Wednesday, May 4, 2011

I am not pregnant.

Disclaimer: if you feel like this is something you should have learned with a phone call or email or text message, I am sorry. It wasn't an intentional move. I am up to my eyeballs in overwhelmed (not a noun, I know). Forgive me.

I have been promising some big news for a little while now. This is it.

I am not pregnant.

I have been writing this post in my head for about a week or so. Debating what to write, how to do justice to how difficult this decision has been, how to make sure the people who we love know how much we love and value them and their friendship.

If you don't live near us, know us, and are just one of my loyals who I love, then you probably couldn't care less. So consider this a precursor to some really fabulous stressed out posts. Those are my best ones. They involve extreme sarcasm, often cursing, and will almost always make someone laugh. Or roll their eyes, at the least.

Ok. Enough stalling.

I grew up in St. Louis. By 'grew up' I mean I went to most of elementary school, middle and high school there. When I refer to where I am from, that's what I mean. That's home. I mean not our actual home. But it's where my parents live. You get the point.

Sometimes opportunity knocks.

I was born in Tampa. Lived there until I was 9. I have one friend, a lifelong friend, who I keep in touch with from there. But she lives in Chicago (remind me to tell you how I gave her a manmade dimple sometime... Don't mess with me). My grandparents live in Tampa. So do an uncle, aunt, and cousin. My parents lived there for a quarter century or so. There are countless family friends who haven't seen since I was in 3rd grade wearing stir ups and double layering my socks.

Sometimes it knocks loud.

Maybe it's naive, I never thought we would leave the Midwest. It's comfortable here. People are nice. We are within driving distance of a lot of family and friends (who we should have made an effort to see more). What's not to like?

Knock, knock.

We just put up a swing set. We have fabulous neighbors. A house we love. Life is good. It's easy. It's happy.

Knock, KNOCK.

We have good jobs, a great daycare, a baseball team we have fallen for, big city life without subways and trash in the street.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Most importantly, we have family here. Sure. We are not blood relatives. It doesn't matter. We are family. Our kids call each other 'aunt' and 'uncle' and we love each others kids like our own. We have 'pajama' friends. You know, the kind of friends you don't vacuum for? The ones who don't care if you don't shower. The ones who know you better without makeup and five inch heels. We spend our weekends together. We drink mimosas at play dates. We laugh at each other and ourselves alike. They are our family. Our best friends. We cherish them. Cherish.

ANSWER THE EFFING DOOR!

About six weeks ago a random phone call from a headhunter got a ball rolling that we couldn't stop. From the beginning we said 'if it's meant to be, it will be'. We said they would make the decision for us.

It was meant to be.

They made the decision for us.

We are moving. To Tampa. Holy shit.

The emotions really run the gamete. I am mostly excited, ready to tackle the move, and thrilled while the sun is up. When the sun sets, I am hesitant, sad, and stressed. But this is right. It is supposed to be. So I will cope with the emotions by making a binder, making lists my bitch, and owning this thing.

So. Wanna help? Send house selling thoughts. Pray we don't lose our asses on our house and that the right buyer appears in the first 30 days. Mkay? Can you do that for me? Thanks.

So there you have it. Our big news. Here's to a new adventure!

The Best part? Gee, let me think. Disney? The beach? Closer to family? Terrific new challenge for my better half? The list goes on (in no particular order of course).

1 comment:

CheeseChick said...

Congratulations, Corey! I understand the emotions of a cross country move...I'll be praying for a smooth transition for your family!