Adapting

*writing date: 30 August 2005*

This is what strikes me and rings true.
As I meet other ex-pats from around the world
we compare notes
and I realize that there are as many ways of adapting to change
as there are people who face change.
I have discovered a commonality in this international community:
we miss our old homes,
we miss our friends
we miss our families
and we miss our home country.
But we are each determined
to make a go of it in a new place,
learning a new language,
adapting to a new culture,
and making connections with people.
When you know others are out there
who are nothing at all like you,
but who feel exactly like you,
it helps.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Recently, I stood at the sink and chopped away at my hair. Which is something I tend to do when I am emotionally charged.

I get emotionally charged over things like big changes.

Big changes by my definition include things like trans-atlantic relocations.

Which is what we are doing.

In June.

Don is taking on a new challenge which will lead us stateside once again. Excited is a word I might use to describe the emotion of it all. Thrilled for him, happy for what this offers all of us, and sad to leave here. Very sad. I also might admit to being scared. But only if I were the kind of person to lay my feelings out for all the internet to read and see. Which I am.

So, my hair is short and we are packing boxes.

76 days left on the continent.

Disappearing Act

(Mama opens conversation)
"Hey, Ian, Emma... it's gettin' late."

(Teens collectively sigh)
"Uh-huh."

(Mother speaks)
"So...um...yeah, time to be making preparations for bed?"

(Unison monotone vocal response indicating lack of enthusiasm for above named task)
"Hmmmm."

(Clock moves forward one, two, three... 10 minutes.
Teens remain glued to computer screens and keyboards.)

(Mom ups the ante)
"So, here's what I am thinking. Anyone still down here in 5 minutes is cleaning the kitchen before bed."

(Room immediately clears. Parent quiet time commences)

No applause, please. Just throw money.

Deliver Me

"Ack. What time is it?"

"looks like almost six."

"Bah. I suppose I should start thinking about dinner."

"yah, okay."

"What do you think I should make?"

"ummmm... a phone call?"

*********************

There are other reasons I love him. But this kinda thing?

Totally makes the list.

Inspiration

The beginning of a new year.

Whether you are one who uses its dawning to clear the slate and set resolutions for the coming days and weeks or not, there is something kind of enticing about this first day of January. Something a bit precious. And special. And, yeah, new.

Like if you don't wiggle, you may just get the shot.

I am one of those who sets goals and contemplates the way this year can be better than the last.
I am also one of those who sees the forward momentum of life and understands (albeit intermittently) that life happens in spite of the plans you make... but I do like to spend the time around the new year contemplating my navel the things I can do to affect positive changes toward better ends as a person, a mother, a wife and a friend.

So far my list includes:
Drink coffee in bed first thing in the morning.
Lounge in jammies.
Read an excellent novel.
Take a new year's day nap.

I am thrilled to report that I am off to an excellent start this year. Your suggestions for furthering the betterment of my person are welcomed in the comments section.

Happy New Year everyone.

New Year changes at the photo site.

Whether you've noticed or not (you do visit, right?) Allison and I share a photoblog and post in a rhythm of her turn, my turn throughout the year. This year, (yes, the NEW year) I will be posting on the ODD numbered days. What that means for you is that TODAY, being the FIRST, is the FIRST day of the new arrangement. Yup, me = ODD. Seems fitting, no?

LOOKING INTO

A joint venture photoblog
Come. Take a look.

Passing the Torch

"Hey! I think I can blog."

"You're going to blog? D'you want to sit by me?"

"Uh...yeah. I think I do. "

Moves chair over to the desk. Sets up toy laptop next to mine.

"Okay, now I can blog too."

"You sure can. What are you going to say?"

"Um. I'm gonna do this."

Taps plastic keys in rapid rhythm.

"So, what does it say on your blog?"

"This."

"Oh, and what's this?"

"Everything."


Impressive. Me, I only have Something to Say.

Fresh From the Fight

I hate moths. I really do.

I understand it is neither rational nor reasonable to be afraid of them, but I am.

Also, at this writing, I am cowering in a corner of the couch having built a veritable fortress from the cushions to hide behind. I have been here ever since I saw the first moth fly in through the open door and beeline (mothline?) to the table lamp at my side.

Now, there may be total of a gajillion of them weaving and bobbing at the light.

Ian is now on a rescue mission and has thus far has saved me from four-- no, five... wait, make that EIGHT of the nasty creatures by scooping them up gently in his hands and carrying them outside to fly free. Leaving it to me to be able to come out of my hidey-hole and continue reading my book.

Ian is my hero.

My Country 'Tis of Thee

First message in my inbox this morning:

Subject: It's safe to come back now

Message:
Just say it out loud, "President Obama".

From my own phone, text to my boss:

"Running l8 this a.m. b-cuz of happy dancing ovr election!"

From Andrew's mouth:

"We got a new president? Oh! I like Bokobama!!"

Pop Art

Dear Them of the Internet;
Makers of Games, quizzes and other time wasting goodness,

Whoever you are and whatever it is that you do which causes you to clearly have too much time on your hands, I salute you.

Because this? This is just what I needed.

Most sincere thanks,
Jenn--who has been a little stressed out of late--in Holland

Remember, I Remember

This is my friend Jessica.

Jessica and I taught in neighboring classrooms at Awakening Seed School in Phoenix for many years. She is a young, vibrant woman with a remarkable ability to make everyone (child, parent and colleague) around her feel loved and cherished. I loved to visit in her classroom, whether as the Movement Specialist working with her students, or as the whiny co-worker looking for a little venting session with a good listener. Either way, it was a joy to be around Jessica. Always smiling, always ready with a hug, always with a laugh just about to erupt over the funny life of an Early Childhood Education teacher, Jessica has been a bright light in my life.

Yesterday as I was partway through my work day here in The Hague, I received an email from a friend which read in part:

It is my task to deliver some sad news to you regarding Jessica Worthington, who taught at the Seed for many years. Jessica was 36 weeks pregnant with her first baby and in the last few weeks ran into some complications with her pregnancy. She developed problems with her liver, which resulted in the loss of her baby last Thursday, September 11th. Jessica herself never recovered, and also passed on Sunday evening.

And I felt the light go out.

I want to say something meaningful and poetic here about the journey of life and the circle of our existence on this planet. But I am at a complete loss for words and choose now instead to cry a river in remembrance of Jessica; fully aware that as much as I grieve the loss of my friend I also celebrate her influence in my life.

Darling Jess, I thought I missed you when we moved across the ocean. I miss you exponentially more now. Goodbye, friend. I love you.

~jenn

Doing It My Way

Ikea and I

are intimately involved
How "She completes me"!
**
I love her fresh smell
and the sawdust that trickles
over ev'rything.
**
But what can I say?
Little things totally please~
and I love it cheap.
**
Empowered am I
Me, the triumphant builder!
(With a little help)

Hey! Last day to enter the contest!

Get over to My Mommy's Place now and get 'em submitted!

Yahoo! Haiku Buckaroo!

Abraham De Lacy Giuseppe Casey

Three little kittens One Jenn in Holland,
They lost their mittens, She lost her watch (from Ireland),
And they she began to cry,
Oh, mother Donnie dear,
We I sadly fear
Our My mittens watch (from Ireland) we I have lost.
What! Lost your mittens watch (from Ireland)?
You naughty kittens Oh, man, what a bummer!
Then you shall have no pie. I will buy you another one.
Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.
You shall have no pie. It's okay, I'll buy you a new watch.

The three little kittens, One Jenn in Holland
They She found their her mittens watch (from Ireland),
And they she began to cry,
Oh, mother Donnie dear,
See here, see here,
Our My mittens watch (from Ireland) we I have found!
What! Found your mittens watch?
You darling kittens Cool!
Then you shall have some pie. I guess I am off the hook!
Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow.
You shall have some pie. But... I'll buy you something else.

Top cat Don, got some lovin' for that kind of talk.
I'm just sayin'.

Meee-oooow.

Tell Me a Story

I have a question.

If the truth will hurt, meaning that being transparently open about a situation may lead to disappointment, hurt feelings, tears, withdrawal, anger or *gasp* confrontation, do you avoid telling the truth?

I believe that I am a lover of truth (0r at least openness). Even if hearing it will do any and all of the above. But I am not sure that I tell the truth (or offer transparency) in every situation.

Do you?

Pocket Full

So accustomed am I to the fact that Andrew's repetoire in music includes Sing by Annie Lennox, One Little Slip by Barenaked Ladies and every word to the opening number from RENT, I stopped still in my tracks yesterday as he belted out (while simultaneously swaying on a blue rocking horse) the children's song "Ring Around the Rosies" with perfect clarity.

I wasn't the only one who found it shocking. Emma said "Wow, where did he learn that? I didn't know he knew that! Did you know he knew that?" and basically took the words right out of my mouth.

Just goes to show what they learn when you're not looking.

Speaking of learning, Emma is working diligently on mastering the lyrics to this song:

And as soon as she gets her daddy to accompany on the guitar, I promise to expose them both with a video blog post right here.

Oh, yeah. I would.

More music links at Soccer Mom in Denial.

(Click the button. It'll take you there!)

On Being Appreciated

Just out of the shower, Sunday evening.

"Okay, pal it's time to get jammies on. Can you go get them?"

"Yeah! Uh, where are my jammies Mom?"

"Hmmm. I think I saw some on your floor by your shelves."

run-run-run--return

"These jammies Mom? You mean these jammies? Are these mine?"

"Sure looks like it to me."

"Yeah, these are my jammies Mom!"

"Okay then. Now can you go get some pants to wear under your jammies? Or are you wearing no pants?"

"I want pants."

"Go find some then."

"In my basket?"

"Yup. In your basket."

run-run-run--return

"Oh, Mom, this is a really big problem!"

"What's the problem bud?"

"There are not pants in my basket!"

"Hmmkay, let's see... How about these?"

"Hey! Those are my pants! Are those my pants, Mom? Are my pants clean?"

"Yup. I am just folding things from the laundry. Those are your pants and they are clean."

"Oh, Mom. I love my pants! You made my pants clean Mom! Oh, Mom, my pants! That's great! I love you Mom."

That friends, is my sweet dream.

Hanging My Hat

The wheels of my two suitcases call out a rhythmic cadence as we pull them across the cement tiled walking path. In my head I can hear Andrew calling out his countdown to "our house" by inspecting each of those preceding in the row with a cheerful "Is that my house? No." as we walk past. I have loved every minute of my 4 days away but the excitement of being home is mounting with each step as Don and I approach our front garden. Having already lingered in the arms of this man-I-am-crazy-about at the airport reunion I am looking forward to throwing my arms around those kids-who-make-me-crazy when I step in the door.

At our arrival home, Andrew looks up through the large front window (which desperately needs cleaning) and through the glass I can hear him inhale sharply, then see him grin broadly. He calls out "Are you home Mama? Did you get back from Boston?" I smile at him and shout "I'm home" which he answers with an exuberant jumping celebration while pumping fists in the air and shouting "YEAH!". I practically trip over myself as I push open the front door and pull my suitcase in behind me.

I am not even through the front hall when my independent 14-year-old Ian has me in a lock-grip hug. It's a stellar moment with my oldest boy. Then Emma peeks her head around the door frame and with a grin, a kiss and a hug welcomes me home too. My Andrew surveys all the hugging, the greetings, the plethora of luggage I have hauled home from the United States (without much concept of what it may contain in the way of pop-tarts, peanut butter, and cheez-its) and then looks at me and says "You're home Mama!"

Only a few minutes later the five of us congregate in the living room (loot distribution will soon begin) to visit about our collective time away from each other. It's a great family moment. Kind of one of those that you wish you had every time you were all in the same room together.
Andrew pats my leg to get my attention and then with a definitive move to cross both his arms and his legs, he shakes his head back and forth slightly as if in wonderment and awe over the moment too and says "I am just so happy that you are home, Mom."

Home is such a great feeling.

*********************************

P.S. Don't miss this photo at 1 Picture a Day. You may just recognize someone... and the feeling she is describing here.

The Love Bug

Andrew made his appearance in our lives five years ago today. His debut to our family included all the usual ways a baby makes its way--maximum discomfort giving way to pain and then ultimate awe--when after a very long night and day of induced labor the nurses laid his purple-smoogey-pug-nosed self onto my belly. And Don and I met our third child.

His arrival in our lives marks the beginning of change for our family. I can never be sure if the surprise discovery (after a 7 year gap) of being pregnant was the impetus for all that change or simply coincidental. But you can well mark the year 2003 as that time and place where movement was afoot. Movement which ultimately brought our family across the ocean to uncharted (to us) territory as residents of a country, not our own.

There is not a minute of that journey I wish had been any different.

And truth be told, there is hardly a minute of life with Andrew in it that I would trade for anything. (There are a few sleepless nights I would reclaim, and let's be honest the temper tantrums of toddlerhood are not my favorite, but all for all it's all good.)

Having Andrew makes life an every-day-is-a-new-discovery adventure.

And I am so glad to be along for the ride.

If you are looking for cuteness and memory of just what I mean, you can read the archives of the Andrew anecdotes here.

But whether you take the time to walk down five-years of memory lane with me today or not, please add your voice (It's Music Monday after all) to the song we are singing here today.

"Happy Birthday Andrew!"

Mama is mad about you.

Begs the Question

Last Friday when I posted the flashback to that long ago (okay, it was a year ago) interview, I left a tagline with the invitation to ask a question in the comments section.

I got one.

I think it was a good one.

The question, asked by 1 picture a day, is this:

If you had to choose between
1.) no more wine (alcohol) the rest of your life
or
2.) no more coffee the rest of your life
which would you choose?

My first, rather flip, answer to her was that I am currently on hiatus from both substances in my life so there wasn't a contest really.

But then we talked about it.

And talked about it some more.

And a little more after that.

And I kinda started thinking.

I have an answer for this question, but before I divulge that answer (while reminding you that this is how I feel about coffee); I am asking the same question of you.

Go ahead, wax poetic in your comment today and tell me which you'd live without and why you choose what you do.

And if you are not a coffee and/or wine drinker then please answer this question:
Chocolate or Chips?

Or even this one:
Starburst or Skittles?

Or, hey, you could pose your own question and then answer it. I don't mind.

I just want to hear what you have to say.

Looking for Someone?

You'll find me here today.

Come on over and play.

Pass it to Me

The other day, I was assisting Andrew in his nightly disrobing (always a production, believe me.) After the removal of his socks, I balled them together and shot them toward the open laundry hamper standing in the corner of the bedroom. As previously revealed here at this blog, my hoop shooting skills are not what you would call superstar or stellar. Of course, I missed.

"Oh! You missed Mom! You missed!"

"Yeah, buddy, I missed."

"Yeah, you lose!"

"I what?"

"You lose, Mom, you lose!"

"I lose, huh? Tell me what you know about that."

"Well, Mom. Sometimes that happens. Sometimes you lose."

"Yes, bud, I suppose that's true."

"Yeah, it's okay Mom. Just sometimes you lose. That's all. Sometimes you lose."

He patted my hand and walked away. Chalk it up to life lessons from a nearly five-year-old. Reflecting on this logic I follow the thought to its completion and figure if sometimes you lose, then other times you win, right?

Am I right?