So, you’ve probably been wondering where the hell I am, as normally I don’t take a shit without blogging about. I alluded to it in an earlier post, but we have our house under contract and are moving. I haven’t really had time to digest what that means for us, but I do know that I am having some serious identity crisis. I am a city girl now. I have lived in East Atlanta almost as long as I lived in my parents’ last house. But now the conflict between personal identity and parenthood has come to a head, and we made the decision to move into a better school district. We tried our damnedest to find a house we could afford in a decent intown school district to no avail. We just can’t afford private school. So, we are off to the burbs. No, we didn’t go whole hog and buy a house in Cumming or Suwanee, although we did consider the pros and cons of doing so. But when it came down to what we really wanted (shorter commutes, better access to the city (Braves game, etc.), and proximity to my sister (and my impending nephew!), we decided on . . . Atlanta. Turns out Atlanta is pretty big. The Atlanta we decided on is Dekalb Co., barely outside the perimeter, and in a great elementary district. We are getting a decent amount of house for our money, we will be close to some other friends who live in the area, and we will be staying true to our promise to educate our children well, which is the most important thing in the long run.
So, this week, Todd and I are counting down our last days in the EAV, and pretty bummed out about it. Sure, we will still come over here to drink and see old neighbors, and see shows, and for his book club, and when I just have to have a Blue Bacon Burger, but it is one of those moments where we feel really torn, and we know that having children means sacrifice and this is a sacrifice for us in many ways.
So, my sister (a.k.a. “The Best Sister in the World”) is watching the kids today while Todd and I make a seriously huge dent in the packing. (This of course also included a two-pint lunch at the Flatiron; All work and no play makes Annie very sad.) Afterwards, Todd started packing up Rollie’s room, and I have been packing the kitchen. On a side note, packing the kitchen is like playing a very weird game of Tetris; the spices are particularly satisfying to pack tightly together in the most streamlined of space-saving manners.
I was listening to an Itunes mix, with an ass ton of music on shuffle, and the Husker Du song, “These Important Years” came on, and I was reminded of the summer of 1990, packing up all of my stuff to leave for college, listening to that very song. It was one of those really strange deja vu moments, where time seems to have passed in a millisecond and to stand still at the same time, and I could be 18 or 25 or 30 or 36 (minus the tight abs and ass, of course) and I have that same sense of bittersweet excitement and sadness. The difference is that, at 36, I know that change is almost always a positive, and i have the power of hindsight, of knowing that i never regretted any of my moves, not one. They all meant the end of things that I look back fondly on now, but they also always meant that i was about to embark on something completely new that I had never experienced before: New friends, new love, new job, new place all by myself, new place all the way across the country, promotions, and learning, and husbands, and dogs, and cats, and kids. All of these were impossible if not for the constant change. Change is good. Change is responsible for these important years.