After Sam got home from school one day, I decided to head to Walmart to pick up a few things. The store is only about five minutes away and once I got onto Newport Avenue it was pretty much a straight shot. I was proud that I was finally starting to figure out my way around.
When I was leaving to come home, I apparently wasn't paying attention because after driving for over fifteen minutes I didn't see anything familiar, okay I was lost. I was trying to avoid stopping to ask for directions, not because I don't like doing it, but because Sam has told me frequently that it is different out here, and it isn't a good idea to do anything that would make it appear that you are a naive tourist, or that you are alone and lost. I saw a sign that said "Wollaston" and remembering that I lived near the Wollaston neighborhood I decided to head that way hoping it would get me on the right track. By then, it was already dark and I just ended up further away. When I found myself driving alongside the ocean I was overcome with a feeling of being out of my comfort zone. I was a desert girl. Driving alongside the ocean made me feel like I was at the end of the earth, and while we lived somewhat close to the beach, it wasn't anywhere near on the way home from Walmart. I was obviously more turned around than I thought so I decided to stop at a gas station and ask for directions. Gas stations aren't as plentiful and as conveniently located on the corners of intersections out here so I had to drive a while longer just to find one. While I drove, I practiced asking for directions in a tone that didn't shout, 'I am a naive girl who is lost and alone.' I decided I couldn't mention that I was in fact trying to find my own house, so maybe I could say that I was looking for my friend's house, or maybe the Wendy's which is near where I live. When I got out at the gas station I rolled down my window and asked the attendant even more vague, in a 'silly me I've been here before but can't seem to find it this time' tone, "How do I get to North Quincy from here?"
"Do you know where the Walgreens is?"
"Uh huh." (crap! no. why did I say that?! but I can't change my answer now, then I would look lost and dumb).
"When you get to the Walgreens take a left and it will take you to E. Squantum street, follow that and it will take you to North Quincy."
"OK. Great. Thanks for your help." Crap! Crap-crap-crap! I rolled up my window and started slowly driving back towards the road. Only which way to go. I picked right. I probably should have turned left, because going right didn't lead me to any Walgreens. I tried turning around at one point but trying to find my way to through the maze of round-a-bouts proved impossible. Eventually I ended up near the free way and was able to figure out how to get back home.
I finally made it back about an hour after leaving Walmart and attempted to explain to my worried husband how easy it is to get lost in this town. The good news is, we could now justify buying a cell phone as a necessity and find some way to squeeze it into our budget.
I also jumped at the chance, when a week later a I heard someone from church was moving and was giving away their trusty map book. Our realtor had one of these books, and I had thought it was strange that a local, who drove around different neighborhoods for a living would need such a thing. But apparently the maps here are not just for tourists. Later on, that book came in handy in more ways than one.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Chapter 3 - apartment hunting
Being at home with a 2 month old after you move to the other end of the world from family and friends (or so it seemed), especially when your husband was at school all day and then swamped with studying all night, is harder than I thought it would be. Sam takes the commuter rail into Boston each day. There is actually a stop right here at our apartment complex, but despite this convenience, we still live far away, and his school is no where near a train station. After he catches the train here he takes it to South Station, and then has to wait for a bus which takes him to the school. So after all that it takes about an hour to get to and from school each day. Which means he is gone from about 7 in the morning until 6 at night, and that is on a lucky day when the buses are running on time.
I have been filling my days with trying to unpack just the necessitities (since this place is just short-term), trying to finish my last few college classes over the internet, re-learning my daily routine in this new environment, and trying to figure out this little daughter of mine. Rachel seems to want to eat about every hour, aren't they supposed to go at least a couple hours? Sometimes I try and distract her and make her wait, but most of the time it is easier to just feed her so I don't have to listen to her fussing. After all, I am just sitting here all day anyway.
Things like figuring out how to do the laundry have taken probably more thought than they should. The problem is, the laundry room is two floors down. How do you carry a basket full of clothes, quarters, laundry soap, fabric softener, and a infant down two flights of stairs without dropping the most important item? Could I leave Rachel in the apartment while I run down there real quick? What if she is sleeping safely in her crib? What if I even lock the apartment door? Maybe it is because I am new here and not completely comfortable, but I can't seem to justify it. So the method I have went with is putting some laundry soap and softner in baggies and putting them in the basket of clothes and then setting Rachel right on top. For now, as long as I don't run into any neighbors that work for child protective services I think it will be alright.
After a few weeks, I am finally feeling settled and ready to venture out on my own. Last Saturday we drove to a place downtown called Quincy Market. A place with lots of shopping, restaurants, and on the weekends there are street performers that are entertaining to watch. One thing I learned on this outing was how easy it is to get lost here. Adios to streets that were designed with the grid system in mind. Whoever designed these streets had to have been on crack! There are so many times that you aren't exactly lost, because you can see where you want to go, but you can't figure out how to get there. So after experiencing this it made me a little hesitant to venture out on the roads. But our 3 month lease is expiring quickly so we need to find a place to move soon.
I had found some apartments online. I thought I could narrow them down by making some phone calls first, but I am learning yet another way the east coast differs from the west. I have been trying to compare places and one thing I have been trying to figure out is how big the apartments are. I didn't think that "How many square feet is it?" was a difficult question to ask an owner...but appartantly I am mistaken. 'It is a two bedroom' or 'It is a 4 room apartment' is about the most descriptive they will get. I am not sure if they really don't know how big it is, or if they just don't want to reveal exactly how small it is. Whatever the case, it appears that narrowing them down over the phone is not an option, and I will need to check them all out in person.
........
FYI trying to find any address in this town is IMPOSSIBLE! I spent the whole day trying to see three apartments. There are hardly any street signs in this town, and if there does happen to be a street sign it is probably 10 yards from the corner, hidden behind a tree! After spending an hour trying to find one house, I pulled up to this run down place on a super busy street. I just sat there in the car staring at it and decided, 'I don't care what the inside looks like, I don't want to live here.' The realtor I was meeting was waiting outside and waved to me, and I bolted. I just drove off. Hasta la vista. Hopefully she isn't the realtor in charge of any other apartments I want to see because I probably just burned that bridge.
Also, apparently any apartment with two bedrooms feels entitled to charge the same amount of rent. It doesn't matter if it is run down, falling apart, has the washer and dryer down in a dingy cellar with a dirt floor, it is still $1100. In Arizona if you are willing to live without a nice view, you save $100, go without a fireplace, save another $150. Not the case here. You get what you get, and you pay an arm and a leg for it.
One of Sam's classmates recommended we look in the city of Quincy. This friend, Dave, and his wife Christine, live there say it is way closer to the school but far enough away that it is safe and still inexpensive (relatively of course). So we decided to check it out. Of course, "we" means it is me who spent another miserable day driving around getting lost, trying to keep Rachel happy in the car for hours on end, having to stop and feed her, change her diapers, oh and see some apartments while I am at it. I hate that everything is so complicated with a baby. Of course I should be the one to find apartments, because I am the one who is home all day, but this is definitely not as enjoyable, or as easy, as shopping for an apartment in college with my soon-to-be roommates. Today there was some hideous places: red shag carpet, hideous wanna-be-wood floors, so much for east coast character and brownstones with wood mouldings.
I was almost ready to give up, when I finally found the perfect place. After the place with the red shag carpet I told the realtor I was calling it a day. She said she had one more place, it wasn't as close to the T (the subway), and it was in North Quincy, but it was a nice place. I told her thanks, but no thanks, but I was worn out and just wanted to go home. If I didn't leave soon I would get stuck in rush hour traffic and it would take me more like 2 hours to get back to Norwood. I put Rachel in her carseat, buckled her up, then got in and sat down. I took a deep breath and was happy to be done for the day, but when I realized that I still didn't have a place, which meant there would probably be many more days like this, I almost had a panic attack. I jumped out of the car and ran over to the realtor's car before she drove off. I tapped on the window and she rolled it down, "I guess I have time to see one more place." I followed her to the final apartment and we pulled up to a beautiful house. It was an actual house, with a patio, maroon shutters, and a front yard with grass. It was what they call a two family house, the owners lived upstairs and they were renting the first floor. The inside was even better. Dark wood floors, that were in good shape, wood moulding around all the windows and on the ceiling, two bedrooms, and a large kitchen with normal sized appliances (including a dishwasher) and even a cupboard with room for a washer and dryer. True, it was kind of wierd for it to be in the kitchen, but way better than down in a dingy cellar. And what do you know, this place was way better than everything else we looked out, but it still carried the standard two bedroom price, $1100. Sold!
I have been filling my days with trying to unpack just the necessitities (since this place is just short-term), trying to finish my last few college classes over the internet, re-learning my daily routine in this new environment, and trying to figure out this little daughter of mine. Rachel seems to want to eat about every hour, aren't they supposed to go at least a couple hours? Sometimes I try and distract her and make her wait, but most of the time it is easier to just feed her so I don't have to listen to her fussing. After all, I am just sitting here all day anyway.
Things like figuring out how to do the laundry have taken probably more thought than they should. The problem is, the laundry room is two floors down. How do you carry a basket full of clothes, quarters, laundry soap, fabric softener, and a infant down two flights of stairs without dropping the most important item? Could I leave Rachel in the apartment while I run down there real quick? What if she is sleeping safely in her crib? What if I even lock the apartment door? Maybe it is because I am new here and not completely comfortable, but I can't seem to justify it. So the method I have went with is putting some laundry soap and softner in baggies and putting them in the basket of clothes and then setting Rachel right on top. For now, as long as I don't run into any neighbors that work for child protective services I think it will be alright.
After a few weeks, I am finally feeling settled and ready to venture out on my own. Last Saturday we drove to a place downtown called Quincy Market. A place with lots of shopping, restaurants, and on the weekends there are street performers that are entertaining to watch. One thing I learned on this outing was how easy it is to get lost here. Adios to streets that were designed with the grid system in mind. Whoever designed these streets had to have been on crack! There are so many times that you aren't exactly lost, because you can see where you want to go, but you can't figure out how to get there. So after experiencing this it made me a little hesitant to venture out on the roads. But our 3 month lease is expiring quickly so we need to find a place to move soon.
I had found some apartments online. I thought I could narrow them down by making some phone calls first, but I am learning yet another way the east coast differs from the west. I have been trying to compare places and one thing I have been trying to figure out is how big the apartments are. I didn't think that "How many square feet is it?" was a difficult question to ask an owner...but appartantly I am mistaken. 'It is a two bedroom' or 'It is a 4 room apartment' is about the most descriptive they will get. I am not sure if they really don't know how big it is, or if they just don't want to reveal exactly how small it is. Whatever the case, it appears that narrowing them down over the phone is not an option, and I will need to check them all out in person.
........
FYI trying to find any address in this town is IMPOSSIBLE! I spent the whole day trying to see three apartments. There are hardly any street signs in this town, and if there does happen to be a street sign it is probably 10 yards from the corner, hidden behind a tree! After spending an hour trying to find one house, I pulled up to this run down place on a super busy street. I just sat there in the car staring at it and decided, 'I don't care what the inside looks like, I don't want to live here.' The realtor I was meeting was waiting outside and waved to me, and I bolted. I just drove off. Hasta la vista. Hopefully she isn't the realtor in charge of any other apartments I want to see because I probably just burned that bridge.
Also, apparently any apartment with two bedrooms feels entitled to charge the same amount of rent. It doesn't matter if it is run down, falling apart, has the washer and dryer down in a dingy cellar with a dirt floor, it is still $1100. In Arizona if you are willing to live without a nice view, you save $100, go without a fireplace, save another $150. Not the case here. You get what you get, and you pay an arm and a leg for it.
One of Sam's classmates recommended we look in the city of Quincy. This friend, Dave, and his wife Christine, live there say it is way closer to the school but far enough away that it is safe and still inexpensive (relatively of course). So we decided to check it out. Of course, "we" means it is me who spent another miserable day driving around getting lost, trying to keep Rachel happy in the car for hours on end, having to stop and feed her, change her diapers, oh and see some apartments while I am at it. I hate that everything is so complicated with a baby. Of course I should be the one to find apartments, because I am the one who is home all day, but this is definitely not as enjoyable, or as easy, as shopping for an apartment in college with my soon-to-be roommates. Today there was some hideous places: red shag carpet, hideous wanna-be-wood floors, so much for east coast character and brownstones with wood mouldings.
I was almost ready to give up, when I finally found the perfect place. After the place with the red shag carpet I told the realtor I was calling it a day. She said she had one more place, it wasn't as close to the T (the subway), and it was in North Quincy, but it was a nice place. I told her thanks, but no thanks, but I was worn out and just wanted to go home. If I didn't leave soon I would get stuck in rush hour traffic and it would take me more like 2 hours to get back to Norwood. I put Rachel in her carseat, buckled her up, then got in and sat down. I took a deep breath and was happy to be done for the day, but when I realized that I still didn't have a place, which meant there would probably be many more days like this, I almost had a panic attack. I jumped out of the car and ran over to the realtor's car before she drove off. I tapped on the window and she rolled it down, "I guess I have time to see one more place." I followed her to the final apartment and we pulled up to a beautiful house. It was an actual house, with a patio, maroon shutters, and a front yard with grass. It was what they call a two family house, the owners lived upstairs and they were renting the first floor. The inside was even better. Dark wood floors, that were in good shape, wood moulding around all the windows and on the ceiling, two bedrooms, and a large kitchen with normal sized appliances (including a dishwasher) and even a cupboard with room for a washer and dryer. True, it was kind of wierd for it to be in the kitchen, but way better than down in a dingy cellar. And what do you know, this place was way better than everything else we looked out, but it still carried the standard two bedroom price, $1100. Sold!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Chapter 3 - Boston
Without any family nearby and with Sam in school all day (and studying all night), Rachel and I were pretty much joined at the hip. I stayed at home with her. I taught her things, and watched her soak them in, and we explored the city.
I remember teaching her the alphabet. Well, technically Dr Seuss had a lot to do with it, but I was the one who read all those books to her so I think I still get the credit. She loved the Dr Seuss's ABC book. But I read it to her, and she loved that book. I can remember when she was a little older than one and we were flying home to visit family in Phoenix. It is a 5 hour flight, and she wanted me to keep reading that book, over, and over, and over again. Whenever you are on a flight with a young child, your only goal is to keep them quiet. Keep them relaxed. So they can just make it through the flight, so you can make it through the flight, and so that everyone around you can make it though the flight (without giving you dirty looks the whole time). So when I would finish reading it, and she would hand it to me and say "again." I would read it, again. I read it so many times that I had the whole book memorized, in fact I think I still do. "Big B little b what begins with B?" Barber, baby, bubbles, and a bumblebee." Actually, I vividly remember how I felt when we finished that flight. I wanted to chuck that book out the window and never read it again! I am glad I didn't though, because looking at it now brings all of those memories back. The cover is ripped, as well as many of the pages, and now it is all patched up with scotch tape.
As for thinking motherhood wasn't what I expected, I think a better explanation, is that I didn't really have any expectations about this part of motherhood. I didn't know much about what I wanted my life to be like when I "grew up" but I always knew I wanted to be a mom. I had pictured being a soccer mom, and taking her to school, volunteering in her classroom, and having freshly baked cookies ready when she got home from school. I even had trouble choosing a major in college, because all I wanted to do was be a mom. But once it finally happened, when she was born, I admit, I was a little blind sided. In all of my daydreams, I don't think I had ever really imagined what my daily life would be like during those first few years, even though I had seen friends, and even my sister, have babies. I pictured holding them and looking at their adorable little face, and hands, and toes, but beyond that I guess I didn't know what it would be like. So when I finally got the chance to turn in my busy life, of working and going to school, and always staying busy, for a life of sitting at home, sitting on the couch, feeding a baby, and watching her sleep, it was a dream come true, but also a shock to my system.
Because of this, I wasn't always the happiest mom. I didn't always love this new life. Sometimes I missed my old one, where I had a job, where I felt busy, and productive. I missed interacting with adults, heck, just people who could talk. I remember, after one long day, realizing that I wasn't sure if I had uttered a single word that whole day until Sam came home from school. Sure, I would talk to Rachel, but I guess I didn't count that, because it wasn't a 'conversation.' Baby talk, and a few words here and there. Narrations of my day. After that, I would call my sister, or my parents almost every day. Just to say hi. Just to visit. Because some of those days were hard, they were too long, and sometimes they were lonely. These are probably the times that my husband thinks of when he wonders why I want another baby, I know he is thinking 'but you weren't always happy when you had a baby, so why do you want to do that all over again?' But all I needed was a little bit to keep me going, and then I could be happy just spending time laying on a blanket on the floor with my daughter and watching her eyes light up when she recognized a favorite toy, or just to tickle her and listen to her giggle. My husband isn't wrong, (though I refuse to say that he is right:). I wasn't always happy. There were down times, when I was sad, and depressed, and angry at him for not helping out what I thought was 'enough', or for many other things, but the good times, the highs, were so much higher than the happiness I had could get from anything else, that to me it made it worth it. I would compare it to how I felt on my wedding day. When I was so happy that my checks hurt from smiling so much. But that is just one day. And no matter how much we try to savor that day, to make it last; by taking a bazillion pictures, and hanging them in every room in the house, making a wedding video, etc it really is only one day. Would you relive that day over and over again if you could? Maybe, but we can't get married every day, and that is probably a good thing, because it was also an exhausing, stressful, expensive day. Which is actually perfect, because it proves the point that even the best things in the world have a down side. But, if there is something that makes us utterly happy, we strive after those things, despite the down sides.
Maybe this is why locals in Boston say "I could never leave here, I love the seasons, and I would miss them if I moved somewhere else." They are right, the seasons in Boston are unique. But during my first few years there, I couldn't understood how a few weeks of blossom covered trees in the spring, and a few weeks of colorful leaves in the fall balanced out (what feels like) nine months of the most miserable winter weather you can imagine. For each person it is different. To them, those few weeks out of the year make it all worth it. And for me, all those days where I struggled to even get a shower, let alone do the laundry or the grocery shopping, or actually prepare a meal for dinner, are all worth those few days where you are able to truely enjoy being a mother to your child.
I remember teaching her the alphabet. Well, technically Dr Seuss had a lot to do with it, but I was the one who read all those books to her so I think I still get the credit. She loved the Dr Seuss's ABC book. But I read it to her, and she loved that book. I can remember when she was a little older than one and we were flying home to visit family in Phoenix. It is a 5 hour flight, and she wanted me to keep reading that book, over, and over, and over again. Whenever you are on a flight with a young child, your only goal is to keep them quiet. Keep them relaxed. So they can just make it through the flight, so you can make it through the flight, and so that everyone around you can make it though the flight (without giving you dirty looks the whole time). So when I would finish reading it, and she would hand it to me and say "again." I would read it, again. I read it so many times that I had the whole book memorized, in fact I think I still do. "Big B little b what begins with B?" Barber, baby, bubbles, and a bumblebee." Actually, I vividly remember how I felt when we finished that flight. I wanted to chuck that book out the window and never read it again! I am glad I didn't though, because looking at it now brings all of those memories back. The cover is ripped, as well as many of the pages, and now it is all patched up with scotch tape.
As for thinking motherhood wasn't what I expected, I think a better explanation, is that I didn't really have any expectations about this part of motherhood. I didn't know much about what I wanted my life to be like when I "grew up" but I always knew I wanted to be a mom. I had pictured being a soccer mom, and taking her to school, volunteering in her classroom, and having freshly baked cookies ready when she got home from school. I even had trouble choosing a major in college, because all I wanted to do was be a mom. But once it finally happened, when she was born, I admit, I was a little blind sided. In all of my daydreams, I don't think I had ever really imagined what my daily life would be like during those first few years, even though I had seen friends, and even my sister, have babies. I pictured holding them and looking at their adorable little face, and hands, and toes, but beyond that I guess I didn't know what it would be like. So when I finally got the chance to turn in my busy life, of working and going to school, and always staying busy, for a life of sitting at home, sitting on the couch, feeding a baby, and watching her sleep, it was a dream come true, but also a shock to my system.
Because of this, I wasn't always the happiest mom. I didn't always love this new life. Sometimes I missed my old one, where I had a job, where I felt busy, and productive. I missed interacting with adults, heck, just people who could talk. I remember, after one long day, realizing that I wasn't sure if I had uttered a single word that whole day until Sam came home from school. Sure, I would talk to Rachel, but I guess I didn't count that, because it wasn't a 'conversation.' Baby talk, and a few words here and there. Narrations of my day. After that, I would call my sister, or my parents almost every day. Just to say hi. Just to visit. Because some of those days were hard, they were too long, and sometimes they were lonely. These are probably the times that my husband thinks of when he wonders why I want another baby, I know he is thinking 'but you weren't always happy when you had a baby, so why do you want to do that all over again?' But all I needed was a little bit to keep me going, and then I could be happy just spending time laying on a blanket on the floor with my daughter and watching her eyes light up when she recognized a favorite toy, or just to tickle her and listen to her giggle. My husband isn't wrong, (though I refuse to say that he is right:). I wasn't always happy. There were down times, when I was sad, and depressed, and angry at him for not helping out what I thought was 'enough', or for many other things, but the good times, the highs, were so much higher than the happiness I had could get from anything else, that to me it made it worth it. I would compare it to how I felt on my wedding day. When I was so happy that my checks hurt from smiling so much. But that is just one day. And no matter how much we try to savor that day, to make it last; by taking a bazillion pictures, and hanging them in every room in the house, making a wedding video, etc it really is only one day. Would you relive that day over and over again if you could? Maybe, but we can't get married every day, and that is probably a good thing, because it was also an exhausing, stressful, expensive day. Which is actually perfect, because it proves the point that even the best things in the world have a down side. But, if there is something that makes us utterly happy, we strive after those things, despite the down sides.
Maybe this is why locals in Boston say "I could never leave here, I love the seasons, and I would miss them if I moved somewhere else." They are right, the seasons in Boston are unique. But during my first few years there, I couldn't understood how a few weeks of blossom covered trees in the spring, and a few weeks of colorful leaves in the fall balanced out (what feels like) nine months of the most miserable winter weather you can imagine. For each person it is different. To them, those few weeks out of the year make it all worth it. And for me, all those days where I struggled to even get a shower, let alone do the laundry or the grocery shopping, or actually prepare a meal for dinner, are all worth those few days where you are able to truely enjoy being a mother to your child.
Chapter 2 - Moving across the country
The way it worked out, I was 6 months pregnant and having difficulties with pre-term labor when we were supposed to fly to visit Boston for the first time and find a place to live. So we put off the trip until after Rachel was born at the end of May. At that point, it wouldn't work out for me to go, but we had to have a place to live starting in 2 months, so Sam flew out on his own. He found a place we could sublet for a few months so we could get out there and give us some time to get an idea of the neighborhoods that we could both afford and would be willing to live in.
Driving across the country in a Uhaul with a newborn didn't sound like a very peasant experience, so we decided that Sam would drive with his brother, and Rachel and I would fly to meet them once they arrived. So despite my obsessive need to plan, and over plan, my first time seeing Boston (the place I would call home for the next 4 years) was when I stepped off the airplane with suitcases and an infant carrier in hand. Sam picked up me, and 2 month old Rachel, from the Logan Airport and drove us to our new home. It was late at night, and already dark, but I remember staring out the window on the entire ride home, just like a little kid staring at Christmas lights out a car window on Christmas Eve. He took the scenic route down 1-93 (that was before it was buried underground as part of the Big Dig). We drove through downtown, past the aquarium, past hotels that looked like museums. I remember being suprised to see high rise buildings made out of bricks. I thought I knew what to expect, but apparently everything I needed to know about Boston could not be learned just by watching Dawson's Creek.
Despite the differences -it was still magical--just like I had imagined. I lived near a big city growing up, but downtown Phoenix was a place you avoided, and downtown Boston was just the opposite. It was calling out for me to come and explore. There were houses that were so old they had been lived in by people like Paul Revere. I think the oldest houses I had seen in Phoenix were from the 1980's. The Boston Massacre happened here, and the Boston Tea Party. This is where the Declaration of Independence was first read. I can't even remember anything else that happened here, but those few things alone were more than everything historic or exciting that had ever happened in Phoenix. I was just trying to take it all in.
Forty-five minutes later we were pulling up to our new apartment building, Windsor Gardens Apartments in Norwood, a suburb about 45 minutes south of Boston. While we were excited to live near Boston, we weren't naive; we knew just like any inner-city there were neighborhoods that we should avoid, only we didn't know which ones. So for now we decided to play it safe and live in the out-skirts while we figured it all out. Not to mention, the amount of money we saved. Our only income was going to be the maximum amount of student loans they would let us take out. Just a studio apartment near Boston University would cost around $2000 a month. It is funny how coming from spending $600 a month for a one bedroom in Mesa, Arizona, I am already saying things like "We found a bargain-we are only paying $1100 a month for our place!" Oh how the times have changed.
The front of our apartment building has a buzzer that visitors have to press and someone has to buzz them in. It is just like on Seinfield. The inside kind of reminds me of Seinfield's apartment too. It has one big room where the living room and dining room are all combined. Only I am pretty sure his kitchen was bigger. I walk into the "kitchen," a small square inside and off to the side of the large room. I just have to stand in one spot and do a 360, if I hold my arms out I could touch the counters on all sides. I didn't know they even made appliances this small. The oven was only as wide as my forearm. Would our cookie sheets even fit in it? Come to find out later, no, they would not. It was more like some sort of built in toaster oven. There was also a dishwasher that was just as small, maybe smaller. I would find out later that having a dishwasher at all was a luxury here. Oh-and the bathroom, it was pink. Not the walls, something easy to change, but the actual shower, and sink and toilet. I have never seen anything besides white in Arizona. What type of company would make them in pink? And what kind of person would buy it and install it in their house? Despite the little quirks of this place, it wasn't too bad. It was small, but it was nice and open and the entire back wall was a giant window that looked out at a forest of tall trees. Probably more trees I've seen in all of Phoenix combined. Okay, obviously an exaggeration, but definitely more trees than I would see in a day back home.
Well, now to the unpacking.
Driving across the country in a Uhaul with a newborn didn't sound like a very peasant experience, so we decided that Sam would drive with his brother, and Rachel and I would fly to meet them once they arrived. So despite my obsessive need to plan, and over plan, my first time seeing Boston (the place I would call home for the next 4 years) was when I stepped off the airplane with suitcases and an infant carrier in hand. Sam picked up me, and 2 month old Rachel, from the Logan Airport and drove us to our new home. It was late at night, and already dark, but I remember staring out the window on the entire ride home, just like a little kid staring at Christmas lights out a car window on Christmas Eve. He took the scenic route down 1-93 (that was before it was buried underground as part of the Big Dig). We drove through downtown, past the aquarium, past hotels that looked like museums. I remember being suprised to see high rise buildings made out of bricks. I thought I knew what to expect, but apparently everything I needed to know about Boston could not be learned just by watching Dawson's Creek.
Despite the differences -it was still magical--just like I had imagined. I lived near a big city growing up, but downtown Phoenix was a place you avoided, and downtown Boston was just the opposite. It was calling out for me to come and explore. There were houses that were so old they had been lived in by people like Paul Revere. I think the oldest houses I had seen in Phoenix were from the 1980's. The Boston Massacre happened here, and the Boston Tea Party. This is where the Declaration of Independence was first read. I can't even remember anything else that happened here, but those few things alone were more than everything historic or exciting that had ever happened in Phoenix. I was just trying to take it all in.
Forty-five minutes later we were pulling up to our new apartment building, Windsor Gardens Apartments in Norwood, a suburb about 45 minutes south of Boston. While we were excited to live near Boston, we weren't naive; we knew just like any inner-city there were neighborhoods that we should avoid, only we didn't know which ones. So for now we decided to play it safe and live in the out-skirts while we figured it all out. Not to mention, the amount of money we saved. Our only income was going to be the maximum amount of student loans they would let us take out. Just a studio apartment near Boston University would cost around $2000 a month. It is funny how coming from spending $600 a month for a one bedroom in Mesa, Arizona, I am already saying things like "We found a bargain-we are only paying $1100 a month for our place!" Oh how the times have changed.
The front of our apartment building has a buzzer that visitors have to press and someone has to buzz them in. It is just like on Seinfield. The inside kind of reminds me of Seinfield's apartment too. It has one big room where the living room and dining room are all combined. Only I am pretty sure his kitchen was bigger. I walk into the "kitchen," a small square inside and off to the side of the large room. I just have to stand in one spot and do a 360, if I hold my arms out I could touch the counters on all sides. I didn't know they even made appliances this small. The oven was only as wide as my forearm. Would our cookie sheets even fit in it? Come to find out later, no, they would not. It was more like some sort of built in toaster oven. There was also a dishwasher that was just as small, maybe smaller. I would find out later that having a dishwasher at all was a luxury here. Oh-and the bathroom, it was pink. Not the walls, something easy to change, but the actual shower, and sink and toilet. I have never seen anything besides white in Arizona. What type of company would make them in pink? And what kind of person would buy it and install it in their house? Despite the little quirks of this place, it wasn't too bad. It was small, but it was nice and open and the entire back wall was a giant window that looked out at a forest of tall trees. Probably more trees I've seen in all of Phoenix combined. Okay, obviously an exaggeration, but definitely more trees than I would see in a day back home.
Well, now to the unpacking.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Chapter 1 - motherhood
I am a planner. I make lists, lots and lots of lists. Ever since elementary school I have been planning what I wanted my life to be like…someday. I wasn't decisive enough to have all the exact details figured out, but I had the big picture. I never expected to have all of my dreams come true, but it was nice to have something to work towards. My senior year of high school, one of my teachers asked us to write about what we hoped our life would be like in 5 to 10 years. For me, this was easy. As a result of all of my studying and my stellar GPA, I will have earned a full-ride scholarship to the college of my choice, and will have graduated with my bachelor’s degree. Then, I was going to get married, to a successful and of course very handsome man. Hopefully I would have at least one child, maybe two, and would be spending my days as a stay at home mom raising them.
Four years and 11 months after I graduated from high school I am sitting in my living room in our two bedroom apartment holding my three week old baby girl, Rachel. I am a mom. Everything I had always wanted has come true. I had earned a full-ride scholarship to a four year university. I decided to go to ASU since it was nearby. I got my own apartment, (even if it was only 30 minutes away, and I shared it with 3 other roommates.) I had a job (as a bank teller) that paid all my expenses, went to parties, made lots of friends, went on lots of dates. Then a year later I met Sam, a super smart chemistry major, and of course tall dark and handsome. I had earned my Bachelor's degree, married the man of my dreams: handsome, smart, driven, and someone who would ‘make fun of me’ (ie-had a sense off humor). I even graduated early, in just three and a half years. A year and a half later Sam and I both graduated, and a couple weeks after that we were married.
As I sit here and look at Rachel in my arms, there are so many thoughts going through my head. She is so beautiful, and tiny. I am so happy to finally be a mom…and yet, at the same time, it isn't what I imagined it would be.
I even got lucky enough to get the chance to move to the east coast, something I had always dreamed about but never had enough courage to follow through with on my own. It took my husband getting accepted to dental school there to make it happen. Then Rachel was born, and it was like the final cherry on top, she made me a mom—the capstone of all I thought I ever wanted in life. I should have been suspicious when at the ripe old age of 20, I thought that all of my dreams had come true, but at the time I felt like I had reached my very own 'happily ever after.'
It’s funny how I had this perfect vision of my dream life, and then when I am blessed enough to have it all come true all I can think is … ‘this is it?’ All my dreams have come true, shouldn’t that mean that I am happy beyond belief? Somehow, I'm not. I am just, confused. How come I never envisioned this part of my life. All that planning, and the whole time I had skipped the part between holding an infant in the hospital and being a soccer mom with a minivan.
I feel like I have been deceived, duped even, and to the extreme that there must have been a conspiracy. I have been around kids a lot, I grew up with four kids in my family, and my older sister had just had a baby about a year ago, and yet I feel like I know NOTHING about what a baby is really like, and all the different ways it changes your life.
I try really hard to think about what it was that I had expected. I see moms who are trading carpools, and spending their time carting kids to soccer practice, piano lessons, and dance classes. I also see moms who are at home when their kids get home from school, and have a snack all ready for them on the table. Nowhere in these thoughts is there anything about being sleep deprived, or trying to nurse a baby, who doesn’t appear to have inherited the ‘knowing how to eat’ gene.
I turned 21 a week after she was born. Not the typical 21st birthday. While it is a memorable birthday for most, since I didn't drink or gamble it didn't seem any different than other birthdays. I actually forgot it was my birthday, in the post-returning-from-the-hospital-and-trying-to figure-out-how-to-take-care-of-a-newborn fog. I definitely didn't feel up to partying. When I realized it was my birthday I remember thinking that my little girl was the best present I could ever have.
I don't remember my parents ever once saying anything to me directly when I got engaged at such a young age, at least not that I recall, but I am sure they had their doubts. They, like other parents, knew there was just nothing they could do to stop it, and protesting it would only drive a rift between us. So they were happy for us, invited Sam on our upcoming famliy vacation and happily helped plan and pay for our wedding.
I do, however, remember there was a little hesitation when I told them I was pregnant (only 6 months after being married). Their main concern, the only one they voiced, was missing out on all the things you can't do after you have kids, which included worrying that I wouldn't finish my college education. I was suprised that they doubted my dedication to pretty much my only major life-goal and assured them that this wasn't an option. From then on they were happy grandparents.
The only small regret I had about the way everything turned out (and it was really only a half-regret) was that I didn't go to college on the east coast. In my mind -there was something magical, about the east coast. Going to school out there seemed like the easy way to move out there for a little while, and get to experience it. Those are the schools you hear about growing up, Harvard, Yale, NYU, Cambridge. But going to one of those schools was never my dream, my dream was just to get to wear the cute hats and scarves, ice skate outside, and walk through the cobblestone streets of the city. But I never followed through, never even applied to schools on the east coast, because I am too practical. And choosing to go to super expensive school, really far away, when you don't even know what you want to study, just so you can wear a hat and a scarf, just isn't practical. Of course the reason I can only half regret my choice to play it safe and go to school at ASU--is because that is where I met Sam.
This is where the story gets even better. Sam decided to apply to dental school and was accepted into Boston University. So the final icing on the cake was that after never being east of Denver, Colorado, and thanks to my wonderful husband, I was able to get a second chance and move 3,000 miles away to Boston, Massachusetts. Live by the ocean, live in a city that had character, that had seasons, to wear sweaters, jackets, scarves, and cute winter hats. And someday after we moved from there I would have the privilege of getting to say "I lived in Boston." That alone sounded exciting enough.
Four years and 11 months after I graduated from high school I am sitting in my living room in our two bedroom apartment holding my three week old baby girl, Rachel. I am a mom. Everything I had always wanted has come true. I had earned a full-ride scholarship to a four year university. I decided to go to ASU since it was nearby. I got my own apartment, (even if it was only 30 minutes away, and I shared it with 3 other roommates.) I had a job (as a bank teller) that paid all my expenses, went to parties, made lots of friends, went on lots of dates. Then a year later I met Sam, a super smart chemistry major, and of course tall dark and handsome. I had earned my Bachelor's degree, married the man of my dreams: handsome, smart, driven, and someone who would ‘make fun of me’ (ie-had a sense off humor). I even graduated early, in just three and a half years. A year and a half later Sam and I both graduated, and a couple weeks after that we were married.
As I sit here and look at Rachel in my arms, there are so many thoughts going through my head. She is so beautiful, and tiny. I am so happy to finally be a mom…and yet, at the same time, it isn't what I imagined it would be.
I even got lucky enough to get the chance to move to the east coast, something I had always dreamed about but never had enough courage to follow through with on my own. It took my husband getting accepted to dental school there to make it happen. Then Rachel was born, and it was like the final cherry on top, she made me a mom—the capstone of all I thought I ever wanted in life. I should have been suspicious when at the ripe old age of 20, I thought that all of my dreams had come true, but at the time I felt like I had reached my very own 'happily ever after.'
It’s funny how I had this perfect vision of my dream life, and then when I am blessed enough to have it all come true all I can think is … ‘this is it?’ All my dreams have come true, shouldn’t that mean that I am happy beyond belief? Somehow, I'm not. I am just, confused. How come I never envisioned this part of my life. All that planning, and the whole time I had skipped the part between holding an infant in the hospital and being a soccer mom with a minivan.
I feel like I have been deceived, duped even, and to the extreme that there must have been a conspiracy. I have been around kids a lot, I grew up with four kids in my family, and my older sister had just had a baby about a year ago, and yet I feel like I know NOTHING about what a baby is really like, and all the different ways it changes your life.
I try really hard to think about what it was that I had expected. I see moms who are trading carpools, and spending their time carting kids to soccer practice, piano lessons, and dance classes. I also see moms who are at home when their kids get home from school, and have a snack all ready for them on the table. Nowhere in these thoughts is there anything about being sleep deprived, or trying to nurse a baby, who doesn’t appear to have inherited the ‘knowing how to eat’ gene.
****
I look back at pictures of me holding my little girl, and I am sure I was mistaken by some for a teenage mom. I may have been young, but at the time I didn't feel like it. I felt mature, responsible, and ready to take the next step. Blame it on being newlyweds, or living in a post-9/11 world where you wanted to focus on the important things in life, but we were excited to start a family, and yes I did say "we." I turned 21 a week after she was born. Not the typical 21st birthday. While it is a memorable birthday for most, since I didn't drink or gamble it didn't seem any different than other birthdays. I actually forgot it was my birthday, in the post-returning-from-the-hospital-and-trying-to figure-out-how-to-take-care-of-a-newborn fog. I definitely didn't feel up to partying. When I realized it was my birthday I remember thinking that my little girl was the best present I could ever have.
I don't remember my parents ever once saying anything to me directly when I got engaged at such a young age, at least not that I recall, but I am sure they had their doubts. They, like other parents, knew there was just nothing they could do to stop it, and protesting it would only drive a rift between us. So they were happy for us, invited Sam on our upcoming famliy vacation and happily helped plan and pay for our wedding.
I do, however, remember there was a little hesitation when I told them I was pregnant (only 6 months after being married). Their main concern, the only one they voiced, was missing out on all the things you can't do after you have kids, which included worrying that I wouldn't finish my college education. I was suprised that they doubted my dedication to pretty much my only major life-goal and assured them that this wasn't an option. From then on they were happy grandparents.
The only small regret I had about the way everything turned out (and it was really only a half-regret) was that I didn't go to college on the east coast. In my mind -there was something magical, about the east coast. Going to school out there seemed like the easy way to move out there for a little while, and get to experience it. Those are the schools you hear about growing up, Harvard, Yale, NYU, Cambridge. But going to one of those schools was never my dream, my dream was just to get to wear the cute hats and scarves, ice skate outside, and walk through the cobblestone streets of the city. But I never followed through, never even applied to schools on the east coast, because I am too practical. And choosing to go to super expensive school, really far away, when you don't even know what you want to study, just so you can wear a hat and a scarf, just isn't practical. Of course the reason I can only half regret my choice to play it safe and go to school at ASU--is because that is where I met Sam.
This is where the story gets even better. Sam decided to apply to dental school and was accepted into Boston University. So the final icing on the cake was that after never being east of Denver, Colorado, and thanks to my wonderful husband, I was able to get a second chance and move 3,000 miles away to Boston, Massachusetts. Live by the ocean, live in a city that had character, that had seasons, to wear sweaters, jackets, scarves, and cute winter hats. And someday after we moved from there I would have the privilege of getting to say "I lived in Boston." That alone sounded exciting enough.
Prologue
Boston is where my daughter was lucky enough to grow up. This is where I showed her the world (or at least all over the East Coast.)
We could catch the bus from the top of our street, and from there we could go to the North Quincy train station, where all of Boston was at our fingertips, at the sole cost of a train token. I took her to the Boston Public library. We saw the children's room all decked out in the Curious George theme. We saw the atrium with fountains. We saw the Trinity Church across the street. We walked down Beacon Street, all the way to the Public Gardens and Boston Common, where we splashed around in the frog pond and rode on the swan boats. We rode the bus through Chinatown, and into South Boston to go visit daddy on his lunch break at school. We would go to the farmer's market downtown on Friday mornings. We walked the freedom trail, shopped at Downtown Crossing, saw the Old North Church and Paul Revere's house. We saw the John Adam's house, and the Old State House where the Declaration of Independence was first read. We've rode on the red line, the green line, the orange line, the silver line, and the blue line. I took her apple picking, and pumpkin picking, and to the Children's Museum. We played at the beach, fed seagulls, and played in the sand. She played in the snow, made her first snowman, and learned to ice skate on the Frog Pond at Boston Common. We took her to see Plymouth Rock, and the replica of the Mayflower. We ate lobster in Maine and went to a beach on Cape Cod. We sat on Memorial Dr. and watched the 4th of July fireworks over the Charles River. I took her driving to look at fall leaves in New Hampshire. We saw lighthouses, and gas tanks, and windmills. We flew kites and she learned how to ride her first bike at Castle Island. We took her to New York City and she saw the Statue of Liberty, stood at the top of the Empire State Building, ate at Planet Hollywood in Times Square, visited Ground Zero, Grand Central Station, and even stood on Boadway and watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. She started preschool and rode her first school bus.
I showed her so many things, and we went so many places, that even though she only lived here until she was 4, I still will always remember that this is where she grew up. What I didn't realize at the time, was that it was also the place where I grew up.
We could catch the bus from the top of our street, and from there we could go to the North Quincy train station, where all of Boston was at our fingertips, at the sole cost of a train token. I took her to the Boston Public library. We saw the children's room all decked out in the Curious George theme. We saw the atrium with fountains. We saw the Trinity Church across the street. We walked down Beacon Street, all the way to the Public Gardens and Boston Common, where we splashed around in the frog pond and rode on the swan boats. We rode the bus through Chinatown, and into South Boston to go visit daddy on his lunch break at school. We would go to the farmer's market downtown on Friday mornings. We walked the freedom trail, shopped at Downtown Crossing, saw the Old North Church and Paul Revere's house. We saw the John Adam's house, and the Old State House where the Declaration of Independence was first read. We've rode on the red line, the green line, the orange line, the silver line, and the blue line. I took her apple picking, and pumpkin picking, and to the Children's Museum. We played at the beach, fed seagulls, and played in the sand. She played in the snow, made her first snowman, and learned to ice skate on the Frog Pond at Boston Common. We took her to see Plymouth Rock, and the replica of the Mayflower. We ate lobster in Maine and went to a beach on Cape Cod. We sat on Memorial Dr. and watched the 4th of July fireworks over the Charles River. I took her driving to look at fall leaves in New Hampshire. We saw lighthouses, and gas tanks, and windmills. We flew kites and she learned how to ride her first bike at Castle Island. We took her to New York City and she saw the Statue of Liberty, stood at the top of the Empire State Building, ate at Planet Hollywood in Times Square, visited Ground Zero, Grand Central Station, and even stood on Boadway and watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. She started preschool and rode her first school bus.
I showed her so many things, and we went so many places, that even though she only lived here until she was 4, I still will always remember that this is where she grew up. What I didn't realize at the time, was that it was also the place where I grew up.
Monday, January 4, 2010
prologue (old version)
I should have been suspicious when I thought that all of my dreams had come true by the ripe old age of 20. I had earned a full-ride scholarship to a four year university. I had moved away from home (even if it was only 30 minutes away), had a job (as a teller), bought my first car on my own, and was financially independant. I had earned my Bachelor's degree, married the man of my dreams: handsome, smart, driven, and someone who would ‘make fun of me’ (ie-had a sense off humor). This awesome husband had also just decided that he was going to become a dentist. I wasn't trying to marry someone who would make a lot of money, but since it just happened, it was a nice bonus to know that we should be financially taken care of –after all, I have never seen a doctor that is struggling. And the final cherry on top, just had a baby girl, making me a mom—the capstone of all I thought I ever wanted in life.
I would have never believed it if you would had told me that 5 years from then I would be standing in line at the run down office of the department of economic security hoping to get approved for state health insurance. Or that 6 years from then I would be living on an indian reservation in Arizona, in the middle of nowhere, 2 hours from any real town. Where my daughter would be learning Navajo in school and had classmates who lived in trailers and hogans without running water.
I would have never believed it if you would had told me that 5 years from then I would be standing in line at the run down office of the department of economic security hoping to get approved for state health insurance. Or that 6 years from then I would be living on an indian reservation in Arizona, in the middle of nowhere, 2 hours from any real town. Where my daughter would be learning Navajo in school and had classmates who lived in trailers and hogans without running water.
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