Since I made that last post, it has occurred to me every day, at least once, that while I said I would start blogging more often, I haven’t. For one reason or another, I just haven’t. Obviously.
I finished the training program for my new editing gig and spent a week straight online, taking jobs and trying my best to finish them quickly. That doing-jobs-quickly business is going to take me a while. The software they use is a little glitchy, and I’m still learning how to listen as I type and transcribe or translate. It’s not the kind of thing I can do while Bea is tearing around the house, since each typed word has to match up with the speaker’s voice.
Then, we had her second birthday party and a cookout here at our new place. It took a little coordinating since a few people were driving in from Indianapolis. We had guests (Jay and Scott and their housemate) over the weekend, so there was a lot of rushing around to get laundry done, grocery shop, make sure we had guests sheets and pillows and towels.
It was wonderful to see how many people were willing to make the drive to come and see us, but one thing that distressed me was, afterward, my aunt Vicki said, “Chicago doesn’t seem like it’s that far, but it is.” Her son, my cousin Peter, has lived here for about 3 years and he usually heads back home to visit.
When we were first planning on making this move, I was excited, then I got nervous, then I started to feel guilty. The closer it came to Moving Day, the more sad I felt at taking Bea away from all the people she knows. Sarah and her son Remy; Maureen and her daughter Kaya; my aunt Vicki and her family; the support network we had of people we trusted and who Bea would be fine with if we needed a babysitter.
I know. I know. We’ll meet people here, right? We’ll make friends. I’ll eventually start classes and find common ground with my fellow students. Bea will eventually end up in a daycare or preschool where she’ll meet other kids she likes. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’ll like those kids’ parents.
One thing I’ve learned living in Chicago; people here are very, very young. It’s a vibrant, exciting city with a lot of things to do. Within a block or two of our place, there’s a few convenience stores, a coffeeshop, an El stop, a Starbucks, a Thai place, three pizza places, an authentic Mexican restaurant, a laundromat, a dog groomer, a library, a used bookstore, a designer toy store, clothing shops, two parks, and . . . I can’t even remember what else.
It’s difficult to keep up when you’ve got a two-year-old in tow.
We do seem to have found our footing, though. We’ve got a bit of a schedule going on, the details of which would bore you to tears. Mostly because it’s just what works for us. We don’t have a lot of money to do much of anything exciting, and with Bea napping smack-dab in the middle of the day, it doesn’t leave our options open to, say, hit a museum. The effort involved in getting somewhere downtown with Bea, on my own, makes me tired just to think about it.
It’s only been a month, half of which she was sick, so I think we’re doing pretty well, all things considered.