Paint me a Birmingham...

I have a confession to make. I have been living with one foot in this city for almost THREE YEARS. And it has been a reluctant, shy and retiring foot at that. Where, you might ask, has the other foot been? Until recently, firmly planted in the Midwest. St. Louis, to be exact. In said city also resides a big chunk of my family, Dillard's, Nordie's, Needless Markup, not one but FIVE decent radio stations, the best frozen custard in the world, direct flights to both coasts, and, oh, lest I forget,  the ability to walk into a grocery store and buy a bottle of vodka or Mad Dog 20/20 whenever I feel like it. Even on Sunday. 

When we moved here at the end of 2007 it was because Hubby had accepted his dream job with a company who promised him the moon- which included the ability to transfer back to the Midwest after two years if he made it happen in Alabama. So, when put in those terms, perhaps you can understand my reluctance to put down firm roots here in the Magic City. My sweet and supportive husband had been my champion when I decided to start my own consulting business and happily kept the home fires burning, working for a company he hated while I flew all over the country building my client base, so I figured it was my turn to support him. This was his chance to take a huge step up in his career with a great company where the sky was the limit. So we packed up the dogs and our son J Bird, said goodbye to the Lou and moved into a 3-bedroom corporate shoebox in the land of sweet tea, fried green tomatoes, and SEC football. 

At the time our son J Bird was busy with third grade, soccer, and sleepovers.  I was still working and traveling a little, and, much to our delight, we found out I had a bun in the oven. At that point I decided that maybe the minivan/PTO mom scene would be more my speed. Now, let me just clarify something- it was all but written into our wedding vows that I would never, ever, drive a mini-van. Not even if we decided to have seven kids. I mean, my mom had six of us and the biggest car she ever drove had two doors. We owned a station wagon, but on principle she pretty much refused to drive it. Our Dad drove it, and then we all learned to drive in it. But I digress...

After attending my first few PTO meetings I realized that these women were cutthroat when it came to things like committee duty, fundraising, and party planning. It had its own complex political landscape to navigate, and I, who prided myself on always being an excellent negotiator, planner, and leader (in the business world anyway), found myself sidelined. I guess I didn't take the bake sale seriously enough. Whatever. If you're looking for a ruthless CEO, come check out our district's PTO. These gals are sharks!  Besides that, these people lived for their kids. I mean, I am all about supporting my little guys to succeed in school and extracurricular activities- but our rule has always been one thing at a time- i.e. soccer or tae kwon do- not both plus piano and youth group. It seemed that from sunup to sundown something had to be done for, with, or to their children. Some of the PTO moms didn't even have kids in the elementary school anymore- they just had been involved for so long that they didn't know how to quit. Yikes. It was, in short, exhausting. And as I literally was growing greater and greater with child every day, I couldn't keep up. After almost two years in "the Ham" I was still pretty much friendless, and increasingly frustrated with myself and where we had chosen to live. I decided to devote my remaining energies to nesting and being the wife and mommy that I knew how to be, rather than continuing to put myself out there like the desperate wanna-be that I was. Loser, party of one. To me it was yet another clique that I didn't fit into, and never would. Somewhere out there, there had to be a group of fun, somewhat hip, non-mom jean wearing chicks who were (sort of) great moms and (mostly) happy wives but still maintained their own identities, right? So why couldn't I find them?

In December 2008 we welcomed our second bouncing baby boy into the world.  Yes, our youngest is an Alabamian by birth. Little Boo will not have the same memories of the STL that hubby, J Bird and I do. He won't remember walking our dogs to the neighborhood deli, or playing in the alley behind our old house, or sledding in Forest Park. He won't attend the neighborhood Catholic school, or know how totally awesome Halloween in South City is, with the whole block closing off so the kids can run wild. Oh sure, we'll tell him the stories and go back to visit friends and family and our old stomping grounds, but to our Little Boo, Birmingham will be the home of his heart the way that St. Louis was to us.

When I finally realized this, I also realized that I had been selling myself (and thus my family) waaaay short. I hadn't given Birmingham a chance. I had ironically, done the thing I hated the most- made a superficial snap judgment about the people, places, and things around me. I had cut off opportunities to make friends before they even existed, and made myself miserable in the process. I felt like I owed someone a huge apology. I decided that it was high time to get with the program, and start making this place home.

So, fast forward to the beginning of 2010 which found us in decidedly different circumstances. After the Great Recession finally made its way to my husband's corner of the corporate world, he lost his job. This of course, was not exactly a positive development in and of itself, but within a few months he found another, even better opportunity with a truly great company. His co-workers are genuinely nice, fun, and kind, and most important, he is happy and successful there. We finally found a house we absolutely love (in J Bird's school district, woo hoo!) and I have become a proud football mama, though I do draw the line at decorating my vehicle and bedazzling my baby in our chosen SEC team's colors.

Speaking of babies, in looking for a playgroup for Little Boo, I lucked out and found an incredible group of mommies, some transplants, some native Birminghamians, but all lovely, sane, and real. These wonderful, fun, and real ladies know who they are- but perhaps what they don't know is that they came along at a time when I really needed them. Talk about answered prayers. Since meeting them I have made some amazing new friends both within and outside of the group and have realized what a lovely, diverse, cosmopolitan, and kid-friendly city we live in. Seriously, there are so many cool things to do here! I have had so much fun exploring it with my kiddos- and eating my way through it with Hubby.

So now it seems that despite my initial reluctance to claim Birmingham, it has claimed us. Like kudzu growing on the side of the road, this sweet southern town has slowly wound itself into my heart and mind, and is becoming- finally and truly- home. I no longer, most of the time, feel like I am living in the middle of a Tennessee Williams play. I love the view of the mountains from the back patio of our rented builder beige shoebox, and in a few weeks we will enjoy the same view from the front porch of our new house. We are busy building memories of time together at the Farmer's Market, hiking Oak Mountain, driving down country roads and taking trips to the lake and the beach, and yes, watching the occasional college football game. I discovered that my beloved Nordies has a great selection for online ordering, and may actually even put a store here...well, maybe someday. In the meantime this Yankee gal has learned to make decent sweet tea (with stevia, ha ha) and pretty good shrimp and grits, though I'm clearly no Paula Deen.

So the other day on the radio I heard a country song. Yes, I occasionally listen to country music- it's one of my guilty pleasures. What? Yes, I realize the irony considering some of my aforementioned smart-alecky commentary about the South. Whatever. Just because I don't swim in the pool doesn't mean I can't dip my toe in the water occasionally, right? Besides, country songs always tell a story, and I loves me a good story. I watch Lifetime for the same reason. Anyway, like most country songs, it was a guy who was singing about losing his best gal. But what got me was that the song mentioned Birmingham. I immediately Shazamed the song to confirm what I was hearing,  and the words went like this:

Paint me a Birmingham
Make it look just the way I planned
A little house on the edge of town
Porch goin’ all the way around
Put her there in the front yard swing
Cotton dress, make it early spring
For awhile she’ll be mine again
If you can paint me a Birmingham

It was a sign, for sure. As it turns out, the house we bought is: 1) on the edge of town; 2) has a porch that wraps all the way around ; and 3) has a swing on the front porch. And yes, I own not one, but a few cotton sundresses. I mean, you pretty much can't wear anything else here between May and September when it's hotter than the surface of the sun. We are already planning our first party, which, after living here so long, we are waaaay overdue to throw, and I plan on hanging out with Hubby, J Bird, and Boo all night long...or at least until we put the kids to bed and then hubby and I drink too many cocktails on the back porch with our new friends. We are blessed and definitely have a lot to celebrate. I can't wait.