Home. Home? Home.

The paper due tomorrow has been emailed to my professor and my self-inflicted ban on blogging is officially lifted, which is good because I’ve got something I want to say.

Z and I have been thinking about living in Syracuse. We’ve been here for more than three and a half years already, which is longer than we’ve lived anywhere in our nearly 15 year relationship. On the drive home from NYC two weekends ago Z asked me when do we make the decision that Syracuse is home? When do we put down roots a little?

I didn’t have an answer. Z is happier professionally here than the has ever been in his life. We love our home, we love our community, our boys are happy here. Yes, the winter sucks, but summer sure is fantastic. The biggest problem is geography. We are far from our families at a time when we want our boys to spend as much time with them as possible.

Z and I are lucky enough to have parents who are engaged in our lives, who want to be around our boys. Living near your parents doesn’t guarantee that kind of engagement. Our parents are in good health (knock on a forest of wood) and are able to travel. We are also able to travel, particularly because Z has freedom due to the academic calendar. We might live far away, but we see a ton of our family. Hell, my parents who have vowed to never visit Syracuse during the winter were up here twice while there was snow on the ground this year.

Tomorrow my term paper is due. I have been working on it pretty much nonstop since Saturday. Also, Z left town to perform with those dance folks again on Tuesday. How have I managed to write the paper? My mother-in-law came to town on Saturday. She has cared for my children, cooked our dinners, and kept the house a million times tidier than I ever do. How crazy is that? How lucky am I? This paper would not have gotten written without her. I am deeply grateful for her generosity. In fact, I want to shout my thanks from the rooftops. She is probably sick of me telling her how much this trip means to me. But I can’t help it. This is the most significant gift she has ever given me, and she has given me a lot of gifts over the years. She came here to help and to spend time with the boys. And if she wasn’t interested in doing those things it wouldn’t matter if we lived next door to her, my paper wouldn’t have gotten written.

So we can’t pop over to her house for a quick meal on the weekends. So what? We see her four or five times a year. And when we spend time together we value it.

It would be awesome to live closer to family, really it would. But there is a lot of good here in Sunny Syracuse. And we might not live close to family, but we are close to family. Isn’t that what matters? You can’t have everything in this life, but we have more than our fair share. Maybe it is time to put down some roots and enjoy what we’ve got.

pitcher

It’s been a picture light week, what with the paper and all. My Mother-in-law is a ceramist and this is one of my favorite pieces she’s made for us.

rustophone

There is a Sculpture show at an art park in town and Z built this behemoth for it. It’s called Rustophone and you can make music on it. Pretty damn awesome.

socks

Because the world really is full of amazingly awesome and kind people a friend of mine got T and C these day-of-the-week socks while she was visiting England. Thank you times a million, Janine!

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2 thoughts on “Home. Home? Home.

  1. Oh it was my pleasure. Glad you like them! And I think you are really onto something about the quality of the interactions with the grandparents; your MIL sounds amazing. Sometimes closeness doesn’t matter much if it’s all small talk and snippiness. Not that I have experience with that side of things or anything 😉

    • Don’t get me wrong, our family isn’t perfect, least of all me, but I do think Z and I are damned lucky and overall we hit the grandparent jackpot. I also think kids change everything-it’s easier to overlook the family stuff that has been difficult when you are all concentrating on the kiddos. But yes, my Mother-in-law was extraordinary on her visit. I’m crazy thankful.

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