When I was 19, I was in a rough spot. I'd dated this guy (formerly believed to be the love of my life) for more than 2 years, and when it was officially over, I was lost. I couldn't remember who or what I was before him (because of that I have never again let myself go that much - lesson learned). I was dating all the wrong people for 2 and 3 week stints, and trying to force myself into a party lifestyle that I knew wasn't where I belonged. I even messed up school - I stopped going to classes, stopped doing my homework, completely ignoring the fact that I even had somewhere to be some days. Mostly I was trying to change myself into the person he seemed to want in a last desperate effort to get him back and hang onto him. Ohhh to be a teenage girl - so glad that's over.
During my year of chaos, I met someone....a very special someone who in his own little way made me step back and evaluate everything I was trying to be only to realize that being ME was exactly what he liked. Dare I say, loved. In the midst of my wildness, I made plans to go on my very first Spring Break with friends...so after I met him I regretted this - I just wanted to stick around and spend my time with him - becoming myself again. I went anyway, to avoid wasting money and disappointing my friends. I remember very distinctly, looking around at this different way of life, the urban feel of the bustling nightclubs, the warm weather that lasted all year 'round, and thinking "I need to move". At the time it made perfect sense. My mom and I were absolutely destroying our relationship by me living there - we were two extremely similar adults, clashing. I didn't want to share my chaotic mess of a life with her, or anyone - other than mr. wonderful. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to wipe my slate clean, to get back to who I REALLY was and leave the past year buried back in my hometown.
So I did it. Mr. Wonderful said he wanted to move to Charlotte and I thought, "hell yeah!". I started trashing my hometown and everything about it - something that I now know was due to my own odd way of coping with the fact I was leaving. We planned and saved our money and collected people's left over housewares, and off we went. It was fun for the first few weeks. It was exciting and interesting and exhilarating. We had nothing but our clothes, lawn chairs and boxes for furniture, and a couple grand in the bank. We had to make our own way - hunt down jobs, bring our apartment up to speed, make friends - the whole 9 yards. Three weeks after the move we had to go back home for a wedding (I was a bridesmaid so I didn't have a choice). We'd spent the whole time with family and friends, soaking up our short time together. When we returned from the trip all I felt was this overwhelming sense of regret. Kind of a, what the hell did I do, moment. I loved my boyfriend - more than anything, more than anyone....and having my OWN life was fantastic, but I gave up much much more than I realized I had. We'd been here one measly month, and I already asked him if we could move home.
What you should know about Mr. Wonderful, is that he is extremely ambitious. Career and achievement are his middle names. So going back was unheard of to him - impossible. And before you think that he was insensitive or selfish in those feelings, I should tell you that he gave up the FBI for me. Technically it was for him - in that he came to the decision by himself, but he came to that decision because of my feelings about it. He chose me over the FBI, and even though no one will come out and say that....it's the truth. The FBI was his dream, and he picked me instead. I have felt like I owe him ever since then. So....I did a little re-adjusting, possibly learned a few unhealthy coping mechanisms, and sucked it up. In his FBI decision, he displayed how much he loved me - how much he would give up for me. So I decided to do the same. I have never been happy in Charlotte - I have missed each and every person I left at home every single day, I have hated the different lifestyle, the lack of defined seasons, the hellish heat in august & september, the lack of WNY food, and the sheer number of people crowding everything. But as long as I put all my efforts into my little home - my little family, I can be happy.
If you haven't already figured it out, Mr. Wonderful is now my husband. We've dealt with our clashing lifestyles and dreams because we fit together in every other imaginable way. It has certainly remained interesting - and I think we are better for it. When we found out that our first baby was on his way, Matt (husband, aka mr. wonderful) started to change his tune. He knew that he had officially run out of reasons to stay here - my reasoning trumped all. I never presented it to him this way. I didn't have to. He may be career driven but family means more to him than anything when you get right down to it. So baby boy was born, and I didn't even have to ask. He was on board. SO on board that he even agreed to list the house. And here we are.
So begins Supermomish's Buffalo Chronicles.
For the last week I have been cleaning, de-cluttering, and organizing for hours and hours a time. You can imagine this is not an easy feat with a 6 month old. A 6 month old mama's boy, no less. And Matt is working overtime in the evenings and on the weekends - and he does most of it from home, but still can't be any help while he'd doing it. So I'm kind of carrying this whole load on my shoulders. I suppose that is fitting. I'm getting what I asked for, right? I just wish it wasn't so extremely hard. All I want is to de-clutter my house, get it on the freaking market, and have someone buy it. So much easier said than done.
I want to go home. Where are those magic ruby slippers when you need them?