Owen's Wild Ride

Our first weekend here was quite an emotional ride. 

Well, truth be told not just the first days here also the days before moving.  They were so busy and so full of "last times" and farewells and such, which we need to do, although my first instinct is to avoid those moments altogether.  I felt like I just wanted to cut and run, disappear into the next thing and avoid making people and myself sad.  But, since we seem to move every 3 years or so, I have learned the value in a good goodbye.  It's important. 

Then we left.  Left Camrose, the farm, Calgary, Alberta.  I got a bit choked up crossing the boarder into BC.  I have a lot of my heart invested in people and places in Alberta and it was a bit of a reality check seeing that sign that we are going far far away.  (ok, that's a bit dramatic.  It's not Mongolia far away, or Pakistan far away, but, well, you know.)

I had mentally prepared myself (and Jonny) that I would most likely burst into tears upon walking in the door of our new place.  And I did.  It's not a bad place.  It has it's quirks - but it's exactly what we need and fulfills all our needs and it's clean and well, functional.  But it is different than our little grey house in Camrose and I needed to adjust.  My first step to adjusting is crying.  waa waa waa.

As we unpacked and got to know the neighbourhood things looked up.  I realized this is good and will be good and got excited about exploring and getting my head around our new digs.

Then, just as my emotions had evened out Owen took a wild ride. 

I decided to take out the garbage and learn how to work the garbage compacter.  It turned into a family event.  Owen was plopped in the stroller, Amy and Jonny came along so we could learn how to take out the trash.  We threw in the garbage, keyed in the code, everything was find and dandy.  Then out of the corner of my eye I see our stroller buzzing down the street opposite us.

I love my new stroller.  A phil and ted sport with second seat, and big tires.  Apparently quiet tires.

Everything is on a hill here and while we were keying in our garbage code Owen just rolled away.  I have never ever run so fast in flip flops.  The road he was cruising down was a quiet back street but would eventually (at the bottom of the hill) cross a much busier one.

Just as I had almost reached him and by some miracle, the stroller tipped over.  My baby tipped over.  I grabbed him, scooped him up and burst, burst, burst into tears.  I was shocked, I was scared, I was so so so relieved.  He was ok - a bit of a goose egg on his head from when he tipped over, but was ok.

All I could think of was how fast that had happened.  It could of been bad - but it wasn't.  But it could have been.

I held Owen pretty tight for a long time.

And I have become an avid stroller break putter- oner ever since.