I am notoriously hard to upset or offend. I am pretty good at letting things roll off my back. But I HAVE to get this out there:

Bite. My. Ass. Time.

I understand that the now viral Time Magazine cover was meant to be controversial. I understand that the photo was supposed to illicit a reaction. I understand that the photo was there to challenge the perception of breast feeding. I understand I am feeding into the frenzy and 'feeding the troll'. I understand.

Still.

Bite. Me.

I have no problem with the photo. I have no problem with the age of the child nursing. I have no problem with breasts on the cover of Time.

I do, however, take MAJOR exception to "Are You Mom Enough?"

BITE ME.

That attitude...that attitude right there. That goddamned elitist "you're only a REAL mother if you breast feed" bullshit nearly killed me nine years ago. Not figuratively. Not being over dramatic. The only moment in my life where I thought that the world would be better off without me was at the hands of people who made me feel inadequate as a mother because I was unable to breastfeed. In my hormone driven, postpartum depression and terrified 23 year old mind...the way I was made to feel when I had to stop breastfeeding when my child was 3 months left me feeling like I was so inadequate as a mother that I just shouldn't bother.

I was in an emotionally abusive and toxic marriage. I was morbidly obese and with no money at the time, I was forced to try to find work only 3 weeks after giving birth...despite the fact that I had a traumatic delivery and was told to limit standing upright for at least 3 months after giving birth. (I ended up in the hospital after I started bleeding uncontrollably during my second week of work.) One of the most serene and happy moments for me during that horrible time were those spent nursing my daughter.

Less than two months after she was born...something started to go wrong. My supply started to dwindle. I would nurse and nurse...pump and pump...and less and less came out. I started to panic. I called for help and found the Le Leche League. They gave me instruction. They suggested herbs. They told me to pump every two hours...day and night. Since we had no money, I could not afford an electronic pump and I had to use my hand pump. So, for two weeks, morning, noon and night...I pumped. I drank fluids. I took herbs. I carried pictures of my child. I breathed. I tried to focus all my energy on nursing.

...it didn't work.

After two weeks, exhausted, sore and emotionally destroyed...I reached out again to the group. I told them that I was supplementing with formula...because my daughter was obviously hungry.

They told me I needed to stop thinking of only myself and start thinking about my daughter.

They told me I was failing her.

They told me I wasn't trying hard enough.

They told me if I loved her enough, I would try harder.

That night, sobbing, I nursed Alyssa...and where I used to find solace and peace...I found the most agonizing feeling of failure. I looked at her latched onto me...knowing that nothing was happening...and thinking, "You are incapable of doing the most natural thing in the world. You are not able to feed your child." I hated myself. I hated myself for failing her. I hated my body for failing her.

That night I had the most vivid and real dream I have ever had. I was in my house and I could hear Alyssa crying. I walked down the stairs to get her and before I made it to her, I felt a stranger come up behind me and shove a pillow over my face. I remember the stranger suffocating me...and I remember feeling that I deserved it. I remember letting go and letting the stranger suffocate me. And I remember feeling like Alyssa would be better off if I just stopped breathing. I couldn't provide for her. If I stopped breathing, someone more capable would be able to help her.

It was (and is) the only time in my life that I ever considered the unimaginable. I woke up and nursed Alyssa...and looking down at her...I came to my senses. I looked at her little face and knew that I might not be strong enough to nurse her...but I was strong enough to live for her...even if I felt unworthy.

I continued to breastfeed for the next month...but supplemented. I didn't nurse her for the nutritional aspects of the act...but for the comfort it gave us both. Those moments, while not productive for nursing, where some of the most precious of my life. So, you know what, Time? Bite me. Seriously. Yes. I am Mom Enough. I am Mom enough to do the very best that I can for my child. I am Mom enough to know that I cannot do it all. I am Mom enough to fight through the bullshit holier than thou propaganda that there is only ONE proper way to raise a child. I am Mom enough to know that I have made mistakes and I will make more...but I am Mom enough to learn from my mistakes and I am Mom enough to support all Mothers in all their forms. I am Mom enough to celebrate ALL Moms...and stop this horrible Us vs. Them mentality.

I am Mom Enough and screw you for trying to make me feel like I'm not.

I miss Nana, it's been a year since she died. I can't stand being away from her. I feel lonely without her.  We loved watching ''I Love Lucy'' together . Every time I played and watched stuff with her, it made us happy. I think she's happy in  Heaven, and is  playing  with  Papa and Grampy.  I wonder what she is doing right now.  I think she is dreaming about about us  (our family ).  She's probably telling us, ''I miss you and love you very much!''.  And we know.  We love  her.  I  went to the nursing home every chance I had to see if she was ok.  When I found out  part of her brain  had been damaged, I started to cry.  I felt scared she was going to die, so I wanted to be with her  every free  day I had.  But one sunny winter day, after I had spent three days with her at the nursing home, Mom came home and said,''Nana died''. Tears came down both of of our eyes'. I ran up to my room and stayed there for awhile but tried to stay calm and cheer up everyone.  It has made me sad to be without her but everyone else was extra sad, so I wanted to help them feel better.  Even though she had to leave us here, I still love her where she is,and the way she was. :-)

Sadly, it hasn't.

While going through (read: still unpacking) boxes from Maine, I came across my least favorite picture of me. Sadly, it is a rather flattering picture of me from that period of time in my life. I was a size 24, and a large one at that. (I still have a pair of pants from that time that were SO tight on me at the time that I burst the zipper and ripped the back pocket) I was 23 years old, heavy, unhealthy, depressed and full of self hatred. My mother asked me to get a picture done with her during a fundraiser for my little cousin. I reluctantly agreed. Now, I have never been one that would hide from a camera, but there are every few pictures of me during this time because I HATED myself so very much. When the picture came back, I was devastated. I had no neck. My fat rolls were spilling from my pants. I looked at the picture and thought about Fat Bastard from the Austin Power movies...looking like I was about to eat the baby.

Well, I am no longer a size 24. I am a solid size 14/16. This is the size I was in high school. Actually, I do not recall a time in my life when I was ever smaller than a size 14. I have never, in my adult life, been in the 'normal' range. Ever.

So, why is this a big deal now? I'm back to my high school size...shouldn't that be enough?

For once, I have decided that 'enough' isn't enough for me. I push myself to succeed and accomplish everything...except for taking care of myself. I want more.

For once, I have decided that I want to be normal.

In order to drive me to this new goal...my darling husband and I have come up with a powerful motivator.

My wedding band is made of titanium, a metal that cannot be resized. After losing 14 lbs in the past seven weeks, my ring is already getting loose. If I am able to lose an additional 35 lbs and get to 'normal'...well, my ring will fall right off. So, I will get a new ring.

...but I can't have just ANY ring. It needs to have the vows attached.

So, if I can get to my goal of being normal...we are going to get our vows renewed in Vegas by Elvis...and if I can do it...EVERYONE is invited to party with us.

It is a motivator that involves the support of everyone. It is a motivator that I hope others will help me stick to. It is a big reward for what is going to be a long, long struggle. This will not happen over night. I am hopeful that MAYBE I can do it in a year.

But, then comes the doubt. CAN I do it? I have no idea if I can actually be at that size. I am walking into uncharted territories. This is probably going to be one of the hardest things I have ever done...and it will be 98% mental.

So, stick with me, friends. And the next time I say I can't have that extra drink or that second helping...please be kind and just agree with me. And when I have those moments when I say I want to eat an entire cheesecake, smile slightly and try to stop me. I cannot do this by myself. ;)

(download)

Click here to download:

so-what-have-we-been-up-to-GFHixmadrJipEGFiGBbt.zip (1.89 MB)

In what surely must be a sign of things starting to normalize, we have been out of our mind busy and active here in our new home. Construction continues up here in the Highlands and we have started to get settled. Here are a few highlights:

-My parents made it out for a visit! We had four short days to hang out before they headed back to their home away from home: Vegas. We hit all the sites, ate lots of good food and just enjoyed being together. The weather cooperated and we all had a terrific time.
-We had an impromptu birthday party here for Alyssa's friend Rachel. Rachel's grandfather took ill suddenly and while her parents were tending to him, we had a birthday celebration here. We did face painting, cake eating and present opening.
-I volunteered for The Issaquah Highland's Green Halloween. Homer was an Angry Bird and I was Big Bird. Alyssa decided to be a neon witch. We ran into some friends at the gathering and enjoyed a live performance of The Time Warp and the Thriller dance.
-We have been to two Seahawk's game and we are hooked. We are proud to be part of the 12th Man and would love to someday be season ticket holders.
-Alyssa and I spent a day exploring the U District, finding zen in the Japanese Gardens, eating sushi and buying flowers at the market.
-I have been settling well into my job. It has been a challenge to say the least, but I am very happy with the opportunities I have to help build up not only the company I work for but the companies that I help everyday. I am able to play a central roll in the networking opportunities and helping other businesses grow.
-We got to witness the Occupy Seattle movement. Whether you agree or disagree with the movement, I found it terrific to be able to show Alyssa. I refuse to get political in this post, but I will say that the right to protest and freedom of speech is something that I cherish and was happy to expose my child to.
-Alyssa joined the running club at school and was a participant in the Seattle Kids Marathon. She ran 25 miles prior to the race and then completed the final 1.2 miles at Memorial Field and in view of her beloved Space Needle. She and I warmed up with the Issaquah Turkey Trot 5k on Thanksgiving and then ran the final leg of the Marathon on Saturday. To say we were proud of her is a complete understatement.
-We took in the lighting of the Westlake Center Christmas Tree and the Macy's Star. We also took a spin on the Carousel. I don't care if I am (almost) 32...I would ride the Carousel all day long if allowed to.
-We have gotten to watch Homer play a significant amount of Skyrim. :) And much like her mother before her, Alyssa has taken to watching her parents play video games. (and by parents, I mean her father.) Alyssa even draws artwork inspired by her dad's gaming. She is also reading graphic novels. Yes, a geek girl indeed.
-We got to skype with everyone on Thanksgiving, which was terrific...but it really made us miss everyone all the more.

Just a few short weeks until we are home! We have many babies to snuggle with, family to hug, friends to rawk with and merriment to be had. Until then, gentle reader, I bid you a fond farewell. I promise to keep more up to date with our adventures. :)

You, my kind reader, have been left with a few cliffhangers. (not intentional...it is just that my life has been a series of cliffhangers lately) When will the apartment be ready? How is Audrey's job search going? Who shot JR?

Today, my friends...I have answers.

Friday was a good day.

On Thursday I was approached with not one, but two job offers. It was a difficult decision, as both opportunities had a lot of potential. I struggled most of the day, trying to make up my mind which job would be the best for my family...and it was not a simple or clear cut decision. But, as I have always reminded myself, hard decisions like this are a blessing. There are worse things in the world than having two great options and having to choose one. On Friday, I happily accepted a position with a local business park as an office manager, with the idea of moving into the marketing and PR aspect of the business over time. The job will allow me a number of networking opportunities, future personal growth and added financial freedom. I start next week and we are very excited. So, job. Acquired.

Now, apartment.

After getting excited Thursday night at the prospect of moving into our apartment on Friday...we were in for a horrible let down. We arrived bright and early to the Highlands, got a message from our friends Chris and Catie that they were in labor and baby Olivia would be here soon, dropped Alyssa off at school, went to the hospital to enjoy a cup of Starbucks coffee (you have to have seen this hospital to understand) and then make our way to the apartment to receive our keys. Surely, nothing could go wrong today!

...oh, of course. There is plenty that could go wrong.

We arrived to get the news that the certificate of occupancy had not yet been received and therefore, we could not move in. We would be able to have our stuff moved from the storage area to the apartment, but we could not have the keys, could not access our possessions and could not sleep there. We were looking at more hotel time.

I might have actually, finally, freaked out.

Visibly shaken, we went down and spoke to the apartment management folks. Now, please know that these poor people have a miserable job right now. They have NO control over the construction snafus and the inspection bologna...but they get all the yelling. They have told us repeatedly how much they appreciated our patience and understanding of this fact...and while I didn't yell...I most certainly finally snapped.

We arranged for the movers to move our stuff into the apartment...knowing we couldn't move in. Now, I get that I am about to sound like a materialistic twit right now...and I apologize in advance. I know that stuff is just stuff. I know that I am not my possessions. I am not my KitchenAid Mixer and I am not my Ikea furniture...I know that. (thank you, Tyler Durden.) However, seeing these things...MY things...it reminded me that I am not a nomad. I had a life that was beyond the suitcase. I saw my things and was both ecstatic and heartbroken. It made everything so real...but out of reach. Completely distraught, we picked up Alyssa and decided to go back to Ikea for cheap dinner and to pick up the few odds and ends we needed. We dropped Alyssa off and the playroom and moped along the aisle...gathering towels and sheets for a home we still didn't have. We retrieved Alyssa...and the phone rang. Seeing Homer's eyes light up made me hopeful that baby Olivia had made her entrance into the world. I was not in a million years expecting to hear my husband say, "They got the occupancy certificate. We can move in tonight."

We flew through the aisles of Ikea with abandon. All of the items in our cart would now go to our apartment. We went to Target and bought our cleaning supplies. (and a bottle of wine) We had no clothes with us. We had no toothbrushes. We had nothing with us for this momentous occasion...we were not prepared for it. We didn't care. We skipped going to the hotel and quickly made our way to our home.

We opened boxes. We let Alyssa pop bubble wrap. We washed sheets and made beds. We stayed up far too late and fell asleep on our mattresses that were on the floor. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life.

And for those keeping track, Chris and Catie did welcome lovely baby Olivia Mary Robertson into the world late Friday night. Mom, baby and Dad are all doing well and while my heart was ready to burst with happiness for the new family...it was also tinged with a certain amount of sadness that I couldn't be there to hug them all.

Friday was a good day.

We spent the weekend cleaning, assembling furniture, watching football and arranging our lives. Today, I sit in a coffee shop and write this. I am meal planning. I am writing my grocery list. I am going to clean more today. I have baking planned. What is that? Out in the distance? What do I see?

Normalcy, is that you? I have missed you.

For some reason, as the tenth anniversary of September 11th approaches, this thought keeps creeping in. Ten years ago was a very rough period of time in my life. I was in a deep downward spiral. I was still dealing with the effects of the worst breakup of my life (with the man who would later become my husband), I had cut off communication with my family (mostly out of embarrassment), I had dropped out of college (I did not have the maturity or the mental well being at the time to be there) and I was working a job that did not challenge me and barely brought home enough money to pay the rent (I had wonderful roommates who stood by me and helped me). I was horribly depressed and felt like I had no hope what so ever.

I am not sure why, but I didn't go to work that day. And for some reason, I had gotten out of bed and turned on the TV. I turned it on long enough to hear Imus say, "It must have been a failure in the instruments..." People speculated as they watched the first tower and the billowing smoke. Aside from sadness for the people in the plane and the floors it hit...I was more curious than scared.

And then while Katie Couric was talking...I saw the second plane hit. I watched it happen.

I got online and started trying to find my roommates and begged them to come home. It was such a horrifying and vulnerable feeling. I was talking to my friend Shea when the first tower came down. "It looks like a big piece of the building just fell off!" There was simply too much dirt to realize at first that the entire tower had collapsed. I remember hearing Tom Brokaw say that it was clearly an act of war. Frankly, I had the same experience as many...horror.

My friend Carissa called me, unable to find anyone else. Her friend worked in tower two and had been instructed to stay in the building. After hearing this message, she didn't hear from her again. Carissa couldn't get through to her friend and all cell phones were down. She said she had to get out and do something to clear her mind. It was a Tuesday, so it was Dollar Movie Night. We bought two tickets to go see the comedy America's Sweethearts...because perhaps John Cusack could fix this, too. To our surprise, the theater was packed. We found two seats and sat down for the movie and held hands. Despite it being a comedy, there was no laughter. There was no comic relief to be had. During the movie, in the quiet parts, all that could be heard was crying. We all sat in this room together, in the dark with John Cusack, Billy Crystal and Hank Azeria, and we cried.

The days that follow are so crystal clear. Waiting in line on my mother's birthday to give blood...waiting for 4 hours to do it because everyone else was trying to do SOMETHING. I got blinding drunk that night (stupid in light of the blood letting) and went outside of my apartment and laid down on the sidewalk, stared up at the stars and cried. My next door neighbor, a football player from New York (who recently died), came out and cried with me. We sat around and waited for the President to tell us what to do. We waited all night to listen to David Letterman and I sobbed with Jon Stewart. The Onion came out and was some of the best writing I had ever seen. "God Angrily Clarifies the 'Don't Kill Rule'" was so needed at that moment.

I remember wondering if I would ever, ever feel okay again. If we could ever smile or go back to our lives. I remember feeling so scared and full of despair. I remember feeling hopeless. Exposed. Vulnerable.

My daughter will never, ever understand this. My daughter was born in the post 9/11 world. She will hear the stories. She will empathize. She will feel sadness for the event...but she will NEVER feel it in her core. The emotional content of that day will forever be missing from the equation for her.

I know this because I was born in a post Pearl Harbor and JKF assassination world.

My grandfather and grandmother retold the tale of Pearl Harbor. They described the same kind of emotions I just did. Because of my grandfather, I studied WWII with a passion. But it was a series of videos. A set of photographs. A group of words on paper, bound into a book. It was evidence. It was an education...not an experience. The same for listening to my parents talk about when President Kennedy was killed. It was a grassy knoll. It was Oswald. It was an event...it didn't hit my soul.

My child has seen the video. She has heard the stories. She thinks it is sad...but she has no problem changing the channel...while I sit, captivated and transported back to that horrible sunny day.

I will continue on, knowing that this is a visceral reaction that will be lost on my child...and that is a hard thing to accept. All I can hope is that my child is blessed with a life that is void of this kind of moment. I hope she never understands the horror and the fear that was associated with that day. I hope she never has to look back and think, "Oh, this is the feeling Mom was talking about..." In this post 9/11 world...I just hope...which is a big deal. Because 10 years ago...I didn't think I would have hope ever again. This, my friends, is proof that we are healing.

Friday night started the weekend off with a bang. We snagged some cheap tickets to the Seahawk's preseason game against the Raiders. All three Slade family members in Seahawk gear. Quite the sight.

It was an evening of lessons. Lesson number one: Take the bus next time. We spent $40 to park...and that wasn't even onsite! Lesson number two: All the cool kids have Fan #12 Jerseys. We need those. Lesson number three: The good beer (specifically Pike Place Kilt Lifter) is NOT on the first floor. We got so excited to grab a beer as soon as we came through the door that we ended up with Redhook. Sure, not horrible...but not as exciting as KILT LIFTER...and at the same price? Next time, we will wait. And lesson number four: Bring pepcid if intending on eating one of the crazy hotdogs with onions, peppers, pepporincinis, pickles, cheese and cream cheese. Dear. Effin. Heartburn.

We screamed. We tried to explain to Alyssa what the hell was happening. (we had to relate most things to the Patriots. We told her that things were different and we had to learn new stuff, because these weren't the Patriots. 'But, we still hate the Jets, don't we?' Ahhhh...from the mouths of babes. Yes, my darling, we do. From toe sucking Rex Ryan to Dirty Mark Sanchez. We despise them...that will never, ever change.

Though, while we are on the subject of preseason and pain...imagine my happiness when I saw that the Jets lost. Ahhhh...such fun. But what! What is this next score? THE GIANTS BEAT THE PATS 18-17?!?! GEEZ! I know BB pretty much makes it a point to lose in the preseason...but not the Giants...not that whiny baby Eli. NO. NO. NOOOOOOOO.

Sigh. In Bill we trust.

The weekend found us exploring more of the area while we got the Subaru detailed after his long cross country adventure. We had a terrific brunch at Gilberts on Main in Bellevue (live morning jazz and all), took a trip to Snoqualmie Falls, saw the explored the silliness that is the Bellevue Goodwill further (honestly, do these preppy Eastsiders even WEAR half of this stuff?! geez.), hung out at the Pacific Science Center, took the monorail, watched the crazy kids attending Bumbershoot and in what must be the most clear sign that we love our child dearly, we even endured a trip to Chuck E. Cheese...where a kid can be a kid and a parent can enjoy free birth control.

Today we stayed fairly mellow with only two real agenda items...visit the Fremont Troll and the unofficial memorial to Kurt Cobain.

We started the very late morning at Norm's Eatery and Ale house in Fremont, after discovering that our first choice Roxy's was closed due to vacation. There were two things that I enjoyed right away in this place: 1. It was dog friendly. Many of the patrons actually had their pooches at the table with them and they were all very well behaved. 2. There was a Monday beer special for Widmer beers that stated that a pint would cost whatever the current batting average of Chone Figgins happened to be. Today his batting average made the beer $1.85. Go Chone!
The food was alright, if not cold by the time it reached us due to what I would assume was a very backed up kitchen. Our server was kind, but clearly stretched thin. But, he...$1.85 Drop Top Amber and puppies to play with...who was I to complain?

Off we traveled, in search of The Troll. Along the way, we found the historic statue of Lenin. (if you have't heard the story of how Fremont came to possess this item...look it up. It is a terrific tale. Alyssa tried to climb the statue...but just couldn't do it. We pressed on and quickly found ourselves staring at the beast himself...the Fremont Troll. Now, he is MUCH bigger in person. Truly. Alyssa was dwarfed next to him...but I guess that should be expected by a creature who is actively crushing a VW Bug, right? What I also enjoyed was the fact that the troll was surrounded by sand. This made for fun for the kiddos...as well as serving as a form of safety. The kidlets were all taking turns climbing the Troll, and one fall on concrete would be tragic. The sand softened the blow for sure.

We then made our way to Viretta Park and the unofficial memorial to Kurt Cobain.

It was awkward trying to explain to Alyssa why we were going here. Frankly, I don't think she was overly impressed with Nirvana's music...and I get that. (frankly, she has very little use for most of what was considered grunge or alternative. She also is not a fan of Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains or Soundgarden.) And I understand that as far as music to come out of the area and that time goes...Nirvana was not as complex, heavy or whatever adjective you want to use is. I also recognize that if Kurt hadn't killed himself, he would probably not have ended up with the Rock God status (something that Kurt would NOT have been okay with) that he has now.

So, why did we go? I had to explain to Alyssa. We went because whatever it was, whatever he was, whatever the quality of the music...it meant something. Nirvana and Kurt meant something to me. Sure, I was a kid from Maine. I heard Smells Like Teen Spirit and liked it. I heard Come As You Are and loved it. Then I started dating a boy who also loved Kurt. We dyed our hair red with kool-aid and he made me a copy of Bleach and Insecticide and I was hooked. It was my first experience of hearing something that I really thought was underground. Bleach was so raw. Parts of Insecticide made me laugh...some made me uncomfortable. I listened to the tapes till they were nearly worn out. I bought In Utero the week it came out (first time I had ever done that). The song Dumb really, really, REALLY nailed what I felt like as a teen.

I remember Kurt Loder breaking in on MTV News (you know, when they used to talk about music)...and hearing that he was dead. It was completely unfathomable to me. I saw the shot of the house and I cried. I called up my middle school boyfriend and we cried. They kept showing the clip of the house. As the time went on, details emerged. Shotgun blast. Heroin. 'Better to burn out than fade away'. It was the first person I 'knew' who killed themselves. And it was so sad. I remember watching the people gather in the park and the memorials. I remember Courtney screaming. I was a teenager in Maine, but my heart was breaking in Seattle.

So, when Alyssa asked how he died...I told her. "He killed himself." "WHY?!" Jesus. There is the million dollar question.

"Well, he was on drugs and just a sick and sad individual."

"Sick?"

"His head was sick."

"How old was he?"

"27."

"Only 27?? That is SO sad."

Yes, yes, it is.

So, I stood at the bench and I stared at it. Lyrics. Messages...both kind and unkind. But what jolted me was seeing the house looming over us. I wasn't prepared for that. I knew it was in the area...but I was not ready for it to be right there. It was, in fact, so very sad.

Alyssa asked if I wanted to take my picture there and was confused when I said no. I paid my respects. Took a picture of the bench and we left.

I may or may not go back to Viretta Park. If I had to guess, I would say that I will not...but I am glad we went. The middle school girl from Maine had to say her thank you to the troubled soul who created the soundtrack for some of her formative years. Give thanks to the man who told me it was okay to come as you are.

I will admit, when we first planned this trip, I was excited to stay in the hotels across the country. I hang my head in slight embarrassment when I say that I never outgrew my childhood love of hotels. I adore staying in a hotel...

...well...I did.

I have sufficiently grown out of it.

I know that our stuff is just stuff...but I miss that stuff. How can we stop feeling like this is just a vacation when we are still nomadic? Don't get me wrong, our hotel is lovely. If you are staying in the area, believe me, the Residence Inn in Downtown Bellevue is worth the little extra money. There is a GREAT hot breakfast served every morning and a wonderful dinner (wine and beer included) Monday through Wednesday...all for free. Their customer service is better than anything I had experienced in Vegas. They have the Microsoft Lounge that has many flat screen tvs with Xboxes at your disposal and computers. The cleaning staff doesn't accept gratuity and even do your dishes. They are outstanding...but I want to feel home.

Alyssa started school and loves it. The neighborhood is so young and vibrant. So welcoming and safe. The people are kind and the coffee is good. The school is a walking school...with no bus schedules. Some parents drop their children off, but for the most part, everyone walks. Even those who are a mile away. EVEN IN THE RAIN! OH THE HUMANITY! It is refreshing. Everyone knew we were new. So many people have given me their card or number if I need anything. I have met some lovely people at the local cafe. There is still a little bit of a Stepford vibe...but that is in part because everyone seems to be impossibly beautiful and insanely kind.

Homer is enjoying his work. I continue my job search. In interviews, when the typical question, 'What is your biggest flaw?' my answer is always the same: I lack patience with myself. This statement is at the core of my current occupational frustrations. Realistically, I know I haven't been here long. I know that there are more people in Seattle alone then there are in the entire state of Maine. I know that the job market is tight. I know that I am a stranger in a strange land. I know that finding a good job takes time.

I am still going crazy.

I had an interview in less than a week upon arrival. I turned down the job, however, because the guy was a misogynistic, racist narcissist. (seriously, WHO SAYS THAT KIND OF STUFF DURING AN INTERVIEW?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?) Desperate to be contributing, I almost took the job...but I kept thinking about the They Might Be Giants song 'Your Racist Friend'. "Can't shake the devil's hand and say you're only kidding." I knew I couldn't take the job. I would have been miserable...

...but I have been regretting it on some level since Monday.

I considered getting a retail job to tide me over till I found something else...but I know that the next couple of weeks will be keeping me busy with moving, unpacking and getting Alyssa back and forth to school (we have to drive 20 minutes to get her there). Plus, the cost of after school care (ONLY after school) is $460 a month...if you prepay. A part time retail job would pay less than that...it doesn't make sense. And please understand, there is NO ONE other than myself that is putting this pressure on me. My darling husband keeps reminding me that this takes time and has even told me to take some job searching days off. I have obsessively been following the want ads, literally sending out an average of five resumes a day. So, what I think I will do with this extra energy is to start volunteering. I will get to be useful, feel like I am helping on some level and also have the benefit of networking and meeting new people. I have found a few different groups to offer my services to and have also volunteered for the Issaquah Highlands community. I will be helping with the Green Halloween celebration coming in the end of October. I think if I feel like I am benefiting someone in some form, I will feel better. Marie told me that one of my big issues with this shift in reality was that I would be going from being the provider to allowing myself to be provided for. She is right. It has been hard. It is even harder because I am not sure how many of the women in my neighborhood work. There appears to be an over abundance of stay at home moms. I'm not sure how many sympathetic ears I would have in my neighborhood.

Anyhow, we bought a car to help with the commuting and my job searching. I have a new to me VW Jetta. Alyssa is impressed because it has a sunroof. I guess I kinda am, too. ;)

But, overall, things are ducky. We are getting used to the area...but we won't really be able to be settled until we have our apartment. We miss everyone greatly...but are enjoying ourselves. I am ready for this waiting period to be over. I am ready for my home. It just can't come fast enough.

Alyssa, who had stayed pretty mellow during the entire car ride became completely antsy. It was not until we left Idaho that Alyssa ever uttered the words: Are we there yet?

She made up for those weeks of silence in the last eight hours.

We remarked about the mountains, we noticed the many hops and grape vines lining the road, we discussed the lovely weather...but all we could think about was: We did it. It is over.

Seeing a sign that said Seattle resulted in a scream from Alyssa. Seeing a sign that said Issaquah sent me into a frenzy. And then, as has seemed to become customary now, I cried. Such an emotional past few months. For this cross country experience alone, I am grateful that Jay took this job. This has been one of the most rewarding and enlightening experiences of my life. I have learned so much...

...but at some level, it has all felt like a vacation. We have felt like tourists, not nomads. Suddenly, we were no longer a tourist. Upon tweeting that we had made it to Washington, we were barraged with comments from Washingtonians that simply said, "Welcome home."

Our friend Thom had explained on Facebook that Washington has no concept of being 'from away'. He said there was no waiting period. If you live there, you are from there. I am shocked as to how true that sentiment has been. We were home. My friend Trish reminded me that it might not be our Forever Home, but it was still our home for now. These two sentiments really settled deep within me.

The first day 'home' was spent taking Alyssa to the tourist spots. Her big wants was to go to Pike Place Market and, of course, the Space Needle. When she saw it from the distance, she screamed. We showed her the first Starbucks (her idea, I swear) and watched the water fountain. A few days later, our friend Ivona was visiting for work. We went and listened to live music at the base of the Space Needle. We walked around and Ivona told Alyssa, "This is your city now. You get to name anything you want. That is the fun of an adventure." Alyssa then renamed the various landmarks and took ownership of her new home.

The door on this adventure is closed and the door to the next adventure has opened...which takes us to present day.