This blog is going on hiatus for a few years. During our eternal summer in Abu Dhabi, you can find us at a more appropriately titled address.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Friday, December 21, 2012
Leaving New York, Never Easy
The past five weeks have been been completely surreal. Yesterday, John threw every single thing out of our fridge. After 1 pm today, the only thing left in our apartment will be a few paint cans, leftover marble from the bathroom renovation, extra sets of keys for a prospective renter, and four floor lamps. We are leaving the floor lamps only to facilitate someone showing the apartment at night if need be while we're gone. We are not selling our apartment at this point, it's true, but that says more about our hopes for real estate values in the city over the next two years, less about a real belief that we will return within a time frame that would allow us to move back into it. Two and a half years ago, when I had a baby, was hospitalized, and moved into that home, my mom said, "Next time you have a baby it will be easier. You're settled now." Oh my. How glad I am I didn't know then that next time I'd be leaving that home behind. I'm not sure I could have handled it at the time. I'm not handling it all that well now.
John called me while he was emptying the fridge. We talked about how sad it is, and I felt like he finally understood how I've been feeling for the past few weeks and months. Every night, he would come home from work, and I would say, "Tell me we're coming back. Tell me this isn't it. I'm not ready to leave." But of course, he can't tell me that. It is so strange to leave New York this way, not really sure that we won't be back someday, but cutting ties as completely as we can, so that it seems totally illogical to think we really could return. Most of my friends who have left felt a twinge to end their New York experiences, I think, but I don't know many people who wanted to return. They left because they were ready to move on.
People keep saying, "Good luck in your new adventure!" And I keep thinking, "I don't want a new adventure. I liked the old one. One more old adventure, please?" Because I had a baby around the same time I needed to start getting ready for the move, I didn't really have a chance to say good-bye. No bucket list. No last meals. We didn't even make the rounds of the holiday windows on Fifth Avenue. I haven't been to Shake Shack in weeks; thankfully, this is ameliorated somewhat by the fact that there is a Shake Shack less than two hours away in Dubai. If this is it (and in my second-hand experience, let's face it, it usually is), this is most definitely not how I want it to end.
The first time I cried because of the move was when Evelyn came home from her first week of school overflowing with excitement because "We went to library today! And guess what! We all get library cards after Christmas so we can check out books!" Everyone except you, I had to tell her. I took her to the public library and signed her up for a card that afternoon, but even a clueless 34 weeks pregnant mom knows that's not the same.
I really haven't cried much since then. I shed a few tears yesterday when I gave up my New York license. Ohio has ugly licenses. "How long have you been an Ohio resident?" the DMV employee asked me (actually it's BMV here). "Two days," I answered, choking on the words. On the bright side, even though I had to take a knowledge test, the whole process took only 80 minutes, and that included driving an extra 10 minutes each way because I initially went to the wrong location.
The night before we flew to Ohio for the holidays, I had nightmares. I didn't dream about any of the 1,001 things I'm afraid will go wrong with the move. I dreamed that I forgot to take Evelyn to school, so she missed the goodbye pizza party they threw in class, and she never got to say goodbye to her friends. When John dropped her off the next morning, I thought, No matter what else goes wrong today, at least Evelyn will get to say goodbye.
As for me, I don't think I'll be able to completely take my leave until I know it's forever. Maybe not then. A couple of weeks ago, I cried for only the second time about the move while returning a bunch of shirts to the Gap at 59th and Lexington. "New York City" by They Might Be Giants was playing over the loudspeaker. I lost it when they started listing landmarks:
Statue of Liberty, Staten Island Ferry, Co-op City, Katz's and Tiffany's
Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, The Empire State where Dylan lived
Coney Island and Times Square, Rockefeller Center
Wish I was there
'Cause everyone's my friend in New York City
And everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty
The streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see . . .
When the last line of the chorus came, I was reminded of the real reason it's so hard to leave: "The best part about New York City is . . . you and me." For all those who have come and gone over the years, and for those I'm leaving behind now, all the "you and mes" I've been a part of there, I want you to know, you were the best part of New York City for me.
With that, please send a prayer my way, cross your fingers on my behalf, and don't be a stranger!
(The best part about Abu Dhabi? For the first time ever, we will have at least one dedicated guest room. Also, the daily high/low temperatures are about 80/60 this time of year. Make your reservations for January/February 2014 now!)
John called me while he was emptying the fridge. We talked about how sad it is, and I felt like he finally understood how I've been feeling for the past few weeks and months. Every night, he would come home from work, and I would say, "Tell me we're coming back. Tell me this isn't it. I'm not ready to leave." But of course, he can't tell me that. It is so strange to leave New York this way, not really sure that we won't be back someday, but cutting ties as completely as we can, so that it seems totally illogical to think we really could return. Most of my friends who have left felt a twinge to end their New York experiences, I think, but I don't know many people who wanted to return. They left because they were ready to move on.
People keep saying, "Good luck in your new adventure!" And I keep thinking, "I don't want a new adventure. I liked the old one. One more old adventure, please?" Because I had a baby around the same time I needed to start getting ready for the move, I didn't really have a chance to say good-bye. No bucket list. No last meals. We didn't even make the rounds of the holiday windows on Fifth Avenue. I haven't been to Shake Shack in weeks; thankfully, this is ameliorated somewhat by the fact that there is a Shake Shack less than two hours away in Dubai. If this is it (and in my second-hand experience, let's face it, it usually is), this is most definitely not how I want it to end.
The first time I cried because of the move was when Evelyn came home from her first week of school overflowing with excitement because "We went to library today! And guess what! We all get library cards after Christmas so we can check out books!" Everyone except you, I had to tell her. I took her to the public library and signed her up for a card that afternoon, but even a clueless 34 weeks pregnant mom knows that's not the same.
I really haven't cried much since then. I shed a few tears yesterday when I gave up my New York license. Ohio has ugly licenses. "How long have you been an Ohio resident?" the DMV employee asked me (actually it's BMV here). "Two days," I answered, choking on the words. On the bright side, even though I had to take a knowledge test, the whole process took only 80 minutes, and that included driving an extra 10 minutes each way because I initially went to the wrong location.
The night before we flew to Ohio for the holidays, I had nightmares. I didn't dream about any of the 1,001 things I'm afraid will go wrong with the move. I dreamed that I forgot to take Evelyn to school, so she missed the goodbye pizza party they threw in class, and she never got to say goodbye to her friends. When John dropped her off the next morning, I thought, No matter what else goes wrong today, at least Evelyn will get to say goodbye.
As for me, I don't think I'll be able to completely take my leave until I know it's forever. Maybe not then. A couple of weeks ago, I cried for only the second time about the move while returning a bunch of shirts to the Gap at 59th and Lexington. "New York City" by They Might Be Giants was playing over the loudspeaker. I lost it when they started listing landmarks:
Statue of Liberty, Staten Island Ferry, Co-op City, Katz's and Tiffany's
Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, The Empire State where Dylan lived
Coney Island and Times Square, Rockefeller Center
Wish I was there
'Cause everyone's my friend in New York City
And everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty
The streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see . . .
When the last line of the chorus came, I was reminded of the real reason it's so hard to leave: "The best part about New York City is . . . you and me." For all those who have come and gone over the years, and for those I'm leaving behind now, all the "you and mes" I've been a part of there, I want you to know, you were the best part of New York City for me.
With that, please send a prayer my way, cross your fingers on my behalf, and don't be a stranger!
(The best part about Abu Dhabi? For the first time ever, we will have at least one dedicated guest room. Also, the daily high/low temperatures are about 80/60 this time of year. Make your reservations for January/February 2014 now!)
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Photo dump
First band - guitar and keyboard only
At the Natural History Museum, and what does Hyrum want pictures of? Woody and Buzz, of course.
Evelyn made a "No Smoking" sign for the school; they laminated it and posted it outside the front gate.
Somebody must have been having one heck of a party; they filled an entire subway car with balloons.
First snow of the season. And if winter gets a slow start, it could be our last snow for a couple of years.
A rare moment of happiness in the bouncy seat.
Lunch with Grandma
Toy Story play time
Woody
This reminds me very much of a similar photo of John and Hyrum when he was a little over two weeks old.
More shots with Grandma and Grandpa
First passport photo. We strongly recommend taking your own, on the bed at home, while lying on a white T-shirt.
Semi-matching for church
Whew!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
The first two weeks
In the delivery room
Meeting the family
Cab ride home from meeting Rosemary
Going home outfit
Lounging around with Dad
The gang on its way to the ward Halloween party. As he was walking out of the apartment, John said, "I can't believe I agreed to do this." In point of fact, he insisted; I had no part in convincing him to dress up as Woody. Then, he saw Hyrum's face when Hyrum saw him. It was worth any embarrassment he sustained wearing that hat through midtown, looking for a cab. Hyrum is still calling his Buzz and Woody Toy Story figurines Me and Daddy, respectively, and having them go out together for "Calloween."
Sandy leads to family nap time.
Multiple family nap times, that is.
Evelyn was riveted by the 24 hour news coverage. Really. We were surprised.
Shopping list (Yogurt, ,eggs, bread, complete with pictures)
Taking his temperature on his neck
Baby sheep, costume courtesy of big sister
Halloween night: Little Bo Peep with her sheep
You've got a friend in me
White gloves + candy = bad idea
Nov. 1 - not ready to give up being Buzz just yet
The kids have been watching a show in the evenings after dinner. They snuggle up with Grandma in the big chair with a quilt. Hyrum calls it "comfy and cozy."
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Meeting baby sister
Hyrum's reaction is much more impressive when you realize that he was given the option to eat Shake Shack, and he chose to hold the baby first
Without Further Ado . . .
Rosemary Beth Prete
Born at 4:31 am on October 25, 2012
6 pounds, 12 ounces
We are smitten with her already.
Photo credit: Kristi-Lynn Gibson
Monday, October 22, 2012
The best-laid plans
When I was in college, I spent a week one summer as an adult counselor at our church's camp for teenage girls in the congregation my parents were attending at the time. My mother called me in February or March, right in the middle of a Utah blizzard, I think, to ask if I'd be willing to help. It seemed like a great idea at the time. Four months later, I was camping in Houston in July. The week ended with me doped up on Benadryl, lying on a camp cot in 110 degree heat after getting bit by fire ants.
A decade later, I spent my entire second pregnancy living in "short-term" housing we were initially supposed to occupy for only three months, moved two weeks after having a baby (while hospitalized for a second time), and swore up and down I would never move again. John was certain I'd get the itch to trade up within a few years. And I told him, "I'm never moving again. They will have to drag me out of here when I'm dead." Someone in our congregation commented, "I always thought each place I moved into would be our final home, but every time I had a baby, I ended up moving." And I said, "Not me. This is it for me. I'm never moving again, and I'm certainly never moving when I have a baby again."
Last January, I had pneumonia. Two days before I finally broke down and went to the doctor, John called while I was trudging through New York in January. He had gotten a call from a recruiter about a potential job in Abu Dhabi. The position was interesting from a professional point of view, but he said the recruiter had stressed that we should think seriously about whether we'd be willing to relocate our family over there before starting any interview process.
It was January in New York. I had pneumonia. Plus, what are the odds of something like that ever really working out anyway, right? Nine months later (the length of a pregnancy, I might point out), I would like to officially announce that our family will be moving to Abu Dhabi---where summer temperatures outpeform Houston by 10 or 15 degrees on average---about 2 months after I have our third child.
On a serious note, we're really excited. While I'm a little worried about showing our apartment to potential renters in the first weeks after having the baby or figuring out the first few weeks abroad---trying to get a car, get Evelyn into school, and navigate all the intricacies of setting up life in a totally new place by myself while dragging around three kids, the youngest of which is only two months old---we feel really good about this next step for our family. I am insanely lucky in that I will have a combination of John, my mother-in-law, and my mom with me here in New York basically the entire time between when the baby is born and when our movers arrive to pack up our things the week before Christmas. We aim to be over there right before the beginning of the year, and on a short-term note, the perks of trading New York's January weather for January in Abu Dhabi are not lost on me. Also, for the first time in our married life, we will have a washer/dryer! And a car! And a guest room!
A decade later, I spent my entire second pregnancy living in "short-term" housing we were initially supposed to occupy for only three months, moved two weeks after having a baby (while hospitalized for a second time), and swore up and down I would never move again. John was certain I'd get the itch to trade up within a few years. And I told him, "I'm never moving again. They will have to drag me out of here when I'm dead." Someone in our congregation commented, "I always thought each place I moved into would be our final home, but every time I had a baby, I ended up moving." And I said, "Not me. This is it for me. I'm never moving again, and I'm certainly never moving when I have a baby again."
Last January, I had pneumonia. Two days before I finally broke down and went to the doctor, John called while I was trudging through New York in January. He had gotten a call from a recruiter about a potential job in Abu Dhabi. The position was interesting from a professional point of view, but he said the recruiter had stressed that we should think seriously about whether we'd be willing to relocate our family over there before starting any interview process.
It was January in New York. I had pneumonia. Plus, what are the odds of something like that ever really working out anyway, right? Nine months later (the length of a pregnancy, I might point out), I would like to officially announce that our family will be moving to Abu Dhabi---where summer temperatures outpeform Houston by 10 or 15 degrees on average---about 2 months after I have our third child.
On a serious note, we're really excited. While I'm a little worried about showing our apartment to potential renters in the first weeks after having the baby or figuring out the first few weeks abroad---trying to get a car, get Evelyn into school, and navigate all the intricacies of setting up life in a totally new place by myself while dragging around three kids, the youngest of which is only two months old---we feel really good about this next step for our family. I am insanely lucky in that I will have a combination of John, my mother-in-law, and my mom with me here in New York basically the entire time between when the baby is born and when our movers arrive to pack up our things the week before Christmas. We aim to be over there right before the beginning of the year, and on a short-term note, the perks of trading New York's January weather for January in Abu Dhabi are not lost on me. Also, for the first time in our married life, we will have a washer/dryer! And a car! And a guest room!
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