What Can I Tell Jill on Wednesday?

“What are your three goals for the coming week”? Jill looks at me with her caring inquiry.

“I need to spend time alone. I value being alone. Intentional time with my kids. We are together all day every day, but intentional time is different than idle time. Home school doesn’t always lend itself to connectedness.”

I pause. Fumbling through my Rolodex of commitments, perceived obligations, and desire; what is most important for me to invest in this week? “Working out. I always feel better when I do. Riding my bike with the sun on my face. It helps.”

I felt satisfied with the answers. Confident Jill would approve, I gave a “that is my final answer” nod.

Are my goals genuine? Did I just say those things because I care for her approval? Maybe a little bit of both. They are certainly good goals, and I do care what she thinks of me. I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t. I usually don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I am going for help, why do I care if I look put together. Fuck. She knows I’m not put together. That is plain as day. Yes. Those goals, genuine for sure… I think.

Alone time. Check. Me, food, beer, and a book. It’s like a mini vacation. If you are ever in Boise, go to Sockeye Brewery. They are fantastic.

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Intentional time with my children. Check. Tim and I took the kids fishing.

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Working out….. It’s only Tuesday, I have until tomorrow to accomplish that. Oy.

The Big Move

I planned on living in my little house forever. We had talked romantically about moving to other parts of the country. We talked fantasy-like, as if a move was like going on a cruise or winning the lottery. This dreamy chatter had sprinkled our marriage for years. In March, it became a real possibility. By June, we were looking at houses in Idaho. Suddenly, The Big Move was a reality. We were really talking to agents, painting, paring down, packing, and shifting.
When I tell you it went fast, I mean effing fast. Father’s Day weekend, we put a contingent offer on a home in Emmett, ID. That gave us from mid-June until September to have our home market ready, offer made, and closed.
EEEK.
We busted ass (along with loads of help from friends), got our home on market July 19th, and accepted an offer three days later.
We shared this home for 11 years. This is where I brought my babies home, learned how to cook, laughed, cried, labored with my children, and made love to my husband. I fought my depression, won, lost, discovered photography, had drinks with friends, and made my first cheesecake. We had dogs, sent them over the Rainbow Bridge, brought home puppies, and with Tim made a life worth being proud of.

The Big Move was exhilarating, scary, mournful, and bittersweet. It was full of painting 16 hour days, tears, panic attacks, conquered projects, and hard work. I got excited, and cried over loss. It was not the fantasy feeling of winning the lottery; it was quite the opposite.

My last night before the trek into the unknown, I had an epiphany. As Jessie and I were driving to the store it occurred to me, “I’ve done all the growing I can here; it is time to move on”. 10465501_10204724162769665_77911946855065404_o