7 B.C. (Before Construction)

Seven years ago, my wife and I got married, bought a house, and moved in with grand plans for it and for us.  Flush with life and savings in the bank, we boldly quit our day jobs to pursue THE DREAM.  In our case, this was a film and theatre production company.  I would write, she would direct.  We bought a camera and enrolled in film school.

And then -

Pregnant.  A huge blessing, mind you, but not our timing.  Someone Else's, clearly (that's right, God, you heard me).  Home projects and production companies were deferred for nurseries and baby classes.  I slunk back to my day job ("Remember the time I quit?  Just kidding!").

A beautiful baby girl was born to us, and we dove headfirst into her, without regrets.  After a bit, I was able to carve some time for freelance screenwriting.  My wife was less fortunate, as needy babies and needy actors - while similar - don't always mix.  Meanwhile, the house projects multiplied and we now found ourselves planning a more elaborate redo.  Slowly but surely, it seemed, was the motto of the day.

And then -

Preggers, again.  Our timing, it turns out.   But nonetheless, the tipping pointing between holding on to the old self and complete submission to it's not about you.  This time, a beautiful baby boy.  And we dove in again, and soon it was about preschools and kindergartens, and speech therapists and occupational therapists, and public schools and private schools and charter schools, until - the minor house projects became major and writing, in the end, just... stopped.

So here we are.  Finally, after seven years, ready to start what is undoubtedly major construction for our house and our life.  Feeling like a marathoner who just ran 26.2 miles to the starting line.

And then -