Moved
Now that we have officially moved and are settled in our new place, it’s time for me to get back to work. By “work” I mean getting back to my routine of writing, keeping up with my Momlogic column, working on my other projects, maybe getting my ass back Beit T’Shuvah to see a few clients, and dealing the stack of papers from BBS that had the nerve to follow me from my old house to my new one. Some of these duties are easier to embrace than others. There is a part of me that has relished in the inherent chaos of moving because it gave me a legitimate excuse to avoid dealing with much of the crap that I shirk in my regular life.
Over and over in my parenting, I stress the importance of routine. It seems to take weeks or months to develop a workable routine, but only seconds to break it. Over the past week, there was complete anarchy in my house. The kids were waking up in the morning and watching TV (before getting ready for the day). I was running around the house like an unmedicated, OCD headless chicken while dealing with movers, internet connectors, and various other random people who do technological shit that I can’t understand. Finally realizing the time at 8:45, I would fly in to a panic and start ordering everyone to hop to and get ready for the day.
Since my internet didn’t work all week, I kept meaning to write down all my creative ideas in my journal but it never happened. These included:
- -An article about how the night before we moved, Shane got out of bed in the middle of the night and with great concern asked me, “Mommy, will there be pretzels in the new house?”
- -A poem about all the little trinkets that have managed to stay in my life after decades of moving back and forth from New York and all over Los Angeles- including a silver-heart shaped box that Jeff Wisot gave me for Hannukah when I was 14 years old, a New York taxi cab piggy bank that Amy surprised me with that is dated “March, 1989″, and little Russian stackable dolls that my mom’s friend brought over to my house when I was really sick with the flu over 15 years ago.
- -A post about how unsettling those transition days are- when all your crap is in boxes and you are in a sort of purgatory- neither completely out of your old place or settled in to your new place.
And many more ideas- some half-baked and others forgotten as I indulged in the chaos and neglected my writing. Now that I am back to documenting my every thought and feeling, maybe I will find the willingness to deal with that stack of papers from the BBS that is looming overhead, and really start tackling some other projects that I have been neglecting.
