This is a previous uncompleted entry that deserved attention....

Writing is interesting.  It makes me reflect.  Bring more meaning to the mundane.  But in order for it to be interesting, I have to put myself out there.  Like standing in front of a virtual crowd totally naked.  Horrifying.  Maybe someone will read my post and find it interesting.  Maybe no one will read it.  Maybe someone (anyone!) will post a comment.  Whatever.  It is for me.

My best readers so far are my relatives and friends.  I know that it is easy to increase my numbers on my blog, but frankly, adding comments to other peoples blogs right now is way too much of an investment.  So I will continue to do this now for me.

But I got myself into trouble.  As I always do.  And I cannot please everyone and I have to be ok with that.  But I'm not.  I hate hurting those that I love.  Sometimes my posts just flow out of me so easily, and sometimes they feel forced leading to periods of no postings.  These are the times that I am digesting.  But still thinking.

After an overwhelming feeling of emotion I posted a heartfelt "thank you" to my mom.  And it was exactly how I was feeling at that time.  I then wrote it in permanent ink by clicking publish.  No going back.  I thought that was fine.

But later I thought about those that I did not thank.  Publicly, that is.  Will they feel cheated?  Unappreciated?  UNIMPORTANT?

Apparently they will.  But not intentionally.  Because everyone innately wants to be recognized and appreciated.  So, should every post come with a disclaimer?  How do I not neglect one when recognizing the other?  So, just like in life, in writing, I cannot please everyone.

I will stop worrying.  Or I will try.  I will post what I feel in my heart.  True to myself and my readers.  And in time, I will get to you.  I will one day post how I could not do my job and raise my kids without my mother in law.  How I would not feel comfortable going out without my incredible babysitter.  How I would be lost without the emotional support of my sister.  How I may lose direction without advice from Dad.

And if I forgot you in the above sentence it is not because I don't love you or you are not important to me.  It is just a stream of consciousness and truth.  And it is for you to read.  But it is for me to write.

Dear Mom,

I want to thank you.  And I know this week I have said many 'thank yous' but this is the real one.  I know I am hard on you.  I know that I expect you to be perfect. I know that I ask demand a lot.  I know it is (nearly) impossible to make me happy.  But...You have helped me tackle my latest life project as if it were your own. I know that this is your way.  This is where you shine.  I know that when you tell me you can't sleep at night because you are thinking of the back hall closet it is because I am still an extension of you.  And you want me to feel happy.  And cozy.  And have the family and the life that we both envision.  And I do.

I may not maintain the closets or drawers as perfect as they are now.  I may (occasionally) forget to hang up my clothes.  I may have clothes that are too small in my kids closets.  Because that is me.  And I have you.  And you will always be there for me.

In your own way.

The blog has been majorly neglected as of late due to my overwhelming need to pack.  I am moving to a new house.  The back side of this story is that I have been longing to move for 3 years.  Unfortunately, for us, like the rest of the country, this has been difficult.  But we finally decided to take the plunge.  And we are moving on, and thankfully, moving up.

So, I have begun the task of packing my memories.  I have been putting my silver (that I haven't seen since my wedding) into boxes.  Carefully packing my Baccarat crystal so that it doesn't break before it has ever been used.  Taping and labeling and arranging.  And then thinking...

I want to move on.  I can't wait for this new house.  To inhabit it, make it our own.  To make new memories and have laughter radiate between its (many) walls.  To make it cozy for the girls.  For them to feel like it is their home from day 1 (a daunting task...).

But I am stuck thinking about the memories of our house, the one that we have made into our home and what it will mean to leave it behind.

My current home is the first that I have owned.  I left its doors as a single women and re-entered as a wife.  It was always 3 bedrooms, but it has changed from a home with a guest room and an office to one that holds a family.  I became who I am today in that home.  I was transformed from an intern, to a resident to an attending physician while living there.  Those walls heard me cry when I began to question it all.  It is the home that I brought my first born into when I finally saw love in its physical form.  And the same home I was in when I learned of the amazing surprise of baby #2.  It is the place where I began to embrace being a mother.  And a wife.  And a doctor. And a gardener.  And my own version of Martha Stewart and the Barefoot Contessa. 

So, now that I am leaving it behind, do I leave all that behind?  Can I pack the laughter, the tears, the heartache and the joy in boxes?  If so, how big should they be? (and do I need bubble wrap to protect them?!?)

I find myself thinking about the girls ages and how they may not even remember this house.  They won't remember playing strollers for hours?  Running around in capes as superman?  Dancing to the hoedown throw down?  How can that even be?  And if they won't be able to remember it, does that mean that it doesn't matter?  When does it start to "count"?

I have decided that it does count.  All of it.  They may not remember all of it but I will (or at least try).  And I will remind them of all the fun we had.  How we all snuggled in a bed too small for 4.  How we would hide when someone came over and have them "find us".  How we would wave "Bye Bye" at the window before going to work. 

And now we will keep making new memories.  I don't know what they are.  But I know there will be days of laughter, times of joy and plenty of tears in this new place.  The girls will be transformed from toddlers, to adolescents (scary) and beyond (even scarier) while we are living there.  They will have playdates and sleepovers (and maybe even) parties there one day.  And I hope they love their new home...and that they notice their window treatments.

Please(!!!) comment if you have any insight into the above questions.  Or just share your stories. I'd love to hear them, or just know someone is reading.  And...now you can comment without signing in.  Just click on comments at the top of this post.