The Burbs

Life since February has revolved around moving.  Staging, showing, selling, buying, packing, enduring a nightmarish closing process thanks to Wells Fargo Home Mortgage (never, NEVER again), loading, unloading, cleaning, unpacking and collapsing.

We are becoming more settled all the time, but I still don't feel quite at home here.  For as much as I was ready to move, I still find myself pining away for our old, too-small house and "transitional" urban neighborhood.  I realize that to most people a house built in 1968 is pretty old, but coming from a house built in 1909, we are in a whole new world.

As I grow accustomed to our new environment, I have experienced many moments of confusion and wonder. Here are a few of my recent ponderings:

1.  Sidewalks

Why are there no sidewalks in the suburbs?  There are so many people out on the street walking, biking, scootering, pogo-sticking, etc.  Did sidewalks somehow go out of fashion in the 1960's?

2.  Lawn/Yard Maintenance

Ok, I know its cliche, but why are people so obsessed with their lawns?  Ours needs A LOT of work and I do want it to look nice, but why was the guy across the street mowing his lawn in the rain?  Is there some sort of regulatory agency we have yet to learn about?  Thankfully, we haven't received any threats yet...

3.  Fencing

Where are all the fences?  I never thought I'd miss our ugly chain link fence, but I just don't feel comfortable with our lack of physical separation from the neighbors.  At least we finally figured out that single guy next door did not mow the maze into his back lawn to lure small children into his house.  We were quite relieved when one night we saw him and his friends maneuvering through the maze dressed as ghosts, while a young woman with a yellow basket ran around picking up golf balls.  No, he's not a predator, just a dorky guy with a life-sized Pac-Man game in his backyard. But, I still think I would feel a little better with a fence...

4.  Trash Collection

Single-sort recycling is flat out awesome, but our first trash day caused me much distress.  Why did everyone have their trash bin on one side of their driveway and the recycling bin on the other? I stood in the driveway trying to look casual while scanning the houses on both sides of the street to determine if there was a pattern governing can placement.  After all, I didn't want to be the stupid newbie who didn't even know how to take out the trash.  Then it finally dawned on me.  Its kind of difficult to get your car out of your attached garage if both bins are on one side of your driveway...

5.  Electrical Wiring

Outlets every six feet in every room, how can this be?  What will I do with our giant box of extension cords?  And when vacuuming (which due to the lack of hardwood floors takes me about an hour), which outlets should I choose to give me maximum cord distance?  Perplexing.

6.  Light Switches

Old house - 8 wall switches (counting the old-fashioned push buttons by the front door).  New house - 29 wall switches.  I wonder, how much electricity do I waste daily turning on and off lights because I can't remember which switch controls which light?  And switches for outlets that allow you to turn a lamp on and off from the wall...wow.

7.  Closets

Old house - 3 closets.  New house - 8 closests + 3 storage cabinets.  Ahhhhh...empty space.  I would never have thought it possible.  Now I must guard against the dark forces that will not rest until they have filled every shelf, drawer and crevice with crap.

8.  Living Spaces

In our old house we had one living room which was generally used for entertaining, TV watching, playing, coloring, play dough (this one made mommy less than happy), laundry folding, computer working, crazy dancing, ninja practice, etc.  Our new house has three - a formal living room, an upstairs family room and a downstairs family room and playroom.  This is an absolute luxury for us.  The kids, however, are very confused when I tell them "its in the living room" or "I'm in the family room".  Poor Emory sometimes takes to wandering around confusedly until I say "Sweetie, its the room with the red couch."

9.  Neighbors

Why are strangers bringing us baked goods and stopping us on the street to make conversation?  I must remind myself that they are trying to be welcoming, and no, they are most likely not sizing up our house for some sort of heist.

Yes, we moved 6.3 miles up the road and I feel as if we've entered a whole new dimension.  But, I am optimistic that as time goes on we will feel more at home.  And, while there is a lot that I miss, I am pretty darn happy here.

Worth the Wait

We recently purchased a little Apple TV box and a Netflix subscription and its amazing to have so many choices for things to watch in our cable/satellite-free house.  The kids have every episode of Super Why and Diego to pick from at TV time, and Bill and I are working our way through the entire Star Trek: Next Generation series (super geeky I know, but it reminds us of our youth).  Having all this media at our fingertips has given me a little pause for thought - not just about the temptation to watch more TV, but the possible deeper implications of the quick-access technology that I love so well.

I generally find waiting to be a pain.  This is why I love shopping and banking online and having my iphone, with access to the whole world, in my pocket.  I know that this instant access can be a dangerous thing - sucking away our time on facebook, enticing us with even better technology (there is an ipad out there somewhere with my name on it...) and enabling us to fill every second of the day with something, just because its there.  But, more than that, I've begun to wonder about the loss of the wait itself.

By bypassing the "wait", what could we be missing? Every time we take care of something online, we could be missing the chance to interact with real people.  Who knows when you might make a meaningful connection with someone?  Waiting gives us tiny blank spaces in our day that could be used for philosophizing, self-reflection or day dreaming.  Waiting also gives you the opportunity to really appreciate something. Think about when you used to wait for an album to be released and then making the trip to the music store to buy it.  Remember the magic of unsealing it and pouring over the liner notes for the first time?  Downloading music is so convenient, but very lackluster in my opinion.

Even more significant, I think we may be losing the ability to live gracefully in the gray areas of life.  Waiting 9 months to learn the sex of your baby (we didn't), staying up all night with your sick child without the ability to diagnose him via the internet, waiting to share good or bad news without the instant convenience of a cell phone - these are all opportunities to develop inner strength, listen to our intuition, relinquish control, increase our faith in God and rely on others for support.  

Sadly, I find that when I do have to wait for something, without the comfort of researching or expediting the process via technology, I don't handle it well.  With my haste to give up waiting, I have lost patience for the times when I really need it. 

I don't see myself giving up my cell phone or cancelling our internet service anytime soon, but I do hope to make an effort to let myself wait and wonder more. Who knows what I may discover when I do?

Into the Deep End

Under the clear blue water, I watch the neat stripe of green tiles curve slowly as they descend into the deep end.  I hear only my breath and the faint sounds of my limbs disrupting the surface of the water.  I feel only the coolness that surrounds me, the burn in my muscles and the pounding of my heart.  I think only of the mechanics of my movements; no extraneous thoughts distract me.  I have become a swimmer.  I don't claim to be very good at it, but I've recently come to the conclusion that if you are doing something regularly, you earn the right to attach it to your identity.  

Give me a yoga or pilates mat any day, but put me in a pair of running shoes and I'll run straight to the couch.  I simply don't enjoy most forms of cardiovascular fitness. The thought of working out amidst a sea of exercisers, bobbing up and down on stairsteppers, eliptical machines and treadmills at the gym (check out Out of My Comfort Zone for the story of my gym-joining fiasco), is enough to make me head for the nearest exit. So, thinking that swimming might be a better option, I began taking adult lessons in October.  I already knew how to swim, at least I did when I completed my lessons at the age of 14, but since it had been 20+ years since I'd actually propelled myself down the length of a lap pool, I thought I could use a refresher course.  Getting into the water for that first trial of crawl stroke under the watchful eye of my instructor was a feat in and of itself, but I discovered that it was kind of like riding a bike.  I did sort of remember how.

After a couple of months of lessons and reading on the subject, I have been swimming laps on a regular basis (except for a little hiatus in December...).  It is very hard work, but rewarding in ways that I would not have guessed.  You can't fake it in the pool, its just plain painful when you're out of practice (it is still painful each and every time for me), but you can really see your progress.  As I count the tiles at the end of the lane to keep track of  my laps, I'm amazed to see my numbers grow with each workout.  That sense of accomplishment is a gift in the midst of my harried days with the kids.  When I get to the end of most days, I realize that I didn't finish what I set out to do - it seems I make efforts in every direction, but don't end up completing anything.  I know that this is a side effect of life with small children, but it slowly chips away at my sense of self worth.  On the days that I swim, I have one little achievement to tuck away in my mind and draw strength from when I'm feeling defeated.

But for me, the most seductive part of swimming is the quiet.  No one is talking or whining or screaming or pulling on me.  There is no technology to distract me - my iphone is safely locked away.  Its just me in my unflattering fitness suit, blue swim cap and goggles.  And for the first time, I don't really care if anyone is watching me.

I have found my bliss in the quiet blue water.  Where will you find yours?

My New Year's Unresolutions

Okay, back on the blog.  It was a crazy few months in which I discovered that waiting to write until after all my "stuff" is done = never writing.  So, time to leave the laundry in the basement, and spend some time on this.  I have really, really missed it.

I have never been much for New Year's Resolutions - better not to make them than to deal with the guilt of not keeping them!  So, I would like to offer an alternative. Rather than taking stock of my shortcomings, I have decided to spend a little time thinking about the things I can do.  This is not exercise in self-flattery - believe me, that's not really an issue for me - rather a conscious avoidance of self-denigration.

And so, here is my list of what I Can Do.  This is not a list of what I Should Do or Used to Be Able to Do (that would be an exercise in frustration only to be faced with a stiff drink in hand), but rather what I, here on the couch watching 30 Rock reruns, Can Do.

I Can...

1. Write a blog!
2. Make pancakes from scratch without a recipe.
3. Rough house with my boys better than anyone.
4. Make my kids smile.
5. Buy gifts that people like.
6. Create things with my hands.
7. Sing.
8. Hem a pair of dress pants by hand.
9. Make lunch sculptures.
10. Take a temperature with a kiss on the forehead rather than a thermometer (A.K.A. the Mometer).
11. Remember all the words to the songs my mom sang to me as a child (and sing them to my babies).
12. Give birth without drugs/intervention (this is not a judgement of anyone else, just something that I find personal strength in).
13. Read books to my kids when I really don't feel like it.
14. Swim a pretty decent freestyle, breast stroke and back stroke.
15. Learn new things.
16. Resist the urge to nag.
17. Drive confidently in the city  (not something I could always do)
18. Make a pretty cool super hero costume out of an old t-shirt.
19. Overlook mistakes my kids (or husband) make.
20. Choose to focus on the positive.

Funny how the unresolution, can kind of turn into a resolution...

Happy New Year!