Last week, I not-so-gracefully sprang the news that we are moving to New Jersey this summer, into John’s parents’ house. Moving is a tough business to talk about, not because we’re not ready for it, but because we almost moved to London three times last year. This time, we’re much more certain of it. It just took a while to find time for a conversation with our landlord. Though she doesn’t read my blog, as far as I know, it didn’t seem right to make it public without telling her first.
Now the cat is out of the proverbial bag. John’s older brother is getting married this summer (yay!) and will be moving out of the house. He has been a tremendous help to their parents for many years, and it is time for him to go start his own family.
After Henry was born, John and I had independently started to think that it was about time for us to move to the suburbs, as we’d always planned. We talked about Karl’s moving out for something like two and a half minutes before we were committed to moving in.
Leaving Brooklyn will be hard, because we love our friends, our neighborhood, and the fact that we can walk so many places. John’s commute will be longer from NJ, but we’ll also be around all of our parents, which means our boys will grow up with a lot more grandparent time. And I’ll have more time to write and freelance, if I want it.
Life really isn’t slowing down these days, and I am trying to find a moment every day to be thankful for my husband, my kids, our family, and our home, wherever it is. There is a big transition ahead, but one that we feel is the right next step—and one that we’re excited to take together.