Two Options

I have enrolled Aidan in his home school. It is not a great one. I tried to get him into 6 other local and better schools, but was denied. Gotta love California budgets. I enrolled Aidan in the only choice I have: the mediocre home school a block away from us. I am willing to give it the college try. Honestly, I have no choice. I like to make myself feel better by agreeing to it reluctantly. Who knows? maybe I will be pleasantly surprised?

Kevin and I have been treading carefully on the idea of moving in together. I am more ready than him, though living with someone will certainly be an adjustment for me too. I keep waiting for the certain conversation, the deciding moment. I am wimping out. There is a part of me that just feels what is supposed to happen will, and pushing my slow-deciding boyfriend isn't going to help. We talked about August.
Kevin agreed the other day that getting the paperwork together from his local elmentary school was probably a good idea. This was said after he mentioned needing to clean out 1/2 his walk-in closet. (in preparation for me moving in, which was not said but understood) We talk about this stuff in moments between the mundane. It have a conversation about a big issue, I have my chatty, lengthy and articulate discussions, and he must walk away to think. I know this about him. He is thinking. He promised me he would. The man so easy to talk to, who I laugh and express myself so easily to, is so quiet and pensive with the stuff that requires a him that neither he or I imagined.

Robert Fulghum, one of my favorite authors wrote in one of his books about the *real* wedding before the wedding. The discussion during dishes and after dinner and during car rides about what each person wants and where they want their life together to go. Kevin and I have had those discussions, I have had those inside my head. The me who hates the nebulous and wants a decision now is so impatient with his need to tak time to think.
Ugh.
These in-between decision times make me impatient, giddy, and sometimes so frustrated at the process of getting to the point of sharing your life with someone, whatever it entails. Like my life before I met him: wish it was not so complicated.