July 22, 2011

Would you like some cheese with that?

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.

Boohoo.

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.

5 comments:

cjcolorado said...

Once again, we're living parallel lives, but on opposite sides of civilization! The boys have been fine (oddly, as they usually take changes hard), but Hannah has been an absolute basket case, paralyzed by separation anxiety. She has met good neighbor friends here (all boys) to play with at home, but when I (2-3 x a week) take her to the day camp, she is beside herself with fear that we'll run away and leave her here in Michigan and she is just "sad". I try not to respond, "me, too" because I'm pretty sure that would make it worse. I know, as with everything, the feeling will eventually pass. There will be new friends, new fun and a settled feeling, but for now it's hard to look on that bright side. I suspect in three years' time, when Michael and I are ready to move on, the kids will not be.
Oh, and to answer your earlier question, no, there is no Starbucks here. The closest one is exactly 100 miles away in the slightly larger and hipper town of Marquette. I've already been there twice. =)

Maida said...

Oh, Meg, I'm sorry. That's so difficult. *hugs* You should chat her up next time you see her, when you've steeled up from the gut punch.

grandmem said...

it's always hard to make new friends, and the older you are the harder it is. but eventually it happens - even though you have to work at it. you know that, but knowing it in your brain doesn't help what's in your heart.

Jenny Steele said...

No worries, Megan. If you need to cry, then cry. But once you're done crying, pull up your bootstraps (well, cause you're in Texas now!) and carry on. When in doubt, find something to laugh at and if that doesn't work, drink a glass (or 10 of wine). I'll be your new friend!!!

Jenn said...

Hey!! I just saw your post on DAM so I had to check out your blog. LOVE IT.

Okay, we just moved here from a worse place, so I'm kind of on the opposite end of the spectrum. While I am hating not having ANY friends, mom time, heck even a freakin' playdate with kids anywhere NEAR my kids' ages (does EVERYONE have an only child that is 22 months old? that's pretty much all I've seen...).... I am LOVING that we have access to SO MANY THINGS.

I know this is weird and semi-stalkerish, but I'd love to get together sometime if you're bored and need a friend! We may not hit it off, but who knows! LOL! My kids are similar ages (a girl, 6, a boy, 4, a boy, almost 2) and we're in Carrollton.

If you want to get together sometime, lmk!! jennsraq@gmail.com