I just realized the end of December is three weeks away. That means we are moving out of Manhattan in three weeks. I have to pull Rebecca from her beloved school. I have to pack. I have to throw out. I have to organize. I have to turn off utilities and turn on utilities. I have to understand the difference between oil and gas. #blerg.
I just spent the last hour awake in my bed thinking of a way to get my husband to agree to stay an extra two weeks in our apartment. Our lease is up at the end of January.
Wiggle room.
Move in pieces.
Easier a little at a time.
Cheaper to move mid-month.
Kwanzaa...
My guess is when he wakes up, he'll look at me like I'm nuts and simply say "no way."
When we move out it will be almost exactly a lucky 13 years to the day I moved in to Manhattan. I was a single, young, chipper college graduate who lived across the street from my office on 23rd Street, came home during my lunch hour to nap, made more money than I knew what to do with, went out, treated my friends to shows and fancy dinners and traveled.
Just, you know -- throwing caution to the wind. I was 22.
Remember that? I don't. That's why you took pictures. Look at them. Don't you look well-rested? Remember sleeping till 11 a.m.? Remember brunch? I don't.
Skip ahead. I met my husband and we moved on up to the East Side. To a (far from) deluxe apartment in the sky. We lived there happily for five years until we found out we brought home a souvenir from our trip to Greece. She'll be 4 in February.
As many New York City folk do, we moved into a bigger apartment while I was pregnant -- a bigger ONE bedroom apartment -- thinking we'd put up a wall in the large living room to create a second bedroom -- which never happened.
Rebecca arrived and it wasn't so bad having her in our room. Cut to one year, the wall conversation came up, eh. Two years, eh, three years! Eh.
Truth is -- we kind of love having her in our room. We have a room divider so we can't see her and she can't see us. Don't worry, we have boundaries.
We like hearing her delicious breathing as we fall asleep at night.
My husband is addicted to her white noise machine.
We don't spend much time in the bedroom anyway, so it doesn't matter.
We aren't nuts, it just works.
In February, we finally had a date night which, of course, meant we found out number two was on his way. So... we decided our tenement lifestyle had to be upgraded and we really needed more space. We bought a house in the 'burbs. Whoa. That was the "adult" thing to do. (Looking over both shoulders for an adult).
So here we are as that move date looms and I find myself in the land of bittersweet (chocolate). (Sorry, I couldn't resist...)
For example:
Bitter - I will have to take a car everywhere.
Sweet - I can take a car everywhere!
Sigh.
I'm the kind of person who takes advantage of the city for all it has to offer -- restaurants, shows, museums, sights, parks, events, activities. You name it. Yes, I've slowed down in the last few years, and definitely in the last eight weeks, but the fruit has always been just a 6 train ride away. The world has been my oyster. The things to do I did. I have 'shpilkes,' as they say.
That's not to imply I won't come into the city after we move because I will (I won't). But the ease and availability will be gone.
I'm thinking of the isolation of a house vs. the social nature of my apartment building in which the other moms and I have created our own "Red Tent."
I think how Rebecca is that precocious 3-year-old talking about her weekly visits to The Met. And I love that.
Rebecca's Weekly Class at The Metropolitan Museum of Art - "Start with Art"
I think of how my two children will have completely different experiences in their first four years of life.
My First Visit to the Great Lawn in Central Park with Evan - December 2, 2013
My First Visit to the Great Lawn in Central Park with Rebecca - March 1, 2010
I think about how I won't be able to run downstairs to the supermarket in my building if I need milk.
I think of throwing my garbage down a chute three doors away and having it magically disappear.
I think of how after trying every single class for kids on the Upper East Side and finding the ones I love, I have to start over.
However, in exchange, I will get:
- A WASHER & DRYER!
- A separate room for each of my children!
- More than one bathroom (no more "Mommy I have to go nooooow" evictions)!
- A dedicated room for each activity (no more food crumbs in the play space)!
- A social life again on Saturday nights with free babysitting!
- A bedroom to sleep in without a Rapunzel nightlight!
- A backyard!
- A garbage disposal!
- A refrigerator with a water dispenser!
- An office so I won't have to write hiding in the bathroom at night. Lights on, door closed!
So, I will be giving up Gotham for Long Island. So? What is 30 miles? I don't know if I'm sad to leave the city or sad to leave the walking-everywhere-still-holding-on-to-my-20's city version of me.
I'm excited to move to the next chapter in my family's life, but also freaking out that there's some sort of SUV in my near future. Mom jeans. A volvo. Late 30s.
I guess I have to do what I tell Rebecca to do when I know it will be a positive outcome but she's fighting it...
Hey... I'll try the suburbs
The suburbs sound good
I will like them Stacey I am