Ch-Ch-Changes...

So let me tell you a little story about this past October 9th...

Just kidding. I'm going to back wayyyy up first because we all know I love a gratuitous meandering backstory.

Remember when...
...we waved goodbye to our cozy little starter home two years ago and moved across the country to start our brand new life in Denver?

Well, we thought we were waving goodbye. But that old house just kept hanging on. And on. And on. And loooong after we left, our names were still on the deed, even though we were more than ready to not own it.

By Murphy's Law, we somehow hit the housing market at good Ole' Fort Drum, NY at the worst times possible.  When we arrived, there was virtually no housing available on the actual military base without at least a 9 month wait. We were even warned before our arrival that finding anything near work would be laughable, and many soldiers would commute over an hour from Syracuse in order to have decent housing. If we did find something closer, we shouldn't expect much; most of the houses in the area were built in the late 1800s or early 1900s. So we thought we scored when we found a home right by the base that was built after 1950 with not only a garage, but an attached garage! Sadly for us (but happily for the 25,000 other military families), after we bought our cozy little home, the Army saw fit to build 400+ brand-new quarters on the base with attached 2-car garages and walk-in closets and other such luxuries. So by the time we moved, our little house hardly stood a chance.  

But the move was happening regardless of the market. So we listed the house in January. (Let me tell you, showing a house while living in it is one of the singular most stressful and annoying experiences ever). We moved in March. We were under contract by April...but our rejoicing got cut short when the contract fell through.

So we started doing things long distance. We paid for a new roof and a few other little things here and there, said some desperate prayers, dropped the price, dropped the price again, went under contract again in the fall...and (surprise!) it fell through again. (Oh the joy of living near a military post where people constantly deploy/change their orders/change their minds). Finally, after a year and a half of sitting on the market, and a year of double mortgage payments, we agreed to rent the house out. Some nice tenants took care of it for a year, and when they moved out this past summer, we put the house up for sale again while trying to find new tenants. 

Meanwhile...

Remember when I waved goodbye to the Army two years ago?

The last place I ever (ever, EVER) expected to find myself two years after I hung up my uniform was back in it. [Except maybe at Halloween for giggles and stuff]. I even got rid of most of my stuff because hello mom jeans. All done, Army! See ya later!

The day I officially signed out of the active Army.
I actually recall feeling the most gleeful I had ever felt
when this picture was taken.

Well. About that. 

CoughIkindSortaJoinedtheReservesCough.

But first: more fun back story! See, my amazing husband has been supporting us since we moved here and embraced this new life, even though it means insane work hours and more work for his Army Reserves unit on the weekend and all that time he spent at school for two years.

After Peter earned his MBA, we knew it was either time for him to move up or say goodbye to his current employer in lieu of something better. Enter the first promising job interview in May, followed by second and third and fifth interviews, followed by more interviews with another company. Both were seemingly great companies...but unfortunately both made it very clear that they planned to take their sweet time. So, because our house in NY was back on the market creating a second mortgage, and because student loan payments were looming and there was no end in sight to the interview process, we decided there were two options: move, or have me go back to work part-time.

We nixed moving because not only are we very happy where we are, we feel it's very important for the kids and their needs to have stability--in this exact house, in their current schools, in the daily routines that we've already established. So that left me to join Peter in the job hunt. 

I went over and over and over different options in my head, because I still felt like the Big Guy was telling me I was supposed to be as close to a SAHM as possible for my kids' sake. Not just because I didn't want to leave them, but because their needs are so unique that I just didn't see how some of them could be met in my daily absence.


My list of possibilities was as random as the day is long, and not one of them seemed like it would pay enough and still leave room for enough time to focus on my kids' needs. Or it would require some sort of lengthy training or certification that I didn't have time for. (It made me realize why so many moms I know want to get into MLM companies, though that line of work is not for me in any way, shape, or form).

Yep. I sure did add that caveat next to the Reserves
when it came to mind. Amazing that I let the
"option" of the Reserves even make it onto paper.

I stalled for about a month during the summer when Peter landed some more promising interviews. But somewhere in the middle of August, when we still had no clear resolution on that pesky house or the employment situation, I had to start looking again.

I was at the playground with the boys agonizing over the job search and blubbering inside about what a luxury it is to be a SAHM when it hit me: why did I think the Reserves was such a bad idea again? One weekend a month, two weeks a year. Okay well, up to three weeks. But I could still take the kids to school and be with them every weekday and almost every weekend. It was familiar work that I could pick up easily. I already had inside intel on a local unit with a training-only mission (my husband's, of course), and even if we were working on a Saturday, we could still have lunch together. The idea fairy seemed more and more convincing this time around. So I talked it over with Peter, and he was also convinced (after making sure that he wasn't forcing me into anything I didn't want to do; after all, I'd spent the last two years decrying my previous career  choice, so this change of heart seemed awfully sudden and completely out-of-character!). 

And so, convincing and convinced, I moved forward...made some phone calls, sent some info to the recruiter...and got the call that officially started the process on September 16th, of course: my 30th birthday, just for laughs. We joked that my brother went skydiving for his 30th birthday, and I ran off and joined the Army... (well, re-joined, but the former sounds more dramatic), which sets the 30th birthday crisis bar fairly high for our baby sister. Good thing she's got a decade or so to plan! 

Once I started the process, there were a few hiccups along the way--apparently the Army thought it would be fun to accidentally discharge me completely instead of just moving me to the IRR to complete my full Military Service Obligation (long story, but fellow classmates, they might have done this to you too), and I suddenly started getting all sorts of letters and emails from random recruiters now that I was actually in the IRR.

Only two years late!

I also had to re-initiate my security clearance that hit its 10-year expiration date in July. Just two months prior. The irony...

All 31 pages of it.

Despite getting down to the wire, everything went through, and when all was said and done, there I was: back in the uniform I swore I'd never wear again. Funny one, God. 

Lesson learned: never say never... (or you might be eating your words for breakfast, lunch, and dinner while buying new uniforms).

Now, back to October 9th:

[It was a great day, and not just because it's the birthday of one of my best friends!]

In early September, we magically got another offer on our NY house. We prayed that the 3rd time would actually be the charm, but I didn't get my hopes up much. As things started moving forward, we held our breath, then held it some more, but the cold feet stayed away and the contract stayed put!

Meanwhile, in late September, Peter started a set of interviews with yet another company, but they seemed motivated to move quickly. It also seemed like the job would be a really great fit; managing multiple primary care clinics in our immediate area, with some work from home requirements (darn!) and no more hour-long commute to the VA Hospital for extra-long days. Three interviews later, the new company told Peter they were "looking forward to making an offer in the next week."  Eek.

I was in the dark about all of it until Peter walked in the door after work on October 4th with flowers and sparkling cider for the kids as a "pre-celebration," announcing his pending job offer and the incredible news that the NY house buyers had requested an earlier closing date! Double Eeek!

After holding our breath even more and crossing all our fingers and toes and praying more pleasepleaseplease prayers for the next week, the house closing was scheduled for Thursday, October 9th. At 1pm Eastern Time, to be exact. Plenty of other minor details kept popping up that week to keep us on our toes, but finally, Thursday arrived. Exactly two minutes before the closing was supposed to start, my phone rang, and I nearly had a heart/panic attack, thinking that Murphy's law was striking again and everything was about to fall apart.

But it was quite the opposite of a last-minute catastrophe; instead it was just Peter saying "I'm about to go into a meeting so I can't talk long, but I just officially accepted the job offer!" At which point I jumped up and down in the preschool parking lot like a crazed lunatic before attempting to compose myself so I could look like a sane mother accompanying my boys to the pumpkin patch. A pumpkin patch trip marked by me obsessively checking my phone for the email from our Realtor, which arrived shortly thereafter: all had gone smoothly, and we were officially, finally, happy non-homeowners!

And there you have it: Over two years in the making for the house, five months in the making for the job--both resolved in the same exact hour on October 9th. 

As Hannibal from the A-team says, "I love it when a plan comes together!"

Despite all the waiting and wondering and pestering God about His excruciatingly s l o w  timing, His plan for us certainly came together in the most unbelievable way possible. (Sorry, God. You're still smarter. And a better planner).

We celebrated for real this time, of course--with brick oven pizza and flights of bourbon!

...and PB&J Pizza in the shape of a heart!

So here we are.
New job(s).
One house lighter.
A heck of a lot less stressed.
Looking forward to an even better quality of life.
And extra super grateful for this life we're already so so lucky to be living. 

Cheers!