Objects in the rear view mirror may appear blurred through tears.

We are still alive! We are here in DC and we are getting settled. While I am missing my furniture and our 'full kitchen' as the movers referred to it, we are making due. I am using a crappy dull knife in place of my pizza cutter, corning ware plates that would make Martha Stewart put a gun to her head and drinking wine from something that is quite opposite of my beautiful Riedel stemware at home, but most importantly we are still drinking wine. Some nights more than we should and then whispering and stifling our giggles like teenagers to keep from waking up the kids and because that is the only thing that feels familiar to us right now.

I have always fancied myself a girl born in a small town, meant for the big city. My dad reminded me of my small town roots the other night as we spoke and I thought to myself "whatevs Dad, I'm so big city you don't even know" then I was like "oh shit, he's right" I dared not admit to myself that this transition might take a little getting used to. But, it has. From the first floor of a townhouse in a sleepy town in Florida to the 18th floor of a high rise apartment building, parking just outside my door to parking on the dungeon level of a parking garage that most days I can't find my way out of, have been a change. I have had a couple of breathless moments and bouts of claustrophobia in the elevator, in the parking garage and peering over Sam's shoulder as we watch the adjacent lot being cleared below for a new high-rise building.

In preparation for this move, I didn't prepare. In retrospect it was the best thing to do, or not do. Had I thought of all the things that would be new, all the challenges and delights and tears and laughter and highs and lows, I would have shut down, information overload, short circuit. I had to get through our last days in the 'Sunshine State' with peace and relative calm and take one thing at a time for me, for Peter & Sam.

We used to get up, play, get dressed, step out our front door to load up the car, each strapping in a baby, go have a leisurely coffee together before work then drive to destination a, b, c and, d, and return home. Now we kiss dad off to work on the metro or shuttle to start his day with 'the suits' from our loaner bed, filled with babies and Cheerios and sleepy eyes. With luck, careful planning and preparation I load my babies up in our new stroller a few hours later. I throw my grocery bag, my phone and keys in the bottom, a few diapers, a bottle and some snacks and we make our way down our hall to the elevator. Down 18 floors to the ground level where we emerge to the bustling of the city to take on our day and hope to get a coffee sometime before nap time.

Some days I am on such a high from all the excitement the "oh my God this is what I've always dreamed of, how cool is this urban living. shit yes!" and other days I am defeated by the simple task of getting everyone out the door and into the elevator. I don't know where to go, don't see any familiar faces and wander aimlessly. Tears fill my eyes and I'm thankful that they're hidden from the view of my kids as I walk just behind the stroller.

The other night we ventured out to a hit up a big fabulous mall nearby. Sam had thrown up on the five minute drive there. After running in to purchase him a change of clothes while Paul cleaned him up, cleaned the car up and settled and fed Peter, we went into exactly one store out of ten thousand, grabbed a slice of lukewarm pizza at Sabarro instead of at California Pizza Kitchen as planned. I/we were completely maxed out, we waived our surrender flags, (which is so not like me in any shopping mecca!) and made our way back to the car. I crawled into the crevice that remains in the backseat of our car between two car seats to soothe both boys as we drove home.

I began to cry as Paul and I discussed the day. Sam upon seeing me cry reached over and grabbed my hand and started to gently stroke my forearm saying softly and reassuringly, "Mom, no. Coo house, boose, tracks, dump. Coo house. No mom." which translates from this sweet two year old angels mouth, "Don't cry mom. We have a cool house, with trains (boose/caboose), train tracks and dump trucks right outside, It's ok mom we have a cool house and everything is there that we love" Which naturally made me cry harder.

With Peter sleeping to my right, Sam holding my hand from the left and reassuring glances from Paul in the rear view mirror we headed home on dark and unfamiliar streets. We didn't drive through frog hollow or lizards crossing (several of our self named neighborhood spots) but we did drive HOME.

Each day gets easier. Some will be harder. Changes are yet to come. We signed up for this, this is what we wanted, what we've always dreamed of. To travel to all the places listed in our collections of travel books, "1,000 Places to See Before You Die," places to fill pages in our travel journals to collect stamps in our new Diplomatic passports. Paul took an oath, but we never waived our right to be sad, to feel overwhelmed or to cry at the sheer insanity of it all. We continue to allow ourselves a few 'moments' throughout it all.

Tomorrow we send Paul off to work to submit our bid list, highs, mediums and lows. We have carefully researched, sorted and toiled. We are hoping for the best...*ahem* Paris *ahem*! We will be posting pictures from our journey from Florida to DC, our new neighborhood and our adventures soon!

Elise