100 days in: how we’re doing

One of my favorite podcasts is called Terrible, Thanks for Asking. If you haven’t checked it out, here’s the synopsis: the host, Nora, experienced several devastating losses in a matter of weeks. She shares how she has come to terms with loss, grieving, picking up the pieces and dealing with the well-intentioned questions asking how she is, when the honest truth is, “Terrible, thanks for asking.”

She also interviews a multitude of guests, usually who have been through hard or horrific times, or perhaps are just in the midst of pain or sadness or…life. It’s a lesson in talking about the hard stuff, and being honest with yourself and others about how you’re doing.  Disclaimer: I wouldn’t pick it for a workout listen, or a sunny windows-down girls trip car ride, or with your kids. I’ve cried more times than I can count while listening.

Honestly, I’m pretty sure I started listening after we lost Grant, in an effort to find others openly talking about the process of grief. It’s refreshing to hear from others who understand the feeling of saying everything’s fine, when it’s definitely not.

But this isn’t really about grief, or a podcast, it’s my attempt to answer the most common question we get – how are we doing? Now that we have 100 days of living here under our belt, I figured it was time for a check-in the best way I know how – in written form, on this blog. I’ve shared some challenges, hopefully with a bit of humor, and some of our adventures. But I want to be honest here, if nothing else but to look back and see how far we have come, and will come.

So, how are we doing? Luckily, I can say not terrible, thanks for asking! Mostly, I say we’re doing well. And as I analyze that, it’s pretty much true.

My first instinct is to talk about the boys when I answer that question. I want to share as much as I can, while respecting their right to have private emotions and not have everything shared on the Internet. I cleared this with both of them, as best as I could with a 7- and 5-year-old.

I feel fortunate that we ended up at our particular school. Not only does it have great ratings, I’m very impressed with the teachers and curriculum and the children. Nate is in reception, which is like their kindergarten (though in the states he would be in 4K/junior kindergarten). It’s a whole day program and integrated with the school so it’s really big-time, official school.

He is learning to read, which is so fun to watch – going from having no idea of what things mean or say to starting to decipher letter and their sounds, and how you form them into words. It’s the best when you see it click in their brain. I hear him sometimes in the backseat sounding out things. “C-C-C A-A-A T-T-T, cat.” Right now he is reading a lot about a family with Mum, Dad, Kipper, Chip and Biff, and their dog Floppy. (Aren’t those just the preppiest names? Cute.)

His class has a lot of boys and Nate has settled right in with his buddies. They play ninjas and belt out Greatest Showman and run around, dancing and screaming, “THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!!!” Bless his teacher.

Because it’s everyone’s first year at school, I don’t think he felt new at all, because everyone’s new. I have to remind him that he’s not the boss and not in charge of everybody, but he just has this natural instinct to do what he wants to do, and not worry about what others say. It’s awesome and challenging at the same time.

He occasionally talks about his last school year at Christ King – his teachers, his friends, things they worked on or did. I try to encourage him to remember these things because I want him to have a sense of what life was before this. We look at pictures sometimes and talk about our house, our friends, our school.

He’s getting into football (soccer)…kind of, when not dancing or daydreaming at practices. He and Bennett fight, but mostly play together, and he is busy going to classmates’ birthday parties. This seems to be the age of “invite the whole class to the party” and he loves it. He is a social butterfly.

Bennett is doing amazing, and I tell him that every day – how proud I am of him, how inspired I am by him. I wasn’t that brave at his age (and I’m still not). School has been a harder adjustment for Bennett. He loved his school in Wisconsin and he loved his friends and his neighborhood and his sports and his teammates. It was home.

He’s older, and he’s more aware that things are different. His teacher is wonderful, and actually moved up a grade level to stay with their class. Considering they only have about six weeks for summer here, his classmates came back in after a break, with their same teacher, and jumped right into their work. He had to figure out the logistics and rules they were already used to – register in the morning, where to go buy your snack, when and where to fill your water bottle. And that’s not even considering all of the unspoken rules, the social norms of things you do and say, and what you don’t.

He came home early in the school year and told us that a few kids asked him to say words in his American accent because they thought it was funny, and that made him embarrassed. He had to learn joined-up writing, which is basically cursive. It’s all they use in in their classroom, and he had not even started to learn cursive yet in America. He has such a desire to learn and try and do his best – he asked me to buy him a workbook that he could practice writing in, and has improved a ton. He’s a smart kid.

 

His teacher says he’s doing great, and told me that one of her students said they were so glad Bennett was here, and it seems like he’s always been here, and he fits right in. (And then I cried, obviously.)

He’s not exactly excited to go to school Monday morning, but settles into the week quickly. He loves Wednesdays, when not only do they get to wear their PE uniform (black comfy pants and a logo t-shirt) but he has P.E., Spanish, music, and then sports after school. He’s embraced sports here, just as he did in Wisconsin.

He joined a football league right away and is learning the rules, and how to play goalie. They are aggressive and competitive, but mostly have fun. He’s started to learn rugby and netball and handball (I googled it too…).Last week he and a few classmates were recognized at the weekly school assembly for their 2^nd place finish in a tournament the night before.  The coach said something to the effect of, “I’m convinced Bennett is an secret professional handball player.” And Bennett grinned.

I love that grin. It’s a little harder to get than it used to be. It’s been a big change and he’s not perfect; none of us have been on this journey. He’s growing up and we have arguments and sometimes I get a glimpse of how he is going to be a tween or teen. YIKES. But he’s been a great big brother, he just wants to be outside playing ball, and has started to show interest in the old guitar that I got from my mom and we shipped here. He doesn’t know how to play yet (none of us do), so right now he just makes up lyrics to new songs, or plays along to songs we know from the Beatles…or the Beastie Boys.

He’s Facetimed and emailed with a few of his buddies, and his Wisconsin Cub Scout troop sent him a pack of letters. These interactions make him so happy; thank you for keeping him in mind. Your kids are in his mind, too. He’s learned to put himself out there, asking kids if he can join in and asking others to play. My greatest hope is that this experience makes him resilient, strong, kind.

Tim. People ask me how he’s doing and I usually just say, “Oh, OK, I think. Busy at work!”

And he is. I think this move has been different for him because not only did the responsibility for why we were moving fall on him, he had to do a lot of the legwork to get us ready and to get us here, sort things out when we were here, and so on. And he has to get up and go to work everyday, and try to do the best of job possible.

He likes his work, and the people he works with, but I think he feels pressure to succeed and work as much as he can. They are longer days, but we’re finding a balance. He doesn’t get a lot of free time because he’s working, then home for the weeknight routine of dinner, homework and bedtime, and weekends are spent at football or bustling around. He’s starting to appreciate the English humor, the beauty of the countryside, and tackling new projects around the house – even if it feels a little different as renters, and not owners. Oddly enough, I think he wishes he had snow to shovel.

He told me he wanted to do a brand new outdoor Christmas lights display, because each year he would add one new piece to our house in Wisconsin. By last year, our house was looking pretty, lit up in Christmas cheer. (It was not covered in lights and set to music, though, like our neighbors’ house. Props, Dave and Carol.)  I had to say to him, “But Tim, why… literally no one can see our house.” Not from the road, and not from the fields in the back, though the horses might appreciate it. He didn’t seem convinced that was a good reason not to do it.

He misses his friends – the school dad crew, his work friends, the Ray’s cards crew, our neighbors. It can be lonely to be in a new country, whether or not you’re surrounded by people all day. I hope I did a good enough job speaking for him…he nodded when I asked, anyway. 😉

One thing I’ve learned is that the Brits don’t casually say, “How are you?” like we do, they say, “You alright?” At first, and sometimes still, it throws me off. I’m so used to the “good, you?” half-hearted/half-assed automatic response, that I had to pause. I still haven’t gotten good at saying that back – it’s more of a forced, “Oh, yes, I’m all right, and how are you?” Too cumbersome for a passing greeting.

But basically, I’m alright. It’s been an adjustment and some days are hard and some days are good. At first, the day felt like a win if I could find the grocery store (see previous posts). And now, settling in, I feel like I can drive anywhere Google Maps will take me and I find joy in exploring new places and new roads. So it’s a matter of adjusting to the routine of the day.

After I drop the boys off at school, the house is quiet. Sometimes it’s bliss, and I make my coffee and read the news and breathe. And sometimes the weight of the silence feels very heavy. When I was working, I was home two days per week, though I was always with Nathaniel and getting in some work hours as well. It felt busy, trying to balance being a mom and employee.

Now, I have these hours in the day to myself. Yet it’s taken me days to write this and I’m behind on other things I want to post about! Where do the hours go? I fill the day with the gym, errands, laundry, cooking and cleaning, writing, corresponding, getting things to make the house function and feel like home. Before I know it, it’s pick-up time once again.

I’m starting to make some friends, I hope, mostly through school. (My very first mum’s Christmas night out this weekend!) We’ve met very witty, kind, welcoming people and I’m optimistic about how our lives will be during these few years – excitement and adventure and time with one another.

But I embrace the quiet. There is a very large part of me still grieving Grant. I was grieving when things got so busy and we were planning to move here. I see now that I probably pushed myself to do all of the things and have all of the fun I could before moving… pressing pause on the active process of being sad, if that makes sense. The emotions weren’t gone – I don’t think they’ll ever be – but I pushed it down more. I went out, saw people, did things, perhaps more than I would have otherwise.

So I’m allowing myself time to recognize when the feelings of loss and sadness come. I miss Grant. I wonder what it would be like with him here – he would be my buddy that would occupy that quiet time. I’d be grocery shopping with him strapped in the seat, likely throwing things. I’d be exploring baby playgroups rather than a stumbled-upon antiques store. Life would be that much more chaotic, crazy and beautiful.

But that’s not reality, and I am trying to accept that. I hope he’s proud of us.

I miss my family and friends. I watch the ease and happiness in the conversations around me – the kind that comes from knowing each other’s histories and families and inside jokes. Some days I still feel like an outsider. I keep telling myself it’s early on, and it will continue to get easier. (BUT ALSO, I don’t want anyone to forget us back home, and have a very selfish ask of you all to just promise collectively that you won’t have any fun or any inside jokes or change anything until we’re back, ok? Cue “Don’t you forget about me” Breakfast Club montage.)

It is an adjustment to being a stay-at-home mom. I had a taste of it with my part-time schedule, but like I said, it was more running around with Nate while I had a laptop open. Here, I find myself thinking, “What should I make for dinner tonight?” at 9 a.m. Or feeling weird for being at the gym or grocery store in the middle of the day. Or downright scandalous and lazy if I happen to turn on Netflix while I fold laundry.

I’ve certainly had my days of mumbling clichéd phrases about nobody appreciating all of the things I do while scrubbing toilets or roasting a chicken or cellophane-wrapping a PTA basket. There is a part of my identity that is lost not being employed. But I take great pride in knowing that I gave my job and career as much as I could for many years, and this too is another pause. I should enjoy it.

I’m grateful that I can pick the boys up from school, come home and do homework before getting in a game of catch with Bennett and chatting about his day. Some days I make delicious made-from-scratch meals that the boys won’t eat; some days we do frozen pizza. I have been guilty of being an over-scheduler with the boys in the past, but I realize that there is no contest, and the person who is the busiest doesn’t win anything. It’s OK to breathe.

My partnership with Tim has changed. I can’t, and don’t, rely on him as much for the housework, keeping track of the school calendar, trading off cooking. But we’re still partners. And if he just happens to pick up takeaway dinner one night or help scrub a toilet on a Saturday, then all the better.

Last, but never least…we miss our dog, Jack, very much. We didn’t bring him with us initially because we didn’t know the exact parameters of our living situation, and we couldn’t take him on the airplane because of the heat, so we ran the risk of him being alone at the Chicago airport in August if he couldn’t come on the same flight as us.

He’s at the next best place in the world, and maybe the best to him, my parents’ farm in Iowa. (Please note, this is a real farm and not a “we sent the dog to the farm, hint hint.” I’ve had a few looks of horror when I’ve said this.) But this farm is like heaven to Jack. He runs, he plays, he chases cows and rolls in pastures, and hangs out with their dog Cody, and gets lots of love and attention from my parents and nieces and nephews. We also video chat quite a bit. 🙂

We want him here with us very badly, but honestly, we are nervous to put an 11-year-old dog in a crate at the bottom of a plane and bring him to somewhere so new, let alone leave him at a boarder/kennel when we go back to America for long visits, etc. It’s an agonizing decision and one that we don’t take lightly. He’s our first boy, and we’re still figuring out what’s best for him. Mostly, we’re looking forward to seeing our scruffy, smelly, loud, sweet pup at Christmas.

If you’ve made it this far, you deserve a medal. Thanks for caring enough to read, and check in on us, and letting me share. More fun adventures (including Grandmas in England, and our first trip to London) on the way. Cheers.