Bye-Bye, Blogger

Surveying the dining room during lunch, Lyle casually asked, "When are moving from this house, Mommy?" His tone let me know that he assumed moving day must be right around the corner.

Who can blame him? It must seem about time. After all, we've lived here a full year now, so why aren't we packing?

No one is only a therapist at the office, and so I made the boys a transitional photo album before we moved from San Francisco to Chicago. In it are photos of each apartment we lived in along with the addresses (they'll never have a problem finding their early homes), and there are pictures of all of our friends, family there, and each and every favorite place we loved. About halfway through, the focus shifts to Chicago, where I placed photos of the new rental house, the neighborhood, Baxter's school, and the local ice cream shop, in addition to photos of Matt's entire family. We all love this album - I found myself thumbing through it in the living room just this morning - and it was a huge help to the kids during the big transition. It got a lot of love, especially from almost-2-year old Lyle who had no other way of understanding why his world was suddenly upside down.

But those pages of all the places we lived? There are too many. It's kind of scary, how many times we moved with the boys over the past 7 years.

And so it's all about stability for me now. I want as little to change as possible. We considered switching Lyle to a different preschool for next year (one that would mean *not* having to pay for both preschool and a nanny) and in the end I just said "no" to more change. This is strange for me - I love change. I thrive on change. Bring it on!

But please. After the past 7 years? Let the big things just be as stable as possible for a while.

Despite my current resistance to change, I am making one concession - a virtual move. I am leaving Blogger, which has started giving my commenters a hard time and doesn't allow me to do all that I'd like to do with The Wonderwheel. I have secured my very own web site and am using WordPress for my blog.

So, please, come on over to my new-and-improved Wonderwheel home and join in all the fun on my new site. I'll supply the champagne and chocolate as long as you remember to add the new address to your RSS or bookmarks. (Just try to overlook the bare walls and all the boxes stacked in the corners - unpacking takes time.)

Materialistic Monday: TomTom

Okay, I know. If you've been following Cindy (as you should be), you've heard about this recently. In fact, I had a few ideas for this week's post that you might not have read about in the past two point five minutes.

However.

My Tom Tom GPS saved my ass so many times in California this past week that now I cannot NOT write about it.

You see, in the weeks before Christmas, I was asked by Baxter to explain what a GPS system is because we were giving one to Matt's Dad for Christmas. I had never thought of one for myself, had never even been in a vehicle with one, at the time. But partway through my description of what it does, I flashed to all the Google Maps I constantly print out for myself and carry around with me, and I recall saying vaguely, "Actually, I could probably use one of those myself!" And the rest was history.

According to Matt, there was no getting him off the topic. No attempts of "How about some earrings?" or "Mommy would love a massage..." would move the child. "No. Mommy wants a GPS," he told Matt with determination. He wouldn't even budge for the old tangerines and beer fall back gift, which he insisted on giving to each of his parents the year he was 3.

No, it was to be a GPS. So my guys bought one for me.

And, let me tell you, it rocks! As Cindy mentioned, I keep mine set to a British man's voice, "Tim", who instructs me to "stay on the left lane" and "keep on the motorway", which is about the only thing that could make Hwy 101 interesting.

But beyond Tim's fantastic voice, I do enjoy that he tells me how to actually get places. Quickly! He remembers all of my destinations, which is handy, and has all sorts of options such as showing all parking garages in the vicinity, which was extremely helpful a couple times last week.

I also love the "Do you need to be there by a certain time?" feature. For example, last week when I had to be at the SCERTS training by 8:30 am in the suburbs of San Francisco, I plugged in the address the night before and it told me what time I had to leave in order to arrive by 8:30, thereby making sure I allowed enough time. Furthermore, it continually re-calculates my time as I'm driving, so when I hit bad traffic I could see the "new and not-so-improved" time of arrival getting updated and was able to send a text message to say I was going to arrive late and by how long (it's handy when the presenter is a personal friend!).

On another occasion in the past week, I left the conference one night and drove off towards my aunt's house for dinner. I knew the way so I didn't use my Tom Tom, of course (because it's not the first week anymore, sillies!). However, I accidentally went north instead of south on the highway (proving once again that it's been a while since I've actually lived out there) and when I got off the exit realized I had chosen poorly and couldn't just get right back on. Oops. Did I mention that this was in the middle of a major rainstorm? I didn't have her address with me but remembered the cross streets and that was enough. I stopped, programmed the intersection into my Tom Tom, and my courteous friend Tim got me there.

I am All. Over. It.

Thanks, Bax.

A Little Bit Here and There

I've written before, specifically here and here, about what it's like to come back to San Francisco now after being gone for a year and a half.

At Christmas, as the four of us visited with my family and lots of friends we've known for years, it was the place where we became parents. We revisited favorite places with the boys and spent lots of time with their old friends, walking down the streets of our history as a family.

This particular trip has brought back the San Francisco in which I began my career. I am an independent agent here for four days, tooling around in my little rental car from lunch with a colleague to a client's house and then to my favorite hairdresser. I go out with colleagues (always some of my favorite people to hang out with) and laugh and talk for over three hours without noticing the time. I go out for a great dinner with my cousin, who's letting me crash in her beautiful apartment.

As I looked around the smallish room where I sat for the first day of my SCERTS training today, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, seeing people I hadn't seen in ages even when I did live here. One woman looked at me like I was a ghost, and said she'd heard I'd moved somewhere and so couldn't quite believe it was me. I wanted to say, "Neither can I." I had lunch with a woman I worked very closely with my first year out of grad school but haven't seen since I left the job 10 years ago.

I am acutely aware of my great good fortune. Grateful to have the life in which I am happier than I'd ever imagined I could be, back in my new city of Chicago. But on occasion, I stop myself while I'm here, living a life that feels an awful lot like my old life here - and where I am quite comfortable and have so many connections - and dare to ask myself cautiously, "Would you rather still be living here?", a little bit afraid to hear my own answer. But somehow the answer is always, "No," even when I'm surrounded by people I love.

I feel a little like I'm neither here nor there tonight, confused about where my real life is after a few days of this cognitive dissonance.

I think, though, that perhaps the truth is I'm always going to have these opportunities to be a little bit here and there; and in that, I have it all.

View

I always love the view from my cousin's kitchen window in the Mission District. Colorful buildings almost come together, leaving just enough space for a glimpse of Sutro Tower, a San Francisco classic.

Shopping for a New Do

Were I to win the lottery (which would entail me actually playing the lottery, so this is a stretch, but bear with me here) and then told that the only condition for getting the money was that I had to commit to one single brand for all my clothing and accessory needs, I would have no problem deciding.

"Hand over the big bucks," I would exclaim, "and take me to the nearest Garnet Hill catalog!"

I could drool over Garnet Hill all day. The clothes, the shoes, the accessories. Aahhhh, the accessories. Trouble is, Garnet Hill is pricey. (Of course it is. Why would I be in love with an affordable line of clothing?) And so I own but a couple of random and beloved items - a flannel night shirt here, a spring trench coat there - from this company.

But am I the only one out there who also shops for hair styles in her favorite clothing catalogs? You see, next week - and I know we haven't discussed this yet - I am going to go to San Francisco for four days on a work trip. I have a few hours here and there in the first couple of days when I don't have things scheduled - and am about 4 weeks late on getting my hair cut - and so I contacted my fabulous hair stylist - the one who cut my hair for almost all of the 9 years I lived in the Bay Area - and made an appointment.

SCORE!

Thing is, since I get to go there so rarely now I can't see just getting a trim. I mean, that's not making the most of his talents at all, is it? And so, although I'm enjoying having long hair most of the time, it's starting to drag me down a bit and certainly doesn't feel very spring-y. (And with temps in the 60s, it will even feel the littlest bit spring-y in California...) Must be time for a new do, right? Thus, the Garnet Hill catalog. Today I shopped for a new do. And I found this model whose hair seems fairly similar to mine, all over the catalog, adorable hair done in all kinds of different lovely ways that would work for me. (It does occur to me all of a sudden that I could've shopped for a new do on my own blog - this hair cut looks an awful lot like that happy chick up there on the wonderwheel, does it not?)

So what do you think? Should I go for it? Or just keep it long since it now fits into a ponytail? (And we've all seen how attractive that is by the end of the day!)

Now if only I could afford her clothes, too.

What Goes Around

This morning I clicked over to read Susan Etlinger's latest post on The Family Room blog. Among her other treasures of the day were a couple of new blog recommendations for her readers. Both are excellent. One of these, in fact, was a blog I just discovered myself this week, that of my friend Emily in Texas. Aptly titled A Life Less Ordinary, Emily writes about life with her three fantastic little boys, who are perfectly extraordinary.

Finding Emily's blog was a gift this week. We were friends back in San Francisco, brought together by Baxter and her oldest son, TH, who were absolutely the best of friends in preschool. Our families began to meet up for playdates, and Emily and I always seemed to manage dinners out on each other's wedding anniversaries (without our spouses). I'm still not sure how it worked out that way, but it did. That is, until they moved to Texas and we left for Chicago in the summer of '06. With work and distance and all these boys, Emily and I have only stayed in touch sporadically, so you can imagine my joy when I was able to sit down, read her posts and look at her photos - and TH's incredible artwork!! - on her blog all at once.

Thus, I was thrilled to see that Susan had linked to Emily today. Coincidentally enough, Emily had just posted to her own readers that they should come on over and check out The Wonderwheel, writing awfully sweet and humbling things about this blog and my work. (Aww, shucks.)

I can't let this circle of blog love stop here. All day I was thinking, "I need to bring this full circle and link back to Susan now!" But here's the thing. All I could think of was how many of you are out there, blogging about your very special kids. Yes, I know, all kids are special (yadda, yadda, yadda), and I enjoy reading some blogs that are written by parents of typically-developing kids too, but those of you who are writing so beautifully about the winding path you walk with your extraordinary kids, you all deserve a really huge thank you from me.

So here we go:

You and you and also you and you..and you and of course you, you, and you - and also you, you, and you...and all the rest of you out there whom I haven't yet read or haven't visited recently enough because eventually a girl's gotta sleep...

Thank you for letting me in and not making me feel like an impostor for reading and commenting on your blogs. Thank you for reading and being a part of my life through my own blog. Thank you for helping me to bridge - just a little bit - the wide gap between parents with typically-developing kids and those who are on their own unique path through life. Thank you for your insights into parenting, which not only allow me to be a better parent myself but have dramatically changed the way I work with families.

Thank you, Susan, and thank you, Emily.

Thank you.

All of you.

The Other Shoe

We so clearly remember how we felt when Baxter was three, Matt and I. So many things – parenting things – became hugely easier for us around that time. It’s true, I’ve written here before about the sea change in emotional energy in parenting a three- or four-year old. However, to us, having a three-year old meant a greater sense of equilibrium in other ways: Baxter was sleeping well (and therefore we were better rested), he was in preschool part of the time (oh happy days!), was potty-trained, and he had real friendships that we enjoyed watching blossom. We discovered that he was a cinch to travel with, and far more flexible than we’d previously known him to be. I think that we remember these things so clearly because they were our arguments at the time against having another child.

A friend once told me, “It’s much easier to have another child before you’re out of the fog. You might as well stay in the fog until you’re done having kids, because going back into the fog once you’ve been out of it is very hard.” She was right.

I have never envied the early years for parents with kids closer together than ours, but I always saw how much easier things got for them around the time the younger child was 18-24 months old and the siblings played together much of the time. Those parents often seem to be in the fog for a few solid years and then emerge victorious, cheerful, and relieved to be sleeping again, feeling human. Oh, and typically with kids who entertain each other for long stretches of time!

As you know, in the end we did finally make the conscious but difficult decision to step back into the fog, and once Lyle was born we never regretted it. It may be overly obvious, but we can’t imagine our family without him.

On this vacation – which I am now ready to call a vacation because that’s what it has actually felt like – we are suddenly aware once again of being out of the fog. Lo and behold, we have a three-year old who is a cinch to travel with, is potty-trained, and is more flexible. He’ll sleep squished next to his brother on the floor in sleeping bags one night and then in a queen sized bed with him the next. He can miss his nap when visiting friends and not melt down. The contrast between this trip and the same one at this time last year – which midway through we realized had to be renamed immediately as a trip (a time to see loved ones) rather than a vacation – is stunning.

For days, I have silently waited for the other shoe to drop. The night I had a very sore throat last week I was sure I was getting Matt’s strep infection of two weeks ago. When my stomach was off, I had to be getting Baxter’s stomach bug. But no. Granted, Baxter did get sick the day before we were to leave and we had to put our trip off by a day. But, really, in the scheme of things (read: last year), that was small potatoes. Since we’ve been here, we have all stayed healthy, well-enough-rested, and cheerful. The boys’ flexibility has astounded me. We’ve been able to squeeze in every little visit with friends and family that we’d hoped for, because not only were we doing fine, so was everyone else. (I guess everyone’s kids are growing up!) Matt and I have been able to stay in San Francisco for two extra nights while the boys are partying with my parents down in Pacific Grove. We are relaxed and rested, and have had ample time with friends and each other. Oh, and to lie on the couch under warm blankets and read new books!

There are moments when I’m nostalgic for the days when we had a baby or toddler around the house, but the older the boys get, the fewer and farther between those nostalgic moments become.

If this is the beginning of the next stage, bring it on!

Sunny Morning at Baker Beach

See the full set here.

From Where I Sit

From where I sit in the early morning, huddled under an aging green fleece blanket by the large, drafty, front window of my friend’s apartment on 21st Avenue, I hear the gulls screeching their way down Judah. They seem to follow the streetcar out to the Pacific like so many screaming, swirling children. If I glance over my shoulder, I take in a long line of row houses in various shades of yellow, pink, blue, and beige. Thick coils of unattractive power lines criss-cross from one enormous street light to the other and then dart over to the houses themselves, bringing the power required to light the Christmas trees and yellowish front porch lights, clouded with spider webs. There is no grass in this view, only city sidewalks. The more attractive homes boast shrubbery or unusual small trees out front. There are no large, leafy deciduous trees, other than what can be seen of the beautiful foliage in Golden Gate Park, peeking over the rooftops, located just two blocks south.

I distinctly remember seeing this neighborhood for the first time when Matt and I moved to San Francisco in 1997; I found it aesthetically displeasing to say the least. A friend of mine likened it to some strange world in a Dr. Seuss book – and she had spent her life in Berkeley, just across the Bay. Ironically named the Sunset neighborhood - being the foggiest piece of land of San Francisco - it did boast more affordable rentals, proximity to the park, and an impressive business district around 9th Avenue and Irving Street filled with fantastic cuisine, excellent coffee, and wonderful independent shops. So when Baxter was a little over a year old and we realized that raising a child in Marin County (where I was working) did not suit us, we found a relatively (for San Francisco) affordable 2-bedroom here in the Sunset. And this is the neighborhood we happily called home until moving to Chicago eighteen months ago.

This window I sit by, it could easily be overlooking the last street we lived on in this neighborhood, which is 5 blocks directly east. It’s even located in the same spot on the west side of the street. We have had the mind-blowing good fortune of staying here – rather than a hotel - while my friend is on a ski trip with her husband; they are allowing us to use their flat as a home base for the San Francisco portion of our California vacation.

And so we walk by the school where Baxter went to kindergarten on our way to a favorite restaurant or to visit friends who still live just a couple of blocks away. Matt sees the school’s garden, completed, and marvels over all that has been created around some large rocks he once volunteered to haul over to that part of the playground, where visionaries planned a garden that didn’t yet exist. Until now.

With the kids back down at my parents’ for a couple of days without us, Matt and I walk down Irving St. and express delight over tiny shops that are somehow still in business, and shock over old favorites that no longer exist. Quietly, we take in new awnings and business logos. We eat dinner in a fabulous new restaurant that just months ago was a favorite cafe, sitting now at a table that has a familiar view of the park but has been completely transformed. Looking out at the same intersection of 9th and Lincoln while eating beautifully prepared fresh fish instead of a scone and a latte.

And so, as I sit under this green blanket and listen to the familiar N-Judah roar by, seagulls screeching in its wake, I am acutely aware of what San Francisco is to me now. It’s a beautiful city full of friends, family, and memories. But also a place where I now have an almost constant inner struggle: how can I take in all that is new - and simultaneously appreciate all that is old?

If I were a person who was purely fueled by nostalgia, I would have refused to go into that fish restaurant last night; there was a part of me that resented the café for closing down, for not warning me in Chicago that this was going to happen, and somehow blamed the restaurant for my loss. It’s easy to resent the sense of surprise we feel about the changes that occur in a beloved city that we only visit once or twice a year. But we’d heard that it’s a great new restaurant – friends in the neighborhood are excited about it – and when I stopped to think about it, I realized that at the end of the day, I would prefer to grow and change right along with San Francisco.

Even from afar.

Foggy Morning in San Francisco

See the full set here.

We Made it! (Or: Guess Who Got a New Camera?!)

We're here! We're all healthy, the 4-hour flight was unbelievably easy with the kids, and it's a sunny and 60 degrees here. It was a rocky night's sleep due to jet lag and excitement, but both boys have been napping for over two hours this afternoon, so tonight ought to be much better.

Matt surprised me with a Nikon digital SLR and then surprised me further by telling me that it was not my Christmas gift (huh?) - turns out, he sold an old Mac iBook we don't use anymore and was able to buy a wonderful camera for us with the proceeds. (Thank you, Mac products, for retaining your value.) So here are our first shots with the new camera - the blog photos will be much prettier from here on out! (Oh, and I did bring my laptop - Matt's work laptop hard drive melted down just before our trip.)

Merry Christmas, everyone!

VACATION TIME!

Do you hear the whoops and hollers coming from the snowy, cold flatlands of Chicago?

That would be us.

Because it's VACATION!! You hear?! Christmas. Vacation.

Today I worked my arse off for hours getting paperwork done at the clinic so that I can truly leave work behind for two weeks - did you hear that? Me! Not working for two weeks!

We were invited to the home of neighbors-who-are-becoming-friends for dinner tonight (they are conveniently located across the hall) and friends-who-happen-to-be-neighbors tomorrow night (located across the alley). There is so much that is great about this, not the least of which is not having to cook on these nights before our big trip. But do you know what I decided might possibly be the actual best part about these dinners? The fact that I can wear YOGA PANTS to both of these gatherings. Ahhhh, the comfort of yoga pants and a big warm sweater in wintertime.

I am so happy right now.

(Can you tell that I already had some celebratory wine? And we haven't even gone a-visitin' yet!)

This Sunday we'll be taking off for California at 7:30 am and we'll be in sunny, 60 degree weather by 10 am Pacific Time. We'll stay with my parents in Pacific Grove (about 2.5 hours south of San Francisco) at the beginning and end of our 10-day stay; we were offered lodging at my friend's apartment in our old neighborhood in San Francisco for a few days in the middle. Matt and I are filled with nostalgia as we plan a few days with the kids back in our old stomping ground. We are completely booked with time to be spent with old friends - these visits are well-organized around meals at our favorite restaurants. Then my parents will take the boys back down to Pacific Grove for two nights, and Matt and I will spend that time on our own in the beautiful city where we lived together for almost 10 years. We can hardly believe our luck.

At the moment we're consumed with which favorite French restaurant we should call for New Year's Eve reservations.

So I'll be trying to hide my shiny new Chicago accent (that's another post!), "brushing the sauerkraut out of [my] hair" as Matt hilariously suggested this week, and heading back to California. In an unheard-of nod towards relaxation, I am leaving my laptop at home. If I need to read blogs or post something, I can always use someone else's computer.

I have no idea if you'll hear from me every day or not at all over the next couple of weeks. But wish us luck traveling in the winter and over the holidays with these young boys - and pray for me that it might feel more like a vacation than it did last year.

I really need it.