Burning The Midnight Oil

Don't get me wrong; I love the holiday season. But while it can be an incredibly festive and joyous time of year, in order to make all of that happen requires a lot of work. Houses don't get magically decorated and gifts don't buy, wrap (and in our case) ship themselves. Those lovely boxes of cookies that get delivered to the office? Yes, they take time to bake and before I can even turn on the oven I need to tackle the chore of shopping for ingredients. You get the idea.....

Growing up one of my most prevalent holiday memories was that of my own mother coming home from work then staying up into the wee hours of the morning toiling away with holiday preparations. The copious amount of cookies, wrapped gifts and the year all three of us kids received hand knit stockings are images that are burned into my memory. And somewhere buried amongst those memories are those of my mom not being completely happy about all that was required. But each year, thanks entirely to her efforts, it all came together and as an adult I still cherish those Christmas memories. As I was in the midst of my own baking-shopping-wrapping frenzy recently I stopped and realized that in this respect I have now become my mother. (Gasp).

As a family we aren't big gift givers. Glenn and I no longer exchange gifts opting to take a family trip instead. "Santa" visits Sidney leaving a few carefully selected gifts but that is it. As far as extended family goes, some years we give gifts and other years we don't. Living in Albania with limited outgoing mail service we fell out of the habit of sending packages home. This year, with ready access to the U.S. postal system and the wonderful Christmas markets of western Europe, we made the decision that we would send small Christmas packages home. But with Christmas a little over a week away we have yet to purchase any of those gifts. We've been looking at all of the Christmas markets but have yet to find anything that strikes our fancy. After all, we like to give gifts that have special meaning rather than giving for the sake of giving. What does one give to people who are world travelers and have everything they could need? My fallback items of locally made treats really don't fare well when sent through the mail. And now as I make regular pilgrimages to the post office to see if Sidney's big gift has arrived I see long queues of people waiting to send off their own carefully wrapped packages. To date I've only acquired the boxes and customs forms needed to mail of those afore mentioned, hoped for gifts. And Christmas cards accompanying a newsy family letter? Those went by the wayside years ago when keeping track of the addresses of our ever moving friends became too much work. Besides, between Facebook and this blog I figure people are getting their fill of what we are up to.

So closer to home I'm focusing on the here and now. We put up our tree and decorated the house the weekend after Thanksgiving. It looks lovely if not a bit sparse since our rooms with their soaring ceilings are just so much more cavernous than we are used to. I figure this year we will pick up additional items at the Christmas markets and be all set for a fully decorated abode next year. Having just hosted our belated Thanksgiving dinner for friends this past weekend I'm now giving thought to our own Christmas dinner but as we will be taking off for our next adventure on Boxing Day am unsure what I should make. After trudging to several grocery stores, the local market and making a foray into the Belgian version of a Michael's craft store (my worst nightmare in any country or language) for boxes, I'm ready to put together cookie boxes for Glenn's co-workers. And despite my single, European sized oven and minuscule kitchen with its single sliver of counter space, I was on a baking streak yesterday whipping out batch after batch of cookies. That was, until I ran out of both butter and sugar and it being a Monday and the day of the national strikes in Belgium, and I was unable to get to a store to replenish my supply. But I'll get there today (or tomorrow) and continue baking tonight (or tomorrow) and those coveted boxes of goodies will be delivered this week before the office shuts down for the remainder of the year. Then I can tackle the gift buying and wrapping.......

So I'm warning family back in the states not to hold their breath waiting for a package from us. It may or may not arrive and if it does it will be a New Years gift rather than a Christmas one. The cookies will get done and Sidney's presents will be wrapped and delivered by Santa because...well....they have to. Somehow it really does come together every year and this one won't be any different. And for a brief moment on Christmas Day I will sit back, relax, eat a cookie or two and remind myself that I really do love this time of year. Honestly, I do. Because after all, what would Christmas be without the flurry of activity, the last minute trips to the store and the late night struggles with tape that sticks to everything but what it should. I really wouldn't have it any other way. Honestly.

Une Crise d'Identite

And so it has happened again. I was sitting is French class this past week struggling to comprehend the lesson. We were discussing numbers, specifically those between seventy and one hundred which, for some reason only understandable to the French, means there is a difference in the way these numbers are said in French-French and Belgian-French. Its enough to make my head spin. So I was essentially doing math, in French, on a morning with less than a cup of coffee flowing through my system. My brain hurt before it was done and I let out an audible sigh of relief when we moved onto the next lesson. Until I realized that the lesson in question was one of professions. As in, how do I ask someone what their profession is and how would I answer that question myself. Yuck; I almost wished we could return to the numbers lesson because I knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, the question of "what is your profession" was posed to the class. I was the second one to respond. As I listened to my classmate tell the instructor that she was a kindergarten teacher, I thought about what my response should be. I've had many "professions" in the past with the titles of supervisor, program manager and planner being in the forefront. But this question wasn't one of what I used to do rather since it was posed in the present tense it meant what do I do now. Student of French, blogger, experimental cook, aspiring painter? But these aren't professions for me, rather they are the hobbies I dabble in when I have the time. So how do I spend my time? When it was my turn to explain my profession to the class I said I was the family chauffeur, cook and organizer. My response was met with a blank look from my instructor who then said oh, I was a "femme au foyer". I nodded and felt a little better when the next student said she was also a femme au foyer. But the following students all stated that their professions were actual careers; pharmacist assistants, teachers, professors and the list goes on.  I simply sat in my chair and thought about the question and my answer.

I've joked that this is what I am and I've even blogged about it. But it is one thing to talk about it rather anonymously and another to say it out loud to a roomful of people. I stewed about this for the rest of the day. While I was having coffee with a fellow "femme au foyer" after class we dissected the issue. Later while taking Sidney to lunch with a few of his classmates the topic weighed heavily on my mind. While picking up last minute birthday gift for a weekend party, sitting patiently waiting for our delayed appointment with the pediatrician and shopping for ingredients for dinner I continued to think about it. As I kicked the soccer ball around with Sidney in the dusk while we waited for his father to get out of work I told myself I was content with my title of femme au foyer. But the truth is, not matter how much I try, I'm simply not.

I totally appreciate the fact that I have the flexibility to take Sidney to last minute play dates, to cook complex dinners in the middle of the week if I choose to or to sit for hours in the doctor's office without having to worry about being late getting to work. And when my son wants to play soccer after school? Not only can I take him to his practices but I can join him in impromptu ones when the opportunity strikes. The freedom is wonderful and I know I am lucky. But it just isn't enough. Sure I fill my spare hours with leisure activities and hobbies I had only hoped to have the time for when I was working full time but to be honest, I miss the grind and routine of working in an office. I miss the responsibility and the accolades that came with successes. Somehow putting a tedious project to bed ahead of the deadline just sounds like more of an accomplishment than baking dozens of cupcakes for the class party, finding the long lost toy or completing a to-do list that had me on the go all day long.

These are my issues with which I continue to struggle. Most days I am content with the situation but that might just be because I am too busy to think about or question them. But every so often that nagging question gets posed and it starts me thinking all over again. It doesn't matter what language it is asked in; my response remains the same. I need to learn to wear the title of "femme au foyer" proudly. I'm trying, really I am.

Finding Contentment

I spent part of this past weekend with a group of wonderful Mount Holyoke College alumnae. Our ages span the generations and our current homes are located in all parts of Europe but collectively we are smart, funny, intellectually curious and well travelled. We are all well spoken, opinionated and strive to be the best at whatever we do. As is the case whenever I spend time with fellow alumnae, I return from a gathering feeling intellectually stimulated and emotionally rejuvenated. And as is also always the case, a part of me feels slightly out of sorts and unsettled, simultaneously being proud of what I have accomplished yet wondering whether I could have or should be doing more with my life.

But this feeling and questioning isn't new as I've always second guessed my life choices and decisions and sometimes, but not always, regretted those that I've made or wished for spontaneous "re-dos". (Wouldn't life be wonderful if our 40 something year old voices could guide our 20 something year old minds in their decision making process?). There is something about being around such accomplished and (at least outwardly) confident women that causes me to step back, pause and reevaluate. And that is just what I've been doing this past week.

Its been years since I've had what I would consider a career. I gave up a full time job--one I didn't love but that was at least in my career field since the pickings were slim in our area-- shortly before Sidney was born and have only worked sporadically since then. In the past five years we've moved three times, including two over seas moves, I became competent in a new language and am refreshing my skills in another and for two and a half years I did work in a job that filled my time yet left me feeling inadequate in many ways. Now I am my all accounts a stay-at-home mom. I used to wonder what it was that these mothers did all day and I know that days are busier than I ever imagined they could be. And my hat goes off to stay-at-home moms, but it is the hardest, and least intellectually fulfilling, job I have ever had. I spend too much time driving around and sitting in traffic, have learned all of the popular songs with the five year old set and can now add soccer mom / playground referee / cheer leader in chief to my resume. Yes, my days are busy running from one place to another yet my routine leaves me feeling lacking and needing more. In an attempt to fill that need I'm taking both French and painting classes, spend hours at the gym and volunteering for a variety of activities. But this past weekend, as I explained what it was I did all day to inquiring minds, I realized how inadequate it all sounded. Of course my audience was career driven women who owned their own businesses or were racing up the promotion ladder at their international corporations while juggling multi-faceted family lives. In comparison my day just sounded so simple. The very idea that I would be the one following my spouse rather than having him follow me seemed confusing to some.

But despite our current differences, we all shared a common alma mater and conversation naturally turned to our college days. When posed with the question of what I wish I had done differently in college, I paused. What would I have done differently? I loved my American history major and can play a mean game of Jeopardy but well into my senior year I realized how unspecific and not really marketably it was. The year I graduated I was one of thousands of liberal arts majors hustling for a job. In hindsight would I have selected a different major? I don't know. Do I wish I had gone to law school after working for a couple of years the way I wrote in my graduation announcement that was sent to my home town newspaper? Not really. Should I have pursued a more mobile career path? Probably, but then again my twenty year old self never imagined that I'd be living the life I am today. Do I regret jumping off of the career track to move to Virginia when I met my now husband? Absolutely not. Sure I wish there had been real job opportunities for me there but I can say with confidence that I knew what I was getting into when I said "yes". And being a mother? Despite the moments when I simply want to pull out my hair, it is the most rewarding (and scary) endeavor I have ever taken on.

So am I content? Mostly......Time with Mount Holyoke alumnae does make me question where I am, what I am doing and how things could have been different. But it also makes me appreciate where I am and what I have. All of the decisions I have made to date bring me to the place I am today. For a brief moment I missed being the one who had the job, the fancy title and the professional responsibility but then I reconsidered. After all, I don't miss being attached to a Blackberry, having to put on suits every day and having to endure the stress of missing deadlines that are out of my control. The only organization I will ever be CEO of is Household Brown and despite Glenn's musings, we won't be able to live off of the earnings from my blogging in our post-military life.  I am not by any stretch of the imagination an uber wife, mother, housekeeper and cook but I can happily hold my own on all of those fronts. I have an amazing and diverse network of friends that span the globe. Because of the decisions that have been made I have the opportunity to pursue interests that I would never have the time to do if I was working outside of the home. And I must admit, it is kind of nice.

This is the path I have chosen and I embrace it. This coming year is going to be one of college reunions and get togethers so naturally there will be more reflection and occasional self doubt on my part. But life is short and there is absolutely no time for regrets. Questions and reconsiderations, yes, but regrets? Absolutely not.

Fireworks & All That American Jazz

A towering cone of cotton candy: the
verdict? Sweet. And sticky

Last night was a first for us; on what was our fourth Independence Day spent overseas, we attended our first "real" 4th of July celebration. And by real I mean all of the food, games, festivities and of course fireworks that I remember from the Independence Days of my childhood. The celebration wasn't huge but it gave us the little piece of home that we didn't quite realize we were missing. And, most importantly and my absolute favorite part of the night, was introducing Sidney to his first All-American celebration. And that was pretty amazing.

Even when we were in the United States, we weren't carnival or fair people but last night's small dose of Americana was pretty darn nice. A portion of the base had been transformed into a fair grounds with super sized tents, music, food vendors and rides. With the exception of a few intermittent showers (which is impressive by Belgium standards) the evening was dry. While DJs played their music, pimply teenagers were on the prowl, toddlers ran around underfoot and crowds milled around the tents drinking American beers and eating all of the foods I associate with fairs. My pulled pork sandwich followed by funnel cake was one of the best things I had eaten in a long time. I contributed this to the fact that I have eaten neither of these items in years if not decades. Sidney's first foray into cotton candy was a sweet and sticky adventure but then again what child doesn't have memories of eating mounds of spun sugar.

Sidney watched the carnival rides with fascination immediately declaring that he wanted to ride on the biggest and scariest ride of them all. We talked him out of it and instead he happily rode the bumper cars with Glenn. I remember riding the bumper cars with my own father at the same age and little seems to have changed. Each bump was met with a peal of laughter and a request for more. Then there was the fun house and the giant slides that Sidney slide down over and over again. He contemplated a tilt-a-whirl which he studied for a long time. Sidney initially wanted to take a ride but after watching it spin for several turns decided to wait "until he is six". But because we are on a military base in Belgium the entertainment went beyond the traditional carnival rides. Period actors dressed was World War II attire stood along side jeeps and weaponry of the time. Kids tried on the helmets and tested the guns as parents snapped pictures. (I'll be honest, I never dreamed I'd be watching my son hop amongst the artillery at a carnival). But he loved it.

Because this was the Fourth, the highlight of the evening was the fireworks that concluded the evening. Now we saw a lot of fireworks while we were in Albania; they regularly lit the sky in bits and spurts throughout the year with New Years bringing about the biggest bang of them all. While their scale was impressive they were noisy, chaotic and tinged with a bit of danger. They lacked the artistic design of well orchestrated shows and most often left me feeling agitated. Sidney was equally impressed and scared by the Albanian fireworks. But last night? That was an entirely different story. As he laid on the grass on the edge of the baseball field looking up at the sky, he provided us with an ongoing commentary about their color, size and shape. His descriptions were punctuated with giggles of laughter and such adjectives as amazing, wonderful and magnificent.

Watching him watch the fireworks filled me with motherly happiness since my little boy was finally experiencing one of the joys from my own childhood. Sometimes I worry about the simple things he is missing out on because of our living overseas. He may have visited most of Europe's capitols but he's never experienced a real American Fourth of July. Until last night that is. And as we drove home close to midnight (after all it stays light really late here in Belgium) he continued to chatter excitedly about his evening. As he said, he had so much fun. I'm sure that many of his memories of his overseas childhood will only be fleeting in later years. I'm hopeful that last night is one of the ones he remembers.

Fireworks 

Observing one of the rides. After
studying it Sidney informed us that when
he is six he will be big enough to ride it.

Just Call Me Julie

Military families living overseas are often caught in an odd abyss. In strictest terms we aren't really expats since we know we are only guests in our host countries for a limited time. Because of our military status we are often exempt from many of the requirements residents of our host country, in our case Belgium, must abide by. (In our case, our biggest perk is taxes. Europe's Value Added Tax (VAT) can add hundreds if not thousands of dollars/ Euros to the cost of everyday goods and services; for the most part we are exempted from paying them. This is a huge benefit). And because we are stationed overseas at a military installation, we have access to many of the services that we are accustomed to having at home; an on base health care center, commissaries, libraries, and schools are all services that are provided to us to help make our lives a little bit easier. And as is the case with the schools, there is the understanding that because we are only in our locations on a temporary basis, our children will eventually return to the United States, attend American schools and need to keep up with the stateside based peers. This means that the schools and therefore the base provides our children with the same curriculum and extra curricular opportunities that they would have if they were still living in America. Sometimes it feels as though we have the best of both worlds....until we don't. That's when you realize the dangers of getting too comfortable in your surroundings and what you know and not taking the time to explore your host community.

With such easy access to military sponsored services and activities, it is too easy to come to rely upon them. Such is my recent experience in attempting to enroll Sidney in a summer camp. Its never too early to start planning for summer activities for children and in doing so in late March I felt as though I was already running late. After all, in the U.S. summer camp enrollment begins early in the new year. Regardless of the late date I went ahead and went to the "Child, Youth, & School Office" on base to see about finding a summer camp for Sidney. It turns out that I wasn't too late, rather at 4 1/2 years old, my son is simply too young for the single camp that is offered. Disappointed but determined I asked about stand alone activities; t-ball, soccer, swimming, arts & crafts....I was looking for any activity to keep my active boy engaged over the long summer weeks. Nada. Zip. Nil. The response was the same. None of these activities are offered during the summer for the pre-school aged set. When I asked why, after all there are a ton of younger children here, I was told that most people leave for the summer so there simply isn't a demand for them. Really? I mean really? If we were in the U.S. every community recreation program would have an entire menu of activities for this age group. Soccer fields would be filled with tiny players honing their skills, swimming pools would be filled with budding Olympians, and kids would be coming home every evening exhausted from a full day of activities. (I'll be honest, it is times like this when I wonder if we are making the right decision for our son; I worry that Sidney is missing out on activities and events other kids his age are readily experiencing). But no activities for the younger set; that is just plain disappointing. So what is a mom to do?

Readers of a certain age are sure to remember Julie McCoy, the perpetually perky activities director on The Love Boat. She spent each cruise ensuring that guests had a menu of activities to choose from and that all of their needs were met. There are times when I feel like this is my role and right now is one of them. Without any comprehensive options for a summer full of fun and educational opportunities for Sidney I'm putting together my own version of a Belgian summer camp. We have several long weekend trips planned and will be spending most of July back on the East Coast. We've bought passes to the local zoo that has been rated the best in BENELUX and I'm investigating the availability of both horseback riding and swimming lessons in the Mons community. Summer is festival season in Europe so we'll seek out one or two to attend. And with this being a big anniversary year for key world war battles, reenactments are sure to abound. If that isn't enough, Belgium has hundreds of miles of bicycle trails just waiting to be ridden. And there are so many chateaus, parks, playgrounds, and battlefields right in our backyard to explore. We won't be bored by any means (I'll just be a bit tired). Come June we'll be setting sail and are sure to have a good time.

Welcome aboard!

Mere Au Foyer??

Earlier this week I blogged about our family's new routine. What I didn't write about is how I actually spend those precious hours between school drop off and pick up. I've been thinking about this a lot over the past couple of days and am not sure how I feel about what I came up with......

Perhaps I eat bon-bons all day? Growing up in a community where it felt as though my mother was one of the only ones who worked outside of the home, I longed for her to be a stay at home mom and eat bon-bons all day. In my oh so naive child's way of thinking, that is what I thought mothers did all day while their kids were in school. As I got older, I realized that rarely is that the case.

So what do I do in my six hours (which really isn't as much time as it sounds)? Unfortunately, I'm not as productive as I like to think I am. I check my email to see what transpired while I was asleep and I try to carve out a small amount of time each morning to blog because writing is very important to me. Sometimes it happens while other times it doesn't. While I'm at it I might read another writer's blog or two and before I log off I check out Facebook, Pinterest, and other Internet vices. But I set strict computer limits for myself since it would be all too easy to get sucked into the world wide web while the day passes me by. We are still settling in so each day I make an attempt to sort through a box or two. Sometimes I find that misplaced item I was searching for and other times I find myself wondering why we had bothered to pack this stuff in the first place. And as is the case whenever we are settling into a new house, I find myself needing to make one to many trips to the local hardware store to get picture hooks, mops, transformers, or any of a million other things. (Because I am unfamiliar with Belgian retail stores, just finding the right store and getting there can be a day long project unto itself!). Now that we are home each evening I need to actually cook each evening and with a microscopic pantry and European sized refrigerator I'm finding myself at the grocery store on an almost daily basis. In the wake of my time in Albania I am fascinated by the variety of items I can find in the store; this leads to spending too long roaming the aisles and browsing the shelves. But much to my delight it appears that I can find everything I could ever want and then some on a single shopping trip. And of course there is the dreaded cleaning of the house. On the best of days I am not a stellar housekeeper but after three years of having the luxury of a housekeeper the responsibility is now back on me and I must say that I'm not enjoying it. With the amount of dust that accumulates in this house, keeping it clean could be a full time job. I am almost relieved when my six hours of "freedom" are up and I must return to school to brave the carpooling masses.

In re-reading what I just wrote my routine sounds so boring and perhaps, at the moment it is. But things are looking up. I realize that I am lucky to be living in a place where there is so much to see and do so my goal over the coming months is to establish a more exciting, intellectually stimulating routine. Having moved here during the off season we arrived after so many of the military organized classes--language, art, dance, exercise, etc. had already started their spring sessions. And there are other programs and events whose hours just don't work within my drop off and pick up parameters. But that doesn't mean all is lost. While I wasn't able to take advantage of many of these classes right away when the next sessions start up I will be right there. Plus I have the whole of Mons, Belgium, and Europe at my doorstep. There are museums to explore, historic sites to visit, and the local culture to get to know. I just need to get out and see it all.

But for better or worse, like it or not, this is my new routine at the moment. After years of fighting it, looking down upon, and eschewing the title, in reality I am now a stay at home mom. Some people fully embrace the position but I'm honestly not sure if I do (or can). Does this position fulfill me? Not entirely. (I am however, digging my low maintenance and comfortable style). Do I long for more intellectual stimulation? Absolutely (although trying to decipher French labels does make my head hurt on many days). Will I be able to keep this up for three years? Only time will tell. But I have a plan and like any good planner I will implement it. But as I am in Belgium, after all, perhaps I should use this opportunity to eat a bon-bon or two. At the moment, it is either that or clean the house!

Something To Talk About

I've said it before and I'll say it again, parenting is difficult. Imagine how much easier it would all be if babies came with instruction manuals. But unfortunately they don't and all of the self-help books, parenting blogs, and "expert" advise doesn't always provide us with the answers. Usually we have to figure out what makes our children tick all on our own. And because kids are always changing, so is what they think, say, and do. As such, as parents we must change and adapt right along with them.

But much to my surprise (amazement? joy? satisfaction?) I recently unlocked one of the great mysteries about Sidney's current state of being. For Sidney, this move has been more difficult than I ever imaged it would be and he has been acting out in an aggressive manner than is unlike the little boy I know and love. He's also been loud-crying, shouting, and general whining- but most recently he has flat out been refusing to talk. That is, until I ask the right questions and provide the right prompts. Once I do, my little chatterbox starts talking, I listen and respond, and we are able to work our way through his frustrations and unhappiness.

When we first left Albania we made it a point of not talking about what we had left behind. I'm not sure if this was a conscious or subconscious decision on both of our parts but when Sidney would bring up Tirana we would quickly change the subject. In hindsight, I realize that this was a huge mistake. Now, we talk about it regularly and in doing so, Sidney is talking about both his old home and new one. I start the Albania-Belgium conversations as I call them when I see that Sidney is becoming sad, aggressive, or generally non-responsive. (This tends to happen when he is tired so this is a conversation that repeats itself most evenings). I ask the question opening question of "do you miss Tirana?". Tears immediately ensue followed by "yes" being said through blubbering sobs. With Sidney unable to really speak I ask yes or no questions starting out by asking if he misses his nanny. I always get a positive response but I quickly let him know that it is perfectly normal to miss people and things you have left behind and that there are things I also miss about our old home. I also counter his sadness by pointing out that here in Belgium, he attends school rather than staying home with his nanny. And Sidney loves school so the tears ease up a bit and he tells me that yes, he likes going to school and having lots of friends. Score one for Belgium while acknowledging his Albanian past! We go on and talk about the cool playgrounds and other children's amenities that are everywhere and slowly Sidney begins to shed his shell of unhappiness.

Then we talk about our house. I asked Sidney what he liked about the house in Tirana and he tells me that he liked his two rooms (one was a small bedroom and the other was a small play room). I counter by asking if he likes his one big room here and he now says he does. (At first he didn't because he said it was too big and too empty which it was before we had any furniture). And the furniture...shortly after moving into the house we bought Sidney his first bunk bed. But this isn't just any bunk bed; it is a bunk bed with stairs, or as Sidney says "an upstairs bed for Sidney and a downstairs bed for daddy with stairs." He loves his bed and admits that it is better than his two single beds he had in Tirana. By this point we move onto talking about the yard. Just the fact we have any grass is a big deal since in Tirana our yard consisted of a two foot patch of grass with fruit trees growing in it and lots of sharp edged tile. In Belgium, not only do we have a grassy yard but since it is completely walled in Sidney can come and go and play outside as he wishes. He can now freely play T ball or soccer in his own yard rather than in the hallway, or heaven forbid, the street. And I do think Sidney really does like this house. This past weekend while we were out and about Sidney asked to go home to his new house because he liked his new house. Score again!

By this point the tears have usually dried up, the sadness has dissipated, and Sidney has moved on to new thoughts. When it comes right down to it, it isn't Tirana itself that Sidney really misses but rather the way he was able to live there. He loved spending time with his nanny, a caring woman who waited on him hand and foot and never expected him to do anything from himself. (Remember the pasha incident?). He's told me as much himself. Life with just mom and dad is drastically different and I think that is what he is actually having the hardest time adjusting to. We have expectations of rules, responsibility, and growing independence that he just doesn't want to accept at all times. But we talk about this too. Sometimes those conversations go better than others but they are getting easier and less frequent so I count that as progress.

Once again, I'm realizing that talking about it is so much better than keeping it all inside. That is my most recent parenting discovery, it is my new mantra and we're going to keep talking all about it.

Getting Our Groove On

They say it takes time to settle into a new routine and getting there isn't always easy. In fact, sometimes it is just plain hard. But, I dare say, (knock on wood) that I do believe we have found our new Belgian routine. After a minor hiccup last week where Sidney's school was closed (and if there is one thing my little boy loves is his routine) we are now back in the saddle and getting our groove on. And that feels good.

So what does our routine look like? Much like that of any busy family regardless of what country or continent they are living on. Work, school, and running a household now fill every waking moment of our lives. In many respects it is the type of routine I had always envisioned myself in, albeit just not playing the role that is designated as mine. Oh well, if there is one thing I've learned it is that I must roll with the punches. Mornings are a flurry of well honed and perfectly timed (most days) activities. Showers, getting dressed, and coffee are all orchestrated like a well honed dance. Whereas I once was donning suits and heels and perfecting my makeup, yoga pants and (gulp) fleece, the ubiquitous uniform of car pooling moms everywhere, have become my go to morning wear. While not fashionable, this type of outfit does considerably streamline my morning routine. Once the caffeine is flowing through my system it is time to wake Sidney which ironically enough, on school days is a relatively painless process. Next comes breakfast then herding everyone out the door making sure we have snacks, bags, and the other sundry necessities to get through the day. More often than not, our complete morning routine involves swinging back around the block to retrieve a forgotten item.

Fortunately we are a short, ten minute or so commute away from both Glenn's office and Sidney's school. After dropping Glenn off I join the other yoga/fleece clad masses in maneuvering the one way street that is the school zone. This is never easy and due to limited parking, wandering pets, children, and too many vehicles, takes longer than our actual commute. But once Sidney is safely ensconced in his classroom, the day is all mine---at least for the next six hours until I get to come back and do the school zone dance all over again.

So what do I do with myself and all of my "free time"? To be honest, I'm not really sure. But some how the time bookended between 0845 and 1515 flies by giving my day its own sort of structure. (Except for Wednesdays when school ends at the early hour of 1200 thus creating a different, "short day" routine). Because once the after school hour hits full fledge parenting mode sets in again. Afternoon snacks, playing games, and trying to channel the endless energy that only a four year old can have is now the focus of my afternoons. Throw in making dinner, cleaning up, then bedtime (which fortunately falls into Glenn's usual domain), and our day ends with all of us falling into bed exhausted. And with that our day is complete.....until we get to do it all over again. They say time flies when you are having fun--or at least when you are busy. Yes we are busy but more importantly for a family that loves a schedule, we now seem to have found ours.

Making A House A Home

A house is just a house but how do you turn it into a home? You would think that since I've already done this too many times I would know how by now. But in reality, it seems as though the more we move, the more complicated it all seems to be. Selecting the right Belgian house for us was both exciting and overwhelming; after all, our last two houses has been chosen for us leaving us to make do with what we were given. I didn't love either house but knew our time in each of them was limited and as such, never put in that extra effort that is needed to turn a house into a home. They were functional and not much else. This time is different. While we know we will only be here for three years, this time around we got to choose our house and I am determined to make this one a real home. So where do I begin?

A new house is like a blank slate--you can do anything or nothing with it. It sounds exciting until you are faced with the reality. As anyone who has moved knows, when you move into a new house you must start over with restocking your kitchen and pantry. Kitchen basics like oil, milk, and flour just aren't there. Neither are cleaning supplies, brooms, and laundry detergents. I am literally starting over from scratch. We first moved into our new house last week with just our suitcases and some inadequate loaner furniture. That was it. The tall ceilings and tiled and wooden floors that had seemed charming when we first looked at the house were cold and echo producing in the stark and cold darkness of our first night. Having sat empty for several weeks, it took a long time for the rooms to warm up once we turned on the heat. Without an active Internet connection or even a radio the only noises we heard were the sounds on the streets and the unfamiliar house noises that come with every building, making me call into question what was normal and what wasn't. At that point, the house was anything but homey leaving me to wonder whether we had made the right decision. (At least when someone else assigns you a house you don't have these moments of self doubt). The house seemed cold, unwelcoming, and honestly, a mistake.

Although this is our second European tour, we had been provided with everything we needed at our previous post--furniture, linens, rugs, even a microwave, vacuum cleaner, and coffee maker. It meant that upon moving into the house we were immediately set up and good to go. Not this time around. We essentially had nothing. I even forgot to pack bedding so we spent the first night sleeping on new sheets and a borrowed duvet. Again, starting at square one can be exciting but it is also exhausting as we have spent our all of our weekends to date traipsing from one store to another, one country to another (because we are in centrally located Belgium, trips to Germany and France are easy day trips), setting up house. Shopping quickly looses its appeal when finding the right item becomes a necessity. Since we first moved overseas when Sidney was still sleeping in a crib, we never invested in bedroom furniture for him; now we find ourselves having to buy that as well. Without a single closet space in the house, we are becoming frequent shoppers at Ikea as we buy every type of storage apparatus imaginable. As an American I didn't realize how much stuff I hid behind closed doors until I didn't have any.

We are still waiting for the arrival of our living room and bedroom furniture from a long term storage facility back in the United States, but yesterday all of our personal goods arrived from Tirana. We're slowly unpacking each box and finding homes for all of our worldly goods, which I'm already realizing is going to necessitate more trips to Ikea for additional storage bins. (We have half of the square footage here than we did in our last house so fitting everything in is going to be tight with many items being stored in the surprisingly ample attic). In the meantime piles of books, baking sheets, and wardrobe boxes are lining the walls of every room.

But even in the midst of all of this clutter, this house is already beginning to feel like a home. Our cherished rugs, purchased during our travels, are muting the echoes of the house while making it feel like our home. In fact, upon returning home from school yesterday, Sidney's first exclamation was "our Albanian rug". The kitchen and pantry may be small but with my pots on the shelves and spices lining the kitchen counter the room is slowing beginning to feel like my kitchen. Eating dinner last night off of our dishes with our own silverware made even the simplest pasta dish taste so much better. (Paper plates and plastic ware do not a dinner make!). We don't have pictures hung on the walls yet but I'm visualizing where our artwork and many photographs will go once we find a drill. With the arrival of Sidney's toys his room already looks like the cluttered playroom in our old house.

It will be slow going for sure but give me a few weeks and this house will soon be our home. I am sure of that.

Dorothy, We're Not In Kansas Any More

Or in our case the Mediterranean, specifically Albania-the land where anything and everything goes. We are in Belgium, attached to an international military command where rules and regulations are enforced. In many respects returning to a military community is like coming home for us but it isn't until you find yourself back in such an environment that you realize just how loosey-goosey things were where you came from. (And this isn't bad, I rather like it. But because it is different, it is simply an adjustment).

And the differences between the way things were and the way things currently are, are everywhere--at least to us. To begin with, lets talk weather. The Mediterranean climate which we had grown accustomed to was hot, sunny, and dusty in the summer and temperate, damp, and muddy in the winter. Here in Belgium the weather is essentially the same all year around- cool, cloudy, and rainy. But all of the rain serves a purpose. Even in February, Belgium appears green and lush. Acre upon acre of rolling green fields give way to even more greenery. No brown or arid fields here; everything looks fresh and healthy. And speaking of fields, this region of Belgium is flat without the steep mountains that cover much of Albania. When we are out driving around Sidney has been looking out the window and asking where all the mountains are. My response has been south of us........

But the biggest differences between our old world and new one are cultural.  First there are the families and children. Children are everywhere but rather than being treated like little kings and queens, they are expected to be seen and not heard. In some respects this attitude has been stressful for me; Sidney's occasional public temper tantrums which were met with sympathetic smiles and nods of understanding in Albania are greeted with sneers of disdain here. I have yet to see a child in public throwing a fit and even Sidney has noticed and commented on this. As he says, the babies (what he calls any child) are quiet. I'm using his observations as a lesson on how he should behalf and I dare say he is catching on. On more than one occasion when he would have otherwise protested loudly, he has quickly commented that he wants to be quiet like the other children. This is definitely not a bad thing.

And the differences go on. Smoking bans are actually enforced meaning restaurants, shops, and other public spaces are free of the plumes of smoke that I have sadly grown accustomed to breathing. Because of this, going out is actually a pleasant experience. Restaurant menus are varied rather than the same handful of items we are accustomed to seeing. That said, Sidney's standbys of pasta or pizza aren't always readily available. Sometimes this is a challenge but it is forcing a set in his ways little boy to expand his horizons. Whereas days in the Med started late and ended even later, here the schedules start and stop earlier than we have grown accustomed to. Finding a sit down restaurant that actually served food before seven in the evening was a challenge in Albania. In our little corner of Belgium, meal time begins earlier. But we're actually finding this to be a good thing. Eating dinner earlier may mean less down time between work and dinner but it translates into earlier bedtimes and yes, more sleep; sleep which is desperately needed by our entire family. Whereas in Albania we were just getting going by the time nine o'clock rolled around, since we've arrived in Belgium, we have all been fast asleep by this early witching hour. And these differences are just the tip of the iceberg.

But I believe that change and differences are good. It may not always be comfortable but in the end we are better because of them. And if there is one thing I've learned in the course of all my travels it is that what makes each country or region unique is what makes that place special. Just imagine how boring the world be if things were the same regardless of where we were on the globe. So we may not be in our Kansas anymore anymore but that doesn't make it better or worse than where we are now. It is just different and like I said, different is a good thing.

Transiting Through Change

Explaining why the Cozy Coupe was covered
in bubble wrap was just the beginning.  

As I predicted, this has been a rough week for us.  With our long procession of farewells behind us, we have now left Albania and are in the midst of transitioning into our new life.  With a little over a week before Glenn needs to check in with his new command, we are taking time to travel a bit, relax a lot and most importantly, spend time together as a family.  We've ridden on airplanes and stayed in two different hotels leading Sidney to believe that we are in the middle of another family vacation.  But this isn't vacation, this is our new life and helping my little four year old understand this is proving to be harder than I imagined.

We've been talking to Sidney about the big move for some time with mixed results.  At first he was resistant, proclaiming that he didn't want to move and didn't want to go to school; at one point he even suggested that daddy move for his job and the two of us remain in Albania.  (Sorry son, but that just wasn't going to happen).  Gradually Sidney seemed to move towards acceptance and even showed a bit of excitement at the prospect of a new house, a new car, and new friends.  But I knew we weren't out of the woods just yet.

We tried to keep the house as normal as possible in the weeks leading up to the move by not removing pictures from the walls or stacking boxes in plain sight.  But when the movers arrived with their piles of boxes, bubble wrap, and packing tape, the reality began to sink it.  Simultaneously curious and angry, Sidney followed them from room to room, watching what they were doing and shyly asking a lot of "why" questions.  Being Albanians, they were wonderfully patient and answered each of his questions.  However, their answers didn't please Sidney any more than mine did.  And when it came time to actually pack up Sidney's playroom, it was just too much for my little boy to bear.  There were so many tears and fits of anger, denial that we were moving, and unwillingness to be a part of the process. Ever so patiently Glenn and I would try to redirect him, showing him how much fun the boxes could be to play with, explaining that opening them in our new home would be like opening presents (as someone who has unpacked too many times in my life, I can only dream that this will really be the case), and talking about all of the fun the three of us would have together.   We even talked about the number of plane rides we would take and how we would be able to ride trains all of the time when we reach our new destination.  These distractions would momentarily work but all too soon the tears would return.  For every two steps forward, there was one backwards.  Just when I thought he was OK with his items being packed up, a favorite bag of toy airplanes which were meant to be hand carried, got boxed up.  Fortunately the movers were quick to open the box and rescue them but the whole experience seemed to add to Sidney's anxiety.

A make-shift bed because if "Sidney is in
the suitcase mamma can't pack it."

And then there was the nanny factor.  Having watched Sidney since he was an infant, the nanny has an extremely strong attachment to our son.  That said, she has known from the  moment we arrived that we would be leaving but somehow this knowledge didn't make our impending departure any easier.  She had been crying on and off for the past month yet the tears seemed to become a daily occurrence this past week.  Tuesday morning it all came to a head with her continuously crying in Sidney's presence.  This only added to his distress and my own as well since I was trying to also deal with the movers while consoling my son all while operating on a few hours of sleep.  As a last resort Glenn and I brought her home early and let her know that we wouldn't be needing her services on Wednesday as we had originally planned.  This only added to her flood of tears but we simply couldn't take it any longer.  What we needed to do was focus on taking care of Sidney and helping him to understand what was going on and her tears were only making the situation worse.

He almost seemed relieved once we had dropped the nanny off at her home and we actually had an enjoyable Tuesday afternoon in our empty house.  Sidney explored newly emptied spaces, asked a few questions, and even talked excitedly about the plane ride he was going to take.  I naively thought we were out of the woods.  But Wednesday morning arrived with stories of mummies invading if we left the house, a new found fear of heights (i.e. not being able to ride in airplanes), and an unwillingness to leave the house.  Sidney persistently pulled the overfilled suitcases from the garage back into the house informing me that we couldn't move if we didn't have our suitcases so he was bringing them back inside.  When our driver arrived with the car Sidney all but lost it.  There were more painful tears and denials but eventually, after more coaxing and cajoling, we were able to get Sidney into the vehicle (sans suitcases--which were transported by the second driver after we left) with the promise of lunch.  All was well until after lunch when Sidney wanted to return home.  This time we distracted him with a promise of watching a movie in the hotel room.  It worked temporarily...... until the meltdown at the airport........

And so the pattern has been continuing.  Is there an end in sight?  Yes. Do I know when it is?  Absolutely not, although I hope it is sooner rather than later. It is so hard to watch my baby when he is sad and confused about what is happening around him.  I am assuring him that everything will be fine and talking about the great new adventures that await us.  He's taken to given me a look that makes him look wise behind his years when I tell him these things.  But everything will be fine and what doesn't destroy us will only make us stronger.  Sidney will be able to add a whole new set of memories to his Albanian ones and will hopefully soon forget about his anxiety surrounding this move.  That is until we get to do it all over again in three years.  Other parents have told me that moving is much easier when kids are younger so I can only imagine what I have to look forward to.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: One Of My Favorite Albanian Scenes

As I wind down to my final few weeks in Albania, I've been revisiting some of my favorite pictures from our time here.

And finally:

Our view for the past 31 months; to me, this is Albania:

(Unaccompanied) Baggage

The movers arrived for the first time yesterday to pack up our unaccompanied baggage shipment.  In military circles this smaller shipment of the items you will live off of until all of your household items arrives is often called an express shipment. Express as in it arrives quickly or at a minimum quicker than   the crates of your furniture, electronics, and other worldly items.  I stopped calling it an express shipment after our move to Albania when the said "express" shipment arrived one full day prior to the rest of our household goods.  So much for express!  Now I am calling it by its other name, "unaccompanied baggage" or UAB.  UAB is perhaps the most important shipment a military family will have when moving since these are the items, all 1,000 pounds of them, that with the exception of the luggage will bring onto the plane with us, we are expected to live off of for the foreseeable future. In our case we are planning on the foreseeable future being three or so months in a hotel room so careful packing is essential.

So what does one pack for three people for three months when everything that goes into those boxes must be stored in our small hotel room?  What can we live without for so many months?  These are questions I pondered for some time.  Although Belgium's weather experiences none of the extreme highs and lows that we have here in Albania, we will be transitioning from winter into spring and perhaps even a bit of summer before we see our household goods again.  With that in mind, rain gear is a given in.  But add in the myriad of Glenn's required uniforms plus off duty clothing and clothes for Sidney and myself and our tiny allotted closet space is sure to be filled to capacity.  Each and every item was selected with care keeping dual purposes in mind.  (I also have no idea what our laundry situation will be but I suspect it will mean my spending many hours in a laundry mat).

Anyone whose read this blog knows I like food so the prospective cooking situation concerns me.  I've been assured that our room has a kitchenette but I am unclear as to what this actually means.  I have heard a refrigerator and dishwasher are a part of the deal but other details are vague.  I'm assuming there is a stove of some sort and hopefully there is an oven as well.  I haven't been able to get any clarity so I don't know what I'll be dealing with.  My crock pot and set of knives were the first item to get packed into the UAB but multi-purpose pots and pans were selected with great care.  I have no idea if I packed the right items but it is too late to change my mind now.

So now I sit and wait.  I've been told that our boxes will arrive in Belgium in about ten days but I've heard that line before.  I'm hopeful that this time it will arrive on time.  If they do, I may go back to calling this shipment express.

Going Out With A Bang

Today is New Year's Eve; the very last day and hours of the year 2013. As I sit here typing I am wondering exactly where the year went since it feels like I was just writing the same thing about 2012.  Time sure flies...............but back to the day at hand.

 

Whereas Christmas is a relatively new celebration in Albania, New Year celebrations are a very big deal here.  Family gatherings, food, and fireworks are the hallmark of an Albanian New Year's celebration and if the recent doings are any indication, this year's festivities are going to be more "spectacular" than last.  Similar to the last two weeks of August when Albanians abroad return to their motherland en mass, Albanians have been once again returning in large numbers.  You can see it on the streets, in the stores, and in the restaurants and cafes.  In many respects Albania and Albanians have a lot to celebrate this year so this year's celebration feels like it will be bigger than ever.

 

Flying back from Rome on Sunday our plane was full.  So full in fact, that passengers were having to hold their carry on luggage on their laps or stow suitcases under their feet---not under their seats but under their feet.  (Don't even get me started on the safety aspect of all of this Alitalia).  The airport itself was crowded in a way I have never seen before.  Everyone jokes that in Albania if someone is arriving on an airplane the entire extended family goes to greet them and this appeared to be the case.  Talk about a mob scene; there were men, women, and children everywhere.  The crowds extended to the grocery stores yesterday where the scene in the local Carrefour was reminiscent of American stores on Black Friday.  The produce section of the store was such chaos that at times, I feared for my own safety.  Hoards of people were jostling and pushing their way through the aisles in such a manner that I cut my shopping excursion short and went home.  While there were items I needed, I just didn't have the stamina to jump into the fray.  (On a semi-related note, I found it ironic that two women in Northern Virginia are now wanted for assaulting a fellow shopper after an altercation ensured over cutting in line at a shopping mall.  In Albania, every shopping excursion is a contact activity with pushing, shoving, and jostling to the head of the "line" being the norm). 

 

And then we have the fireworks......Fireworks, like so many other things in Albania, are not regulated meaning anyone and everyone has easy access to these potentially dangerous explosives.  Fireworks are the customary conclusion to summer wedding celebrations then they make a reappearance at New Year's.  This year, more so than in previous ones, we have noticed their reappearance in the weeks leading up to the end of the year.  Back in mid November, the neighborhood youth, (or the bored and disenfranchised young men a.k.a. thugs), began shooting off firecrackers up and down our street.  A few were small pops but increasingly they have been loud and smoky explosions. On more than one occasion exploding firecrackers have been tossed against and over our wall, filling our yard with plumes of sulfuric smoke.  These explosions have become such a common occurrence that I almost don't notice them.  Almost that is, since their deafening noise when they hit too close to our house is enough to wake Sidney from his sleep and prevent his parents from falling asleep.  

 

So this brings us to today and tonight.  The young men are already at it and shooting off firecrackers.  They even threw a few in my directions as I walked home today. This time they have some young (8-10 year old) children tagging along behind them whom they send in to investigate the firecrackers when they doesn't explode.  I've gotten to the point where I'm afraid to look outside lest I see a child or adult get hurt by an explosion.  (I'm not sure what is more irritating, kids throwing firecrackers or grown men doing it).  As day turns to night I'm sure it is going to be an ever increasing chaotic scene on our street.  Last year a bonfire made of trash and debris was lit in the middle of the street and as I saw the makings of one when I returned home earlier, that is something else we can look forward to this evening.  If last year is any indication, as midnight approaches we are likely to see just as many red chaser rounds as actual fireworks.  Yes, the shooting of guns into the air is often a substitute for launching fireworks.  This is one of the many reasons we are advised to lay low and avoid crowds. 

 

As has become our tradition here in Albania, my family will do just that.  We'll hang out drinking bubbly and snacking on nibblies before bundling up and watching the loud and colorful spectacle unfold from the safety of our covered third floor balcony.  Once again we'll watch the grandmother living across the street climb to her rooftop to shoot off her family's fireworks and we'll hope that the residents of the house to our left shoot theirs away from us instead of in our direction.  (Being a two story house, their roof puts our third floor directly in the line of fire for whatever they are throwing).  Shortly after midnight the spectacle will (hopefully) end and the smoke will mostly clear by morning.  And when we awake tomorrow it will be 2014; a new year with new opportunities and challenges.  Bring it on.

 

And just so you can see what I am talking about, below are a few pictures (as viewed from our balcony) from the celebrations of previous years:

Getting Into The Holiday Spirit

Yesterday we decorated our house for Christmas.  This has been a holiday tradition for Glenn and me since our first Christmas together.  In Norfolk, our house would be decorated inside and out with fresh pine boughs, white lights, and special ornaments.  The steep eaves of our house were always draped in white icicle lights lending a festive atmosphere to our entire neighborhood.  We have decorated in the cold, the rain, and even under the cover of night.  There was even the year when Glenn was unexpectedly at sea and the men of our neighborhood all pitched in to make sure the house was decked to our usual standards.  Because we were always visiting family on the holiday itself, the pinnacle of the season for us was our annual holiday open house where friends, neighbors, co-workers, and even family passing through the area would descend for food, music and festivities.  Our party was the single event I looked forward to each year and it was always a good time.  Regardless of where we were on Christmas day, decorating our house has always made it so easy to get into the holiday spirit.

We've carried our holiday traditions with us to Albania but have made the expected modifications.  Our tree is no longer a live pine; rather we have a soaring, perfectly shaped pre-lit tree that I must admit is pretty darn nice.  (As someone who grew up in a family that always cut their own fresh tree, switching to fake was a bit hard).  We've learned that not having to string those pesky lights is actually quite nice! Our eaves are no longer covered in white lights but both of the balconies that run along the front of our house are.  After three years our Albanian neighbors don't stare quite as much at the bright spectacle; the first year they didn't really know what to make of them, last year several neighbors attempted to emulate our efforts with a handful of their own colored light strings, and this year we've received thank yous from the same neighbors who actually get to enjoy the view more than we do.  And since we live in a house with limited electrical outlets, we've finally gotten the hang of which sets of lights we can plug into which outlets without tripping our circuit breakers.  Despite our best efforts, however,  for me, it has never felt quite like Christmas here in Albania.

While we've decorated the house for our past two Albanian Christmases, we've never actually been here on the holiday itself.  Our first year we road tripped to Croatia and Slovenia and last year we sought out snow and Christmas markets in Bavaria.  But this year, we'll be staying put for the big day then heading out of the country after the holiday.  And because we will actually be here, we're making more of an effort to make the house festive.  In years past we've set up our Christmas tree in our representational space, leaving our private living space barren of most Christmas adornment.  With the exception of our party and delayed gift opening in front of the tree, we haven't spent any time in our decked out rooms.  This year is different.  Sidney is older and getting into the holiday spirit so this year we've brought the decorations upstairs.  Sidney helped Glenn hang the lights and together we all decorated the tree.  Despite the cool temperatures we don't have snow at our house but we can see it on the mountains outside of the city.  Sitting in our living room lit with holiday lights it feels like it is Christmas and I love it.  Today's agenda includes more decorating and I'm getting a start on the copious amount of cookies I bake each year.  Yes indeed, the Christmas season is upon us and I'm beginning to feel it.

Happy holidays!

Putting The "T" Back In Team

Team:  A group of people who compete in a sport, game, etc. against another group; a group of people who work together.

 

Team work:  Work done by several associates with each doing a part but all subordinating personal prominence to the efficiency of the whole.

 

Whether it is in a professional or personal setting being and working as a part of a team makes everything function that much smoother.  But somehow, it often feels like everyone is on a different page, not coordinating their efforts and generally going it alone.  It doesn't matter whether you work for the most bureaucratic organization (say a government entity....) or the most free spirited not-for-profit, unless you are a one (wo)man operation, you are a part of a team.  Even then, no one is an island.  And as such, we should all be working towards a common goal and recognize a success as one belonging to the team and a failure as being the group's as well.  Hanging individuals out to dry or claiming ownership of a project that was really a collaborative effort is not what being a part of a team is all about.  Does a football player win a game all by himself or does he rely on the other ten players on the field with him to bring the team to victory?  All too often I hear people use I statements to describe their work.  Politicians are famous for this yet how many people stop to question how a senator or representative single handedly passed a law, wrote a budget, or generally made the world a better place.  Really people?  You did this all by yourself?  Maybe I am missing something but the last time I checked the House of Representatives was comprised of more than one person with a majority of votes being required to pass anything.  How about becoming a team player and using we statements instead?  Its called collaboration or playing nice in the sandbox, skills we were all supposed to learn back in elementary school.

And being a team player is important on the home front as well.  This is especially important when it comes to parenting.  From the earliest age children learn the divide and conquer method of trying to persuade their parents to allow them to do something they probably shouldn't.  Whether it be dessert without finishing dinner, staying up later than his appointed bedtime, or getting a privilege that is normally off limits, our son is a master of going back and forth between the two of us trying to get one of us to agree with him.  Through trial and error and a fair amount of tears we've learned that only through being a united team will we prevail.  

And it really isn't that hard. All it takes is a shared goal, a cohesive plan of action, and an understanding that we are all in it together (whatever that together may be) and we can all be a part of a winning team.  So let's hear it for team work. WE can do it!

 

Family Ties

Two weeks ago Sidney and I went to the airport to pick up his Mimi and Grandpa (my parents).  To say he was excited puts it mildly.  As we walked across the parking lot and into the terminal Sidney told me that while talking to them on the computer (via Skype) is nice you can't hug the computer and all he wanted to do was hug Mimi and Grandpa for real.  And that is exactly what he did the moment they appeared through the security door.  After two years my little boy was finally able to hug his grandparents and he was beyond ecstatic.  (And judging by the picture on the left I'd say the feelings were mutual).  As they settled in Sidney quickly began calling them his "friends" and was their constant shadow wanting to show them his toys, books, and everything about his Albanian life. If one of them left the room Sidney sought them out but then again his grandfather did the same thing when Sidney disappeared for even the shortest amount of time.  It was heartwarming and at the same time caused me to question our own lifestyle choices.  Is it fair, that by choosing to live overseas, we're separating Sidney from his blood family and both sets of grandparents from their only grandchild?

 

We've tried hard to create a strong and supportive circle around Sidney.  I do think that it being "just the three of us" (his words) living so far away from family and friends we are a stronger family unit than we would have been if we were living back in the States.  Here in Albania we don't have cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents for immediate emotional or physical support so by default, we've cobbled together our own makeshift support network.  (But then again, Glenn and I have such small nuclear families and Sidney doesn't have any first cousins at all so maybe it wouldn't be so different if we were stateside.....).  Sidney's nanny and her husband are his "Albanian grandparents" and we do Skype with both sets of his real grandparents whenever possible.  These conversations are interactive but I know they aren't a substitute for the real thing.  While I know Sidney is having experiences that our living in the U.S. would never allow him to have, I still wonder whether our living overseas is robbing our son of an important part of his developmental process and of his childhood.

 

There is a phrase in the ex-pat community that describes children who are raised outside of their home country.  There is an ever growing body of literature and research that talks about these "third culture kids" or "global nomads".  Studies show that these children, raised in cultures outside of their own, have stronger family relationships, are more resilient, and have a better knack for learning foreign languages than children raised in a single culture.  Using my own little boy as an example, I completely agree with all of these findings.  The child is quick to invite a new child to play on the playground, is fluent in Albanian, and can recite the most minute details of flying internationally as if it is second nature to him.  However, this doesn't mean life is easier for these TCK children.  Constant changes, whether it be new houses, new schools, or new friends, are never easy.  It is never fun being the new kid and being the new kid every few years can take its toll.  Anxiety, a sense of not having roots, or a lack of identity are all traits that can plague a TCK.  Then, as demonstrated by my original concern, there is the lack of connection to one's own extended family.  Is knowing one's grandparents, aunts, and uncles exclusively through Internet communications enough for a growing child?  (I know that technology has made it so much easier to maintain family bonds than it was just a generation ago but there is no substitute for in-person interactions).   And what happens when these third culture kids try to assimilate back into their own communities of origin? 

 

These are all issues I worry about as we prepare to pack up again and move to a new foreign country where we will spend an additional three years.  With much resistance, we've begun the conversation about new houses, schools, and friends with Sidney and yet I know this won't be the last time we discuss this with him during his childhood.  It is a way of life that we have chosen and are now imposing on our son.  When we (finally?) return to the States, Sidney will be over seven years old, having spent all but the first year of his life living overseas, and know nothing of his country of origin.  He'll be an English, Albanian, and French speaking child who has never played on an American playground or run barefoot through a grass covered backyard, never experienced waking up Christmas morning surrounded by his grandparents, and never celebrated a birthday at Chuck-E-Cheese (well, maybe it won't be all bad after all...).  His grandparents will be that much older and will have missed out on experiencing so many of his childhood milestones that they might have been able to witness firsthand had we lived closer.  But Sidney will have travelled throughout most, if not all of the European countries, have international friends, and have made memories that he will be able to carry with him for the rest of his life. But upon returning to the U.S. Sidney will essentially be a foreigner in his own land and I can't decide if this is good, bad, or perhaps a little bit of both. 

 

In the meantime I'm going to cherish the memory of that airport greeting and hope it isn't another two years before we get to experience it again.

Stick 'Em Up

I know some people will disagree with me on this issue, but I am a huge proponent of vaccines.  I've always received my vaccines, because Glenn is active duty he always receives his (I wish all employers could make their employees receive them), and Sidney has received his on schedule.  Granted, it is never pleasant to get stuck by a needle and holding a squirming child who is being pricked is far from my favorite experience, but in my opinion, the brief amount of pain far outweighs the alternative risks.  It amazes me that, thanks to today's modern medicine, many childhood (and adult) diseases that killed or permanently disabled hundreds of thousands of people less than a century ago have all but been eliminated.  And this is due in large part to the evolving science that is making so many medical advancements possible.  I had my share of childhood sicknesses and diseases but thanks to current vaccinations, my own son won't have to endure the severe outbreak of chicken pox or other bump inducing rashes that I suffered as a child.  But as the measles outbreak in Texas and the recent resurgence of polio in Syria attests to, just because outbreaks have dramatically decreased, it is still vitally important to get all of your vaccinations.  As these outbreaks demonstrate, in today's rapidly moving and transitory world, not getting vaccinated puts the entire globe at risk.

 

And speaking of vaccines, with flu season upon us, it is important to get your flu shot.  So why get vaccinated, you ask?  Here's a few facts courtesy of our awesome Embassy health unit:

 

• The flu, or influenza, is a contagious viral infection that affects the upper respiratory system and can last for up to two weeks in healthy adults.
• The flu is easily spread with most healthy adults able to infect others beginning 1 day before symptoms develop and up to 5 to 7 days after becoming sick.

The financial impact of the flu is bigger than I ever imagined:

• A CDC study found that parents of kids who got the flu lost between 7 and 19 hours of work during the illness and if the sick child was hospitalized, the number jumped to over 70 hours.
• 200,000 people are hospitalized from flu-related complications each year.
• $87.1 billion is lost from the U.S. economy annually because of the flu and its repercussions.
• $16.3 billion is the annual toll on businesses due to the flu.
• 70 million workdays were missed by Americans in 2011 because of the flu.

 

I've heard many people say they won't bother getting the vaccine for a variety of reasons.  And contrary to some statements, deadly epidemics like the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918, are not a problem of the past. There are probably very few adults alive today who don't remember the recent avian and swine flu outbreaks.  As someone who was pregnant during the swine flu epidemic, I made sure I received vaccines for both the regular and swine flu.  My child and myself remained flu free that year.  Was it because of the vaccine?  Maybe or maybe not.  What I do know is that neither of us got sick and that is what really matters.  So why take the risk by not getting vaccinated?  You owe it to yourself, your family, and your community. 

 

Sidney and I are getting our shots this afternoon and Glenn will get his later this week. When will you get yours?