Friday, August 27, 2010
801*: The move to Eugene report
It started off rocky, my emotional stability, as we drove 20 mph to Eugene, where our new home waited for us. A biker nearly clipped my car, and I muttered something murderous. Traveling with two kids and two dogs, heaped with the last of our belongings will do that do a girl. Especially when she's been living on fast food and adrenaline for days.
But we landed safely and just like that opening scene from Wizard of Oz, little by little, the kindly folks of our new neighborhood came out, to welcome us. Picture us, grubby and disheveled, hungry and sweaty - I can only imagine the impression we made, what with Zack pwning everyone and my daughter desperate for dinner - shaking hands like crazy politicians that just rolled into town. I might have even kissed a baby.
So, we've been on a roll. Checking out pools, and parks, and unpacking.
I've been organizing, channeling Martha Stewart and her hordes of naturally tidy people, which I don't count myself among.
I've registered kids at schools, been thwarted at the library (more on that Monday; stay tuned), I've tossed a ball for my dogs a million times.
And then yesterday? We all melted a bit. Moped. I think it was all family reunions at the middle school, when we gave them all our money so Lexi can get educated and such. Everyone continued to be polite and sweet as ever, but we missed our people.
Homesick, I should have taken the kids to the movies or on another adventure but instead I pressed on to the grocery store where they may or may not have behaved like preschoolers, fighting over pushing the cart. I should have went home, my friends, but my kung fu parenting moves were depleted, so I sneered at them and was suddenly thankful to be anonymous. The scene certainly won't make our Christmas letter.
One nap later, and a call to one of my smart girls, and I was ready to be the new girl again, to fix tacos in the kitchen I'm beginning to wonder how I went without.
When it was still light out, I sat on my back stoop, and watched the hummingbirds shimmy about the branches in a tree I've yet to identify, the dogs busting figure eights around the yard.
And when night fell, my neighbor's twinkling lights came on, giving my backyard a magical feel. I sighed. Inside, my kids were tucked in and sleeping off the bad day and my husband was undoubtedly finished mixing up a margarita for me while watching some science channel.
I locked up and crawled in bed.
I am where I belong.
*801 posts, baby. Huzzah