Over the course of my life I have had a number of transitions. Graduating from college and adjusting to working life in NYC, changing cities, gaining friends, losing friends, babies and marriage, moving home and moving on. However, this change – the one we are undergoing right now – has been the hardest. I have never felt so unsure, so scared. I am constantly searching for our new normal.
When I was almost 12 years old, we sold our house in Northeast Philadelphia and moved to Newtown, a typical suburb of the city. I was about to start my 8th grade year and while my parents somewhat offered to allow me to continue at my current city school – I was excited for the change. I had no fear about missing out on my last year with friends since Kindergarten and making new ones. I was 100% onboard for being the new girl in a way smaller 8th grade class. Change was something I often craved and thoroughly enjoyed. Just ask my dad how often I rearranged the furniture in our house growing up.
But this new change. This change has me rattled. My normal you-can-do-anything-for-a-year-or-two-self wants to run and hide in her closet…covered in blankets that smell like our old house gazing at pictures of our crazy, chaotic and not always beautiful life in Philadelphia dreaming about nap times and adults in the home after 6 PM most nights.
As we adjust to life in Lake Placid and Dominique’s new schedule, which leaves me home alone with two exhausted toddlers, solo bedtime duty and slew of work videos that are days past due more often than not – I try to find the old me. I try to find our new normal for I know that as much as I crave to find our new routine, my kids want it a thousands times over. (Just watch Nola facetime my mom. It is funny, but also extremely sad).
So here I am writing this post after a bedtime filled with tears – more mine than the kids – with hours worth of work to catch. Except tonight I will not end my typical
rant complaint story with my bullet list of tips or tricks for adjusting to a new city. I have none. Zero. Nothing. I only have patience. Patience and the belief that I will look back on this post in a few months or maybe it will be in a few years and realize that this change – this hard and scary change – was exactly what I needed. Until then I will text my husband a thousand times telling him my life is ending. And please bring me an Arnold Palmer. From Chick-fil-a.*
*There nearest Chick-fil-A is 4 hrs 41 minutes away*