We’re Heading West!

The grass is always greener on the other side, right? I’ve been down on New York for a few months now. It’s lost its luster. Walking down the street, I used to think, “I live here! Can you believe it!?” Now, when I’m down in Midtown I think, “Can’t I just get a hotel and pretend I’m a tourist? Do I really have to get on the subway and go home?”

The subway system is a cruel joke on thinking individuals. The MTA recently put up signs intended to improve rider confidence:

Instead of waiting until everything in a station is broken, now we fix something right when it breaks.

Which Mercedes-driving MTA executive got that brilliant idea one morning and sent it to the PR team? “Tell them we’ll fix things right when they need fixing! It’s cutting edge! They’ll eat that sh*& up!”

But it’s really not the city that’s changed, it’s me of course.

I used to weather subway delays because I had a good book or The New Yorker. Now I have a squirming toddler who’s trying to lick the subway poles and hold a screaming contest. Instead of being able to skip up the subway stairs, I have to carry the toddler and stroller sherpa-style.

So we’ve been thinking about a move for a little while.

Our immediate families aren’t in New York, so we cast our net out to our family hubs. We looked online at all the space we could get. And that same excitement that we had when we sold our cars to rely on public transit is back, but in the opposite direction. I can’t wait to have wheels again so I can drive to Trader Joe’s anytime I want. I can fill my cart with blue cheese and gouda and not worry about having to carry it home with the toddler, relying only on my biceps for support.

So here’s the BIG NEWS that is rocking our world: this big-city family is packing everything onto a covered wagon and hitting the Oregon Trail.

We are moving to Portland, OR! Next week!

Hopefully we won’t get cholera along the way. I also hear the winter is a bad time to cross the Rockies in a wagon train.

I’m not sure what the change in scenery will mean for me. Will I be nicer? Less sarcastic? Will I stop running people over with the stroller? I’m going to try my hardest not to get into any knife fights during the first few months of big city detox.

In the meantime, please send some good vibes thissa-way. Momsicle’s going to be on hiatus until February, when it will come back slightly schizophrenic, full of cheese, and wearing Birkenstocks with socks.

Bon voyage!