STLWorkingMom

I’m really excited — next weekend, I’m going out for mani/pedis and cocktails with a bunch of the neighborhood moms. Not only that, but the same weekend, a bunch of people are going to the Cardinal Point Oyster Fest and we’re going, too! I don’t even like oysters, but I’m very psyched to be getting back to “normal” with friends and fun stuff to do on weekends, instead of just painting and cleaning.

BTW, the lavender dining room is now shades of olive, remniscent of Starbucks. Ah, home.

“You don’t want shampoo that smells like popcicles. You’ll get bees in your hair.”

and . . .

a guy hooked up to the blood pressure machine with one arm, eating a double cheeseburger with the other.

Right. Well, I haven’t written it yet, nor do I think I’m qualified, but the past four months have been good research. When I went looking for tips on how to successfully yank a high school kid and an elementary school kid from the only city they’ve known and move them 800 miles away from friends and family, I did not find a manual. I did find a few helpful tips from the moving company and used them.

The most helpful tip was this: don’t feel guilty. When I read that I sat back and rethought the whole approach. We wouldn’t apologize, we would be very forthcoming and strong, “we’ve decided to move and we’ve settled on a city that we think will be better for all of us. We’re very happy with our decision and hope that you will be, too.” Family is not a democracy.

We heard stories from everyone we knew who had moved as a kid. Many were not positive. Some people had terrible experiences. We tried to keep these people from sharing those stories with the kids. We were pretty sure that because we were not moving to L.A. or Detroit that some of the same issues would not apply. We were still happy with our decision.

I won’t say that my son was totally on board from the beginning (here’s where the book comes in). A high school sophomore, involved in school with lots of friends his initial reaction was anger. After several days of hearing, “You guys suck,” I’d had enough.

I said, “Listen, I know you’re angry, but we’re moving to a great place and we think you’ll be very happy there. In the meantime, telling me I suck is not helping matters, so knock it off and try to be a little more constructive in your criticism.”

Interestingly, in the two months before the big move, it was possible to see our son move through the five stages of grief:
1. Denial “We’re not really going to move.”
2. Anger — the aforementioned “you guys suck” and other lovely comments
3. Bargaining “I can move in with grandma and grandpa/the neighbors, etc.”
4. Depression — yes, there was sadness, and a breakup with the girlfriend but nothing too scary or serious, thank goodness
5. Acceptance, finally (well, he packed and got in the car, anyway)

When we got to #5 he spent time looking up info on our new town and his school on the Internet and began telling me what he learned. There was a point at which I knew he’d turned the corner and we could all start to breathe a little easier.

Since we’ve moved, the #1 question we’ve had from people both in Mo. and Va. is how are the kids adjusting? So far, pretty well. They’ve made friends, gone to parties, become involved in activities and generally seem to be doing well. Our neighborhood is very friendly so it’s difficult to not become engaged with those around us and, fortunately, moving mid-school year, they both get plenty of daily interaction with people their age.

Makes me want to go back to school, too!

The only reason not to like Pier One is Kirstie Alley. If you can get past that (and her), check out the Pier One Outlet store — there’s a new one open at 9656 Olive in St. Louis. We just bought two jute rugs for our lovely hardwood floors and stocked up on candles for our kitchen (pumpkin bread scent, mmmm). I am, in fact, thinking of painting the kitchen the same shade as the pumpkin candles.

Thoughts? Ideas? I’m just not that great at decorating.

I read today that only 14 percent of people who work at home work a full eight hours. Whoa! Eight would be great! I think I’m pulling about ten a day. Who are these people and what do they do, anyway?

One suggestion for sluggish telecommuters was to get dressed. Well, duh. I’m still using the FlyLady inspired “dressed to shoes” method and today, in fact, wore a skirt and boots to go to my basement office. Makeup and hair, done, too, thank you. Problem is, I never left the house.

So tomorrow I’m venturing out to lunch with a new local friend. No need to be a hermit workaholic crazy person at the end of this journey, right?