Thursday, March 25, 2010


I think about moving.  I mean I think about it A LOT.  Like there isn't a day that I don't think about it.  That I don't think about selling my house and moving.  That I don't come up with lists in my head of things that need to be done before we even call a Realtor to put the house on the market.  That I don't think about how much we paid for our house and how much we want to sell it for but how much we'll actually be able to sell it for.

Really, I think about moving a lot.

I don't think about the house that we'll move to because that would just get my hopes up.  I don't look for homes that are for sale because I see no point in readying myself for something that isn't coming.  I don't peruse open houses and randomly pop in to them on Sunday afternoons because I fall in love with other peoples' houses far too easily.

But, God, do I think about moving A LOT.

Why, you ask.  Let me tell you.

We bought this house as an investment.  We bought this house to sell it.  We were idiots.  We bought this house in an area of the state that was growing rapidly and then when the bubble burst, it rained down all over us.  And we are just too far.

Our plan was clear: we were only staying a few years.  We are at 5 right now.  Or we will be this Memorial Day Weekend.  I would say that's about 3 years too many for me.  But I have learned to be happy here.  I have learned to embrace our home in the mountains and farmlands of NJ.  I have learned that there is a reason for everything and for some reason we are meant to still be here.

But, CRAP, I think about a moving ALL THE TIME!

And it appears that we continue to be stuck.  We continue to be plagued by home prices that are ridiculously low and taxes that are unbearably high.  We are loaded down with one of the highest costs of living in the country and we are stuck. 

What are our choices?  Where do we go?

Any move will bring us out of state and away from family.  It will take us further away from the things that we care about and love.  It will remove us from jobs that we are both finally happy with. It will leave us with a new beginning but not one that we accept voluntarily. And we don't want that.

So, we sit.  We sit on our ridiculous taxes and astronomical cost of living.  We sit on roads clogged with unbearable traffic each morning.  We sit in a home that was meant to be sold quickly but hasn't been sold but rather remodeled and fixed and changed so as to boost it's value for when it's time to sell.

And we wait.  And we think about moving.  A lot. 

Wednesday, March 10, 2010


It's funny when we started having kids I was certain that I did not want any girls.  No matter how many kids we had, I was pretty sure I wanted all boys.  I especially wanted our first to be a boy.  I figured after that if I had a girl, I could "deal".

I clearly remember the day I found out that our second baby would be a girl.  It was earlier than the normal 18-20 week anatomy scan, probably around 13 or 14 weeks.  Because of my pregnancy status of high risk I had an ultrasound almost every single week of my pregnancy.  I was in my OB's office for a routine weekly visit (yes, I had WEEKLY visits my ENTIRE pregnancy- sometimes twice a week!) and we were doing the ultrasound and I asked my doctor if it was too early to tell.  She told me that sometimes they can see things and sometimes the baby just isn't ready to show.

Well, my baby was ready to show.

My doctor told me with, as she called it, 90% certainty that we were having a girl.  I was excited and just relieved to know what we were having.

And then I went to Babies R Us and that's when the "fear" set in.  I was standing in the midst of pink ruffle dresses and little black patent leather shoes and shirts and pants with hearts and flowers on them and I felt the panic attack start.

I had no freaking idea how to raise a girl. 

I didn't take dance.  I didn't do a lot of the typical girl things and if I did, I didn't do them for long.  Frilly dresses and hair bows were not my thing.

My daughter was doomed.

My pregnancy progressed and we created a room befitting of a girl, even though there were points where I was sure that the ultrasounds (because I asked at every single one) were wrong.  We created hot pink walls with pastel stripes along the bottom.  We were given bedding in browns and pinks that screamed out classy, chic, baby girl.  We were given and purchased endless amounts of pink and purple onesies and dresses and shirts with hearts and flowers.  And tights.  I had tons of tights.

And the first question out of my mouth at the end of my labor (after inquiring about her health) "Are you sure it's a girl because I have a hot pink room at home that I don't think a boy is going to like?!"

The stares and laughing were overwhelming and my delivery room, including my husband, froze for just a moment.

And it was in that moment that I realized that I wanted a girl.  Maybe not two girls, but definitely the one I had just given life to.

Last night, I experienced something with my daughter that I've thought about but didn't think would happen for a number of years. 

Not realizing it was almost 10pm (and yes my child was still awake thanks to the 2 hour nap her father allowed her at 5pm) I put the movie "Mamma Mia" into my laptop.  The husband was watching something on TV and while I should have gone to bed, I didn't.  From the very first song, my daughter was HOOKED!

In the hopes of getting her to fall asleep before 3am I decided to head up to bed with the computer and the movie and my daughter.  We snuggled under the covers and watched the entire movie- even after daddy came upstairs and jokingly chastised me for still having her awake.

We sang along.  She danced.  She bopped her little head.  And she snuggled up to me and comfortably watched the musical story unfold and resolve itself.

More importantly than understanding the movie or listening to the music, my daughter and I bonded last night.  And it wasn't for the first time but it was in a way that we haven't done before.

Last night I experienced something with my daughter that I could have had with my son but it would not have been the same.  It was special and unique. 

And it made me realize that while having boys is wonderful, and I don't ever have to fear PMS with them, having a daughter is something special and something I am so glad I haven't missed out on.

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