I’m feeling a bit emotional. I just wrote each of my children a letter, a love letter. Does the average person even write love letters anymore, or is it all reduced to emails and text messages? Somehow, going through your grandparents’ text exchanges doesn’t exactly convey the same romantic notions as the airmailed letters of yesteryear.