Alright, it's that time again-- ALREADY! Get your hats and your noise makers, confetti and, most importantly, a generously filled glass of wine. Welcome to my pity party.
When I picked up the kids this morning from the Y child care, Anna saw me and burst into tears. She tried not to, bless her, but it just spilled over her wobbling chin and tight eyes and then she was a weeping mess in my arms (I'll mention here that also in my arms were two bags, my purse, water bottle and Jack). I couldn't figure out what had happened until she finally burbled that she was just SAD.
We hugged it out, oblivious to the scene we were making, and then I herded the gang out to the lobby to get settled. As I left, another mom with a passle of kids asked me, "Is she okay?". I told her we'd just moved here from Colorado and sometimes Anna has these little storms (just like her mama) but she'd be fine.
"Colorado? We moved from New Hampshire. Do you hate it." It was a statement, not a question. Do you hate it, obviously. Of course you do, asking is just a gesture. I stuttered something, sort of taken aback at her bluntness. She nodded her head stiffly and left, just like that.
In the car going home, I found myself really fighting back tears. One, because yeah, why lie? At this point, I hate it. I really do. I'm making the best of it. There are good things here and there's LOTS to do in every possible direction. The YMCA is about two minutes from the house and the kids love it and I get a good break. The figs are good (harvest time in the backyard, if you want some figs come on over. I dare ya!). Sure, it's hot as hell, the water smells funny and is wrecking havoc with our laundry, skin and hair. I can get lost (and have, many times) trying to go to the mall right down the street.
I can make it work. I can not think about it too much and it's all fine. The seasons will change (or so I'm told), I'll find my way around and we'll have a water softener to keep my hair from falling out so much. I may be bald by then, but probably it'll grow back. I will keep my head up and, eventually, we'll get there.
This lady though; so matter-of-fact, so grim. She just reminded me... it's not home and I don't LIKE it here.
Mostly though, and this might sound strange considering the basically unpleasant nature of the exchange, she made me miss my friends, with a deep, breath-snatching ache. I almost followed her out to her car to beg for a playdate of likeminded commiseration. Alternately, I also really wanted to go meet a good girlfriend for coffee and gab about The Wacky Lady at the Y. I wanted some kind of interaction to follow it up and I got... nothing. No one to go meet, no guts to stalk people in the parking lot. Just me, three kids and another day hiding inside against the smothering, sticky heat.
Normally I'd try and find some sort of neatly hopeful thought to wrap this up, but today, I'm just going to let it be. It's MY party and I'll whine if I want to. Probably I'll wine, too. With figs on the side.