The Big Move

This move has and will continue to have its challenges.

I spent an entire Luke Bryan concert balling my eyes out because I was surrounded with some of the best friends I've ever had. And, because, well, wine.
Along with the decision to move came the decision to leave well established jobs.
Our families will no longer be right there whether for holidays, help with the kiddos, or an impromptu lunch.
Day trips to Boston or quick weekends in New Hampshire will no longer be the norm.
And, now a visit home will require a plane ticket and expensive dog sitters.

The challenges won't stop from there, as we adjust to new people, new jobs, crazy thunderstorms, missing our people and places, and remember that this isn't a vacation - it's our new life. (So, like, brewery hopping and unplanned tattoos on a random Tuesday is probably frowned upon?)

But, if it's one thing that our 6-month-struggle to sell our home has taught us, it's how much we really want this. We became so tired of cleaning, open houses, showings, and disappointment that we could have easily thrown in the towel. We asked ourselves if it was a sign, if this move wasn't meant for us, or if there was something else in store for our future. When it came time to either accept an offer much lower than we expected, or stay put, we decided to take the leap and make North Carolina happen.

So to all the challenges that have and will come up, I accept you. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, if you will. I am so ready to struggle, as odd as that may sound, because with every struggle I've endured, I've also grown. Each and every hard time has taught me something about myself; it's the mirror held in front of my face, revealing every raw truth and vulnerable part of me. It's my permission to cry, to ask for help, to express my needs, to hold myself accountable, and to speak honestly -and sometimes it even shows me how badly I need to tweeze my eyebrows.

Anytime I feel scared about moving, I remember something really important: home is where my husband is. I can't help but feel so lucky to have married someone who was willing to look at themselves as much as I do, and put in the endless work it takes for a marriage to work. And, I mean, I like looking at him too, so that's a plus. But really...knowing on our hard days we will be there for each other, for our daughters, and also show up for ourselves, makes me know that whether we are in Massachusetts surrounded by family (and freaking cold weather) or isolated down in North Carolina, being together is home, and we will make any location work for that reason.

There's guilt of taking our kids away from their grandparents.
There's fear of losing connections with distance.
There's worry of all the "hows".
But...
There's excitement of change.
There's a feeling of bravery.
There's more opportunities to wear Birkenstocks.

My little family of 4 -and the 3 pups- are about to go on the greatest adventure. It'll be scary, but it'll also be awesome. It will show our girls they can do anything and go anywhere in this life. It will reveal strengths we didn't know we had and weaknesses we need to tackle. It will shine light on true friends and allow us to appreciate family all the more. It will show us whether our love for breweries is a cute hobby or a slight problem.

I look forward to all we learn from ya, Wilmington.

Coming Home

These last two weekends, I have gone into "holy shit we're moving away so I need to do all the things" mode. First, I took a solo trip to Boston to spend the night with my brother and sister in law, and second, a trip to New Hampshire to spend some time alone with my dad (a.k.a The Dadster). Both trips were refreshing in their own way, especially when you have two kids and three dogs at home; it was a rare treat to only have myself to take care of for the first time since becoming a mother. No emergency snacks to pack for the endlessly hungry Hannah, no cringe-worthy body talks with Lyla, no massive dog crates to pack up or #2's to clean up - just me, the music I chose for the drive, the snacks I didn't have to share, and the uninterrupted conversations that actually got completed.  It was time cherished, especially with those views from the mountain top, but as much as I enjoyed the rare alone time, I couldn't wait to get back to my family, which I realized was the best part about getting away.

It was easy to go to bed alone, without any bedtime routines or dogs to let out, but I didn't prefer it. I missed how many things the girls would rattle off as I tucked them in, as if we would never speak again. I missed climbing into bed with my husband, taking forever to decide which show to put on, only for us to fall asleep within minutes. I missed warm cheek kisses in the morning and smoothing out little bed heads. I missed the kiss I get on the shoulder before sunrise when my husband gets out of bed before me. I missed it all, which actually made me feel really good. I could recognize how different and often easier things could be without a marriage to nurture or children to raise, and yet I'd take the difficulties of daily life over not having that life any day.

In a way, I was relieved to feel that I truly loved my life; that I didn't regret having children or getting married young once I got a taste of freedom for the first time in 10 years. There was a part of me that feared different feelings once I could step away and take a deep breath, that I would wish to be able to do things like that more, that I would envy a different life, but no freaking way. My husband and I missed each other as if we were newly dating and counting down the hours until we could kiss again. My kiddos would FaceTime each day and text throughout to keep me updated on their activities and "miss you" moments. I believe part of what made my time away so great what knowing what I had to come home to.

So, I guess the whole point of this post was to surrender to a cliche: home is not where your house is, but where your heart is. I thought I would feel waves of depression coming home to Massachusetts when we thought we would be settled in North Carolina by now, when really, the location didn't matter because it's where my family was waiting for me. Through the frustrations of recent renovations, the struggle to sell our house, the inability to plan, and, really, a lack of control, coming home showed me that we can wade through the moving bullshit and still be happy now. There was nothing like those big hugs and wet kisses I got when I pulled up to the curb, or that one of a kind hug that's tailored just for me, making me feel so safe and loved - I will have that wherever we are, and that's what coming home is.

Embracing Change

Throughout my childhood, I didn't experience an exuberant amount of change. I lived in the same childhood home until I was 19 and moved into my first apartment. My parents didn't divorce until I was 16, leaving all holiday traditions, family gatherings, and yearly vacations in tact. There were no sudden deaths, no wild illnesses, no major house renovations, no change in careers for my parents...just a life of consistency and stability for this girl. Most parents strive for this life style for their children, always pleading that "children need stability", but I found that it set me up for failure when it came to change.

First, it was minor things, like my best friend's parents renovating parts of their home; with every rug torn up I mourned over my memories of rolling around on it, for every piece of furniture replaced I remembered the crazy amounts of peanut butter MnM's shared on it - it was a little ridiculous, and not even my house!

Then, naturally, changes became bigger. Motherhood, marriage, moving away from home - big changes that, yes, warrant tears and some struggle, but I was still effected by the lesser changes, like when my husband would switch shifts at work; the thought of changing my work, exercise, and kiddo routines always sent me into a fit of bitter tears. Recently, when my father moved from Worcester to New Hampshire, I became what I believe to be a bit depressed after he sold my childhood home. I would climb right into bed after work, and allow those childish crocodile tears to slide down my face while I snuggled my daughters and convulsed over memory after memory. And of course, there was then the added change of my father being nearly 4 hours away; no more popping in for lunch, no more day trips to swim in the pool, no more inviting all my high school friends over for a visit when we were in town. That change was a rough one.

It was rough, anyway, until I realized that this change played a big role in my ability to put my big girl pants on and actually embrace change. I was able to see that, although we saw my dad less often, our time together when we did visit was cherished much more. Quick lunches turned into weekend hiking trips, afternoons spent swimming turned into lake side fishing, and quick catch-up chats became more in depth conversations. I was devastated, and yet, I was okay. Knowing I was okay after such a big change made me feel strong, and aided in my willingness to move to North Carolina when the opportunity came our way.

Now, instead of fearing change, I am looking forward to it, because what is change other than an opportunity to learn, grow, and discover more about yourself? I am not naive enough to think this move will be easy; we will miss our family, friends, familiarity, clients, and so forth like crazy. We will struggle with feelings of loneliness, we will question ourselves, we will have doubts. And yet, I'm looking forward to the struggle. I can't wait to see what it's like to only have my husband and kids in my corner, and see how we deal with the balance of our own needs while also being there for one another. After 30 years of living close to family, I can't wait to see how our relationships grow fonder with distance, and our time together more be cherished on visits. I can't wait to discover strengths we never knew we had, to see our ability to overcome something so difficult, to show our children that anything is possible, and to strengthen the bond with my husband and daughters.

My hope for myself as we get closer to the big move is to appreciate what I have right here, right now, and to not look back once we are settled 15 hours away. I hope to be able to engulf myself in all the feels such a big change can create; I want to feel the sadness, I want to feel the nerves, I want to feel the fear and the anxiety and the worry, because sitting with those feelings and truly allowing myself to have them will only make those better feelings of excitement, hope, and dream chasing all the more enticing. My hope for my girls is that this move will teach them that despite where they grew up, despite where your family resides, despite the hardships big change can bring, that they can be anywhere they dream of being. I look forward to showing them that yes, this will be hard, but yes, we will be okay. Because, after all, change is inevitable, and that's life.

Let's Sell This Thing

I woke up today feeling optimistic, after a few rough weeks of nothing but negativity.
A couple of weeks ago, a client shared her story of house selling struggles, and told me about this statue; you bury it upside down in your front yard, and it brings your home luck in order to sell. I hadn't given it much thought, thinking it was a religious something-or-other that I'd be unfairly dabbling in for the house to sell, until Hannah came home from class last night with the same statue-story from a classmate's mother. After nearly 8 weeks of our Acushnet house on the market and not a single offer (despite what seems to be endless "interest"), I am willing to try anything. Amazon Prime will be delivering our new little friend tomorrow, where I will hope and wish and pray as I bury it with crossed fingers.

I don't know if it's new hope from the statue stories, or just my body being exhausted from all the unknowns, but today is a day I will focus only on the thought of our house selling; not the what-if's, not the unknowns, not the preferable timeline or our bottom dollar or our current financial struggles - just the thought of that perfect family coming in, falling in love with our home, and presenting us with our first offer. According to our realtor, it's all or nothing; she says that you either get no offers or a lot at once. I'm focusing on the ladder. Now that the summer holidays are settling down, maybe it's time for buyers to get serious. Maybe our next open house will be our biggest success, with multiple showings and multiple offers. Maybe all this worrying was for nothing, because we're being impatient and controlling and anxious. Maybe this is a time we will look back on and think "remember when we thought that house would never sell and this move would never happen?"

We've been realistic, too realistic, about what not moving would look like. We've put our minds through hell thinking of how we can't afford not to move, how I will feel having to endure another New England winter, how utterly disappointed, angry, and devastated we would be to watch this dream slip away simply because we can't sell our house. And today, I feel like I have thought about all of that quite enough. It would royally suck, and I am aware of that, but focusing on the potential suck-factor isn't selling our house. It's preventing me from enjoying summer, the season I wait 9 months each year for. It's filling our house with negative vibes, and that can't be helping the process at all!

This house will sell. It will sell to the right buyer, in the right time frame. Do I hope that time frame is this summer? Absolutely. However, if it's one thing the fear of not moving at all has taught me, is that the ultimate goal is just to make it to North Carolina; even if that means losing the house we're under contract with, even if that means the kids have to start school here, even if it takes longer than we had hoped for...we just want to be down there. And so we will be, because it's what we want, what we've worked so hard to achieve, what we've spent the last 4 months planning for, drained our accounts for,  and turned our lives upside down for.

Our relationship has always been based on signs, and all the stars have aligned for us in terms of this move so far. Our only stall has been the house selling, and as people keep reminding me, 8 weeks on the market is still not that long. We are being impatient, that's simply it. We heavily believed that the house would sell in days or weeks, not months. We had high expectations (fuck expectations) that failed us and we let it get us down. No more. Today I choose optimism, positivity, and encouragement. THIS HOUSE WILL SELL. It will because it has to, it's our dream, our adventure, our life. We will get down to North Carolina, and possibly (hopefully!!) with the help of our new little statue arriving tomorrow. The shovel is ready and my hopes are high. Let's get this thing sold!!!

North Carolina Bound

This decision to move has been absolute craziness.

Despite the fact that my husband has talked about moving to North Carolina since I met him, there were two big factors this year that solidified the decision for us; one was being on a beach in Florida during the winter, and thinking "hmmm...this not being cold thing is pretty nice". The other, was a co-worker of my husband who was about to enter retirement and found out he had cancer with a limited amount of time to live. These two different perspectives on both location and living life gave us the permission we needed to really look into this move for ourselves. And, as excited as we were to take this risk, it's been anything but easy.

No one wants to see their children, grandchildren, best friends, or massage therapist (wink) move away, so telling people our news hasn't quite been filled with hugs and congratulations, but more with tears, disappointment, worry, and lack of support. Understandably so, but not the best feeling nonetheless.

And of course we are scared ourselves! We are leaving everything and everyone we've ever known. It's an even bigger leap for my husband who has lived in this same area for 32 years, and has a state job with all the bells and whistles. But, at this point, it's scarier for us to not try. After all these years of talking and wondering and wishing, we have to make the jump and just see. Even if it means falling on our faces. Even if it doesn't turn out to be what we've imagined. We have so many questions that can only be answered by just going for it. There are no failures, just lessons learned. Because it could be everything we want it to be, and could be the perfect decision for our family - and there's only one way to find out.

Our incredible therapist has been instrumental in this big decision by showing us what a gift it is for our children. He explained how we tend to feel stuck where we are raised; our family is there, our friends our there, our familiar doctors, gyms, restaurants - you name it - it's all in one place. And the longer we stay, the harder it is to leave; family member's get sick, children become more attached, work ladders are climbed - the thought of leaving it all can seem impossible. And that's exactly why we are doing it. Our daughter's are young enough that they can make new friends and adapt, and yet old enough that they need babysitters less and less. Our parents are in good health and don't rely on our care. Our relationship with our friends has become so strong that we don't doubt they'll visit - and vice versa. We can't thank our therapist enough for shining light on these realities and supporting us throughout the process.

The strength in our little family of 4 has never been more visible, as we know we are all each other will have for those first several months of moving and adjusting. We communicate with the kiddos every step of the way, and have each others backs when support is limited. We talk endlessly about our fears, the potential struggles, the what-ifs, and together come up with a game plan for when those tough times hit. We talk with excitement about our new possibilities (the girls are particularly excited about learning to surf), and all we could make possible in our new southern life together. If it weren't for years of personal growth, a willingness to work hard, growing along the same path, and supporting each other along the way, this move wouldn't be possible. I am so proud of my husband for taking such a big risk to live out a lifetime dream, and the work he's put into himself as an individual, a husband and a father. I am so proud of my daughters for voicing their doubts and desires about the move, and for being our little buddies through it all. I'm excited for our 3 dogs to have the outdoor life they deserve, and for myself as a runner to have less mitten-wearing months on the pavement.

This move is terrifying, heart breaking, stressful, anxiety-ridden, and yet despite all of that, still something we want more than anything. Here's to risk taking, the strength of our family, and to figuring it all out as we go.