Proud

Proud. That’s what a lot of people have been telling Kenny lately: “I’m proud of you.”

I wholeheartedly agree. I couldn’t be prouder.

Kenny resigned from his job two weeks ago. He had been with the same company just shy of ten years. He held a number of different positions, met a lot of great people, and learned more than he ever thought he could. But he was starting to get frustrated. And it was obvious to me that he no longer enjoyed going to work every day like he used to. He needed a change.

So we decided to move back home.

We had been lightly talking about returning to New Orleans for probably a couple of years. However, since our family increased to three last August, these discussions between us started happening more frequently. That third little person carries more than his fair share of weight around here, whether he’s aware of it or not.

Our families are in New Orleans, our friends are in New Orleans. It’s where both of us grew up; it’s the only city we’ve ever really called home (with the slight exception of our collective time in Baton Rouge at LSU).

And I’m not going to lie: it will be fan-freaking-tastic to have multiple built-in babysitters who will all probably fight over a chance to watch the boy.

And great restaurants never more than a stone’s throw away.

And getting together with my girls for monthly dinners.

And not missing out on any of the fun events our friends host throughout the year.

And many, many, many more things.

Thus, the moving process is beginning. We will be listing our house with a real estate agent very soon, packing up non-essentials, and slowly transplanting ourselves and our lives back to the Big Easy. We will be staying at my parents’ house while we search for a new home. (Thanks, Nola and Nopsi!) We’re excited to introduce Riley to all of the wonderful things that are so unique to living in New Orleans, and we hope that he enjoys growing up there as much as we did.

Oh, but then there’s the little issue of Kenny needing to find another job.

Yes, it is scary, especially in this economy, for neither of us to be employed right now. However, Kenny has very impressive qualifications and experience (if I do say so myself), and he has already had some sincere interest tossed his way from a few of his industry contacts. So we are very optimistic that he will find something soon.

On the flip side of all of this, I admit that I am devastated that we will be leaving this house behind. I love this house. I love this neighborhood. I love taking walks with Riley here. I love that people wave to you when you pass by. I love that there are so many kids that live around us. I love that Rouse’s is less than 2 minutes away.

This was our very first house. It was where I first discovered that gardening is not for the weak. It was where I first realized that no house is absolutely impenetrable, especially for ants. It was where we hosted our first Superbowl without any of our friends. It was where we were first “booed.” It was where I learned that I actually can cook. It was where Kenny concocted his first batch of homebrew. It was where we continued our annual crawfish boil tradition and had great turnouts both years. It was where we put up our first Christmas tree as a married couple.

It was Riley’s first home.

It was where he watched slept through his first LSU game. It was where he got his first haircut. It was where the infamous “stretch” video took place. It was where I first heard him laugh. It was where he first rolled over. It was where he first started scooting around on his belly. It was where he first sat up on his own.

This house holds a lot of memories for us. And even though we’ll be leaving the house, we’ll always be able to keep those memories. Ones of Kenny and me as a newly married couple and first-time homeowners and ones of us with Riley and all of his cuteness. And I know we’ll make plenty more memories in our new house, whenever and wherever we find it.

So please wish us luck in the coming months; it’s going to be mighty busy around here. As such, I may not be able to post quite as much as I normally do. I will try my very best to write as often as I can, unless I become buried under a mountain of boxes and newspaper, surrounded by all of our worldly possessions, completely cut off from the computer.

In that case, please send someone to assist me.

Or have that someone just slide some wine or beer or gin in to me.

That might work just as well.