Just Call Me Dorothy…


Do you think “change” has a sound?  Or is it more of a sense?

Hear me out…

Awhile ago, I was standing at my kitchen island. It felt like a regular, normal night (if normal night—or any given day–means navigating the ever-changing, chaotic territory of children…think uneven terrain dotted with unlimited emotional land-mines and quicksand).

I stood talking to my husband, Travis, who was casually leaned against the counter adjacent me in the kitchen.

Over the past few minutes, Trav and I had maintained a steady conversation despite being interrupted by the beauties at least 88 times. One by one, the beauties came forth to ask questions to which we either don’t know the answers to, already answered, or straight refuse to answer. (Did I mention, by this time, it was past bedtime? Like, they were already in bed.)

**Side note: I truly believe when the clock strikes bedtime, the beauties morph into Seals, the Navy kind, and very covertly escape their bedrooms—with fluid, soundless somersaults and expert hand codes. This tactical unit of beauties secretly meet at the rondevu point, one of their bedrooms—probably the baby’s. I can see it now, the bed a conference table used to secretly plot their attack on Trav’s and my patience.**

Trav stood there, in the kitchen, his forearms slung over the backrest of the barstool, staring deep into my eyes (trying his best to pretend to be interested in whatever I was talking about—think lots of long head nods).

Just as our conversation stilled, a small break in my incessant talking (God Bless Travis’ soul), his phone chimed. It sounded louder than normal. He shot me a forgiving look, before pushing off the chair to retrieve his phone from the other room.

A minute later, he came back to the kitchen, retaking his perch against the barstool. Visually, everything shifted back just as before, but instinctually, something felt different.  In an effort to sate my confused mind, I couldn’t stop trying to read his face as his eyes spilled over his phone.

“What?” I felt my mouth explode.

“Nothing.” His voice was impartial. My eyes assessed his facial expression three times over, but it too, was indifferent. The man is in the car business; he has the ultimate poker face, but I felt it. Something.

“Tell me.”

“I’m not sure I want to say anything, yet…” He lobbied back at me. This is a dangerous line to say to someone who tends to air on the “overreact” side. (so in lieu of his cliffhanger, basically, I tightly pursed my mouth before jutting my hip so far out that it probably pushed into the state of Texas and the rest of my body stretched out sumo-wrestler style and I flexed my index finger in the air, directed straight at him and said real slow and stern, “MAMA, said TELL. ME. DO NOT MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN.”

And he laughed. Apparently, I’m not that intimidating (to a thirty year old man, the way I am to a pack of beauties).

After he’s done laughing, he looks at me strangely before dropping a small bomb.

“You open to moving to Kansas?” His eyes are a challenge. I think he’s testing the depth of my willingness to play supportive wife. But then, he reads his phone again and looks back up at me, the playful look gone. He is dead serious.

Cue jaw drop…

And then I start to stutter… “Like leave O.k.l.a.h.o.m.a? Leave the state and live in another state? Move, like Uhaul move?!? Wait, you are going to have to spell it out for me real slow…” I’m sure I was red-faced and huffing short, exasperated breaths, because he started to look worried.

And fast-forward to now, right now. We are moving to the sunflower state in 14 days. I don’t think a phone chime will ever sound the same again. And aside from being both equally, a nervous wreck and excited, I’m also in awe…my husband is fearless; his drive and ambition to conquer his career is a magnificent sight.

And I’m renaming our dog.  His name will no longer be Camo, it will be Toto II.  And I’ve demanded that Travis now call me Dorothy–it was part of the “get your wife to move” package.  Dorothy Black, has a ring to it, huh?  I’m serious.

p.s. If you’re familiar with Kansas will you share your knowledge with me? Family activities, outings, best lakes, must eat here places? I’d really appreciate it.

p.p.s.  This life is once.  Chase your dreams, friends.

Author: Sarah Black

I’m a self-professed ‘Drama Mama’…of four daughters, I blog to (over)share my stories on learning to maintain my sanity by strictly eating laughter in the emotional land of motherhood while trying to keep my husband from running away from the sheer amount of estrogen flooding our house.

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