Triangle Mamas

How I Ended Up Here in the Triangle

Being a mom is so full of emotions. But is there such a thing as mommy logic? Because that’s how I landed here in the Triangle.

I grew up in the South. First, Tennessee then South Carolina (where I went to high school and college). And then, my hubby and I made a mad, illogical dash 1,975 miles away to Phoenix, Arizona. He had just finished grad school and almost moved to Arizona years earlier for undergrad (luckily he didn’t because we never would have met). I always had an obsession with the Grand Canyon, even though the closest I had been was, well, Alabama.

It didn’t seem logical to most people we knew. We didn’t know anyone there (except a distant second cousin of my husband’s who he’d met as a kid), we had no jobs to move for, and, well, it was all the way across the flippin’ country! 

But with no house to sell, no dogs or kids to consider and a heavy dose of adventure pumping through our veins, it made sense to us.

Five years, one dog, one baby and ten trips to the Grand Canyon later, a little dose of mommy logic started settling in. We ADORED our quaint home in southern Scottsdale, the insanely good restaurants, the beautiful places to hike and our newest friends. But at what sacrifice? Our little one saw his grandparents once or twice a year. I once went THREE years without seeing one of my sisters. Plane trips would only get pricier as the little one got older. 

And the list went on.

The thought of moving back to the South hung in the back of my mind for months and months. Every milestone the kiddo hit kicked it up a notch. And then, fate struck.

I had been working at a job I loved but was looking for something a little less chaotic. One day at a marketing society event I sat next to a lady who started playing 20 questions with me. Next thing I know she tells me there’s a job I’d be PERFECT for and - get this - they are relocating to the South (Raleigh to be exact) in six months and paying for relocation. Did I really just hear that right?

And that’s when that mommy logic hit me full force. I was emotionally attached to Arizona but it just didn’t make sense anymore. And here, before me, was an opportunity to have a company PAY me to move closer to family, closer to family birthday parties, closer to the little one actually knowing his cousins instead of seeing them once a year. 

Closer.

It wasn’t because I knew all the great things about Raleigh (I really didn’t other than research). Not because of the weather. Not because the Triangle is a technology mecca. It was because it made sense as a mama who wanted the best for her family. And maybe that’s part emotion too but at the time, it was pure facts, pure logic. Moving back to this side of the country meant we could have X, Y and Z. Living out west meant we could not.

And so we did it. We packed up and moved. From the place our son was born... to the place he’ll grow up.

It’s been over a year now and, despite some struggles, we’re officially settled in. In fact, we’re so settled we thought we’d grow the family a bit so my second boy is due next March. We’ve built a new group of friends, discovered fun places to hike and enjoyed some great Triangle restaurants. The types of things that emotionally attached us to Arizona. But now, I’ve got something bigger than I ever had while living nearly 2,000 miles away. I have a certain comfort knowing that this is the right place for us. 

Six years ago it wasn’t. Today it is. And that makes perfect sense.

Emotion led us away from the South and mommy logic moved us back. Glad to be here.

Original post by Melissa, who loves Sephora every bit as much as REI. When she’s not contemplating what having two boys will do to her life expectancy, she can be found blogging about kids and the outdoors at adventuroo.com.

Home Team

I have never cheered for a team where I went to school. College, that is. There wasn't a big competitive sports scene at the woman's college where I spent the first part of my higher education, and the second part - well - I was into my own scene, let's just say.

My family are die hard bleeding maroon Mississippi State fans, myself included. Great greats and grands, my father, uncle, brother, everyone - except moi - went up north to Starkpatch to get their higher education. There is even a dorm which bares my maiden name.

Momma and Daddy always had season tickets to the basketball games, and when my dad couldn't go, my mom would often give me the chance to ride up with her and see the game. Or see who I could see, was usually my agenda.

One trip up was a race against the clock to get me back in time for the SubDeb Formal. I think I got home with about 15 minutes to get ready. The pictures show it too. The Bulldogs were playing LSU, and my mom said it was going to be worth the drive to see the game. Not because it was going to be a good game, but because a little dude named Shaquille O'Neal was playing for LSU. Momma said that we shouldn't miss seeing him playing college ball. She was right.

Anyway, my NCAA bracket this year had my Bulldogs going up against the Tarheels for the Championship game. I tend to make my bracket out by who I like best. It usually doesn't go well, for I never ever advance any team from Florida and I definitely never advance UCLA no matter how good they are supposed to be.

Of course the Dawgs were knocked right out in the first round. We knew they would be, but I had to root for them anyway. They were my home team.

Were.

I sit here tonight, rooting for the Tarheels and feeling at home doing so. It's not my alma mater. It's not Kevin's either, but they do ever so graciously employ him. More and more Carolina blue has been making its way into our home. A sweatshirt here, a t-shirt there. We are becoming a Tarheel family through and through.

And it feels good. It feels good to be able to let go a little bit more of the things that keep me from being completely rooted here in North Carolina.

It feels good to be home.

Crossposted at Don't Take the Repeats, Marty's personal blog. If you want less words more often, follow Marty on Twitter. Come on now, it's fun.

New mama on board

When people ask me where I’m from, I usually tell them that my husband Dan and I moved here from D.C. about three years ago.  Before that, we lived in Baltimore, where we went to college, met, and married.  But I grew up in Oregon, in a town nestled between three mountain ranges, Pacific saltwater in my veins.  It’s been almost ten years since I left the northwest, and a part of me will always think of it as home.

As for the Triangle - let’s just say we’re a work in progress.

Before our move to Durham, we were living in a sprawling apartment complex in one of the suburbs of D.C.  Dan had an hour-long commute to work; mine - on transportation ranging from the commuter rail to the subway, from metro bus to foot - was an hour and a half.  Days were long and stressful; we felt as though we never had time to relax or pursue other interests.  We spent many sleepless nights trying to ignore the shouts and yells coming from the Motel 6 parking lot behind our building.  I guess by comparison, the life of a graduate student and spouse in Durham, North Carolina sounded kind of nice.  Peaceful (if impoverished).  So when Dan was accepted to a PhD program at Duke, and the nonprofit organization for which I worked told me I could keep my job and telecommute from North Carolina, I said, Okay, sure, let’s go.

But alas, Durham and I never enjoyed a blissful honeymoon period.  I hesitate to point fingers, but it was really all my husband’s fault for insisting that we keep our second vehicle, a sketchy old Ford Tempo given to me by a friend for a dollar in 2003 (that’s about $500 now, for those of you who used to have investments).  I thought the Tempo probably wasn’t up for the drive to North Carolina in the high heat of summer, so we rented a trailer to tow it behind our Budget moving truck.  The trailer blew a tire on the Beltway, barely an hour into our journey, and we waited for five hours in hundred-degree heat for someone to come fix the tire, only to find that he’d brought the wrong size tire.  So much pain and suffering, for a car I hadn’t even wanted to keep.  As it was, we did finally manage to get all our vehicles and possessions to North Carolina, but the trailer never made it, Budget refused to refund us any money, and the moving caravan took an astonishing twelve hours from start to finish. 

We pulled into Durham sometime after midnight on Moving Day (properly, the day after Moving Day), and I thought, ugh, welcome “home.” A mere day later, during a late summer storm - it wasn’t even a big storm - a tree in our front yard fell on the Tempo, smashing in the roof. 

As any sane person would, I took this as an omen.  A sign from God that we never, ever should have moved here.

Things have improved a bit since then, thankfully.  Earlier this year Dan and I welcomed our beautiful daughter Abigail - our first and only child so far - who was born at the birth center in Chapel Hill.  She just turned eight months old, and is a busy, happy, extremely particular little drama queen who terrorizes our cats and makes life far more interesting than it used to be.

But the truth is, while I love my new life as Abby’s mama, I am still getting used to life in the Triangle.  I still find myself brought up short by things I ought to be used to by now - the heat and humidity, the nonexistent winter, the coffee shops that close too early, the sheer size of the towns here and how far apart they are, Durham’s bizarre freeway system.  I still feel as though I don’t know enough people, I’m not plugged in to all the cool local things to do, I’m missing some magical key that could unlock all the hidden mysteries in the Triangle and fill me with that feeling, that sense of homecoming.  I want to learn more about the area, and introduce my daughter - now eight months old - to its many opportunities.  I’m just not quite sure where to look first.

That’s why I’m so thrilled that Marty asked me to be a contributor here at Triangle Mamas.  Since we can’t hire a baby-sitter every night, I need to trade in some of my favorite late-night activities - shows, concerts, late movies - for family-friendly daytime ones. I’m highly motivated to seek out new friends and new experiences in this community, to make it more real, to make it my home.

Sure, I’ve been here for three years already.  But having a baby really does change everything; it gives you a new lease on life, a new excuse to explore your community, new eyes with which to view your world.  My eyes, like my daughter Abigail’s, are wide open.  I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you, benefiting from your wisdom, sharing my own mama stories, and making new memories in this, my new home.

An original Triangle Mamas post. Nikki is mother to the amazing Abigail and a free-lance writer who also blogs at A Small Song.

I Knew the Where, but Not the How

I grew up in Mississippi. Jackson to be exact. Although I have fond memories and a strong love for the place, it was certainly not where I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

I wanted somewhere bigger, with broader perspective and more opportunity, but I wanted to stay in the south. Add in the possibly now embarrassing fact that I also wanted to be the next Edie Brickell and you have the short version of how I got to the Triangle.

It was 1998 and I had been married almost a year. My then husband had really wanted to move somewhere out of the south. Los Angeles or New York were his top picks if I remember correctly. But we didn't have any money or jobs. I wasn't willing to go that far without anything at all. At least in the south I would still have my accent.

Getting out of Mississippi turned into quite the mass exodus. By the end of the first year, there were  about 10 of us with some connection to each other who had made the move from Mississippi to the Triangle. The ones we left behind accused us of having no sense of community. They might have been right, but I'm still glad to have made the move.

Chapel Hill was the place to be for up and coming bands. I just knew if we could get here, that I could meet the right people and make it, not big, but decent sized. In a way, that was true.

The thing is, I have had more success and opportunities here as a musician, but not in the way I had planned. Sure, I played in numerous bands. I have had my share of good gigs (I loved playing at The Cave) and gigs from hell (I did not love playing at the Ale House in front of a big screen TV showing a hockey game). I pretty much got it out of my system and am left with a steady gig playing and singing with Bill Leslie. Finally, music my parents like. You can almost hear my mother's sigh of relief coming straight through the internet and out of your speakers.

I always knew that I would love living in the Triangle, and I do. A new marriage, an even newer baby, and an impending move to another area of the Triangle, and I'm so glad it's all happening here. It's a completely different life than I anticipated here, but isn't that half the fun of life? The surprise of it all?

Coming Home

Like many Triangle-ites, I am not actually from here.  I am a “transplant” - a Yankee, no less.  And it’s taken me a long time to feel like my roots have taken to the North Carolina clay.   For the first few years, I kept asking my husband and myself, “How did we get here?”

Again, like many other transplants who come to the area for the education, the job, or the singles’ scene, we came for the job (my job that is).   Eleven years ago, we were living in Lexington while my husband attended the University of Kentucky.  We had discussed different “life-after-graduate-school” scenarios and the subject of coming to the Research Triangle Park kept coming up.  Since my husband is a scientist and my job is health care related, the Triangle was marked as one the few areas that would likely support both our careers.  It still seemed so far off in the future to me – something that we might do some day.  So I was somewhat surprised the day that he came home with a job posting for me in our future hometown.  Knowing that openings in my field of specialty are few and far between, we knew I had to go for it.  So I did and I got the job.  The future suddenly became the present.

I remember the day that I left Lexington and all the doubts and sadness that came with that leaving.  Our one car was packed with everything that I thought I might need in the next couple of months.  It was raining, an appropriate backdrop for how I was feeling.  My husband was to stay behind to finish his degree and sell our house.  I would go to North Carolina to start work and find us a place to live.  I would be on my own for the first time ever.  He stood on our front stoop, next to my best friend and our cat.  They looked the same as I felt -so sad, so lonely.  I drove away from my first home, my husband, my housemate.  I drove alone through the rain into my future.

The driving part felt good, actually.  Driving past all the sites I wished we had explored more:  down I75, past Berea, past Knoxville, down 40, across the Smokies in Autumn – beautiful even in the rain and even though 40 was still only one lane a year after Hurricane Fran, a stay-over in Asheville and then onto Durham.

Two months later, I made the trip again - this time, in a moving truck with my husband and the cat. There would be no going back. It was New Year’s Day, the start of a new year, new life and new home.  But for the next few years, we would reluctantly call this place home.  Home was back north where our folks lived, where we grew up.  Home was Lexington, KY – the place we started our married lives together, where we bought our first house.  We lived in North Carolina, but it was not home, not yet.

For a long time, I only knew the area between our house and the hospital.  We didn’t go out much.  We were too old for the college bar scene and since we didn’t have kids, we didn’t fit into that crowd either.  We didn’t really fit in anywhere.  A nurse I worked with at the hospital told me once, “This is a hard place to get to know.  It will take you about five years.”  I was shocked at the time but it turns out she was right.  Five years later, our oldest son started preschool and we finally found our people, our community.  We finally knew people who had children our son’s age, who were expecting another child like we were.  Having a child opened up a new world for us – I started going places with our son and learned my way around town.  I started to meet people we would call friends.  I learned what a great place the Triangle is to raise a family. 

On our last trip up north to visit family, I realized that when we spoke of North Carolina, we finally called it home.  When we drove back and crossed the border from Virginia, I read the sign out loud, “Welcome to North Carolina.”  I looked into the backseat and said to our restless children, “Look, we’re almost home guys.”  It took along time, but we have roots here.  The Triangle is home.  And I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

This post is original to Triangle Mamas.  Susie lives in Durham with her husband and three sons.  She keeps a personal blog titled At Home With Me. 

Journey Across the Mississippi

Before I met my husband, I hadn't even traveled farther East than Kansas City.  It's not that I hadn’t traveled, but being a teacher’s kid, the funds for real traveling just weren’t there.  Summer vacations for my family consisted of boulder viewings or the much preferred Kansas Museum of History (at least 5 times). 

That all changed when I met my husband.  I knew he was the one for me when unlike any man before him he offered insisted that I have dessert.  Who wouldn’t fall for a guy like that?  Problem was, he had just taken a job in North Carolina. 

And so, my barely used suitcase was officially broken in and little over a year later, I found myself newly married and bawling my way past St. Louis, over the Mississippi, and into North Carolina.  I was leaving behind my entire family and striking out on my own.

Our possessions were few… a couch, a 19 inch television (To this day, my husband insists he married me for my t.v.),  and a $35 dining table, but we had love in our hearts not to mention that fearless youthful optimism.  We began a life here in North Carolina over 7 years ago leaving behind our entire support network.  I’ll admit we’ve had our difficulties (like moving that couch up two flights of stairs or having a baby with no grandparents within driving distance), but through it all we’ve clung to each other.  And today, the Triangle has become a place we’re proud to call home.

An original Triangle Mamas post.  Abby lives in Durham and is the proud mama of a one year old boy.  Her personal mommy blog is My Sweet Babboo.