I’m on a plane.
Right this very second, I am several miles in the air. MILES. We’re flying back to Michigan after our house-hunting trip. And as I always do on any flight, I am panicking just a little bit.
Generally, if you’re not a superfan of flying, your biggest fear is probably that the plane will crash. Me? Continue reading
Al and I are in California this weekend to try to find a house. Peaches stayed in Michigan with my parents (see this support system I’m leaving behind? Argh). Three days and fourteen houses later, I thought I would check in with a dose of positivity.
Lest you think I’m JUST capable of worrying, I now bring you seven things I happen to be pretty excited about. It’s only seven, okay, not thirteen — but it’s something. Continue reading
We have officially mailed a signed contract to California.
Al really, really wants this. He wants this even more after The Company came back with a second offer. I feel like I should be supportive, and he keeps saying things like, “We may never get an opportunity like this again. We should just take a chance on this. If we don’t at least try it, we may look back and really regret it.” Apparently, ten years from now, we will be “so happy we did this.”
So I keep telling myself we’re just trying it. That’s all. If we want to, we can come back. Continue reading
Dear Peaches,
Sometimes, in our most painless, pleasant moments, I flash-forward to a time when a teenage version of you will inevitably hate my guts. It invades your toddler sweetness like a storm rolling in over waveless waters.
My parent-friends tell me that a whole lotta attitude is actually just around the corner, but I’m not talking about the indignant cries of “NO!” and the terrible-two temper tantrums. I’m talking about theveryinstant you turn thirteen and become a sassy pants and I will want to rip that look right off your snippy little face. I was a teenage girl once, too. I know how it goes. Continue reading
I’m not the kind of person who embraces change. You might say I’m sort of averse to it, actually. Or even a little bit afraid.
Okay, you know what? I’m terrified. Like, full-on, break-into-a-cold-clammy-sweat terrified. I don’t even run screaming from it, because then it might notice me. I prefer to hide from change in a silent little bubbled corner and pretend it doesn’t exist, squeezing my eyes shut the way my two-year-old daughter does because she thinks it will make her disappear.
So when the call came a couple weeks ago with the potential to change our lives, I just kind of ignored it. Yeah, there was a nagging sense of dread in the back of my mind, but I just kind of ignored that, too. Continue reading