Moving on, Moving Up

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Moving on, Moving Up

The first time it happened was in the middle of my freshman year of high school. It wasn’t the first move we’d undertaken at my father’s seemingly cavalier whim, only the one that came after the longest stretch we’d lived anywhere. From even before I was born, my family moved roughly every two years. Eight times in fact by the time we arrived in Chappaqua, NY. I was in third grade, my older siblings spanned into high school. Two years came and went, still we remained. We lived there for a luxurious seven years, until I was 14, knocking around town with a gaggle of close friends, trying new activities, never running out of new boys to flirt with or date. Then our captain—my father—once again steered our family ship onto a moving van.

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Come Here Often?

I never thought I would be cruising chicks as a 34-year-old heterosexual mom of two. But here I am, five months of living in a new community, and I am trying to make friends the only way I can: picking up women at the playground. I am trying to make friends in a new community, and the only thing that keeps me laughing and enjoying the process is noticing how similar it is to dating.

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Busy Enough for You

Waging the Internal Battle Over my Stay-At-Home Path

Just when I thought I had come to terms with my rank as a stay-at-home mom, my working-mom neighbor asked me:

“So, Kate, what’s keeping you busy these days?”

Was she kidding? Was she being cute or facetious? Or was she effectively dismissing the validity of being a full-time mother at home?

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