Wednesday, August 22, 2012

The Cons

The impending -- but still dateless -- move is forcing my brain into a melodramatic mood. (I will concede that it is possible I don't really need to be forced. Perhaps gently pushing?) I considered writing just now that I feel like my heart is being ripped out. But that is untrue. I just feel unsettled, and I yearn for some resolution. I would like to know three things:

1. The date of our move.
2. The details of where we will live in Muscat.
3. Whether Tommy has a place at the school we have chosen on the internet for him.  (I know, we're good parents.)

While we all go through hard times in our lives, this right here is not one of those times. This is not especially easy, but it's also not really very hard. In the near term, all I have to do is decide what we are taking with us and what we are not. I don't even have to pack. In the longer term, I have to figure out how to live in a totally new place but that's the part of all of this that I actually like. I think it's fun to have to figure out where to grocery shop and where to take dry cleaning. It sounds crazy, but it's true. Moving is a dream come true for those of us with a passion for having long lists of easily achievable tasks. The part that is difficult for me is the part that I think is somewhat daunting even to those people who are amazingly social like my mother-in-law (you can often find her chatting to someone she's just met standing beside her in a line) and that is making a whole new set of friends. Apparently Lulu feels the same way, because when I told her this morning that she's going to go to a new school and not back to Paint Pots (and I said it in an excited voice), she cried. She loves Paint Pots.

BUT, this morning when we discussed living near the beach, Lulu ran the length of the kitchen just because she was excited! And Tommy can find Oman on a map (interestingly, neither Eli nor I taught him where Oman is -- he read it). Tommy tells everyone he meets that he's moving to Oman. One shopkeeper asked him in reply how long he'd lived in London. "Forty-five years!" he told her, confidently.

And with that attempt at a "glass if half full" perspective, I will sign off.  My next post will definitely be more cheerful. 

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