So, hello.
I know I've been gone for a while.
Moving is exciting. Until it isn't. When the newness wears off and the real work of navigating new school systems and trying to find extracurricular activities, and doctors, and supermarkets starts. And your kids struggle to find their place and it makes you feel helpless that you can't help more. And suddenly looking through the rear-view mirror looks awfully rosy.
No one really wants to hear all of that self-centered whining. Which I know is what it is. Because really, I have a beautiful house, and my kids are adjusting (some better than others) and we are making our way. Today is 70* out, so maybe that is why it feels like there is finally light at the end of the tunnel.
The kids have all suddenly seemed to have shot up and grown up. Everywhere I look there are wrist-bones popping out of sleeves and ankle bones peeking out below hems. Tritan's voice cracks less and less everyday and mostly settles on a gravelly tenor. He orders from the adult menu and usually looks around for more.
Athena's 12th birthday snuck in among the unpacked boxes, snow days, and new school schedules. Luckily, she has already made a few bffs and we've planned a girls night out--3 weeks late for her birthday, but fortunately she's not picky. She graduated from Primary and has jumped into YW with her whole heart. As we've looked at dance studios here, I had to let go of my dream for her of being a prima ballerina as I've watched her enthusiasm for ballet falter. But watching her come rushing out of her new lyrical dance class, her eyes bright with delight, it wasn't too hard to let go of the reins and let her make her own new choices. This will let her be more flexible for doing all of the activities she wants to try. She's already tried out for the middle school musical. She didn't get a part, but she surprised me with her reaction to that too--"Well, now I know what I need to do to get better," she said. Where do these kids come from? If they came from me they would be wallowing in self-pity for at least a day.
Paris has become a bookworm. The kid who wouldn't read a book 2 years ago now reads a book a day. He tells us all about the plot in long-winded sentences any time we get in the car. We try to stay interested. He has had about 3 sad days this entire move. He really has a gift for always being happy.
And Apollo. Apollo is climbing a very steep mountain. New Jersey was great for their modulated special-ed program, but in states that don't have the same funding (like NC) it's sink or swim. His choices here are to be in a self-contained class with very low-functioning students, or to be put in a regular class with a one-hour pull out help session. We opted for the latter and he has diligently worked to try to keep up. He's exhausted when he gets home and that means that we have a lot of melt-downs daily, but I can see that his reading is already improving. (Maybe a little pushing won't be a bad idea--if it doesn't break him). Meanwhile, he is a genius at math.
You would think that moving would get easier the more you do it. But I've also heard it explained that each move is almost like a death--you have to say good-bye to the way you lived your life, and start over new. And no matter how many times I do it, it doesn't get any easier to start over. But I continue with my mantra--"Faith is better than fear" and add this thought from Pres. Dallin H. Oaks--"faith prepares us to deal with life's opportunities--to take advantage of those that are received and persist through the dissappointments of those that are lost."
Here's to life's opportunities. Salud.
