When Life Hands You Lemons…Add Vodka

Last week I had an interesting conversation with a close friend. I was discussing (oh, all right, I was whining) about some of the hiccups that have occurred in the past 10 weeks since our family had uprooted our lives and moved 1000 miles away. Some little, some big. All just different from our life before. Most I was prepared for, some I was not. She asked me an interesting question. She asked if I thought that moving had been a mistake. Well, of course in true Gen X Mama fashion, I was immediately annoyed by this question. Even if I did think it was a mistake, there is nothing I can do about it now! I mean, c’mon! We moved. We can’t just up and leave again two months into this gig.

But, over the past few days, I have given her question more thought. Did we make a mistake? This move was not mandatory for The Dude’s job. His company did not require us to transfer here. This was a decision we made of our own free will. The opportunities here are much better for the advancement of his career, but overall, this was a voluntary decision. We had a very good life in NY. We were surrounded by family. Most of the time that was good, other times, not so much (but that is a whole other discussion!). The kids were in a great school. I was active in our temple. We had an amazing circle of friends. Life was good. We were happy.

It took The Dude and I two years of endless research and discussions to make this decision. Back and forth debates. Several ups and many downs. Would we find a town that we like as much as the one we lived in? Another house where we could make a home in? Friendships and kindred spirits that could relate to all of our quirkiness? And what about the kids? Lil’ E was young enough to adjust fairly quickly, but what about X Girl and X Boy? Were we going to ruin their lives? Was a move going to send them over the therapists couch edge (I mean more than we already have.)? There were thousands of questions but not many answers. But, we decided to go ahead and take the plunge.

So, here we are, 10 weeks later and I am pondering this question. Did we make a mistake? For the sake of my kids, I can’t doubt or question this move. It absolutely was the right decision. But, there are times, when I am alone, that I do question this decision. Like when I am having a hard time finding a pediatrician that was as amazing as Dr. Green was. Or when I am searching for a preschool that will offer everything that I am looking for, for Lil’ E. The rare nights when The Dude is actually not falling asleep on the couch and we could actually go out and spend some time together, but we left the best babysitter in the world in NY. Or the evenings when I could really, REALLY use a girls night out with nosh, wine and my gals but there’s no one to call. Will everything in our new life fall into place? And if so, when, because I am very impatient.

These are the hard times. The times when I think to myself “What the fuck have we done?”. It’s those times that bring a few tears to my eyes. Where I feel lonely, helpless and confused. When I sit and mourn the life I once had and feel daunted and overwhelmed at the thought of starting a new life here. Having to gingerly put myself out there again. Slowly having to expose myself and hoping beyond hope to make a connection with someone who I can be me with. I swear making new friends is more brutal than dating.

It’s all these things that bring me back to my friends question “Do you think you made a mistake moving?”.  And I doubt myself. I worry about the decision that I played a part in making. I worry about my children. I fret. I’m scared. I know MANY people who have started over in a new place, and they all seem to adjust very well. They all made a new life for themselves. I worry often if my family can do this also. However, when your almost 11-year-old daughter bounces into the house as you are blogging about your worries and announces that she was invited over to a new friends house and rushes on to talk about her day at school and mentioning all these new names of friends at school, I can’t help but smile and know in my heart that we are all going to be ok. And when life does hand you lemons, add some vodka to the lemonade. That always helps.