Reluctantly Suburban

So.
It’s been a year.
I knew we were close to the date, but wasn’t sure exactly until we got our automated “it’s been a year since you closed on your home!” email from our realtor.

I guess I should stop saying I “just moved back” now, eh?

Still a total fish out of water, but I did finally find a hair stylist I love (if I moved, she’d totes be commute worthy,) and we see a lot more Grayton than we do Mega Coon (YOU BASTARD,) of late;  as predicted I haven’t suffered from a lack of 2 a.m. grocery access, and we continue to grow a list of freaking awesome restaurants and funky shops that are local and amazing.
In addition,  we are sneezing distance from achingly delish humanely produced Beef, Bison, Eggs, Poultry,  Lamb, and Cheese and the pricing is better because I drive to them instead of them driving to the farmers market in the city. (Mmmmmm….meeeeeeeat.)

I’ve even cracked my way into the good graces of one of the neighborhood SAHMs. (Well, Jr did really,  they have a kiddo his age and she’s been warm in welcoming us to come play a bit after my working-mom self collects Jr from daycare. )
Guess they figure we aren’t going anywhere;  and that crazy blonde lady isn’t going to stop running all over the hood with her tattoos hanging out, dragging her punk band t-shirt wearing toddler behind her in the wagon looking for some playdate action, so they are giving in.

A few months into this family exodus from our urban beginnings, a like-minded coworker told me that although her current address wasn’t her ideal abode locale, it is about blooming where you are planted.

Maybe, just maybe, that is what I am learning to do.

(But seriously… it’s a minivan, not a tank, “ladies.”  Let’s keep it cool out there –  the waterpark/library/grocery store/dance class/what-the-hell-EVER you are late to isn’t going anywhere, and there will be 800 free parking spots for that monstrosity when you roll up.)