The kids had off this past Friday due to an inservice day, so we headed back to Eldorado for the weekend. The term 'home' seems so simple; however, when you up and move your family to an entirely different community a few hours away from what you've always considered to be your norm, I sometimes find myself at a loss for words when I refer to Eldorado or Mindoro for that matter. In our parts of the state, the girls carved their pumpkins, and Alex decided to pass (sniff, sniff) this week. We can all note the unseasonable weather in Laura's barefeet in this photo-yes, indeed it is October 26th!
Going home, I am often asked how things are going, almost to the point that those people who cannot embrace change are trying to find some black hole in the silver lining that this blog apparently paints. I'm not trying to appear misleading, or as though everything is perfect in our lives-because it isn't. So for those wondering what the worst part of our transitioning lives is at the moment, I'd be happy to spill the beans. Since we've moved over here Jason has been working the night shift, that is he works from 5 p.m.- 5 a.m. on the days that he works. It can make for a longer week for the kids and I, in single parenting mode, but honestly the days typically fly by pretty fast, and the evenings even faster. You know the old adage the days are long and the years are short, I try to remind myself of that when most week days I spend a handful of hours with them awake. What I struggle with the most is sleeping soundly. . . and I can't say that that was sparked since relocating, because ever since April we have been used to somewhat 'living separately' and not sleeping with Jason in the house on a regular basis. My anxiety comes in the form of the hour after I fall asleep, waking in a panic or by standing up from a dead sleep and letting out a yell. I'm still not sure what I'm panicked about, but I eventually get my bearings, and go back to sleep and am fine the rest of the night. There is a possibility that it is not anxiety, and I have inherited this gene from my dad. . . and the gene apparently gets worse with age because a typical night of sleeping near him is akin to sleeping next to Grizzly Adams being attacked by a bear. But it only happens when I'm sleeping in my bed alone, so there's something to be said about the comfort of just knowing someone else is there with you, besides 3 children. In our old house we never locked the doors, I figured if someone wanted to get in they would, and if I ever needed something my parents or neighbors were just a phone call away. Here I'm not to that comfort level obviously, we know very few neighbors, and certainly not to the point where I'd feel comfortable calling them in an emergency situation. And I actually lock the door for the first time in my entire 36 years.
Ah, what are the other not-so-great things about our move: satellite tv services, mobile internet, and the lack of curbside garbage pickup. Working in IT, that first one is just one of those things that remind me that never did I take my Charter cabled tv and internet services for granted once-I totally knew how good I had it. Yeah it was pricier, but I didn't need to worry about a light mist interrupting our services, you know in bad weather when you rely on your services to keep you informed. I didn't waste my time with satellite internet, but we had to bite the bullet and move to paying for the amount of data we use. . . it makes me wince as I type it. And we are by no means heavy users, we'd just much rather pay a flat rate for services. And roadside garbage pickup, those were the days. . . You know when you didn't have to time your refrigerator cleaning just perfect to make certain you didn't have to smell the stink in your garage all week, drive 10 minutes with said stinky garbage in your vehicle. . . or actually have to handle the damn garbage yourself. I was totally spoiled on that one.
What sparked this post's title "There's No Place Like Home" is that weekends home spent with family and friends make me appreciate what few 'negative' things there have been to this move. When the kids and I go and stay at my parents house for the weekend, we all bunker down and make ourselves comfortable in their 1100 square foot home. I'm tucked away in the 8 x 8 room that has always been known as my personal bedroom. Complete with one bathroom we all share, and a kitchen less than 3 steps away from my bedroom door that my father makes full use of (and not in a quiet fashion) come 5 a.m. That noise used to piss me off to no end growing up, but it has certainly brought new meaning to me in this season of my life. A simple pot of soup, and just the presence of us being in town brings everyone to congregate around what we've all known as 'home' our entire lives. I am so thankful for myself and my children that my parents have always modeled a simple life that focused on family and time spent together. Despite living right next door to them our own personal lens on life can get distorted, sometimes I feel God put the distance there for me to appreciate those sound nights of sleep and knowing the true comfort of home.
In other news, Ainslee pulled out her first tooth on the top (another sniff, sniff) just as we were heading out the door to go to school one day, so she was proud as a peacock. It's funny how parents can't wait til that first child loses their first tooth, and by the youngest child they dread that day-that's totally me. Seems like when one falls out, they all do, and those little baby faces are replaced by an older child somewhere between a child and a tween. Parent teacher conferences were last week, and while I had a general idea of what to expect for each of the kids-the land of standardized testing was new to me. There were no surprises, except pleasant ones for the kids so I think they're off to a great start on their first quarter as Melrose-Mindoro Mustangs.
And I figured I better include a photo of our other 'child', the one we like to refer to as Goldilocks around these parts as of recently. Here she is in her new R.E.A.D. vest all ready to go to work reading. She is referred to as Goldilocks because this move has also impacted her, I think she's went from spoiled dog to extremely spoiled dog. . . and the guy who said he didn't even want a dog how many years ago, is totally to blame. She typically goes to bed at night in her own dog bed, on the floor, next to Alex's bed. As the night progresses you will see her move to the beanbag in the girls room, or a recliner in the basement. But by the next morning, if access is granted, she plants herself right in the middle of a queen size guest bed with very little shame. As a matter of fact, she almost acts as though you woke her up when you go looking for her in the morning. She's made herself comfortable on the leather couch, and is often found trying to send subliminal messages to people that she may or may not have been fed, so she gets an extra serving just for looking extra sad. It's also a rare occurrence if she isn't riding shotgun in one of the vehicles when going for short runs here and there. Again, I vowed that I wouldn't over spoil this dog as I had done in the past, and took the stance that a dog is a dog. Now I'm called a hard ass, and all that spoiling has given this girl expectations!
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