First day

This moment is a good moment to shake me from my blog-writing coma. 

Today is Jack's first full day of kindergarten. Yesterday, we had an open house for students and their parents, but today is the real deal.

Jack, Jossie and I were a few steps behind our neighbors as we walked to the school. We quickened our pace to catch up. Jack ran ahead and fell in line with two neighborhood boys. I was okay until that point - I watched how Jack tried to match their steps, readjusting his new backpack on his shoulders. He was looking to them on where he might fit in. Just a block or two away, all three boys were laughing together, blended together.

We hit the school grounds just as the first bell rang. Jack ran ahead, but then double-backed. He grabbed my hand, and I did my best to not cry. I grabbed Jossie's stroller and we pressed closer to the door, through the crowds of parents and students. "Where do I go?" Jack looked at me. I reminded him of what he needed to do and knelt down to hug and kiss him. Our new neighbor and friend, Annie, pressed her son's hand into Jack's hand, and together the boys walked into their classroom together, holding hands. Annie and I stood side-by-side, watching her youngest and my firstborn as they disappeared. I think we were symbolically holding hands too.

 

This is a big step for our boy, and I am very excited for this new journey. But for now, I think I just need a good cry at this milestone moment.

Taking stock

There are a lot of cries bigger in this world than me being anxious about moving and finding a new caregiver for the kids. But it's all weighing me down. I sought peace at church this warm summer morning, and I brought Jossie with me. She held my hand with one chubby hand, and held her Minnie Mouse Lip Smacker in the other. She noted we were both wearing pretty dresses.

Church was at its best; the choir was all-women, and we sang comforting hymns. We sang my favorite hymn in fact. We had it at Jeremy's and my wedding.

For the Beauty of the Earth

For the beauty of the earth,

for the beauty of the skies,

for the love which from our birth

over and around us lies,

Lord of all, to thee we raise

this our grateful hymn of praise.

For the beauty of each hour

of the day and of the night,

hill and vale, and tree and flower,

sun and moon, and stars of light, Lord of all…

For the joy of human love,

brother, sister, parent, child,

friends on earth, and friends above,

Pleasures pure and undefiled, Lord of all…

For each perfect gift of thine

to our race so freely given,

graces human and divine,

flowers of earth and buds of heaven, Lord of all…

For thy Church which evermore

lifteth holy hands above,

offering up on every shore

Her pure sacrifice of love, Lord of all…

We packed this afternoon. As I lowered plastic boxes of Legos into a moving box, I thought I'd get Jack's thoughts. "I think these Legos are a little nervous to move, Jack," I said. "What do you think I should tell them?"

He thought for a second. "How should I know, Mom," he answered. "I don't speak Lego."

Happy week ahead, friends.

In-between

We have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?

Right now, I'm living in-between. I'm still a city dweller with a husband, two kids, and my non-profit job. But a month from tomorrow, I will be a suburban mom with a husband, two kids, and my non-profit job.

I grew up in the suburbs. This should not be new to me. But I've spent my adult life as a city dweller. Though I never think of myself as a city person.

I am rambling.

We are moving. To a 1908 house with a white picket fence in a lakeside community. It is a foursquare house with a smooth stucco finish. Frank Lloyd Wright fancied stucco finishes.  It it not big but it is perfect and charming. Perfectly charming. That's why Jeremy and I wrote an offer for it in the back of our broker's car the first time we saw it.
This house feels right to us. Since the offer was accepted, we've had a chance to meet the mom of the house. She clasped my hands and told me we were just the family she wanted for this house, and I told her we would take good care of it.

Our new neighborhood is full of children, and there is a park that serves as a community gathering place down the block. We can walk to Jack's school, two different business districts, the library, the grocery store, the commuter train and Northwestern football games on autumn Saturdays. Every time we visit, the realization that this is a very good idea for our family sinks in deeper and deeper.

And back in the city, I think about what we've had here. I think about it a lot and how things will change. Jack at five years old can hail a cab. Our favorite lunchtime spot after Jack's school day is in the seventh tallest building in the U.S. Jeremy and I can be home from work within an $8-cab ride. We can sit on a 4th-floor porch and take in the Chicago skyline. I know to do my errands either on a weeknight after 8 p.m. or on a weekend before 8 a.m. to avoid traffic.

In the city, we can be part of communities - work, school, church - but we can also walk down the sidewalk in the anonymity of the city. Already in our new town, I visited a preschool where the director not only knew the family we were buying from but also knew the family of the house our sellers were buying, if that makes sense.

So this is my toe-touch in May to this beloved blog of mine. More to come; I promise. Happy weekend, friends.