End of Hwy.

It's been a year since we moved to the Needles. 12 months. I was talking to Brian the other day telling him about how it really didn't seem that bad in the summertime. There are sandy spots, creeks to play in  (water?!?!), the Dugout Ranch . . .in other words, we can go outside and play. 

And then we went to town. And we hung out with friends and had a pizza dinner. We chilled on the lawn and went to an NPS softball game. Liesel ran around and climbed on playground equipment and followed 'older' girls around. I was chatting with other moms and Brian bro-ing down with other dudes. In other words, it felt like summertime. No schedule, no bedtimes, surrounded by people, ice-cream cones, bare feet, pickup softball games and pizza. 

We left feeling so happy. And then we drove up to the La Sals to camp for the night (to avoid 3hrs of driving since Brian had both Fri/Sat off last week). As we drove we hashed out how we were going to make it another year down here. The next day it felt so great to play as a family at the park, make a lion mask at story time, slide down the slides at the pool and eat a giant McDonalds ice cream cone. 

Down here I worry about our kids' development. I worry about the unmentionable what ifs. I worry about the winter. I'm tired of asking people for help all the time when I forget diapers, wipes, sunscreen . . . or when your afraid to nurse in the park b/c your toddler will run off and you'll be chasing her around while flashing everyone in sight, or when Liesel says she needs to go #2 and I know if I stop at a store/gas station I'll have to haul everyone in like a one-woman circus. So sometimes I ask for help and other times I let her poo on the side of the road. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't. But there are some things that slip through the cracks after you've buckled and unbuckled your kids 100 times, they've missed their naps and your toddler almost got run over by a car in the grocery store parking lot while you were unbuckling your other one and you were screaming and so was that old lady that saw it from the sidewalk. And then she needs to pee on the ride home so we stop and it wakes up Hannah and she screams for the last 45 minutes and Liesel screams at Hannah to stop screaming and you want to scream but instead you just look at those cliffs and count the cattle guards and calculate how much further until your home. 

So here we go. Into another year. 

There are so many things to be grateful for here. I know that. I feel obligated to say that since the grass is always greener. . . and there are a billion things to be grateful for. Does anyone else imagine what it would be like to be blind when they're feeling woe is me? Because it works. 

And there are things I love:

we get to see Brian a lot. He has zero commute and comes home for lunch. We make sure we're home everyday because we don't want to accidentally miss him. And that is wonderful. And he likes his job. What a blessing! And we have a job. And a home. Our rent is cheap and the duplex is actually really nice (although we're two for two right now on days with a dead mouse in the trap). It's easy to sleep (cold, dark and quiet). The trail running is amazing (13 miler last week and it was beautiful). And it's neat to hear Liesel point to the Squaw Butte and say: There's the Needle! We're home! And to think that Hannah has lived her entire life down here. 

But every once in a while I feel a little like moping. Not to be confused with mopping. Which I do once also. And I think one day I might want to remember what it was really like for me --
as a stay-at-home mom
at the end of a highway.