I have never been good at saying goodbye. I think it is why it has taken me nearly three weeks to write this blog entry. City Mom in the Jungle began as a way for me to cope, to make sense of what was happening in my life, as my family relocated from Manhattan to the Caribbean nation of Barbados. I started it a year too late, more than likely because I was stunned, shocked, absolutely frozen by fear and heartbreak. The early days in Barbados were like a horror show with each scene peeling back to reveal another dark corner. It seemed to never end. The sun was hot and bright, the waters turquoise and warm. There were palm trees and mangoes, monkeys, and incredibly lush vegetation. It was so humid that it felt like breathing in cotton balls. The newborn baby cooing/screaming in front of me, and the pre-schooler desperate for my attention and reassurance were greeted by a post-partum depressed wax figure. And by wax figure I mean, melty candle like the Nazi in Raiders of the Lost Ark, not Stepford wife. It wasn't that there wasn't anything to love about this place, surely anyone who chooses Barbados for a luxury vacation will find plenty to rave and postcard home about.
It is hard being new. The new kid on the block. New kid in town. First day on the job. First attempt, try, push in the right direction. Because we just don't know what's coming next, all those firsts are fraught with anxiety and devil voices in the head warning of utter failure and complete humiliation. Whilst protecting Lily from her little nerves, I had seemed to have forgotten that I too would be going out on a limb, sitting in judgment, more than likely being judged by myself and some other cows, and that I do not take too well to the piercing glare of the jury. But I didn't feel like running home to write about it. This, is everyday life. This is suburbia. There are so many wonderful bloggers and writers who have captured this sense of inertia on the outskirts of city life. All the complaints, issues, and concerns, extreme shopping and Pilates as sport, soccer/hockey/gymnastics/art classes/afterschool activities chaffeuring around has been mentioned ad nauseum and I realized that I had nothing to add. At least nothing that felt fresh in this forum.
I am officially a suburbanite. Again. Having grown up in the suburbs of New Jersey, just further south, I swore I'd never find myself here again. The fish bowl is too small and I have always felt more comfortable as a small fish in a big pond. Always more room for roaming and roving without anyone paying too much attention. But this time, I have come for my kids, so that they can have a great public school, afterschool activities, sport, community libraries, space to move about. I will not be able to remain anonymous, hide in the shadows, live a life without too much contact. I will have to share myself, share us, as we become part of the community. I will drive the girls to school, soccer games, gymnastics or ballet?, go to Target and Costco and Whole Foods and focus primarily on family life. Focus on the life of my family and make preparations for our second act.
So I am no longer a city mom and I no longer reside in the jungle. I am back where I started, so to speak, except with a wealth of achievement (if not financial wealth), accomplishment, strength, perseverance, and endurance that only my years abroad could have shown me. And I am warmed by the love I have felt on these pages, with comments, well-wishes, cheers, and hope for me and my little family as we wound our way out of the jungle and onto safer ground. I made so many friends on the way and lost a few too. People who definitely did not want to come with me on the quest, did not want to deal with the questions, the longing, the pain. I learned to trust myself and spoke honestly about what I was experiencing and discovered that open communication is my preferred style. I don't like charades or guessing games or innuendo. I would rather know up front where someone stands with me and I with them than do that dance. I want to find the shortest direction from points A to B in that instance, so I have time to journey and travel where it is actually exciting.
This was an incredible journey, one I will more than likely, never forget. But as I have reached the Edge of Heaven, there is little point in belaboring my story. This particular journey, that of the City Mom in the Jungle, has come to an end, and in its place, wide open road. I have learned that I suck at travel. I am no adventurer, no camper, no "let it fly" type of gal. I don't like wild animals, closed-hearted people, bullshit, dishonesty, or extreme temperatures. I love the sea, but didn't every day. I love the sunsets and pink, purple, and yellow skylines, but also missed the stark white of winter, the cold that rattles one's soul and provokes thought, debate, desire for warmth and connection and summer climes. I needed seasons and contrasts, excitement, and release and I needed love. In the end, isn't that what we all need?
I made apologies for not being able to thrive in Barbados. Felt like a failure for not being able to juggle my children, my husband, my loneliness, the new experiences there, the longing for the past, longing for home, and the monotony of home maintenance in a bloody hot climate. I am not sorry, not for that. I regret having refused to ask for help from the people who waited with open arms to love me and guide me. I will feel equal horror if I have not learned this lesson and continue on the path alone while back in the States. For what made me continue the stories on the City Mom in the Jungle long after the monkeys and the mangoes and the crazy driving and the heat, beyond the tropical storm and torrential downpours, skin peeling sunstroke, and wicked waves, inebriated expats and unfriendly locals, was sharing the story of being a mom. All the razzle dazzle and jazz hands might look different and certainly some circumstances can only be found on an island, in the mountains, in the suburbs, in a kibbutz, who knows. In the end, this was the start of a journey for a mom who was once a cool chick who got lost and worked damned hard to find herself again.
Thank you so for coming with me. Thank you for writing to me and sharing your thoughts. Thank you for loving my family and living our experience, even when it wasn't all island breeze and cocktails. That is life and I have shared just a little piece of it with you. I will continue to write, not sure if I can keep up the vigor and stamina of a blog here in the suburbs, but writing is now one of the things that I allow to define me. That I use to open my heart to the world and share. The City Mom has taken the train out to the 'burbs and is sipping tea in her office, looking out the window at the squirrels getting wicked in the trees.
What is it with those squirrels?
You take me to the edge of heaven
Tell me that my soul's forgiven
Hide your baby's eyes and we can...
You take me to the edge of heaven
One last time might be forever
Please don't tell me lies
It's just a matter of time before my heart is
Looking for a home (c)
Thank you.
(c) Copyright 1986. Wham, Songs from the Edge of Heaven
(c) Copyright 2011. City Mom in the Jungle.
