Well, we made it. Officially. We are Jacksonians or Madisonians or something of that nature.
It’s been an adjustment, living away from … well, everyone we know. We are happily settling in, though, and every day this place feels more like home. Max looked at me over corndogs and apple juice one night this week and said, “You know, Mom, I’m beginning to like this new life.”
This makes me happy.
The kids like school. I’ll just be honest – the school they attend is like kid learning Disney World. It’s huge, and clean, and it smells like coffee, crayons, and books.
Ava says her teacher is pretty. She’s adjusting, I think. She’s had a couple of bad days where her folder came home sans-smiley-face, but all in all I think she is going to be fine. She’s my little people person – just like her Aunt Amanda. An ambassador to all.
Max, I think, is gearing up to flourish. There are not yet (and fingers crossed, there won’t be) any bullies like there were at West Corinth, and he says he thinks he “almost has” made a friend at school. It is, I’ve learned, a great badge of honor for Max to call someone his friend. He has played on the playground with several kids, one he even recognized at a ballgame last weekend and played for a while – but none of them apparently qualify as “friends” to him. That’s fine with me. He’s having fun.
Both the kids are crazy about their daycare, where they go after school until Josh or I can pick them up. They have video games and a playground, and it’s in a church, which I think is a bit comforting to both of them – reminiscent of their days at Wheeler Grove. The staff is nice, they help them with their homework and according to Ava’s attachment to many of the crafts she’s brought home from St. Matthew’s, they’re doing a good job.
Josh is settled in to his new job and … well, it’s been something to watch. I think during the whole process of his interview and acceptance and our move south, we both kind of were stuck in a state of shock. A kind of “we must’ve won the luck lottery, when is this going to run out?”
But now I know. This wasn’t luck. He belongs exactly where he is. He didn’t get that job because of someone we knew, or because of some lucky break, or because so-and-so who grew up Episcopalian didn’t apply for whatever reason. He got it because it was his. He was perfect for it, and I’ve been amazed at watching him do something he truly loves.
And me? I’m doing alright. I find out more everyday how much I love my little family, flaws and all. It’s been a big adjustment, going from picking the kids up at school to seeing them when I get home, usually already settled in and doing their homework. I’m tired a lot. I miss the church, I miss the method and the ritual and the sense that I was working for a bigger picture – a grander scheme. I feel sure, though, that as time goes on I’ll relax and find my place here. I hope.
Most of all, more than anything else, I’m proud of us. All of us. We’ve done something that I never thought we would or could do. I’m happy with that.