Trick or Treat? Definitely Treat.

I absolutely loved Halloween as a kid. I couldn't wait to get dressed up in a fun costume and go door to door begging for candy (and I always knew which houses had the best candy). The best part was coming home and checking out my haul. I remember my mom thoroughly inspecting all the candy (because, you know, what if some sicko put a needle in a piece of candy?), and then hanging the candy bag in the laundry room to slowly parcel out my haul. I trick or treated until well past the time it was probably acceptable (I'm talking until I was a senior in high school).

When I went off to college, I felt like Halloween would never be as fun as it was when I was in high school...but, I was wrong. I loved getting dressed up and going to Halloween parties with friends. This was even better than trick or treating! Then, I graduated college.

As I moved into adulthood, I assumed that Halloween would never be as good as it was in college. But, I was living in New York City, and I had no idea just how fun Halloween could be. I loved picking a good costume, going out to bars with friends, and I loved every minute of it. Halloween just kept getting better and better with each new stage of life.

When I moved out of the city, I expected Halloween would still be awesome. My first Halloween in the suburbs, I picked out a costume weeks in advance (ok, months...), and couldn't wait to get dressed up and go out. I went to a Halloween party at my ex-best friend's house (don't ask). It was fun, but it wasn't the kind of Halloween fun I was used to. It was my last Halloween party. I quickly learned that Halloween as an adult isn't really that fun. I no longer picked out costumes because I knew that I wouldn't be going out.

When I bought my own house, I learned to hate Halloween. I couldn't stand the doorbell constantly ringing. Every time I'd sit down, I'd have to get back up to answer the door. If I didn't get to the door fast enough, the local kids would incessantly ring my bell or pound on my door. The doorbell would ring well into the night, even long after I'd turned off all the lights (which was a tremendous nuisance after I had kids!). It was just annoying and not fun. I didn't dress up anymore (once in a while I'd wear a Halloween shirt), and I certainly didn't buy costumes anymore.

Then I had kids. I planned their costumes months in advance, and I loved dressing them up. But, I didn't take them trick or treating until they were almost 3. At almost 1 it felt like trick or treating was just me using them as a ploy to get free candy (because, let's be honest...we all know that parents who trick or treat with babies are really eating the candy themselves). At almost 2, I considered it, but I didn't think they'd appreciate it and I really didn't want them to have all that candy, anyway. Almost 3 just seemed like the right time. They enjoyed getting all the candy, but were very shy going to peoples' homes. It was fun until they decided they didn't want to walk anymore and they had to be carried home. It was even less fun when they threw tantrums for the next week because they couldn't go trick or treating again.

This year, my kids picked their own costumes for the first time. They seemed to understand Halloween and genuinely looked forward to it for weeks. We signed up to go to a party in our soon to be neighborhood (supposed to move in next week...here's hoping!). The kids were so excited to put on their costumes and go. The adults (me, my husband, and two of our closest friends) even donned costumes this year--ketchup, mustard, a hot dog, and a hamburger. We got dressed up, took pictures, and went to the party. We ate our faces off and then decided to go trick or treating around our soon to be neighborhood.

While we were walking from house to house, I was telling my friend how much I don't like Halloween as an adult. She was genuinely shocked. I told her that I couldn't stand giving out candy all night, constantly running back and forth to the door. She looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Just keep the door open, or set up a table and sit outside." I looked at her like she had 7 heads. After all, doesn't she get that Halloween is the end of October and it is typically freezing outside?

...Except, now I live in Florida. It's typically freezing outside IN NEW JERSEY. I looked around and saw that almost every house had a table set up out front with people sitting outside and socializing. My kids were no longer shy--they were running from house to house with some of the other neighborhood kids. Some neighbors had tables set up between their houses and were socializing while trick or treating was going on. Everyone was enjoying themselves--adults and kids alike.

And for the first time in a very long time, I remembered just how much I loved Halloween. I am now genuinely excited for next Halloween, when I will finally be in my house, and after taking my kids trick or treating, I can set up my own table in my driveway, enjoy the warm evening, socialize with my neighbors, and enjoy some of that Halloween magic once again. (Plus, it doesn't hurt that I don't have to bundle me and my kids in layers upon layers just to beg for some candy.) Time to start planning next year's costumes.

This round? New Jersey: 0; Florida: 1.

What. A. Week.

This past week was probably my hardest week since my kids were born (emergency c-section preeclampsia, preemies, NICU...oy.).

Let's backtrack to last Friday. Last Friday night was homecoming at my school--big, huge event. I had my nanny bring the kids (since hubby is traveling, which he does quite frequently) and we had a ton of fun. I loved watching my kids hang out with the other faculty members' kids. But, I noticed my son was congested. He had been napping in the car on the way there, so I figured it was nap congestion and chalked it up to a whole lot of nothing.

The next morning, we were flying back to NJ...this was a BIG, HUGE deal. Besides the fact that this was my first trip back to NJ since moving to FL, I was flying solo with the kids for the first time. That's right. Me. Two 3 1/2 year olds. Airplane. To say I was nervous was putting it mildly. On top of that, our flight was at 6 am (my choice...they tend to do really well on early morning flights), so that meant I had to get up at 3 am. So, by 9 pm, I was snuggled into my bed, all packed and ready to go.

And then I heard it.

My son was sitting up in his bed crying. When he wakes up from a dead sleep and sits up in his bed crying, it can only mean one thing....

PUKE.

I scrambled down to his room and tried to catch it. But, no. He puked all over his favorite sleep buddy...his doggy (which HAD to come with us to NJ...this mama scrambled to wash it in the sink and leave it to dry overnight...it was still damp the next morning, but came with us anyway). It was just mucus (or as I like to call it, the mucus pukus), so I was relieved that it didn't seem to be a stomach virus, but when he was breathing, he sounded like he had the croup...that seal bark. I put him in my bed to sleep so I could watch him (thankfully no puke hit his bed) I panicked, texted the doctor frantically to see if I could still take him on the plane the next morning, and prayed that he would be alright. Doctor said it's not croup and gave us the green light.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep much that night. Got up at 3, got myself ready, got my kids ready at 3:30, and out the door we went. Both were in great moods and they were absolute dreams on the flight. They even let me catnap for 5 minutes here or there.

That night, my son woke up again with the mucus pukus. He was sleeping in my parents' bed, but needless to say, he ended up in my bed again. Night two of no sleep. The next day, other than briefly falling asleep on my mother in law (which is unlike him, but I figured poor night's sleep and no nap...), he was his usual, silly, happy self. We had a huge family dinner, and it was a joy of a night.

That night he chose to sleep with my parents again. He woke up around 10:30...I had just fallen asleep. Fever and miserable. I got him to take medicine, but I kid you not when I say he was literally up the entire night. I only slept from 6 am until 7:30 am. My daughter slept with my parents and I could hear her up during the night as well. She also had a fever. Both kids were complaining that their ears hurt. Night three of no sleep. Oh...I also came down with something as well.

Well, we were supposed to get on a flight that day and I was so afraid of their ears on the plane if they had ear infections. I took them to a walk-in and their ears were clear. Once again, we got the green light to fly. This flight was in the evening...after a night of no sleep and a no nap day...with two sick kids and a sick me. I was expecting the worst. Thankfully, my son slept for most of the flight and my daughter just played with her iPad and was a dream. She even let me catnap again. Even with an extra hour of circling in the air before we landed (to which neither my daughter nor me were very pleased), they were still rockstars. People actually told me how well behaved my kids were and many people offered to help me get them and my bags off the plane. (My faith in humanity was restored for the time being.)

We got home and got right into bed. Well...both kids took turns waking up at night. My son was miserable and feverish and begging to sleep in my bed. My daughter was coughing up a storm. At 6:15 am, I finally brought him into my bed as I was getting ready for work...and I saw blood on his pillow. His lips looked chapped, so I chalked it up to that. Until I saw the blood and mucus that had dried in his ear. Enter full-on panic mode. Turns out he did rupture his eardrum on the plane (exactly what I had been afraid of happening!).

To go quickly through the rest of the week...she got better (still sick, but mostly congestion), he remained feverish and sad. He would literally wake up whimpering in the middle of the night (it's the saddest thing!). Turns out he has RSV. (It's a nasty respiratory virus that attacks young kids and the elderly...for those of us who are in neither of those categories, it just feels like a bad cold.) What does that mean? 10-15 days of This. 10-15 days of no sleep (seriously...the last time I had a good night's sleep was last Thursday...no, not the one two days ago, I'm talking over a week ago). 10-15 days of fever, and crying, and boogers, and whimpering...but, at least the mucus pukus has stopped.

Now...as if that wasn't hard enough, let's add on my first Florida hurricane. Hurricane Matthew was slated to hit my area...a full Category 4 hurricane. I literally had no idea how to prepare. My husband is still traveling for work and couldn't get home. My school closed for two days in anticipation of this major storm (I experienced my first hurricane day instead of snow day!). I had two sick kids, I'm still sick, and I'm staring down a Category 4 hurricane. I had friends and family in my ear telling me where to go, what to do, how to do it...my mind was spinning. Inside I was a total mess. Outside, I held it together pretty well.

In the end, me, the kids, and the nanny holed up in a hotel. Which meant it was me and the kids in a queen size bed. For two small humans, they take up a lot of room. I literally had no more room than my leg. Nope...not exaggerating. I was hanging off the bed. If I tried to move one over to give me more space, they would just scoot closer to me. So, that's another night of no sleep, on top of the stress, the illnesses, and the being out of our home. Even though I had my nanny there to help, my kids only wanted me. So, it meant that I constantly had one or two little humans vying for my attention, crying if they weren't getting it, and climbing on me. Good times.

Turns out, thankfully, Hurricane Matthew kind of skirted past our area. All we got was a little wind and some rain--it was basically a major rainstorm. The worst that happened was that one palm tree lost one leaf. Seriously. For that, I couldn't be more thankful.

But, my nanny left me to go back to her own life yesterday afternoon, and since then it's been a sick me, with two sick, whiny, clingy kids. Over the last day, while my son has gotten better (not completely, but we are on the mend), my daughter and I have gotten worse.

What does that mean? Both kids whine at me, yell at me, cry for me, and cling to me. Top that with the fact that they are threenagers who don't listen, and you have one mama who has reached her limits. I feel terrible when I lose my patience on my sick kids and yell at them. But, this mama is so done. My thermometer may not tell me I have a fever, but I feel it...the aches, the chills, the headache...all of it. My body may be functioning, but I seriously miss sleep...and I know I won't be seeing a good night's sleep for a long while yet. And, so, tonight, this mama went out into the garage and cried. I went into the garage so my kids wouldn't see me. I got away because one was sleeping on the couch and the other was bribed with YouTube on the iPad. I have hit rock bottom and it sucks.

Here's the thing...when I was in NJ and a situation like this would arise, I had an extensive support system. The majority of my family was in the same town, I had friends who would drop their stuff if I needed it to come help, and I knew that someone was always nearby. Here? That's a different story. In FL, I have three friends who I consider close--but, it's not their responsibility to come help me. The one married couple is busy with their own life, and, quite frankly, I rely on them a lot, and I feel like they are not responsible for us, and I need to give them some space. My other dear friend lives a half-hour to 40 minutes away and has kids of her own. I have no family here that I can rely on and the rest of my "friends" here are people who I talk to once in a while and we hang out if we can make time for it. I feel like a single mom in a strange place.

So, in this round...it's
NJ-1; FL-0.

Does it mean I want to go back to NJ? Nope. I still love it here. But, it does mean that this week has sucked and that I miss my support system. That's all.

Back to School: Florida Style

Every year, there has been one day I dread more than the others. That day is the first day of school. This is not your typical teacher lament, mourning the lazy days of summer. It's more than that. See, in New Jersey, the first day of school means the onset of fall. 

While some people revel in the thought of the cooler season (not to mention pumpkin spice everything), I am not one of those people. I have always said that I'm solar powered. I love sitting in the sunshine and being warm. I would take being hot over being cold any day of the week. (In fact, I often get into my hot car and leave the air off for a few minutes and enjoy the warmth...only if I'm alone, though. I know better than to subject others to my oddities.) It means shorter days, cold weather, and, before long, being stuck in the house for months on end because it is just too cold to go outside. 

In terms of going back to school, it has always meant being stuck in a school building for 8 or more hours a day without so much as a chance to go into the outside world. It meant missing the few nice days left because I was stuck in my classroom, while wistfully looking out the window. It means that the few hot days left were spent in my sweltering classroom, while being told that, no, I cannot take my children outside to learn in the fresh air. Basically, it was a life I didn't enjoy, a life of confinement, and a life I dreaded each year.

This year, though, it feels different. Even though I've been back at school for over a month, I still feel like I'm waiting for the first day of school. Maybe it's the fact that I'm at a new school and incredibly excited about this new opportunity (although every other time I've switched schools, it has caused me anxiety, not excitement). Maybe it's the fact that I'm still trying to get settled into a very new (and still impermanent) life. But, I think it's actually neither of those things. I think it's the weather. 

This year, I thought I would be heartbroken that I had barely 5 weeks to call a summer (and most of that time was spent either on the road driving to Florida or nurturing sick kids who were adjusting to a new school, new house, and new life). But, as I set out that first day in early August, it just felt different. I think it's because this year, I knew that the start of the school year didn't mean the end of summer. It didn't mean the closing of a pool, the abandonment of beaches, or the piling on of layers. It still meant long days with warm (nay, hot) weather. It meant swimming on the weekends, and being able to go out in the evening or leave for work in the morning without having to put on a jacket or turn on the heat in my car. I also know that this fabulous warm weather isn't going anywhere anytime soon (or anytime at all, for that matter...this is Florida, you know.) and that I can still enjoy it. I also have the added bonus of working on an amazing campus where I'm forced outside at least twice a day to walk to and from the dining hall, and where I can (and am encouraged to) take my classes outside or sit and grade in the courtyard in my off periods. 

So, even though I'm back at work (my 5:15 a.m. alarm reminds me of that daily), I still feel like it's summer vacation. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop and to really start the school year.

Until then, I'll just keep on feeling like I'm on summer vacation.

Making Friends

I am not a shy girl. I've been known to make friends anywhere; I've even made friends at the doctor's office. Seriously. But, it's one thing to chat up the person sitting next to you in the waiting room and an entirely different thing to take that conversation from "Oh yeah? You grew up where? Do you know so and so? Oh, they called your name? Take care!" to "Hey, would you like to exchange numbers and hang out sometime?" Some people would respond positively to that. A great many others would just think you were a weirdo.

So, one of my biggest fears in moving from New Jersey to Florida (and wayyyyyy far out of my comfort zone...like thousands of miles away from my comfort zone) was leaving my support system and growing a new one.

When you're young, it's pretty easy to make friends. You're next door neighbors, you're in the same classes, you like the same activities, you go to the same school, you live in the same dorm...these scenarios are built in friend makers. You're all going through the same thing at the same time, and, therefore, you are all open and ready to making new friendships and inviting new people into your life. No one thinks you're weird if you're 8 years old and inviting your classmate over to play. No one thinks you're weird if you're in high school and asking the girl in your algebra class to hang out after school one day. No one thinks you're weird if you ask the girl next door in your college dorm to go to the dining hall together or to the party on campus together. Those things are normal.

But, take yourself out of those scenarios. You are an adult--with kids, a career, a husband, and a life. Where do you meet people? Sure, you'll meet people at work, but rarely do work friendships turn into outside-of-work friendships. You'll definitely meet the moms of your kids' friends, but those moms may not be looking for new friends, and just because your kids like each other, doesn't mean you will be insta-friends. It just means you may awkwardly sit at a park together somewhere, making painful small talk while your kids play.

And, so, back to my concern...who would I hang out with when I need nights away from my kids? Who could I count on to come over and hang out with me on nights when my husband is away and I just need some girl talk? Who would be my local go-to when I've had a bad day, a good day, or just a day that I want to talk about? Who could I call and say "Hey, want to meet the kids and me for breakfast?" And, who could I count on when I'm in a pinch and need someone to watch the kids last minute?

I was afraid I'd be very lonely in paradise.

I have a few friends who knew people down here who made introductions, and I have a few friends I've known who have moved to this area. But, everyone has their own lives, and, well, I can't blame them if I'm not a priority.

But, despite all of that, despite all of my fear and anxiety, I got lucky.

INCREDIBLY, BEAUTIFULLY LUCKY.

I had the fortune to meet two people who have become very important in my life. In both of these situations, it was one of those where you instantly knew that this person was going to become one of your nearest and dearest. And, in both situations, I became incredibly close with my new friends in a quick amount of time. It feels like I've known these amazing ladies forever, and I often forget that they didn't help me live my history, they don't know my story, and haven't met most of my important people.

I met my first dear friend when I was picking out cabinets, tile, and other goodies for my new home. She was doing the same. We happened to be building the same model home in the same neighborhood. We bonded over cabinets, and that night, she and her husband invited me and my husband to dinner. We graciously accepted the invitation, and what was a "first date" turned into a three hour dinner, full of laughter and joy. Every subsequent trip to Florida before the big move included time with them, and when we were in separate states, texts and phone calls became a common occurrence. They have become some of our dearest friends in the world; it's strange if we go a week without seeing them and more than a day without talking.

I met my second dear friend because she was assigned to be my mentor at work. When I was hired at my new position, I just kept hearing about this one teacher that everyone said I was going to get along great with. On the flip side, she kept hearing about this new hire who she was totally going to hit it off with. Well, I was nervous. What if I didn't like her--or worse, what if she didn't like me? What if it was one of those instances where everyone thought we'd be great friends, but in reality, we couldn't stand each other? We met a few weeks before school started to do a little work on our shared course. We ended up doing very little work and quite a lot of chatting. By the end of that meeting, we were already old friends, and by the first day of school, we were inseparable. We are even already at the point where we finish each other's...sandwiches. (Just kidding...this isn't Frozen! We just finish each other's sentences.) We look forward to seeing each other each day, talk after work, hang out on the weekends, and even our kids are friends.

So, while no one can replace my New Jersey support system, I am so glad that my fears were unfounded. I have met some amazing people, and my world is so much richer for having them in it. This is just one more reason I'm glad my family took the leap and moved to Florida.

Welcome to My New Life...

Hi. Let me introduce myself. I'm Stacy. Mom of twins, high school teacher, reader, knitter, friend, daughter, wife, blogger (Want to see my other blog that I write with my BFF? Of course you do! Just click here...). The list goes on and on. But, there's one other thing I want to address...I'm a New Jersey native, Florida transplant. What a strange turn of events that was...

But, it happened.

I moved from New Jersey (living in the town where I was born & raised) to Florida just a few short weeks ago. I never planned to leave New Jersey, and, in fact, I had lived in the Northeast my entire life. I had a good life there; my family was nearby, I had lots of good friends, and a good job. But, if there's one thing I've learned throughout my years on this earth, it's that you never know where life is going to take you, and you most certainly are never going to end up where you thought you would.

Which takes me to now...here I am--a resident Floridian.

I've always loved Florida. My grandparents lived here (ironically in the town I am living in) and I absolutely loved visiting them. I was envious of my cousin who grew up here--he could be outside year round, he got his license a full year before me, even though he's younger, and it just seemed like a really cool life. When I would visit my grandparents in my twenties, I always thought that I could live here someday. But, it was more of an abstract thing, and I never thought that I'd actually do it.

Until I did.

As I said earlier, you never know where life is going to take you. Flashback to 2015. My husband and I were living in a beautiful home. It was supposed to be our forever home. It was where we were raising our kids, and where we had done many improvements to make our home just that, ours--and there were many more projects in the works. And then...things changed. Our neighborhood changed. Due to that, we sold the house. When we were putting the house on the market, we had to decide where we were going to go. We didn't want to stay in the town we were in, so my husband suggested Florida. I looked at him like he had seven heads, and then I cried. I literally cried. (For the record, I am not a cryer.) I'm one of those people who reacts first, then thinks things out. When I calmed down and started thinking, I realized that it might actually be a good idea. I finally said to my husband, "We only live once. Let's do it."

So we did.

Fast forward a year and here we are. Living in Florida. Living a life I never expected to have. New job, new friends, and my family is far away.

But...it's an amazing life. I am the happiest I've been in a long time. (Maybe it's all the sunshine...I do say that I'm solar powered, after all!) So, here's to big changes, shaking things up, and seeing where life will take you.

So, to (finally) get to my point...I am starting this blog as a way to share my thoughts and my world. Because if one thing is true about Jersey girls, it's that we don't hold our tongues.

Until my next post...