Something funny has happened.

Over the past two weeks, I have occasionally thought about posting to this blog, but no so much because I had something I wanted to share as because I felt there was the expectation that I SHOULD share, because x number of days had passed. And for the first time, I understood the reasoning of the several bloggers I have encountered who chose to sign off, or at least give it a little rest: that they wanted to live their lives, rather than blog about them.

Over the past two weeks, I have been living my life: being offered (accepting, and tomorrow, starting) a new job; spending as much time as possible with my kids before their is less time to spend; reading books! traveling back to New York for my cousin Patrick's wedding and discovering, in doing so, the paradox of yearning for something at the heart of a place I do not miss. In 24 hours in the city before heading upstate, we managed to see both my best friend and Clio's, and it was like coming home. Just enough time has passed that it was almost possible that we had just been visiting Boulder, that we would slip back into life in Brooklyn. At the same time, enough time has passed that I think that would be impossible. In our habits, we have already moved on, begun to settle in to the shape of a different lifestyle.

I have begun several posts that felt false today- including, in all honesty, this one (I just deleted a paragraph or two about a run-in I had in traffic today.) I'm not sure if this is the culmination of the blog-dentity crisis I have been feeling since I got here (a blog is a product of your experiences; yet this blog seems awfully rooted in the angst of my years as a parent in NYC and our decision to leave) or just a dalliance with the freedom of not reporting on my life, or something mysterious behind door number three. I have been giving quite a bit of thought to what this blog needs to be for me, but I haven't found the answer.

For those of you who check back frequently, well, there may (or may not) me an ongoing lull. When I have had these moments before, they have been enough to get me unstuck, and a flood of posts has followed. We'll see. Work begins tomorrow and it will be the first time I start a new job as a parent. I will be creating a position and building a financial/fundraising plan, in a state I'm unfamiliar with and a sector not quite my own (but then again more personally my own: Writers instead of Artists), from the ground up, and re-learning how to balance work life and home life. How to be full-time everythings all at once. Oh, and I started a book club.

Just over a year ago, I wrote a post On Going Back to Work. I haven't re-read it, I just know it is there. That moment was the beginning of the end of my life in New York. I hope, in a way, that this is the beginning of a life in Colorado.

Okay, something else funny just happened. I kind of got grossed out by writing that last line, whether or not it is true. I think I might be better off if I stopped dividing time into these little parcels, and began to accept the way that it all overlaps. I have been reminded of this several times over the past few days: I have this fear that by taking a full time job, I will be short-circuiting any other plans for the future by limiting my time to lay the ground work now. I went through the same thing when I wrestled with the decision to go back to school for a Master's Degree: that somehow, I was putting off love and marriage by becoming a student again. But guess what? Dave and I met, became friends, started dating, became boyfriend-girlfriend, and fell in love while I was in grad school.

We have been talking a lot lately about the Lessons I Refuse to Learn (that given the chance, Eleri WILL break my sunglasses, for example.) I guess there are some big ones out there, too.