DIARY

DIARY

Holding Pattern

This trip has not gone exactly as I planned.

I had this fantasy of what was going to happen: we were going to spend a couple of days looking at every house on the market in a good school district within our price range (which is a total of about twelve), then spend a couple of days making offers and dealing with logistics while also slotting in some fun - a trip to the Children's Discovery Museum, maybe, or the pony farm at Half Moon Bay. (I'll write about how the house hunting part went later; I'm feeling all superstitious and want to see how it comes out in the wash before I make any predictions.)

And then that "carsick" thing that I mentioned the other day? Turned out to be one of those 24-hour bugs. And on the way to urgent care with Indy at 7AM to make sure it was nothing more than that, I discovered that whoops, I had it too (and let me tell you: I discovered this in basically the most dramatic way possible; I won't go into details because eww, but…EWW). So post urgent-care, we spent the day doing literally nothing while doing our best to inhale as much Pedialyte and water as possible, respectively. We did so much "nothing," in fact, that it became actually kind of fun in its own way - our B&B was cozy, and airy, and there's something to be said for a day of cartoons and not much else.

There was even one moment, right before we went to bed, when we were laying on the pillow and looking at each other and just smiling, and Indy reached out and stroked my cheek, in exactly the same way I stroke his when he's feeling bad. It made the entire day - this whole trip, this whole move, this whole life - just…worth it. Kids have a way of doing that, right when you need it most.

DIARY

All Those I Don’t Knows

I write a lot here about how nervous I am about this move. How I wonder where we will live, and how my work will translate to a whole new state, and how our life will look once we're out on the other side. I write about me me me because this site is about many things but mostly what's going on in my head, but trust me:

It does not escape me that this is a big deal not just for myself and Kendrick, but for the whole family. And mostly for Indy.

We're out here in South Bay (is it "the" South Bay? Or just "South Bay"?) house hunting and getting to know the area we're going to live in better, and yesterday we were at lunch, and I looked at my son and thought what a cool thing, you know, getting to go on a trip all alone with him. Before Goldie was born I spent a lot of time wondering whether I'd ever get this again - this special time just hanging out, just us two - and while I don't feel like the time that we get to spend together has lessened now that she's here, it's still not all that often that I get to sit with him, asking him questions and listening to his answers and just being there.

That's why I decided to take him with me, you know: because he's going to remember this. And I want him to know that he gets time with his family, time with his sister, time with his dad, and time with me - all of us get to have adventures, together and separately and every which way. I thought about this trip a lot when I was in Florida with my own dad. I hope I get chances to spend time like this with my son forever.

SNAPSHOTS

Signs Point To Go

Yesterday Morgan and I took our kids down to the beach next to the Golden Gate bridge, and laid back on blankets and watched them running around discovering crabs and making sandcastles and high-fiving - god, they are cute together - and I told her how strange it was to be leaving a place that I know so well for a place I don't know at all, not even a little bit. Sure, we live in the suburbs now, but we're still right there next to a city that feels like my city. Every corner I turn is filled with memories that I don't only "remember," but feel. And we're moving to another suburb next to another city, but when we drive through the streets of San Francisco I don't see a single signpost I recognize. I don't know where to go to get a cup of coffee. I don't know which direction to drive in if I want to see the water.

I'm nervous to be leaving a city that feels like a part of my bones for a city that doesn't even contain a whisper of a memory for me. I know I'll get to know whatever small town we end up in well, but I wonder if I'll ever really know San Francisco the way I know New York, or ever really feel like it's "home."

So we were laying there in the sand, talking about these things and watching our kids splashing down by the edge of the water, and all of a sudden I saw it:

DIARY

FINE I’M UP

You know how I (by which I mean "parents") can't really handle staying awake past…oh, I don't know, like three seconds after The Bachelor ends? Because there is a one hundred percent chance that very small people will be all MOM I WANT A MUFFIN at the butt crack of dawn?

Well, even when those small people aren't technically there - and thus will not be waking you up - your body apparently can't handle the idea of awakeness post-ten P.M. Or at least mine can't. Very, very rarely (like on Valentine's Day, for example) I will drag this ancient carcass of mine out until midnight, but let me promise you: I am not happy about it.

But I figured Miami would be a little different. Because, you know…it's Miami. Miami is for staying awake. Dad and I spent one night at my friends Jeremy and Eric's place before heading home, and my plan was to be a functional human being who could hang like an actual person and speak in actual sentences for the duration of the party they were throwing, and then ten o'clock rolled around and I fell asleep while sitting fully upright at the table. In front of people. So I went into the bedroom "just to lie down just for a second," and:


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