2016

It's winter. Not even a terribly wintry winter. It barely snows. We're expecting mid to upper forties this week. This place can't even do the dead of winter right. But we started the year as hermits.

People at my work have been quitting or dropping back their hours, and my schedule is running me into the ground. I didn't even technically have a day off last week. Every morning, I'm up hours before the sun. When I work a short shift and just come in to help with morning rounds, the sun is barely over the horizon, barely melting the thin fingers of frost off the car windshields. At four in the morning, the air is either damp and mild, or unthinkably, bitterly cold. The kind of cold that hurts your face and burns your nostrils. Everywhere you look, the sharp, frosty air is clouded with exhaust, steam, people's warm breath.

Our regular haunts are closed for the season and the days have become unbearably short. Except for our trips back to Omaha to see Ryland, or the few occasions we gird our loins and brave taking all of the kids out to dinner, or when we start going so stir-crazy that getting everyone dressed to go poke around the Walmart sounds like a fun outing, we stay holed up in our nest. We've been working on fluffing up its corners, trying to find everyone a bit more of their own space now that we're spending so much time packed in here. We moved our big television from the playroom downstairs to the living room, which was our least-utilized room in the house. The well worn leather sofa in our front room has gone from a gathering place for winter coats and boxes of diapers to an inviting place for all of us to curl up under blankets and watch copious amounts of Netflix (we just finished up Making a Murderer...thoughts?). Our rediscovered living room has become a place for quiet downtime. It houses most of the kids' picture books, a basket of Arlo's blocks and other non-battery-operated toys, Isla's easel, fresh with a whole new box of fat, triangle-shaped chalk. We're in the process of turning the playroom into Wilder and Isla's room, to be shared with most of their toys, and the smallest bedroom that three of the kids currently share is becoming Arlo's and Ryland's space.

I've never missed home more. I miss free museums, and bracing ourselves against the cold as we ran between the indoor exhibits at the zoo. I miss having a reason to own a fancy stroller. And having the option of poking around Target on a slow, weekday morning just for something to do. I've always wondered about myself, about whether I'm a town mouse or a country mouse, and the answer has become abundantly clear to me. This spring will mark a year of us living here, and the charm was definitely lost on me months ago. I need city life.

Last year was a year of tremendous change and trying to find our way in all of it. I think maybe this will be the year we stay put and try to build on those changes and make them mean something. We were excited to move here for a fresh start, a new career, and a chance to get on top of our debt and turn things around for our future. We didn't realize we would struggle so much to make any progress at all, but we're finally getting to where we can move forward. 2015 was harder and uglier than I ever thought possible. I'm more than happy to put it behind us. But all of the uncertainty facing us once again at the start of a new year is just...exhausting. It really is. It's not even scary to me anymore, because I've learned we can get through pretty much anything. I'm just ready to feel settled. To know where we're going to be in another year. To feel like we're living our lives instead of still struggling to get to the point where we feel like we have it together.