Papaya Mom

That is what happens when a tired Mommy blogs about having no time to blog. Suddenly, she has a moment to blog as her daughter for the first time (gasp) asks to put herself to sleep in “her” bed. (note: I’m not crazy - I know this won’t last)

I had a great dinner tonight despite two toddlers bouncing off all corners of the booth. It was great because 1. No matter how wild they were our two toddlers liked one another and were having fun without tantrums or knives and 2. I got a chance to articulate to someone part of why moving here was a great decision for Papaya, myself and Adventure Dad.

Most people “get” that I moved home this year while Adventure Dad deploys and why someone would do that for all the wonderful help I’ve recieved from my parents, brother, his wife and other friends here in Hawaii. Aside from the obvious there were other reasons that I moved “home” to the house where I grew up (okay, the second half of my youth after the townhouse - but let’s not be bogged down with specifics like facts) and where my parents still lived. I was asked a lot of questions and given a lot of advice by friends who had well-meaning opinions (we’ll assume) about a woman in her late twenties moving home for “help.”

1. Are you okay? Many would ask as if my honesty about battling depression means that mine is so much worse and somehow I’m moving home as part of my secret plan to give up my daughter and check myself into some hospital with padded walls. The truth for me is quite the opposite reason - I’ve become a better advocate for myself through the journey of motherhood (aka. now I know I need to be healthy mentally for Papaya who I love more than the air I breathe) and knew that company and community support are things that matter to my daily happiness. I know that it is not popular to admit that the life we’ve chosen is hard or imperfect - but I fell in love with someone who travels for work, heck I even encourage it - and in turn I have had to learn how to handle the lonliness and boredom of having your husband home every night.

2. Well I would too if I was from paradise! Thanks, that is a nice thing to say, but I’m not here for the Rum & Coke on the beach at sunset. Growing up here I felt so lucky - I lived somewhere beautiful and it had nothing to do with the postcards sold in Waikiki. There was the beach at my grandfather’s house with little fish darting between my ankles, sea grapes to “play” cooking games with and year- round ability to be naked outdoors (important childhood thing). Moving back here also allowed me to honor what I loved about this place and “do things right” that I’d seen differently in the eye of reflection. I want to spend time with the ocean, let my daughter’s memories include sandy toes, I want to have her take hula because I regret not doing it, I want to spend time getting to know my brother and his wife as adults because they are awesome people (not to mention my obvious parents who I also want to know and love better), and the list goes on…. I came here with a purpose to live this year following my heart, honoring Maya’s childhood and giving her a chance to know large parts of her extended family on my side that she might not always get to live near. Part of that was seeing how truly wonderful it was to have her bond with Travis’ parents - and there is part of me that is so sad that the time came that we could no longer live “close” to them (10 hours was worth the drive, every single time).

So it felt good to articulate that - even if it is a serious rambling run-on.  Note: As I finished this last night Papaya changed her mind and wanted my cuddles so now I publish a day later, and not so high on my “kid is sleeping” horse.

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