After the Move

After rereading my last three posts I'm thinking I made the right choice by deciding to write tonight. The summer hasn't been the positive slope graph I was hoping when I turned the maybe-divorce-won't-be-awful corner around my birthday. But not everything has been terrible. In fact, a lot of things have been quite wonderful.

For instance, the new house is great. It's about twice the size as my old place for substantially less rent and includes a basement, a bathroom on all three floors, and a guest bedroom for whenever you decide to visit. Yep, you. There's a pantry where I can store your favorite snacks and enough cabinets for me to finally put to use all the fancy wedding gifts that have been stored away. (Oh irony, such a tricky little friend)

The neighborhood is off to a solid start. There's a pool if you get here by Labor Day and it's never busy. Ever. Sometimes we're the only family there. Plus there are a billion kids ages 2-12 that rule this townhome cul de sac like a kid gang from the late 80s. PDG and MDG have joined right in with their training wheels and nerf guns. So many boys! When that's not enough exercise and excitement, we make our way to Fantasy Playground and make believe in the wooden castles, or check out what the library is offering that day. Reptile night has been the biggest hit so far. Camp Nicole isn't quite what it was the year of exploring A-town parks, but it's still suburban busy and scheduled around much needed midday naps.

Still, it's all hard. The uncertainties. The wondering if the kids are going to come through this all ok. The wondering if I'm going to come through ok. The quiet every other Saturday morning when I wish for tiny footsteps to come in the room and tell me the sun's awake and request cereal or frozen waffles. There were the accidents and bedwetting that first week after moving when their little brains and hearts and bodies were adjusting to a new home. My brain and heart and body had to adjust too.

It's all so new, and yet, so much is the same. MDG will be at the same daycare. PDG will be there in the mornings for a while too. I'll be at my same job with my coworkers who have welcomed me to the community with dinners and girls nights and play dates. The boys still have the toys and games and shows they love. We go to a church that teaches the same lessons from the same books and sing the same songs. At bedtime we pray and we tell the same stories. Even the princess story about me and J-Man. We see the people we love and they (you) find time to keep our friendships going.

There's a hole, of course, and there are plenty of people with opinions about how I should fill it and when. There are times when I push too hard and times when I still don't say what I want or need or think I deserve.

There's hurt. Specific hurt that warrants apologies and the broad hurt that no one gets to own more than another.

But at the core, there's so much love. I love my boys. I love my family. I love my friends. That other love I used to write about - I miss it. I'm sure I will for a while. Maybe one day I'll even feel it again. For now though, I'm going to keep counting blessings, finding silver linings, letting myself have a biweekly cry when the house is too quiet, and finding more ways to embrace the positive in the otherwise awful limbo of separation.

My Heart: Act II

Friends,

It's been a long time since I've written because I haven't had the words to say. You see, last September my heart broke. In all honesty it was breaking beforehand, but as I understood it the whole fracture took place in a day. A hammer on stained glass. Scissors to a quilt. 

I thought afterwards that my heart must have stopped beating, and reflecting in the passing days I wondered how it could not have. It was a miracle. 

Lest you worry, physically I was fine. The boys were fine. Even J-Man was fine. I guess.

I don't really know how to discuss heartbreak here because there are always two sides, and if you're reading this I can only guarantee you mine. And I don't guarantee much of that because it's still my story, to be shared if and when I'm ready. It's my truth. It's a day that, however, did not manage to stop my heart.

In the months since then, my heart has proven time and again that it beats on. It races when I consider where to move or if that's right for me. Or for the kids. It races more when I think of starting at a new school and what changes that could bring. Or resentment. But then I hold my two sweet boys and wrap myself in the world of loving them. Cleaning nosebleeds and blowing bubbles and dancing to the music we choose. 

Of course, it speeds up again when I have to answer their tough questions about our family being forever. I tell them that their dad and I will love them more than anyone else, like we always have, and that our love is forever. In that way we will always be a family. 

It physically aches when they request the story of the prince and the princess. The one where the main characters both have castles in Harlem and meet at teaching school and get engaged in Central Park and give each other rings in front of friends and family to say they'll live happily ever after with their two little princes. PDG's timing on requesting that story is impeccably ironic. And also gut-wrenching.

The thing is, we changed part of the story. And then I changed how I tell the story. It used to be that was the end of it all. Now the two promise to love the princes forever, but one day decide to live in separate houses. I didn't think I could change it, and yet I did. 

I realized during one telling that just because the ending changed, it didn't actually alter anything else. The story is still full of happiness. The story is an outgoing, smart, and goofy guy falling for a polar opposite girl, and the two making a life together.

Of course I know that years from now I'll reread this entry and think of all I don't know yet. By then I'll know if I moved and where. If I got a different job in this school district. I'll know if someone else found me lovable, and if I learned to trust again enough to accept it. If I figured out how not to judge myself based on someone else's adoration. I'll know the myriad things I cannot even fathom that I don't know now.

I do know this, as I will in the future, my heart will keep beating. In eight months it has beat through a separation, a reconciliation, a #divorcemoon and yet another separation. It keeps going. And if I doubt that, I will channel the characters of my book, turn up some Ingrid Michaelson, and sing along with both MDG and PDG that "all the broken hearts in the world still beat." 

I'll keep doing the things I love. I'll write about the topics that hurt and scare me - both here and in my stories. I'll cry at times, but I'll smile more. I'll make new memories, adding more chapters to the story of my life. My heart will step into act II. 

So, here goes. Welcome to the journey.

Flashback to the Fourth

This year we were tempted to do things the exact same way as years past for the Fourth of July. You know, pancake breakfast at church, parade in Barcroft, fingers crossed for good naps in order to stay up until dusk for driveway fireworks. And honestly, we mostly did. Except the threat of rain put a little hiccup in the plans.

Rather than waiting until Monday night to set off the fireworks, risking rain and resulting in me dealing with sleep deprived toddlers all alone on the fifth, we pushed the party up to the night before. As you can imagine, none of my boys were disappointed by one less day of anticipation. They'd already been setting off the pop-its and snakes (using a magnifying glass!) for days.

We invited the neighbors - including the ones who had just moved and we will miss terribly during our after school sidewalk scooter races - to fill the yard and benefit from J-Man's pyrotechnic love affair.

The show was a success, with two finales no less, and ended with pitch black bike riding and enjoying summer weather that was days away from shifting into a July inferno.  And when the boys still woke up at normal time the next morning, J-Man and I worked together to head to church for pancakes and overcrowding and small talk.

From there we changed things up and headed out to see Great Grandma M. The boys played well as we talked about the usual topics: Redskins, American public schools and education trends, family business, and the status of the neighborhood. PDG refused to take a picture, but we at least snagged one.

After all the excitement we snuggled down early as the rest of the east coast began their own celebrations. And we had zero regrets.

PDG Turns Four!

Well, it happened. My little baby PDG got all grown on me and now is a whopping four years old. He's still my little PDG Pie though, and I still want to eat him up!

At any rate, turning four apparently means a lot of celebrating. I mean, there was the sleepover the week before, and then the anticipation of a daily countdown from then until the 12th.

On Friday we took some cupcakes (because PDG insisted that this year he wanted cupcakes and cake) to his daycare. All the big kids happily sang to him, especially knowing they got a treat for having done absolutely nothing. That's the best part about birthdays right - getting treats just for existing? Even better when it's just for someone else existing.

Saturday PDG awoke fully aware it was the big day, and unable to contain his excitement. By the time Mama and Papa H arrived, we knew there'd be no nap. Instead, we made cupcakes.

Before the official party at 5pm, we had to give in and do some presents early because somebody just coud not wait another minute.

Sidenote: PDG's current fascination with puzzles is driving J-Man's fight against tiny toy pieces struggle to the limits.

We decided on a not-quite party this year. Paw Patrol ribbon, TMNT napkins, and Batman plates with a random pin the tail on the donkey and tons of fruit and pizza made for an odd assortment of decorations and a menu.

PDG loved it though. LOVED it. And with his very very best friend Lil O, as well as his neighborhood church crew and a happy-to-tag-along Charlie, it was the most kid activity our backyarad has seen yet. And by far the most our living room has endured. Thank heavens for Lego Movie on DVR to keep us warm as the sun started to set.

All in all, a great day celebrating a great kid.

And before I forget, his stats. He's 40lbs even - 81% - and 44 inches tall - 98%. He could answer most of the doctor's questions, but clearly I need to get him a tutor so he knows how to answer "what gallops?" next time. (Honestly, can doctors give us a cheat sheet ahead of time so I can teach to the test? Not that I do that as a teacher or anything, but my competitive edge totally took over and I really wanted my kid in the 99% in the 'random doctor questions at a checkup' category too. I'm just sayin'...)

Hugs and kisses to my big little baby.

Spring and Sleeping Over

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of spring approaching. With spring come a bunch of birthdays, including Big Bro hitting a major milestone, and my little PDG coming up on birthday number four. FOUR! It hasn't happened yet, but the countdown hit single digits and that has us all feeling a bit like this.

Also, we've been enjoying our new "silly app" these past few weeks making videos along that vain. If you haven't played with #msqrd yet, I totally encourage it. And then please send me your videos so I can laugh at with you.

The bursts of warm weather are getting more consistent too, allowing for photos like this

and this

and this.

But the biggest development is that PDG got to have his very first sleepover. And who better to invite than his very very best friend Lil O? So KB and I got to further our plans of manufacturing our kids' bff-dom by adding "survived first sleepover together" to their list of reasons they should always hang out.

Lil O came over after preschool on Friday, which tested PDG's patience for a solid two hours when every gust of wind outside was disappointingly not yet his best friend. Until it was. And he came bringing a happy meal from Old McDonalds. After stuffing faces they got to run around and make messes (and then do a pretty awesome job cleaning up messes) and eventually got down to bedtime business.

Lil O got to try out his brand new Batman sleeping bag, which naturally made both MDG and PDG wish they were the ones on the floor. Then lights out to three toddlers in one tiny bedroom. Did they go right to sleep? Did you go right to sleep at sleepovers with your best friends? Yeah, neither did they. Finally around 9:39pm I turned to J-Man and said, "I don't hear anyone anymore." And then, at 5:40am I turned to J-Man and said, "you think they're really up?"

There was breakfast, a few cartoons, a lot of train tracks and blocks and every other toy in all the toy chests (minus legos, I have my limits!) and then off to the library for story time.

We were so certain they were tuckered out enough to nap after leaving the library and saying some sad goodbyes (like they wouldn't see each other in a week for the cake and presents party). Maybe Lil O did. PDG was far too hyped from the best night ever to give in to anybody's sleep.

So while Saturday night ended in much earlier bedtimes than anyone in the G house might readily admit, it was worth it for all the smiles.

Grown Up Time

This past weekend was the most adult interaction sans kids that I've had since maybe my solo trip to California in 2014. It was a little weird to see so little of my children, but it was also pretty grand.

First, on Friday night J-Man and I got ourselves a babysitter. We were slow in figuring out the logistics, but I decided to step outside my comfort zone and check in with a new friend at church who has twin sophomore girls and magically it all worked out. As a result we got to spend an evening eating grown up food with no one on our laps or pulling at our arms needing something every few minutes. We talked about grown-up topics, despite still using words like potty out of habit, and got seriously competitive in a guys vs girls battle.

My coca-cola (the first I've had in months which left me feeling like wheeeee!!!!) wore off by around 11 so we scooted out a bit early, but not before impressing ourselves with our weeknight stamina. It also should be noted that J-Man rocked his new suit.

Saturday morning reinvigorated us with kid time as PDG got to cash in his bedtime sticker chart for a trip to Chuck E. Cheese. I'd never been before, and I'd love to say I'll never go again. Talk about over-stimulation... Yikes. I mean, I know all we did was spend twenty bucks on tokens and play til they were all gone, but it felt like we'd forked over a lot more of ourselves than that one bill. Some of my sanity might've been left behind too.

As a result, I didn't feel so bad chatting with Miss M via facetime for the majority of lunch and naptime. She's far away in San Francisco, so there's always lots to catch up on, and all the usual grown up topics: babies, houses, bills, job satisfaction etc.

That evening I got to cash in my own Christmas gift and head to the Kennedy Center with my friend Miss S. There we got to see Darren Criss (Blaine from Glee) and Betsy Wolfe (whom I now want to see in more shows asap) sing along with the National Symphony. It. Was. Awesome. My musical theatre nerdiness was fully reinvigorated and J-Man spoiled us with super amazing seats.

If you're thinking, yeah Nicole, that's a lot of grown-up time, just wait. On Sunday, I had my Sunday School and Relief Society classes where I could enjoy lessons knowing that PDG was happily learning and MDG too. In fact, for the first time in the nine months since MDG has been old enough to attend the nursery program (like babysitting with a short lesson and snack and singing time), he finally went in without crying. Not only that, he ran over to the guy who always holds and comforts him while he cries, and gave him a big, happy hug.  I know the crying never lasts too long, but what a little miracle to see it not even start.

Then lastly, Sunday afternoon I went Visiting Teaching (every woman 18+ gets assigned someone to visit her once a month and/or check in periodically) and this was my first time going in years. My companion and I checked in with three different ladies, saw a couple beautiful A-town houses and chatted far longer than anticipated.

But as we soaked in the sunshine together as a family when we could these past days, there's been no doubt my favorite place to interact. With these silly, happy, loving boys of mine.

Home Is Where the Money Is

J-Man and I are thinking about buying a house this year. To best explain where we are on this journey, let's imagine that buying a house is swimming in the deep end of a pool. In that case we are by the steps to the shallow end, still with shorts and a t-shirt over our suits, not having removed jewelry, and crazy enough not to have applied the necessary sunscreen. We're scrolling on our phones while placing just one foot in the water to see if it's the right temperature.

Ok, maybe now that we've started to admit that we're thinking about it, perhaps we have two feet in, but still not past our ankles.

What is it about home ownership that's so much scarier than marriage at age twenty-four, parenthood, and then more parenthood? Is it the money?

Yeah.

It's the money.

First, it's so awkward to talk about. Especially in a bubble like Northern Virginia where houses and souls are priced in the same tax bracket. Like, when a person asks you where you're thinking of moving, you know they're also asking you how much you plan to spend, then judging accordingly. When we say probably not A-town, do they automatically think, "so less than a half mil"? And does that make us the poor folks?

I mean, I'd love to live in A-town. But, in reality, less than a half mil is totally more my style.

If you say closer to the outskirts of the beltway they hear "bargain hunter" and likely have visions of neighbors who will look more like us, even if the languages spoken will vary a good bit. Is that the worst thing? Would it be so bad to not be the only brown family on the block? (That's rhetorical, obviously)

When they ask about commutes and we say we want to be fair to both of us based on where we work now, and where we might seek employment later, what assumptions are they making about our family life? Do they know how J-Man gets up most mornings these days to at least get the boys dressed, if not all the way through teeth brushing, jackets, granola bars and out the door? Do they know how much the boys - and I! - crave the hour with him that he gets between work and their bedtime? Would a great deal on a giant house be worth cutting that down in half? Or worse, extinguishing it completely?

How much house does a person need anyway? We say three bedrooms, but I can't foresee the day when my boys will need to separate. We can do bunk beds. We can keep the toy fairy around with frequent visits to trim our junky overloads.

Don't even get me started on yards. I loved growing up on enough land that I never had to shut my blinds while getting dressed. I also loved that it was never my responsibility to keep up with it. Sure I've mowed the lawn, watered plants, picked plenty of green beans, but I never had to. Now when I see houses with lawns on Zillow I imagine not how cute the curb appeal is, but how much work it must be to keep up. Same with too many square feet. Who's gonna clean all that?

But if we live close to the city and give up the square footage and green grass, aren't we paying so much more for so much less? Which brings us back to money. Always the money.

Houses around here cost so much money.

I guess we'll see if we can go a month without a car repair or other random thousand dollar surprise and maybe a mortgage won't be so scary. Maybe we won't relish calling the landlord when the washer starts trickling water because we openly love not having to pay a cent to get it fixed. Maybe life will toss us an amazing HUD-50%-off-because-you're-a-teacher deal in a neighborhood that's just the right balance of "up and coming" instead of "down and out," and we'll really do this thing.

While we wait and see, we're gonna stay here in the shallow end, practicing our basic math with these precious boys of ours. These precious, expensive, lifelong contracts of boys we couldn't possibly love any more.

Snowzilla

As I mentioned before, we were out for seven snow days. The first was for the two inches that caught the DMV by surprise. The second was because no one knew for certain what time the snow was starting on Friday, and hence we all needed to be tucked safely away with milk, bread, and televisions blasting fear and fantasy at us from all angles.

J-Man, after having two separate flights get canceled in advance, was able to catch an early morning flight to DC, before the airports all closed up shop. By lunch we had him, a serious stash of snacks on hand, freezer meals ready to thaw, and a sense of "ok, let's do this thing" at the ready.

The snow came fast and furious that afternoon, all night long, and all day the next day, not ending until well after bedtime Saturday night. We halfheartedly did some of that shoveling and playtime during the height of the storm. MDG hated it, PDG wanted to like it, and J-Man was mostly in awe at how much snow can fall from the sky.

before going out

uncertain in the midst of it

hot chocolate reward

Even though I don't watch Game of Thrones, this was still my favorite meme of the storm.

Once the snow stopped, we got down to business. Sunday the Mormon neighbors hosted all the Mormon families within walking distance for a pot luck lunch. We're a pretty prepared bunch, so it was delicious, but we're also a procreating bunch, so there were a lot of children occupying a duplex hardly larger than my own. This particular family has a basement, so with Aladdin playing downstairs, the adults got through a game of Taboo upstairs that was only slightly interrupted by the five two-year-olds whose attention spans are too short for a full Disney production.

When the shoveling really commenced, sometime late Monday afternoon when we saw the one and only plow we would ever see, it was like that scene at the start of Beauty and the Beast when everyone comes outdoors and knows each other and is part of a happy wonderland. A snowy, back-breaking wonderland, but chipper nonetheless. The kids ran around on the snow mountains while the adults tackled driveway after driveway together, making sure everyone could get out the next day when work presumably would return. Turns out J-Man and I own the worst two shovels on the block, but we did our part.

The days passed with no predictability at all. Unlike Camp Nicole, with frequent outings to parks and scheduled time for just about everything, we took each day flying by the seat of our pants. Blanket forts? Ok! Turning snow mountains into slides? Sure! Jumping in puddles of melting snow? Rather not but, oh, ok, you're going to do it anyway... Yay!

I also started watching this Australian teen dance show on Netflix.  I'll just let that sit there for a while.

The boys went to daycare twice, the mornings I wasn't worried about black ice from refrozen snow melt, and I had a chance to clean the house from all the sand and salt and general chaos of days off. That plus PDG started wetting the bed again for the first time in almost a year, so that's been.... not awesome.

But that brings us here, back to reality and work and finally warmer temperatures that are melting the remnants of those two feet of snow. I should be more excited about this return to normalcy. But if I'm being honest, I'm already looking at the 10-day forecast on my phone, secretly hoping to see another snowflake somewhere in the future. Not another two feet or anything, maybe just a good 1-3 inches. Preferrably on a Tuesday night. Enough for a no school Wednesday and delay Thursday. Because, truly, it's all quite magical at the beginning.

Snow Day One... Of Many

Tomorrow I return to work after seven consecutive snow days. Seven. And tomorrow is a work day, so that means it will be eight business days - twelve actual days - without seeing any students. That is a really, really long time.

So long that I've lost my mind, just a tiny bit.

It started kind of cute. Wednesday night before the storm we were supposed to get a dusting. With J-Man having a terrible work trip to Atlanta all week, Mama and Papa H, along with Big Sis and Baby C, had come over for dinner and playtime. As they went to get in their car we saw this scene.

Over an hour later they made it to the onramp of the highway, only to learn the highway was shut down and not moving. Turns out no one within the beltway pre-treated the roads so it was a giant skating rink for rush hour. A little over another hour later they made it back to my house where it turned into an H family sleepover. Poor Baby C had no pack-n-play or crib, so it wasn't our best rested night in this house, but given that MDG exists, it was still far from the worst.

My school system doesn't play with snow anymore, so we shut down before midnight and the next day the boys got to ease into winter.

Little did I know that would be the beginning of an extended staycation snowed in. I'm looking forward to the return to civilization. But only sort of. I also really enjoyed an impromptu reason to stay home, build forts, watch too much TV, and get to know the neighbors through shoveling parties and shared outdoor child supervision.