After two years of thinking about it on and off, we made the decision to move back to Chicago in January. The driver was that Joe has been spending most of his time in Chicago the past three or four years as his business grows, and he was driving back and forth on a weekly basis, which wore him down. The kids were not able to spend a lot of time with him, and when he was home, he spent a lot of time sleeping after working all week and driving home. Moving back to Chicago would let us spend seven days a week together as a family again. I wanted the kids to have their dad present for their day-to-day lives and worried that Joe would regret missing so much as the kids got older.
I moved once growing up, in the fifth grade, and I remember how hard it was to leave my friends and my school to start over. I remember specifically thinking that my parents were ruining my life and telling my mom exactly that. And it was hard, at first, being the new kid. In the small town where I grew up, short hair was all the rage for girls, but not so much at our new school. On the first day, someone asked who the new BOY in our class was, and I remember being mortified and wishing I could be instantly be teleported back to my old school, my real school. But I adjusted and soon came to love my new school and new friends, and in the end, my siblings and I were all grateful that we had the chance to live on a farm when we were young and to move to a bigger city for better schools when we did. These memories helped me prepare for the move when my kids told me that I was ruining their lives.
But what I wasn't prepared for was how much I would miss the kids' school, their friends and their friends' parents, their teachers and our community in general. The soccer car pool, the neighbors, AJ's best friend and his family, my colleagues at work. As we started sharing the news that we were moving and going to our lasts--last cub scout meeting, last daisy troop meeting, last basketball game--I found myself getting teary eyed at each one. There is something about watching your kids' friends grow up that is very special. You root for them, celebrate their accomplishments and cheer them on as they deal with things that challenge them. They become part of your life as well. It was harder than I thought it would be to say good bye to those kids who we have known from preschool on from the little league fields, the religious ed classes and the sidelines of flag football games. And the parents. The people who helped me pitch my tent at the cub scout camp out when I couldn't quite figure it out and then kindly brought it home for me when one of the kids got the stomach flu before we ever used it. The people who cheered just as loudly for my kids as they did for their kids on the sidelines of dozens of games over the years. The parent coaches who encouraged them at bat, in the goal and shooting the baskets. They are my people and I am little lost now without them. Speaking of my people, it was hardest of all to leave my parents, the kids' beloved Grammy Julie and Pops & Susan, and I can't even talk about that yet without crying again.
But here we are, in a new-but-not-so-new town. The same town where Joe grew up and where the kids were all born. We are moving back to the same house we owned the last time we lived here. AJ was four when we left and has some vague memories, but for the most part, it all feels brand new to the kids. The two exceptions are our nanny--we were fortunate to get our wonderful nanny, Linda, back with us--and two brothers who are the same ages as the boys and are their friends from when we lived here before. The day before the kids started at their new school we went for a tour and things started off badly when David refused to get out of the minivan and even go into the school. After much coaxing by the school social worker (she actually crawled into the back seat of our mini van to meet David, God love her), we finally got him into the school itself. Just as I was wondering why on earth I thought it was a good idea to move, we found out that David's new classroom buddy was his old friend, the younger brother, from when we lived here before. It definitely set David at ease to see a friendly face. And it made me feel like the universe was looking out for us.
Here's to new (old) beginnings and to more time as a family.
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