Pressing

Before, I have mentioned that my neighborhood, along with the surrounding areas, has been going downhill, though it was lovely when we moved in seven years ago. Gangs are a problem at the high school a mile away; teenagers roam the streets and cars slowly wander around our cul de sac in the middle of the night; people walk along the highway nearby with their possessions in grocery carts; the police have repeatedly been called to break up outdoor arguments at the house immediately to our right; and the guy two doors down very obviously grows and sells pot from his home, in front of which, at all hours, cars park for twenty or thirty minutes at a time, loud music playing, before the owners climb back into their vehicles and speed off. This weekend, when we discovered items have been stolen (ladders from a good hiding spot under the porch, and our neighbor’s kid’s bike was stolen from his front porch), was the last straw. We have to move. It’s only going to get worse.

But where to? In a year we plan to move to Sweden, and we’ve talked about just going ahead and doing that now and not trying to move with a zero-year-old, should this pregnancy continue. Or we could move to a rental for a year in the very nice area close to Husband’s work, reducing his commute, which is over an hour. This way we’d at least be somewhat near friends, and I could continue my teaching job. There’s my family’s beach house, which has the advantage of being rent-free and gorgeous, but we have no jobs there, though I could work full-time remotely and get benefits that way, though I’m more of a quitter than a maternity-leave taker so I’m not sure that would work. Each day, amidst all the mad Freeycling and Craigslisting to get rid of the stuff we don’t want to move no matter where we go, I wander amongst these options, settling on one, then finding some fatal flaw with it, then wishing just to stay here, then thinking of thieving strangers paying attention to when we are home, and wishing to flee. Husband will be gone for much of April and May in Europe again, and he wants us out of here, somewhere, before the trips begin. I agree–but where?

Yesterday was all about moving to Sweden. An adventure! The beautiful summer there! Having a baby surrounded by family! My sister-in-law’s child is due three months before mine–how fun! Then Husband started talking about how we should give living there a trial run and not kick his parents out of the house right away (we are supposed to buy the homestead from them and they’re retiring to an apartment). He opined that his father would clear out the little office with the walk-in closet and we could live there. Um, you want me to live in a foreign country with my in-laws and no chance of using my own furniture or decorations or doing any renovations while living in a former smoking room with a baby and a preschooler? Thanks, but no thanks. When I told him I could see myself “not enjoying” that situation–no chance to make the place my own, no play room, no solitude–he completely failed to understand, making me really not want to get into that situation with no advocate.

So now we’ve given ourselves a week to decide. And I just don’t know. What should we keep in mind?