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Spreading the Word(s)

A mom of five posts about raising five young children, blogging, moving homes, and trying to keep up with friends, all at the same time!

It’s both exciting and terrifying to spread the word about the blog. I have been so utterly private for so long now – and it has served me well in some ways. Now that I am writing again, about my most inner thoughts, the inside of our home, the inside of my life really, such a total turnaround, What am I doing? Fotis, my husband, asked me this. For someone who so protects her privacy, this makes no sense.

I guess in some ways I choose what I write, what I share. I decide what I put out there, what’s meaningful to me to say each day. I know some of what he is saying is right, but the urge to keep on going is here, and is starting to snowball. In the sense that the more I write, the more I desire to write and to post and to share, and to see what this all evolves into.

It’s a work in progress. Who knows where it will go. The exciting thing is not knowing.

I did start telling more people, first my closest friends, then family, then other people whom I’d had conversations with in the past and these same ideas or issues come up in the blog. I still want to tell this one lady I met at, yes, Fancy Nail Spa in Avon (Jasmine there is the best), about it. She is a mother of four, she was an English teacher and now writes for herself mostly. She told me how her two that went to Montessori for longer did better educationally than her two that did not. She goes there on Thursdays when I normally go, so maybe I will see her soon. I thought about telling the moms at Miss Carrie’s Music Time tomorrow, or Suzanne at The Little Green Tambourine to spread the word. Or Ms. Debbie, my go to woman at the kids’ school, the one I am crazy for. Yesterday I let my husband’s sister know. And the day before, my aunt. So, ya, hum…

I got a visit from my friend Jeri the other day. She has a daughter just a bit younger than Clea-Noelle. Her mom was with her baby and she was going to teach yoga later that day, and had time to drop by. We sat in the empty nursery/my office as the baby slept in the boys’ room. We just sat on the floor and stared at each other. Whoa. There’s just so much going on in life in any single moment or day or anything. It almost seemed overwhelming the choices we had of where to go, what to talk about. I felt like I could either talk for 48 straight hours about everything and anything, or just keep on staring, cross-legged: Whoa. And it just felt like, Whoa.

She is listing her home, they will be moving soon, closer to New York where her husband is now commuting. They might have another child soon, how are our marriages doing? We are moving, (like now! today even wrapping glassware…) So much. Kids everywhere, coming out of rooms, walking through hallways. She is a blogger as well. The writing, ideas, space, energy, Time. And more.

What I most got from the interaction was that it even happened. That she came over, we each carved out some time, to just sit cross-legged, on the floor and stare at each other, acknowledge each other, to say whoa to a few of the major issues pervading both of our lives, and to say whoa again.

Jeri, if you’re reading this, I think I am just in a state of shock over all that’s going on right now, for me, for you, for everyone. Sometimes it seems just so much. And I was moved that you came, and you alway look like a shining bright light has entered my life when you appear. You are a shining bright light of goodness, directed at me, and I just thank you for being with me for that one hour.

There does seem to be a move afoot in our home. I still have not been given a date by Fotis, so I am still in denial. The rest of the house can end up in boxes. I need to hold onto my desk, the daily stuff the kids need for each and every day of their lives, piano books, riding boots, mittens and diapers. I need to keep some circle around that, so no matter where I find myself, we still function and operate and go to school, our activities, eat our cereal in the mornings, and have socks to wear.

Laundry, let’s set that up over at the new house. I have my cell phone. A hair dryer is key, and keys, so I am not locked out of wherever. Yes, I do sound removed. I am living life today, here where I woke up, until instructed otherwise.

He’s the builder, and as the wife of a builder, you sort of surrender the reins on house, or home, or schedule, and just expect the who knows.

I never thought I’d be married to someone who cares more about what the powder room looks like than I do, but, he does. And we have both found that on any one object or room there will be one of you who cares more. And that person, and their emotional attachment to a slab or a vanity or a nursery, wins out, and the other’s desires about the dimension of the dining room, mirror placement and where to place the bed wins too. You win, you concede, it’s a house you share. Everyday. He works from home.

For better, for worse, but not for lunch. Well, for us, for everything. And more.

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