A year ago, we were nearing the end of our two-year stint in London. We had rented out the dream house we owned in Philadelphia because we knew the London thing was of finite duration. We were set to leave in late March 2008 to return to our house, our friends, and the preschool we had signed up for in Philly.
And then the decision finally came down the line just before Christmas day. We would be moving to Los Angeles.
So, a year ago, we were wrapping our heads around a rather sizable shift in our plans. Instead of returning to the familiar, a mere two hours away from J’s parents, we would be moving to a city I had only ever seen for 36 hours, a nation away from our children’s closest relatives.
A year ago, we were definitely only having two children. We had given away all our baby stuff as soon as Benjamin was done with it because we had no plans of a third.
Here I sit, our bonus baby zonked out in my arms, in Los Angeles. Between last year’s Boxing Day and this one is packed a frantic preschool search from the other side of the world, temporary housing, finding a new home, making friends, learning an entirely new city, Benjamin starting preschool, and one very surprising pink line.
I hit a low sometime in the middle of it. The boys have been stretched and pulled. But, we are surviving all the changes, and don’t think for a moment that I don’t realize how totally and absurdly lucky we are.
A year ago, I had no idea what to expect from 2008. I certainly never expected it to be this beautiful.