Tuesday, July 7, 2009

What if I start wearing mom jeans?

Since I am no longer the home editor at Sunset and my mind has turned temporarily to travel, I've sort of fallen off my manic home makeover bandwagon. This also has to do with my newly refreshed urge to move out of our boxy, tiny house and into something a little more open, with a little better weather, and maybe some decent public schools nearby.
Yes, I am contemplating suburbia. Marin County, to be exact. Or sort of. I waffle. Part of me wants to raise cool city kids able to converse in Mandarin and navigate MUNI and enjoy a film in translation. And part of me remembers the childhood pleasures of hot summers, school yards with grass, and the feeling of having free reign over our little town.
A lot of my friends are crossing the Bay and settling into the land of parking lots and ice cream trucks. But I don't know. What if it makes us soft? What if my kids grow up thinking everyone is white? What if I start taking Pilates and walking around in my workout clothes with a giant nonfat iced latte in my hand at all times? It could happen.

A thing I like
I know he hasn't exactly fixed the economy (yet) and, well, the troops are still in Iraq. Healthcare looks like it's probably not going to get the radical full-body makeover it so desperately needs. But, I can't help it, I still love Obama with a purple passion. Which is why I like to waste my time scrolling through the White House Flickr page. My current favorite? This one of Michelle cradling a woman's face on Fourth of July. It's just so full of heart.


Petunia Face said...

We lived in the Outer Sunset when we first had Zoey. One day I was getting out of the backseat of my car holding tiny infant Zoey and my foot got caught on the strap of her diaper bag. I fell hard and fast without being able to put out my hands because I was holding Zoey--just straight down flat on the pavement, both of us. I screamed and then Zoey started really screaming. A guy stood talking on his cell phone not 15 feet away--he looked over but never asked me if I was ok or if my baby was ok, he just kept talking on his cell phone. That's when I decided to move back to Marin.

Not to say that someone would ask me if I were ok here. Who knows? I have yet to fall tripping out of my car again but if I did maybe someone would yell at me for getting too close to their Range Rover. I dunno. Still, I'm glad we moved back--the schools, the weather, blah blah. In some ways I feel like a salmon, spawning. My parents lived in the city when I was born and moved to Marin when I was 6 months old. We held out until Zoey was 10 months old.

Good luck with the decision! I know it's a hard one.

eltee said...

There's always Oakland. We lived there for five years and loved it. Love Kensington too but the whiteness of it all is a little weird.

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