I almost backed out of a really fun day.

I wept about our situation, really wept about it, for the first time last night. Shut in the closet of our room, the closet that has become my “office,” while the Little Guy was sleeping peacefully. I wondered what his understanding of all this could possibly be. Soon, soon, soon is all I can say in response to the when, when, when and it seems totally meaningless now. That answer, however, is much more acceptable to his mind than “I don’t know,” so it’s what I use. It is vague, but it is honest. I suppose in my sweet boy’s mind it could mean tomorrow, but how many times do I say it until he becomes as discouraged as I. He tells me, “We’ll just go get some money!” and I hold him close and delight in his sincerity, his optimism, in the joy it brings him to comfort me with a solution.

Most of the time, I keep it all to myself. I’m sure it’s pretty transparent, but I do my best and we keep to our routine, days and nights and weeks seamless with their sameness. I have been denying ourselves adventures. Why? I tried a Monday homeschooling parkday meet-up a couple of times and felt so tight and timid that I never went back. Why? I have been so stuck in what we’ve lost with this move…our friends, O’s playmates, the feeling, always, of being completely enveloped in the natural world, the rural sense of community. I’m sure the latter two will return when we get settled up north in the tiny town were C is working, but I am seeking all of these connections where we are right now. However temporary our situation, O and I both need to connect with people, to explore where we are living, to feel like we belong for a bit.

A dear old friend is in town for a few days. She invited us to the Renaissance Faire, which I hadn’t been to in about nine years. This shouldn’t freak me out, right? I worried about money, I worried about social anxiety, about O not having had many opportunities to play with other children in months and about really maybe just not quite being into this kind of thing anymore. Could I handle this? Well, it turned out O was free admission, we packed all our own food in a pretty basket and both of us made new friends and had an awesome time. Oh, and amongst our mountain of moving boxes, I even managed to locate my old costume to wear. The Little Guy was quite tickled to see me in “dress-up.”

You see how hard it was to make friends?:

It was quite hot in Hollister. I am feeling very well-done and incredibly sleepy, but at the same time overjoyed and grateful. I didn’t pull an Artax. I didn’t hide in my shell. I have a happy boy who kept interjecting when we laid in his bed tonight, telling the story of our day: “But you forgot to say that we watched the knights on their horses!” “But you forgot to say that we rode on the Maypole swing!” “But you forgot to say that we saw a rock climbing wall!” Clearly, we need to get out more. And I intend to make it happen.

I also came to the somewhat startling realization that I am, in fact, not a young adult anymore and these types of events are now in the category of  Fun Things to Bring My Child To and I just think that’s totally, completely bizarre.