So we moved.

As the movers pulled away in their truck, I whispered, “Wait. Don’t leave me. Take me back to the city with you. Please.”

And then I turned to Rick and said, “I want to go home.”

And then I started crying.

Because my home doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just an empty apartment. That someone else now owns.

We are creating a new home here. One that is currently obscured by 726 unopened boxes. Moving is like childbirth. You just don’t remember how bad it actually is until you spend an hour and a half trying to find your toothbrush.

Luckily, my dad showed up to help.

Last summer, he spent two weeks vacationing in Southern Italy with us.

This summer, well, he gets to help us unpack. Whatever. I’ll give him a glass of red wine and some pasta. He’ll barely notice the difference.

When the movers were here, I was kind of hoping it would be like that Sesame Street book where all the neighbors see the truck and come out to greet the new folks on the block.

Yeah… that didn’t quite happen. It’s no biggie. I’m sure Oprah was on or something. They are probably just saving their energy for the big surprise “welcome the new neighbors” block party this weekend.  I’m going to go check my front stoop again for a homemade pound cake.

Thank goodness for my ONE friend here who calls constantly and dropped off take-out menus. No, there’s no sushi delivery.  So obviously I’m now trying to convince Rick to open up a little sushi delivery side business.

I had a very difficult time sleeping the first night. I missed my girls who stayed with my in-law’s during the move. And it was dark. And quiet. Damn. I know that sound machine is around here somewhere.

I did make my first trip to my local Whole Foods.

I drove. I parked. I went in. I shopped. I paid. I loaded up the car. I left.

It was so darn easy.

And a little strange.

Ok, I’m headed back outside to check for that pound cake again. Or maybe some red velvet cupcakes. Or maybe just a note, welcoming us to the neighborhood.

I may have to settle for the kids across the street who yelled out, “Hi new people!”

mama bird notes

You can still enter to win Blue Bunny^® ice cream for a year! Just leave a comment on this post.

I know some of you are being shut out from commenting because my spam filter is acting like a real bully. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Please know I’m working to fix it so that you can once again share your brilliance.

We took the girls to my in-law’s so we could finish packing up the apartment and move. As we were leaving the apartment, I said to Dylan, “This is the last time you’ll see our apartment. Do you want to say goodbye?”

“Bye!”

And with that, she gleefully ran down the hall to the elevator.

4 1/2 year-olds just aren’t that sentimental.

As for me, I was practically weeping as I watched the movers pack up the kids’ room.

Rick and I are spending one last night in the apartment before the big move and we’re both scouting out the best possible sleeping arrangements.

I already called shotgun on the bubble wrap blanket.

I asked Rick what he’s going to miss most about living in New York City. He said, the restaurants and his city identity.

As for me, it’s gotta be the roadside ceviche.

We saw this way uptown today when we were cleaning out our storage unit. It’s actually the first time I’ve seen clams and ceviche sold on the street. I can’t imagine why most Manhattan vendors waste their time on predictable hotdogs and pretzels.

What will I really miss the most? The creative energy of New York.

But look at our adorable new house…

We stopped by our new home and saw two cute little kids riding their bikes up and down the street.

Rick, always so friendly, said hello to them.

And they just stared blankly back at him, without a hint of a smile.

Which definitely reminded me of my own girls and their refusal to show the slightest warmth towards a friendly neighbor.

I think we’re totally going to fit in here.

mama bird notes:

It’s Monday. It’s June. That means it’s time again to give away free ice cream from the scrumptious Blue Bunny^® ice cream!!

One mama bird reader will win a carton of ice cream (plus one pack of novelties from the Blue Bunny^®menu) delivered to his or her door every month for a year! I know. It’s  a magical dream. Free ice cream for a whole year. Blue Bunny^® makes mama and papa dreams come true.

To enter this week, just leave a comment on this post and mention Blue Bunny^® because a blue bunny is obviously so much cooler than a mauve bunny.

And finally, a special offer for mama bird diaries from 23andMe. You can receive a $50 discount when you purchase a 23andMe DNA testing kit by using the code R4MCGJ. Offer expires Tuesday. Offer is good for the first 10 mama bird readers. Just click here to purchase.

I’m thinking I better call my sushi delivery place and tell them I’m moving because they are going to think I got kidnapped or something.

They’ll be all like, “Hey, how come that girl, with phone number 867-5309, who orders the salmon avocado rolls and the sashimi never calls anymore? Maybe she’s in trouble. Send the delivery guy down to her neighborhood to search for clues. She might be in grave danger.” (You know, but totally in Japanese.)

Because I’m a little concerned about my take-out sushi habit, I decided to really explore my options in the suburbs. And by explore, I mean, talk it over with 4 1/2 year-old Dylan.

“I doubt I can get sushi delivered in our new home. What am I going to do?”

“Well, we could come back to visit the apartment and you could get sushi delivered,” Dylan responded.

That girl may not listen to a word I say 83% of the day but damn, she knows how to solve a problem.

I hope the people moving into our apartment don’t mind the intrusion.

While I’ve been fretting about sushi, Rick’s been obsessing over grilling.

He’s INSISTING on bringing a full propane tank with us on moving day. At which point, I brought up (in a very supportive and loving way without the slightest hint of judgment), a few points…

1. Don’t you think they have propane in Westchester?

2. Doesn’t it seem just a hair dangerous to travel with propane? Like maybe you could end up grilling all our boxes and belongings?

But Rick is determined to grill our FIRST night in Westchester. Because if he can no longer have the city that never sleeps right outside his front door, then he wants to at least be grilling a pork chop.

Under the stars.

Hey, we’ll be able to see stars.

Oh and 867.5309 is not my actual number. So don’t go calling it and asking for me. Or you know, Jenny.

mama bird notes:

Kate Coveny Hood won the 23andMe DNA test! Congrats Kate. Send your mailing address to Kelcey@mamabirddiares.com. More Blue Bunny^® ice cream on Monday!

Have you ever imagined moving to the Caribbean? Full time? With your husband and two babies? Well, that’s exactly what Contributing Mama Alecia Kintner did. Click on contributing mamas to read more.

And finally, please please please make sure you’re registered as a bone marrow donor. It’s so easy.

There’s a 5 year-old boy here in NYC, Kai Anderson, who has a rare form of leukemia and desperately needs a match for a bone marrow transplant. Unbelievably, his father has been diagnosed with cancer as well. This family needs your help.

Click here and find out how you can attend a donor drive or order a self test kit. I would be so grateful.

By Contributing Mama Alecia Kintner

Ever think about chucking your current life and heading for the beach in the Caribbean?

Not just for winter break, I mean, but permanently?

That’s exactly what my husband Mike and I did, along with our 10-month-old twins.

We sold our house in Connecticut, quit our jobs, let go of health insurance, said goodbye to shopping malls and fast food, and moved to the tropical island of Roatan. Lock, stock and barrel. Actually, our barrel was a 40-foot container: trucked to Newark, hauled by rail to Miami, and shipped by sea to the waiting arms of Honduran customs officials – who promptly slapped a 30% duty on all its contents before releasing it.

We arrived in paradise during rainy season. There was no way to haul this massive (and massively expensive) container over the dirt mountain road from the south shore to our north shore home. I’ll admit I hadn’t entirely thought this through when I argued for taking all the comforts of home with us. I shudder to think about how we’ll ever move this stuff back.

Mike made 18 trips in a pick-up, in the rain, leading a caravan of larger pick-ups. Our worldly goods were unpacked and slowly transported from the French Harbor dock to Palmetto Bay Plantation. It took two days.

Our move-in wasn’t just hampered by rain – on Day 1, as darkness came unexpectedly quickly, the fact that our new construction didn’t yet have electricity meant that the trucks simply threw boxes over the side and hoped they hit the foyer. Forget about directing traffic with a flashlight; I was just lucky to see our boatload of inappropriate New England antiques and unnecessary cold-weather clothing make it under a roof.

That was nearly two years ago. Delaney and Hayden, our twins, are now 27 months old.

It took a while to settle in and get the hang of island life. Somehow the new house absorbed the antiques and they look great mixed with rattan and sisal. We enrolled the babies in a darling international preschool early, at 18 months, giving us all a focus to our days. They’re talking now, with a mix of English and Spanish, and their friends are from all over the world.

Still, we live with frequent power outages, well-water shortages, limited fresh vegetables, pesky sand flies, the fear of malaria, and unbelievably bumpy dirt roads. Ocean breezes, drop-dead sunsets, lush flowers, and the lulling sound of the surf at night. We struggle to earn a living but we live very differently.

Think it sounds great?

It is.

Until you realize you have a laundry list of things you need from Target, you’ve run out of your favorite Clinique lip gloss, you’re dying for a new pair of shoes other than counterfeit Old Navy flip flops, or you want something more stimulating to do with your kids than picking guavas or playing I Spy a Monkey La La.

Every once in a while even paradise needs shaking up.

So where do you think we’re going this summer? Back to New England. To a family summer camp, where we’ll get our fill of group games and organic salads. When we arrive, we’ll even be met by our own “family helper” who will usher the twins back and forth from their age-appropriate activities so that Mike and I can play tennis or go to a yoga class, or make an illicit escape to Target.

Of course, that assumes I haven’t managed to get us uninvited to the Tyler Place Resort by telling a little white lie about Delaney and Hayden’s age, just so they would get into the best play group for them. Ouch. This is not like me.

I’m generally so up-front that I actually warned Mike on our second date that the relationship would never work; I wanted to have children. He was equally blunt and said “no big deal, I want to live on an island.” And here we are.

Clearly, I need a vacation from this vacation.

You can read more about Alecia’s crazy island life at Twins on an Island.

My daughter Dylan’s hair just keeps growing and she keeps refusing to get a professional trim.

So finally, last night, while she was watching TV, I impulsively took out a pair of scissors and trimmed her hair.

Except it wasn’t really a trim exactly.

More of cut. Like 3 inches.

I never intended to chop off that much. I don’t know how it happened. Hair seems so much longer when it’s wet. I blame moving delirium and my concern over Bret Michaels’ Tony Awards injury. How is he going to find love with his nose all out of whack?!

As I looked at my  handy-work, I suddenly got that pit in my stomach. The one from 9th grade when I let a hairdresser talk me into an asymmetrical cut. Or maybe it was my idea. The point is – that was the year I learned that hair grows very very slowly.

Dylan was so engrossed in her TV show that she didn’t even notice my makeover. So I said nothing. I read Dylan and Summer their books and put them to bed like any other night.

But wouldn’t Dylan wake up the next morning and notice that THREE INCHES OF HER HAIR WERE MISSING? I started really stressing. I’m no psychotherapist, but I think I was taking all my fears about moving (the quiet, no friends, being forced to garden and an inability to find a drug store when I really need candy) and redirecting my anxiety on Dylan’s hair.

I seriously had trouble sleeping.

In the morning, I practically dragged her over to the mirror and said in a very peppy voice, “Honey, look, I trimmed your hair. Do you like it?”

“WHEN did you do that?” she asked perplexed.

“While you were watching TV last night. Do you like it?”

“Yeah.”

And that was about it.

Totally no big deal.  She just rolled with it. She obviously gets that laid back vibe from me.

And if you think I’m wasting time writing blog posts instead of packing, well you’re so wrong.

You’re supposed to pack your kids first. Everyone knows that.

mama bird notes:

The winner of the  Blue Bunny^® ice cream is KidSafe Mama! Congrats!! Everyone else will have two more chances to win this month. And if you don’t end up winning, I promise to buy you a scoop of your favorite kind the next time you’re in the New York area.

And many of you have been following my journey on 23andMe and now you have a chance to win a free DNA test from 23andMe!! 400 dollar value. To enter, just leave a comment on this post and let me know what genetic trait you hope you pass on to your children. I personally hope to pass on my insane ability to parallel park in very tight spots.

Note: You must be a legal US resident and 18 or older to win. Click here for official rules. Good luck everyone!