the final countdown.

You know the song. You love the song. It’s our song, you and me baby.

Tomorrow marks my last day at work and this weekend marks my last full weekend in Tucson and Monday marks my last Monday in Tucson and Tuesday marks the day I head back to Boston, which feels to me, at this point in my life, like I’m returning home. There are a million things I hate about Boston and I’m prepared for the inevitable days ahead of me when I curse all that I survey and cry, “WHY DID I LEAVE TUCSON FOR THIS BLOODY FUCKING ASSTOWN?” but I am in love with Boston and Boston’s head over heels for me, so it should all be okay. Just as coming back here to AZ felt like the right move when I was preggers, heading back east now that I just LOOK pregnant makes sense. Leaving town…it’s all very sad and dramatic, but not really. The best thing of it all? I get to take the little guy with me. He doesn’t have to stay behind, he gets to come with me! I can go anywhere and be okay for that reason alone.

I have to admit now that Ryland has turned one, I feel a lot less pressure, a lot less stress, a lot less worry. I made it. No one died. We all learned some things and nothing was done perfectly, but we’re here and together and happy. I feel proud. I also feel like I’m free of the “oh my god my baby’s first _____!!” intensity. It can be very stressful, having to make every “First” great or memorable or special. I know there are more firsts coming, but not like the first year. I can relax a little now, I’m gonna be a mom for the rest of my life, no need to get so crazy over it. So what if I didn’t get him professionally photographed at the standard 1, 3, 6, 9 and 12 month marks. I did 1 month, I did 8 months and I’m planning on getting them done in Boston to mark his 1st year. Good enough for me. I didn’t make all his baby food and freeze them in ice cube trays and make my own yogurt and add wheat germ to his oatmeal. He’s even had SUGAR and WHITE FLOUR oh my god. I didn’t wear him constantly (for the uninitiated “babywearing” refers to the practice of keeping your child close to you in a sling/carrier for much of the day). He doesn’t have a catalog nursery, or even a very well-organized or matching one, but he’s got toys and clothes and a bed and some little decorations he likes. We had fun and we hugged and kissed and danced and laughed and cried and it was the best year of my life and perfect in every way that counts.

I should be more panicked or anxious or nervous that we’re leaving in a few days, but I’m calm and relaxed about it all. I look around and see the fifteen gazillion things left to do and think “well, it’ll get done…one way or another, it’ll get done.” Whatever Gordon’s been slipping into my food is working.

(please people, that is a JOKE. At least, I hope it is.)

Oh my god I just remembered. Tiffany and I were at lunch or dinner or somewhere and we were talking about loafe and she had a brilliant idea. A family tree! A loafe family tree! Unlike all my other ideas and plans, this is one I’m going to do. But I need your help. The basic idea is that I’ll be creating a little family tree of my little loafers. Each branch will be his/her name and a photo, maybe a few other tidbits of information. It’ll all be electronic and we don’t need to use real names, but I’d prefer to use real photos, although I am sure some of you are balking at the notion of having your likeness out on the internet for all to see. But it’s for the family, man, the family. It’s okay to let your beauty shine. But if you feel super weird about giving me a real photo for whatever reason, then I suppose I’ll have to live with a drawing or some other substitute. Whoa there, calm down, don’t start sending me photos right now. Let me get moved and settled in the New World and I’ll plant my little electronic tree and request your photos at that time. Then I’ll put it together and we can all live in e-infamy. I guess loafe isn’t really all that infamous, e or otherwise, but maybe it is a little, every now and then. I do curse a lot.

Okay, back to packing. And by packing I mean watching TV and avoiding packing.

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