last cookies of the kitchen

and….we’re in! Well, ‘in’ in the sense that we were approved and the apartment is for us. We’ll be moving in early July, and these, my friends are my last cookies of this kitchen.

This morning I realized that this home is now at a three way tie with “homes I’ve lived in the longest”. We’ve been in this space for 6 years. Same as my childhood home in Virginia and same as my teenage home in Vermont. But, as this is my fifth New York apartment, New York is the clear winner for “city I’ve lived in the longest”, ringing in at 11 years this summer.

I feel a little sad about leaving this apartment. I mean, I’m definitely ready to go and leave behind the bugs, the broken doorbell, the rotting window frame in the kitchen, the mysterious small hole in the bathroom. But this is the only home Andrew remembers. It’s the home we brought Isaac to the day after he was born. It was the home I recovered from surgery after an ectopic pregnancy. It was the home in which I hid under my blankets for an hour after Andrew was diagnosed with Autism. And the home where I jumped around the living room when I found out Andrew made his first real friend. This home has been a greenhouse of growth for me. And I guess that growth had more to do with the circumstances I faced rather than the four walls I faced them in…but I think when I look back at my years of early motherhood, the events and the space they happened in cannot help but be linked in my memory.

In fact, I know that that’s how it happens. I’m an Air Force Brat. It’s how I store my own childhood: places and events tied tightly together.

And in that respect, I think that this is great time to move on. I’ve felt for a while that I am in my next phase. My both-kids-in-school-think-more-seriously-about-work-phase. It’s fitting that that will happen in a new home. It will keep my memories tidy, as far as phases of my life go. And I’m not sure if you know this about me or not, but I like things tidy.

Anyway, yesterday I whipped up about 150 cookies to give out as end-of-the-year gifts to the people that work with my kids. I narrowed that list down to 17 people. 17 teachers, therapists, bus drivers and matrons to whom I’d like to extend a little gratitude.

And with that, the kitchen is closed. Here’s hoping for many more fantastic baking projects in my home!


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About robyn

I stopped teaching Kindergarten in 2005 to become the mom of two crazy boys here in Brooklyn. At first I thought being a stay at home mom meant that I needed to pour all my time and energy directly into my sons, but I realized somewhere along the way that being a rockstar mom meant not only taking good care of my boys, but also taking good care of myself. And taking good care of myself means pursuing something creative...just about everyday. I started Made In Brooklyn to motivate myself in my creative goals as well as share my work with others and perhaps inspire them in their own creative journeys.
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7 Responses to last cookies of the kitchen

  1. Susan says:

    YAY! YAY! YAY! I can’t wait to see it. We’ll be traveling almost all of July but we will run over to check things out as soon as we get back.

  2. Ruth says:

    Hooray for new beginnings in new a home. Just think of the memories you’ll make there! I thought I was doing well (badly?) with 10 people on my end of school year gift list!

  3. Rhona says:

    Glad things have worked out for you and I hope that your new home will bring you many more memories in the next phase of your life :) xx

  4. Rinda says:

    Congrats! Enjoyed your thoughts on how place informs your memories. Having lived in the same house growing up from age one until I left for High School and now having lived in our current house for almost 25 years, that’s a totally different experience.
    Rinda

  5. Jennifer w. says:

    Wahoo!! I’m thrilled for you!!

  6. Loralee says:

    So exciting, Robyn! I can’t wait to see pictures of the new place. And those cookies are gorgeous, by the way!

  7. Ladkyis says:

    So exciting! I have lived in this house longer than I had lived anywhere else. That’s what happens when you marry someone who has a panic attack if I suggest moving the furniture. I love him too much to upset him so here we’ll stay for a while longer.

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