In the shower yesterday, while soaking my hair in my weekly moisturizing treatment (it actually works; well for $18.oo it should), I experienced that wondeful sense of feeling at "home." After succumbing to the general chaos of unfamiliar surroundings and (lack of) routine, I finally realized that this place and this life is now familiar. Even though I don't have the kind of routine I tend to crave (same schedule, everyday; same work, everyday), I am actually blending in rather than resisting.
Of course, there are still some things to work on. I'm still easily annoyed at transportation. Yesterday, after picking up Jack at daycare at 3:30, we headed to Brookline Village to pick up Ed. We agreed to meet at 3:50. Because of a wretched wind and rain storm (half a tree is resting on the roof as we speak, no doubt the chain saw crew will be here just in time today for Jack's nap), I hurried to get to the T-station early. But, by 4:00, no Ed. Irritated, Jack & I drove around the block about five times before parking. I knew if Jack didn't get out and walk, he'd go psycho in the car on the way home (it takes roughly 25 minutes to drive the six miles home at rush hour - that's roughly 45 minutes total of no moving around; tough for an 18 month old). As soon as we parked and walked to the platform, Ed had already gotten off and was waiting on the other side of the street where we usually pick him up. Of course.
I worked hard to overcome my irritation. I wanted to avoid a repeat of fall semester, when I dropped off Ed for his first day of classes, not offering any support for the fact that he was starting a new program at a new school in a new town, working hard to balance all the pressures that these changes brought. Rather, I was a raving lunatic (okay, bitch) about having to navigate the Boston roads, sure that Jack would fall asleep in the car (thus, no nap) before I had a chance to get back home in time. I'm sure that Ed headed off to his first class with the image of snakes writhing out of my skull and flames shooting out of my eyes.
Yesteday, I wanted to be Laura, not Medusa. I assumed that Ed had a good reason for being late - and he did; the T wasn't working, so there was a bus instead, therefore, pushing the schedule back. Fair enough. We had a pleasant enough ride home; though I'm sure Ed could sense that I was wrestling crazy woman into submission.
I realized that our lives are like driving in this town. Most of the time, I couldn't tell you how to get somewhere. When I get into the car to drive anywhere other than the local grocery store, I have to squelch the impending panic and tell myself that I will remember how to get there once I start driving. Once I hit a certain intersection, I'll remember to take that right over the bridge and then the second rotary will have that Starbucks, reminding me to veer left.
Our days and weeks are the same; ask me on Sunday what's going on this week and I'll be able to give you a skeleton of a schedule. By Wednesday, though, meetings have been added, I've got to head into the office to pick up some last minute freelance project, and oh! yeah, probably should get the oil changed and take Jack in for a haircut. My personality longs for more order, but I'm thinking there might be room for more possibility when our the scope of our daily lives isn't set in stone.
So, yeah, we're finding a routine, and as with most folks, that routine is providing the kind of security we long for. It's just the kind of routine that keeps us on the lookout; there's no way to get too comfortable when everything (and by everything, I mean schedules, jobs, income, etc.) changes every few months. There's no way we could wear blinders, looking down the same path; peripheral vision is crucial to thrive. And I guess that's what we bargained for when we moved here- to do more than live, but to thrive.