So, Indiana

Expectations are really insidious little things. I thought I was completely prepared for this huge, major life change and that I would CHOOSE to be happy and positive and ride off into the sunset toward our new life. But still, after 32 years on this planet, I let my own expectations cripple me. I tried a Pure Barre class expecting to love it and be good at it, because hello, 18 years of classical ballet training. I didn't and I sucked and I still really don't understand why anyone would want to do those things with their body. I thought my apartment would be new and great, but it's old and the people downstairs have two large, loud dogs in a one-bedroom unit. Yes, I am judging them. However, it's cheap as hell and we won't be there for more than a year. I enrolled Elliott in a very fancy, very regimented early preschool and for the first week I felt like a shitty mom. I didn't have the right size Ziploc bags for Elliott's extra change of clothes and he was the last kid picked up on his first day. I also put off thinking about Halloween for too long and now I'm scrambling to get something together for him to wear to school on Friday (I settled on a homemade Hamburglar costume. He can forward his future therapy bills directly to me.)

I got a job far quicker than I anticipated. I imagined that I wouldn't start working until November and that I would have a solid few weeks to do fun stuff with Elliott and explore the city. But I walked out of my first job interview with an offer that I would be stupid to refuse. Now I find myself working full-time and doing all the parenting, which is basically what was making me so miserable in San Francisco. I had to remind myself, when Elliott was running away from me as I was desperately trying to get pants on him, that this is all temporary. My husband will be here soon to take a huge load off my shoulders, and even try to help coax Elliott out of the kitchen cabinet he attempted to stuff himself into because he just couldn't bear the thought of putting on pants and going to school. Sometimes I failed at reminding myself and I snapped at Elliott, because dear God, I couldn't handle another 7:00 a.m. meltdown that was one long, incoherent run-on sentence of "No, I don't want [insert waffles/pants/school/backpack/milk/everything]!!!," plus snot. So much snot.

Driving to work yesterday morning, I drafted a top ten list of all the things I hate about Indianapolis (people text and drive with reckless abandon; the local NPR affiliate is in the middle of a pledge drive and one of their broadcasters could not figure out how to pronounce "Dia de los Muertos"; everyone tells me that I'm going to need a warmer jacket because I'm from OMG California -- I KNOW, but it's not snowing yet, back off; Styrofoam cups and plastic bags are in rampant use...). Then I got to work, went over my calendar and saw that it was yoga night. Yay! I let go of the stress and the resentment and focused on my job, but I did stew for a little while. I mean, Styrofoam? Really? It's 2015, Indiana.

Now I don't want to end this post with you all bummed out, so here are some Indy highlights. I mean, it's actually fall and the leaves are literally changing colors. What?!

Aunt Heather made Elliott a house out of cardboard boxes and taught him how to cut with scissors. I put up some art.

Don't tell anyone, but he secretly loves school (they give you pumpkins); a fancy Totoro teacup for work; hi from Dad.

Oh, Indiana, you're a few months too late; selfies while waiting for french fries and milkshakes; stuffing himself into the above-referenced kitchen cabinet.

Raking Grammy's leaves and eating donuts is exhausting.

And here are five things I'm grateful for:

1. The yoga teacher played "Hello" during the last, intense flow before savasana. *dead*
2. My mother-in-law and her cozy, happy house.
3. Elliott's humor and ever-expanding vocabulary.
4. Elliott's preschool teaching him stuff in a week that I would never have had the time to think of.
5. My husband and his impending arrival with our fur babies.