The village I don't even know

There is not a single daycare spot for a 17 month old in my new hometown. Not one. I've called every home daycare and preschool there is. If someone wants to move to Salida, the way to make a steady living is to open a daycare center for kids under 2. The demand is high.

So this has left me in an interesting spot. This week I started my new job. And fortunately for me, I have my village to help us out, with my mom here this week, and my in-laws next week. After that... who knows. My fingers are crossed that something will work out.

We have reached out to our local connections- people we've only just begun to get to know- to ask for help or suggestions. It dawned on me today just how much support we are getting- some from people we've never met. I emailed my new supervisor, who passed my question on to other people in my office. Even though I have yet to set foot in that building, I have received two messages with ideas for us. I met a new coworker today, and when I lamented about our situation, she immediately texted friends who have young children. Brian's coworkers are asking around, too. It's as if we have a whole team we inherited just because we live here. And I feel so lucky.

Kinnie is thriving in Kindergarten. She just started week 3, and is already a whole new kid. My shy girl is ordering her own ice cream, approaching friends in the grocery store, and responding when strangers ask her about her new toy. She used to hide behind my legs in all these situations- and this has truly all changed in 2 weeks. It's as though she realized that she can feel safe in the world around us, and she is blossoming. I feel so proud of her, and excited for her. The light I always get to see is being shone more and more.

And Ellie... Oh, Ellie. Turns out she's a feisty as her sister. We didn't get to experience it when she was an infant, but now that she's a full-fledged toddler, watch out. She is into everything. Lucky for her, and us, she is adorable, and gives the best hugs to make all okay. She learns new words every day. She loves the cows who live in the pastures nearby, and moos at them every time we bike to school. Just like her big sister, if she's outside, she's happy.

I miss my people, a lot. Which I was expecting. Some days are more difficult than others. Everything else about this place is amazing. It's quiet, and friendly, and fun. The sense of community is incredible. All of this moving business has been so challenging... and overall, worth it so far. I'm a grateful Mama.

The (proverbial and literal) other side of the fence

Today, Kinnie, Ellie and I rode bikes to Kinnie's new school- where she will begin kindergarten in two short weeks. It is a beautiful building, with super friendly staff. I alternate between being excited for this next step, and being devastated that my baby girl is growing up so quickly. I have had a few lose-your-breath kind of cries over it. There is something about not being able to just have her with me whenever I want... I will miss her so much.

That's where the proverbial other side of the fence comes in. I have been a stay-at-home mom for just over two months now. Granted one of those months was a time of complete chaos, and selling the house, and then selling it again, and then being "homeless" and making a major move. But I have been with my girls pretty non stop for the last 68 days. It is a blessing. And I'm exhausted.

I don't know how stay-at-home Moms do it. I feel constantly on demand. I laughed to myself this morning when in the span of a half hour I went back and forth to the kitchen at least 10 times. One of the girls would want something, so I'd get it, come back, and then the other would ask for something else. I played at least 4 games of Go Fish. I blew up the backyard pool, and then cleaned all the poop out of it after the naked baby had a "yucka." I watched the tricks Kinnie did on her new swing set. I played that I was a friend of Kinnie's, and that she came to visit me with her two new babies, and then I babysat them while she went to Africa. I chased Ellie and tickled her to delighted squeals. And, all I really wanted to do was nothing. I was so tired today. And my house was a mess. I can't seem to find the balance, if there is such a thing. I have this idea in my head that stay-at-home Moms keep their houses clean, meet their childrens' demands, and look pretty doing it. I started searching the internet to find proof that I'm wrong. But I swear, there are some people who can do it all. Having a "job" is WAAAAAY easier.

While we were out in the yard today, playing in the pool and on the swing set, two girls inched closer and closer to the fence. Our house backs to an apartment complex, and there is a simple chain link fence, and a few shrubs, between our yard and the property belonging to the apartments. Here's where the literal other side of the fence comes in.

As the girls inched closer, I smiled and said hi. We have several kids who come around and ask what we're going, or watch as my kids play. These girls, it turns out, were 6 and 7. Sisters with a 1 year old brother. A Dad who works three jobs in hotels and fast food. And a Mom who spanks them if they have an accident in their pants.

I can tell that they and the other kids who come to the fence wish to be invited over. I see in their eyes the looks of envy. And I imagine their hearts, knowing they don't even have their own bedrooms, and watching my girls with their swingset, pool, slip 'n slide, and a million toys. The older of the girls asked how many bedrooms we had and proceeded to tell me that she, her parents, and two siblings live in a two bedroom apartment. She quickly explained that there is also a furnace room, that they use as a bedroom.

My privilege is thrown in my face, not in a malicious way, but in a very real way, when I talk to these kids. I'm middle of the road, but to these kids, hanging on the fence and wishing they had all we do, it must look so amazing. My heart aches for them, and I want to be able to provide them with more. But then, I realize I'm barely keeping up with what I have to for my own kids.

I suppose it is all about perspective. Perspective that I'm doing a good job caring for my kids, even if the floor REALLY needs to be mopped. Perspective that we have so much. Perspective that I can't bring all the hurting children home with me, but perhaps I can offer some kind of connection, compassion.

I'm still trying to find the balance. But I'm so grateful, even when balance isn't there.

A new beginning

Last night was the third night we spent in our new house. Everything worked out, and I think we are right where we are supposed to be. Before moving in here, we spent 4 nights in a vacation rental. So I guess I can say I've lived in Salida for a week. A few of the highlights:

- Last night, I called out to the cul-de-sac to get my family into the house for dinner. As soon as she finished, Kinnie went right back out to scooter with two girls who live 3 and 4 doors down.
- I did my first big grocery shopping trip yesterday afternoon, and given that it was a Friday, I figured the store would be packed with residents and tourists alike. The parking lot was full, but the store itself felt about as busy as my usual grocery shopping stop in Denver on a Wednesday afternoon.
-Speaking of grocery store, it appears to be a great meeting place. There were at least three conversations occurring in various aisles between friends who just happened to run into each other there.
- Our next door neighbor brought a fantastic cinnamon loaf from the farmer's market as a welcome gift.
- Our neighbor two doors down provided me with enough free plants to officially start my vegetable garden.
-Our neighborhood is so quiet that I can let Kinnie out to play without worrying too much. I already know that everyone is looking out for her, along with the rest of the kids.
- I'm sitting on my couch, in my living room, typing this. Out the window to my left is a stunning view of the Collegiates.
- Every morning so far, the air is crisp. Even though it is July.

On day 3 of being here, I had to take the pups to the vet for what turned out to be kennel cough. The man working the front desk there told me he had come from the metro area, but now "develops a rash" if he gets within 15 miles of I-25. He went on to say that the only time there will be traffic in Salida is when two trailers are moseying down highway 50 side by side at 30 miles per hour. He noted, though, that it doesn't really bother people here.

It's too early to know how this will feel in the long run. And there are parts that are hard- particularly being far from family and friends. But, so far, it is exactly what I hoped for.

The last night- part two

I am about to go to bed in my little townhouse for the last time. I cannot begin to fathom not living here. It has been my home for much of my adult life. I was 23 years old when we bought it and moved in. Remember Trading Spaces? I was a huge fan, and allowed it to influence me to paint my walls a rainbow of colors. I was most excited because owning my own place meant I could adopt my own puppy. Koda came into our lives two months after we moved in. Thank goodness she's with us to move on to the next adventure.

We had some great parties here. There are great memories of friends laughing hysterically in this house. At one such event, I remember Eric rolling on the floor in fits of giggles. It is an especially precious memory.

This is the home where I brought my two precious newborns. Where I went from an insecure young woman to a thirty-something finding her way. Where my marriage grew from the status of newlyweds to that of being an old married couple. This place is where I studied to get my master's degree. It is where I have hosted family dinners, and learned to really cook. I have had some of my most fantastic moments here, and some of my most painful.

When I walk out the door tomorrow, for the last time, I'm not sure how I'll feel. We still don't know for sure that we have a house to move into. We are packing a truck and driving to Salida, with our destination as of yet unknown. We hope that it will be the house we have wanted all along. But right now, there is no guarantee.

Today, I had the opportunity to spend time with some of my dearest friends. I walked away from those meetings wondering why I made the choice to leave. So much of my life is here. But I think what I figured out is that the city leaves me too busy to live this life. I felt stretched thin much of the time, and wishing for more hours to spend on the things that matter the most.

I think, though I will be farther away, I will be more at peace. And I will have more time and energy to devote to connecting to those I love- both near and far. Let the next step begin.

The last night

Tonight is supposed to be the last night that our little family of 4 is separated. Tomorrow, Brian comes home, and Sunday we are scheduled to load up the truck and drive to Salida. The weeks of being apart from my partner are supposed to be done. Of course, what is supposed to be, and what actually is, may differ a bit.

I cannot think of a time in my life during which I have had such constant stress. The ups and downs are frequent. One minute you've sold your townhouse and have purchased the home of your dreams, and the next, it may not happen at all. And then I think, we chose this. We chose to put ourselves through this. What the hell were we thinking?

When I dove into this journey, I thought I had to face 5 weeks of single parenting. Now I am nearing the end of week 7. I did not believe I could do it. Yet, I have done it. And while doing it, I survived the sale of my house falling through, relisting and reselling it.

The really beautiful thing is that I have not been alone. Time after time, my village shows up to hold me up and help me through. When we had to put our house back on the market, my house was full of helpers, getting it back into show shape. My mom and I cleaned for 16 hours that day. And it paid off, when we were back under contract in a matter of days.

Now, we are facing another possible setback. And the outpouring of support is incredible. Tonight, my Nana said, "there is always a solution." And I think there is. It will all be alright. We have enough people who are here for us, who believe in us, that we will get through any bump in the road.

As far as my time with my girls these last seven weeks, adventure is the name of the game. We still haven't figured out a good bedtime routine without Daddy around, so they are often up later than they should be. But, Kinnie Lin has learned to sleep in until 7! This is a miracle in itself. We have been to the pool a lot. And we took our little road trip. We've had a sleep over at Ninnie and Pops'. And visited the zoo. We have snuggled, and we have wrestled. We've taken a lot of long walks, and when we first started this process, I struggled to lift Ellie Claire onto my back in the backpack- now, it's no problem.

I am stronger, in a lot of different ways. I know that I can face what life brings. With a little help, of course.

Lessons

I turned a 7.5 hour drive into a 10.5 hour drive today. My girls and I meandered through the hills of Utah and Wyoming before cruising into Denver. I've never done a road trip quite in that fashion. But it was a beautiful day, and as I reflected on the loss of Eric, I was reminded of what is truly important in life.

During the beginning of the drive, I swear Eric had control of the mix my ipod was playing. From songs we used to dance to in the bar, to bands we saw and loved, song after song reminded me of him. And I was reminded that it's time to slow down. So the girls and I stopped at a park in Rock Springs. But its playground was inferior, so we went searching for a better one. We found a park with a playground and sprayground, so I pulled the luggage out of the car, got the girls changed into swimsuits, and played in the water. We didn't have a towel to dry off after, but that didn't seem to matter. Three hours later, we did it all again in Laramie. My girls were happy, and the kind of wonderful tired that comes from fun in the sun. And my heart was full.

See, all the things that we hurry for, all the things that we think are so important, aren't really. Whatever the reason for my rush the day I didn't stop to give Eric a hug can't have ultimately mattered at all. But I get caught up. I think most of us do. And it is times like these when I remember that all that really matters to me are my people- my family, both blood related and chosen.

I miss Eric a lot. There is a void in this city. But to have known him... well, that was a blessing.

My friend, Eric

My friend Eric died yesterday. His death was so unexpected. I would have never guessed that the last time I gave him a hug would be the last time. 

He worked at the animal hospital where I spent 6 years of my twenties. I remember that he was a bit shy, at first, but soon his true colors shone through. He had headphones on as often as he could, and it turned out we shared a love of rock music. When a show would come through town, we'd make plans to go, or I'd envy him as he decided to go, even if the tickets had to go on a credit card. We would trudge through the long workdays together, along with the rest of the Belcaro family. His laugh was fantastic, and is still so clear in my mind. 

A group of us began to spend more and more time together outside of work, and Eric was always there. I remember going out to Benny's Mexican for a birthday, and after one margarita, Eric fell asleep at the table. I laughed so hard. He was always a lightweight, and always game to party. 

Whenever I was sad, or struggling, I knew Eric felt my struggle, too. He'd give hugs, and try to be there in any way he could. He provided candy galore, and I know that on more than one occasion, I helped myself to his work drawer that was full of snacks. He always said he didn't mind. Because that's the kind of person he was.

As my time to move on from Belcaro came, Eric remained a part of my life. We spent birthdays together, and came up with lots of other reasons to celebrate. Of course, I saw Eric every time I took one of my dogs in to Belcaro, which was frequent. Always, he had a hug for me, and an update about his life. He lived some great adventures in his 40 years.

The last time I was at Belcaro, picking up meds for my dogs, I saw Eric on the lawn walking a dog. I thought about stopping to say hi, to give a hug, and to wish him well. But, I had my two fussing girls with me, and a million things to do. So I didn't turn the corner to go see him, but just went on my way. I figured there would be a million other chances. How I wish I had not taken that moment for granted.

I think Eric had no idea how loved he was. How cherished. He was nonjudgmental, loyal, genuine, heartfelt, funny. He was the best kind of friend. He was accepting, and overlooked my faults. He was a beautiful person. I hope that wherever he is now is as amazing as he is. I wish I could tell him. I wish I could give just one more hug.

Rest in peace, my friend. You will be remembered fondly for as long as I live. I love you.