Rising To The Occasion

It is often said that children will rise to the highest denominator yet sink to the lowest one. I've seen this myself with my own son; when he was the youngest child on his soccer team he played with all his heart and out shone the older children yet when he himself was the oldest, his efforts were sub par at best. On the playground playing with older children the bloodiest skinned knee doesn't even illicit a whimper yet the smallest bruise while playing with younger children has him crying to no end. This pattern has been on going for some time and I dare say, as we wrap up our first week of school, it is continuing.

Because of the small student body size (52 students spread across eight grades), as a first grader Sidney shares a class with the second grade. This results in an intimate class size that is still smaller than most single grade classes. This also means that he is interacting with older children on a regular basis. And as his history has shown, this is where he really shines. Actually his is glowing.

It seems as though my little boy has grown up over night. He is so proud of being a first grader that this identity has become his introductory mantra to everyone he meets. Whether it is in the grocery store, on the playground or on the street talking to a neighbor, Sidney is quick to tell everyone that he is now a "first grader at the Canadian school". In the morning he tells me that it is important to wear clean clothes to school because no one wants to sit next to someone who is dirty. On our walk to school I am informed that if you see trash on the street or the playground you need to pick it up and place it in the trash can because helping to keep the environment clean is the right thing to do. Sidney has adopted his teacher's favorite adjective "spectacular" as his own and uses the word to describe each activity. French class is spectacular as are math and music classes. Going to the playground is still his favorite school activity but it is now called recess. Each student has been given a sketch book to keep track of their art and they have drawn three pictures of themselves which are called "selfies". All of the classes meet together in the "maple leaf room" to discuss all school activities. Each of these activities is reported to me in thorough detail at the end of each school day. They are then repeated over dinner with the occasional additional detail being added in. All of this comes from the same child who upon being picked up from camp only reported that his day was good and he didn't remember what they did. I'm certainly not complaining but where has this instantaneous maturity come from? It is like he has become a whole new child overnight. I'll take it.

But then there is the bus. We had signed Sidney up to take the bus on the off chance that I didn't need to be on base in either the morning or afternoon. After the first day of school Sidney told me that he might want to ride the bus and after the second day he told me that he really wanted to ride the bus because according to him "first graders don't need their mothers to bring them to school". Really? We've talked about it and decided that starting next week he can take the bus home on the days when he doesn't have after school activities. In the mean time Sidney no longer holds my hand when we are walking up the street to the school and I am no longer allowed to cross the street with him to reach the school. Instead he gives me a wave and I watch while he crosses the road with the assistance of the crossing guard. Yes, my baby is growing up.

Phases & Stages

There's been a lot of press in the past week discussing the Maine diner owner who yelled at a misbehaving toddler in her restaurant. Various versions of the story have been all over social media with both the restauranteur and the toddler's mother self rightously defending their actions. There have been conversations of who is right and who is wrong, how children shouldn't be brought to restaurants and how they have just as much right to be there as anyone else. There are those who say that the customer is always right and others who say parents need to control their children and teach them to not disturb others. There are always at least two sides to any story so the reality probably lies some where in between what we are all hearing. On this one though, I'm siding with the diner owner since the mother's self righteous excuse for not removing her crying toddler from the situation--the child was hungry, they had waited too long for the food, the busy diner was already noisy so her child's noise didn't contribute to the din, it was raining outside--just strikes me as whiny and annoying. And I say this as a parent who on more than one occasion has left my food uneaten in order to remove my screaming child from a situation.  But this whole issue makes me think of larger issue--that of the various stages and phases we all go through in our lives and how these changes require us to change and adapt our own behaviors as our circumstances change.

I know that I love the idea of enjoying a long leisurely meal that someone else has cooked for me. And prior to having a child Sunday brunches and over priced dinners at hip restaurants were a regular part of my lifestyle. But now, I recognize that such events simply aren't practical. Do I miss them? Absolutely but they just aren't in the cards right now. The same thing goes for impromptu invitations, sleeping in on weekends and forgoing making dinner because I'm not hungry. When you have children, everything changes and as adults, we simply can't put out wants and desires ahead of those of our children. At least that is how I feel but I know others will disagree with me.

But as this now infamous Maine incident demonstrates, not all parents change their habits when children enter the picture. Rather than growing up and accepting that their circumstances have changed, they continue to live as they always have. They may continue to eat  where they want and go where they please without giving a thought to others. The phrase "child appropriate" never crosses their minds because in their mind, everything is child appropriate. Or even worse, they assume the attitude that their children can do no wrong and that others must simply deal with their (good or bad) behavior. Its enough, well, to make even the most patient person loose their cool.

Would I love to visit art museums when we are in foreign cities? Yes, but I realize that Sidney would be happier visiting a park or a zoo so we limit the museum to a quick morning visit and dedicate the afternoon to an outdoor, kid friendly venue. The same goes for hotels and inns; on-site playgrounds let us know that the littlest of visitors are also welcome. Not having a babysitter means skipping an event or one of us going alone rather than taking Sidney with us to an event to which he wasn't invited. We eat in nice restaurants but go for lunch or when they first open with the hopes of beating the crowds. Sidney is now at the age when this doesn't matte as much but we are still conscious of wait times, whether the menu includes foods he will eat and whether or not it is an environment we can all be comfortable in. If the answer is no to any of these issues, we reconsider. And if at any time the behavior at our table begins to interfere with the enjoyment of others, we immediately remove ourselves from the situation. No one need to tell us to leave and we certainly don't allow actions to bother those around us.

Life moves in cycles and this is simply the stage we are in now. Our time for staying in quaint, antique filled inns, lounging in cafes over steaming lattes or late night visits to wine bars will come again. In the mean time we're discovering that zoos, parks and interactive museums have a lot to offer visitors of all ages. Restaurants that are welcoming to children can serve really good food without the stuffy pretenses found in more formal establishments. But most importantly, we need to enjoy the phase we are in because all too soon it will be gone.

O' Canada

As a parent I often find myself wondering whether or not I am making the right choices for my son. Some decisions--what's for dinner, whether or not to go to the playground or what to wear are minor ones. Some days (or moments) my decisions might not make him happy but the choices do not have lasting results. Others are a bit trickier--such as discouraging a budding friendship that doesn't seem healthy or encouraging him to try a new sport or activity (I'm looking at you swim lessons). The consequences are not necessarily life altering but do effect him longer than the wrong colored shirt does. But then there are the big ones. These are the choices that are life changing and do stay with you forever. And the big, life changing decision for our household in recent months has been that of school choice since in reality, the decision we make know will effect him for the rest of his life.

Sometimes having multiple options is harder than having none at all. After all, with limited choices you power ahead and make the best of it. Here in Belgium we are fortunate to find ourselves in the situation of having several options when it comes to enrolling Sidney in elementary school. As Americans, the obvious choice might be the American section of the international school on base. It is by far the largest school and the one that most people, regardless of their nationality (with a few exceptions of course), naturally gravitate too. There is also the Belgian option, which is actually two separate options really. We could enroll Sidney in our local commune school where his peers would be all Belgian children or the Belgian section of the international school on base which is a combination of local children whose parents work on base and more adventurous internationals. And then there are the other smaller international sections on base which are hosted by various NATO countries with the intent of educating their own students as well as a handful of students from other countries. (Of course there is also the home schooling option as well but for a variety of reasons, including both my and Sidney's sanity, that really isn't an option). So what is a parent to do?

Making educational decisions for your children is such a personal choice. What works for some doesn't necessarily work for others and vice versa. This isn't a good or bad thing; rather it is simply reality. But as a family we've never been people to blindly follow the crowd and opt for the easy choice, so over the past few months we've been doing a lot of school research. Because of this, the obvious choice wasn't so obvious for us. Blessed/cursed with a November birthday, enrolling Sidney at the American school would place him in kindergarten for the upcoming year. But, having spent the past year and a half at the Belgian kindergarten, he would essentially be repeating this past year's curriculum with the biggest difference being everything being done in English rather than French. Due to his pesky birth date, there is no negotiating his being bumped up to the first grade regardless of his abilities. So the repeated curriculum,  combined with large class sizes and my general unhappiness with the school when it comes to communication, had us exploring the alternatives. All of our other alternatives had him skipping kindergarten and moving right into first grade which raised another set of lasting issues. For us, the curriculum is more important than the grade number, but what would always being the youngest student in his class do to him? Sidney's aptitude for the French language had us exploring Belgian schools. My French ability, while increasing, is still limited making me uncomfortable about my own ability to speak the language with his teachers. But, as parents you put aside your own discomforts and do what is best for your child.

A first look at the Belgian options looked promising with a curriculum that would be both challenging and reinforce his budding French capabilities. Then I discovered the close to home bi-lingual option of the Canadian school on base. The program was bilingual and everyone I spoke with absolutely adored the school and the education their children were receiving. The school has small class sizes (a plus for an easily bored and distracted boy), a curriculum that emphasizes music, art and physical educational (subjects that have been downsized into virtual nonexistence in too many American schools) as well as the traditional subjects. Field trips and experiential learning are a regular part of the academic program. Plus the combination of English and French instruction would allow Sidney to continue learning French while honing his English language understanding. (Never having lived or gone to school in an English speaking community has wrecked havoc on his grammar). The more we learned about the school the more we wanted to be a part of it. So the minute the application process opened up we submitted our application then crossed our fingers and waited.

But because I am one who believes in contingency plans, I continued looking into our options. The waiting list for the British school immediately eliminated it as a possibility so I returned to investigating the Belgian options. With the assistance of Google translate, I toggled between the French and poorly translated English pages and liked what (I think) I saw. The Belgian school looked like a viable option should the Canadian school not work out. Sidney even visited the Belgian school with his kindergarten class and reported back that it "was fun, they had great snacks (waffles of course) and that one kid even spoke English". I was ever gearing myself up to attend a parent orientation. It felt great to have two viable options where we would be happy regardless of the outcome. And then our acceptance letter for the Canadian school arrived.

After we did our happy dance and breathed a sigh of relief, the reality began to sink in. While the rest of his five year-almost six year old peers are entering kindergarten our little boy will be starting first grade this fall. How did this happen? Academically he's up for the task but we are setting the stage for his always being the youngest child in his class. This isn't necessarily a bad thing but combined with his small size, I have to wonder whether he will be at a disadvantage in the years to come. Are we making a mistake? A small part of me wonders, but at the moment the advantages far outweigh any doubts we may have. So we are plowing forward. Communication from the school is flowing in and the planner in me loves the fact we already have both a supply list and the academic calendar for the coming year. As a new student Sidney has been paired with a second grade "school buddy" who will welcome him on the first day of school and show him the ropes. Over the next two years Sidney will truly master the French language and this will stay with him for the rest of his life. He'll make new friends and experience and see things that we never dreamed of when we were his age. And he will also be learning English which will make his inevitable transition back to the United States easier.

Are we making the right decision? We think so but only time will tell. I know it won't be all fun and roses and there will be inevitable bumps in the road. But what I can say with confidence is that I am excited about the opportunities that lie ahead for the next two years. They are opportunities I could only have dreamed about as a student. Sidney may not fully appreciate them at the moment but I hope that some day he does. In the meantime, come August he will be a first grade student at the Canadian school complete with swim lessons in gym class (bonus!), new bi-lingual friends and a moose for a school mascot.

Did I mention that I am excited?

Mean Girls

Mean girls. In the extreme form they are female bullies who resort to rumor spreading, nasty comments and deceit to exclude and manipulate others. But not everyone is a full fledge mean girl; there are the queen bees, the wannabees and the girls who fall somewhere in between. Collectively they can make one's life pretty miserable.
It sounds a lot like tween drama or the makings of a bad made for television movie but in reality they exist in real life and even more tragically, they exist at all ages. Mean girls span the generations and can be young girls, grown women and even senior citizens. Little mean girls are often the offspring of mean mammas and mean mammas are often raising their own little mean girls in the making. You would hope that mean girls are just a passing trend but they aren't. I met my first mean girl when I was in junior high, encountered even more though high school and college and sadly have continued to encounter them throughout my adult life. Sadly enough, mean girls seem to be timeless.

As an adult woman I've seem my peers acting as mean girls and was actually "mean girled" recently by another mother. Her barbed comments followed by her actions then subsequent snubbing of me initially left me speechless. But rather than be hurt---the way I was in earlier mean girl encounters--I was more irritated. I no longer feel a need to fit in or to be accepted by the masses. I also realize that while on the outside these girls may appear to have inflated egos and senses of self esteem, the opposite is more likely the case. All of the bluster and meanness is really a facade covering up one's insecurities. When one tries too hard to fit in and be accepted, more often than not, the opposite takes place. So after watching this mother's actions from afar I can honestly say that I don't have any desire to be a part of her crowd. I don't like what I see and I don't have time for those antics. I've been there and done that years ago. Now, we are grown women who should be acting as positive role models for our children instead of acting like children ourselves. Or perpetuating the cycle of bullying and being mean girls.

The Dating Game

Friends. How does one find them...especially as an adult? There is something to be said for children; they seem to befriend and be befriended where ever they go. Whether it is on the playground, in the neighborhood or at school, kids seem to naturally gravitate towards the other little people around them. Language, skin color and gender are all but irrelevant when it comes to making friends. These friendships come fast and furious; on more than one occasion Sidney has gone to a playground and left with an invitation to go home with another child or he himself has issued such an invitation to a virtual stranger. Many of these friendships peter out as quickly as they came on but others last much longer and become what I would consider true and lasting relationships.

So how do adults make friends? Instead of playgrounds we have offices and work spaces where we spend the day toiling alongside co-workers. We have the gym, volunteer activities and perhaps neighbors that provide us with opportunities to meet and interact with other adults. We may or may not have anything beyond work or a shared location in common with our adult peers and are apt to enter into relationships with other adults with a world weary skepticism. Sometimes we click and other times we don't; peers may become friends, remain acquaintances or be moved onto the do not call list. Add in the transient nature of military families, where everyone is always coming and going, and the whole process becomes speed dating since time is so limited.

But because life tends to come full circle, the playground still does come into play when it comes to adult friendships. Enter the parents of your children's friends. Anyone who is a parent knows what I'm talking about; the other adults who sit on the benches along the soccer field, hold the coats and bags while counting down the remaining minutes of play at the playground and stand in the hallways at school waiting for dismissal. Small talk usually ensues and sometimes full fledge conversations develop since these are the people you (at least I do) see day in and day out on a routine that is predictable as the week itself. Sometimes I find myself looking forward to and hoping a particular parent will be there while other times my thoughts drift in the opposite direction. And it all moves forward from there.

Life is like a dating game. There are the fellow parents you want to see and those you want to avoid. There are the ones who you only see in the hallway and those that you invite out for coffee after drop off is complete. You tentatively ask your child about a potential friend's child to see if a spark of friendship between the children exists. It is disappointing when it doesn't and I wonder how much prodding of that relationship I should do with the selfish hopes of making my own friend. If there is the potential, play dates between the kids come next while the parents chaperone and forge their own relationships. If all is successful, with fingers crossed, spouses are introduced into the mix, with the overarching hope that we all get along.  Sometimes the child is the one to introduce the play date and us parents (usually the mothers) do our own tentative feeling of each other out with our common bond being our children. I've found that this approach is just as apt to be met with success as it is with failure. The kids get along but the parents might as well be speaking different languages. 

But sometimes it all does work out and when it does it is a wonderful thing. I've met some of my closest friends because of my son's own friends. We've gotten together individually and as families and all enjoyed our time together. These parents become legitimate emergency contacts and even though we may not have known each other for years it feels as though we have. But because we are all military families we know our time is fleeting. If we are lucky we've clicked at the beginning of our tours rather than at the tail end. If not we take advantage of the remaining time we have. 

With each new friendship, however I am repeatedly reminded of how important friends really are. And because of that I vow to take a few cues from my son's approach to making friends--if I see someone I think I might like I need to go for it. Even if I am on the fence I should take the plunge anyway since you never know what lies beneath an appearance and the commonalities we might share. See, it really is like a dating game. If you don't take a chance you have everything to lose while if you do jump in you can emerge a winner.

Counting My Blessings

If you asked me to sum up this week I'd say that it has been blah. For the past few days I've felt as thought I've been walking around in a fog that no amount of caffeine can jolt me out of. After the hubbub of the holidays its been back to normal around here (whatever that is). It is the first week back to work and school after a long break and it has simply dragged. I've been struggling to find the motivation to do everything from go to the gym and grocery shop to put away the rest of Christmas and simply get organized. I've been in a writing funk and been unable to really sit down and put a complete thought to paper. There have been lots of partial ones but not much else. Of course the weather hasn't been helping. We've experienced a few blinding glimpses of sun but it has been mostly rainy, gray and windy in these parts. I affectionately call it "Belgian weather" but I'm over it now.

And then there has the been the news. After weeks of not really keeping up with current events I've been inundated with horrifying and heart wrenching news. Yet another plane crash with over one hundred still unaccounted passengers makes me realize that life can literally change in an instant. This week's terrorist attack in Paris that killed twelve people who were doing their jobs has simply made me sick to my stomach. Add in a shooting at a Veteran's clinic in Texas, lethal bone chilling temperatures over much of the East Coast of America and the seemingly endless suicide bombings in Afghanistan, Iraq and other Middle Eastern countries and it is all enough to make even the happiest person feel depressed. I mean, what is our world coming to when tragedy and violence are becoming the hallmark of how we live?

But all of this news does put my own complaints in perspective. The long week? The weekend is now upon us and as bad as the week has seemed I am grateful that my family and friends are all safe, healthy and well....alive. The packing and getting organized? It will all happen in good time--perhaps even this weekend. The weather? It may be unpleasant but its nothing a good raincoat and pair of boots can't handle. After all, this is Belgian weather and if I let it stop me from getting out I would never be able to leave the house. And the writer's block? Perhaps this little piece has helped me break through it. If nothing else, writing this has gotten me thinking and made me realize that in this increasingly scary world, I have a lot to be thankful for.

Dream A Little Dream

When is a dream just a dream and when is it more than that? Is it better to be realistic and perhaps a bit too cautious or should you dream big and just go for it. Do you dive directly into the deep end of the pool or wade in one toe at a time? Is it an all or nothing proposition?

I'm talking about life here and more specifically the future. In the choose your own adventure novel of life how do you know whether you are making the right decision or wandering down a path that is less certain? If you only live once what do you have to lose? Everything? Nothing? Something in between?

So on the cusp of a new year I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming big but am realizing that anything is possible. Its exciting; its scary; and its not completely out of the realm of possibility....which makes it all the scarier. But, I'm not going to stop dreaming. The question is, which end of the pool do I enter from?

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.

Dare To Dissent

All it takes is one person casting their vote in the opposite direction to upset the apple cart. That is what happens when someone dares to take a stand against the group think mentality that seems to encompass community after community. Is it culture that creates group think or is it simply what happens when large numbers of supposedly like minded people come together? But what happens when someone disagrees with everyone else? All too often it seems as though they become outcasts simply for daring to voice their opinion; the same option that others have done but with a different voice. And why is this so wrong?

Group think is a strange phenomenon but I've seen it happen again and again regardless of what community I find myself in. Whether it be an opinion on the local schools, hospitals or the best place to buy vegetables, if anyone dares to express an opinion that goes against the status quo a backlash ensues. This happens quite frequently on social media. First someone (innocently) poses a question. Responses are quick to flow in with one person after another singing the accolades or decrying the quality of the place or item in question. And interestingly enough the replies tend to follow a similar flow...until they don't. Someone expresses an opinion that is counter to those of everyone else. Perhaps they had a negative experience or simply didn't like something but why should their opinion be any less valued than everyone else's? It shouldn't be yet it seems to be. Conversation treads can suddenly take a turn away from the original question at hand and focus on the person who rocked the boat.

Sometimes I feel like I could be the person to rock that boat here. The doctor that everyone gushes about being the best and having a great bedside manner? Well, I was less than impressed. The same goes for the "helpful" customer service that people receive at the grocery store. While not bad per se, I think the people working there are simply doing their job rather than going above and beyond. The best communities and neighborhoods to live in? Well the one that everyone says is horrible and has the most crime is the one I live in and we both love it and feel completely safe. The right option when it comes to schools? Many would disagree, but I'm completely satisfied with the choice we made. After all, each and every one of these opinions are personal and should be respected. None are right and none are wrong; they simply are individual opinions which should remain just that. Yet group think always manages to creep into the mix. Why is that?

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.

The Importance Of Education

I believe that education is the single most important thing that a person can acquire. Formal or informal, it is something that once you have it, no one, no matter what the circumstances, can take your education away from you. There are many types of education and the form itself is less important than what you get out of it. Whether it be formal education involving books and school room learning or experiential learning by getting out and doing, it is all important and valuable. It can open doors to employment and even more education; it teaches you about yourself, other people and the world around you.

Now I love physically being in a classroom and learning. I proudly possess multiple diplomas and while it might appear that I don't "use" these degrees on a daily basis earning them taught me the rewards of hard work, dedication and commitment. The process of earning these degrees showed me how to look critically at the world around me which in turn has only enhanced my out of the classroom learning. Whether I am traveling or simply running my daily errands I observe and question what I see around me. What I learned in the classroom has taught me to be a lifelong student when I am outside of the school room as well.

Education and learning is so important to me. Fortunately this love of learning is something thing that has been passed onto Sidney, who even at his young age, loves learning about new things and more importantly, going to school each day. In fact, on weekends and extended school breaks he tells us that he misses being at school and wants to go back. He also wants to verify that the other kids aren't at school without him. I know at this young age that going to school is as much about the learning of and doing new things as it is about the socialization aspect of his day. (But then again socialization is learning). Both inside the classroom and out, he observes and absorbs everything he sees and hears, asking follow up questions when he doesn't understand and never accepting anything at face value. (Sure this is annoying at times but I absolutely love the fact that he always wants to know more). During daily reading time he listens and reads along with the stories but then asks a series of why or how questions about what he has heard. Whether we are visiting a museum or driving to school, he asks questions about what he sees only to repeat what he has learned later in the day. I can only hope that Sidney's love of learning continues as he grows older.

So why am I writing about the importance of education today? I blame it a bit on the cool fall weather and the start of a new school year. But it is also something I've been thinking about a lot lately. At the moment I am back in the classroom taking both French lessons and intermediate watercolor classes and am enjoying being a student again without all of the pressures of trying to earn a good grade. I may not be studying tomes of literature and having intellectual discussions but my mind is reeling as I conjugate French verbs and try to figure out how to get my brush strokes just right. This renewed learning has me feeling alive again and that has reminded me about the importance of education. It is also reminding me to "look outside of the box" at the different types of life long learning that takes place on a daily basis. Every day can serve as a lesson of some sort. This is a message that I am teaching my young son and one that I need to remember and apply to myself as well.

Life is one big lesson so embrace it. I am.

Crush

My little boy is experiencing his first real crush and from a mother's perspective it is both cute and mildly disturbing. I discovered this quite by accident but once I did all of the pieces about his new behavior became quite clear. He's loved school for some time now but this year he comes bouncing out of bed each morning eager to get to school. Last year getting him dressed each morning was a struggle with my wanting to dress him in Gap and his preferring to look like a a mixture of Eminem and southern redneck. This year he has adopted a habit (which I love) of letting me pick out his well coordinated outfits each morning. On the mornings he does pick out his own clothes he has taken to asking me if his shirt matches his pants then contemplating which shoes he should wear instead of defaulting to his dreaded Spider Man sneakers that light up. Then there is the insistence that he look in the car mirror each morning to make sure he doesn't have any stray smears of food on his face. Add in his new insistence that we park in a certain parking lot each morning during school drop off and I should have suspected that something was up but in hindsight all of these are cues that I had completely missed.

Call me clueless but I first suspected something was up when he would eagerly run up to a cute little blond girl each morning and excitedly chatter away with her as we walked up the hill. He would also talk excitedly to her mother, starting each sentence with the phrase "excuse me" before narrating a story or detail about what he had done since he last saw them. Both mother and daughter always give Sidney their full attention which he loves. Over the course of the past week I noticed that would be craning his neck on our walk up the hill from the parking lot to the school then jumping with joy when he spotted the little girl and her mom. Daily recaps always include details about what he did with this girl during the day along (they drew an American flag together) but also have the qualifier that sometimes boys and girls don't play together at school. Last Thursday after school he sadly told me that the little girl hadn't been there but on Friday he practically ran into traffic in excitement when he spotted them. They were walking ahead of us but returned his affection by turning around and smiling several times before making her mother stop so we could catch up with them. And then there was last weekend's Oktoberfest celebration. He spotted them across the tent and jumped out of his seat wanting to go say hello to them. (And this was after he had flat out refused to go greet other classmates of his). Glenn brought him over and watched as our son said hello to the object of his affection.

Watching this from a mother's standpoint is strange. First, my little boy is just shy of five so I had assumed I have years before I would have to witness his flirtatious behavior. Five! (That just seems so young but Glenn has informed me that he kissed his first girl around this age). This is my little boy who still sleeps with and carries around his "baba" (blanket) when he is at home. But he is the same boy who is proudly declaring that he is a big boy and can do things for himself now. And apparently liking a girl (or gurl as he says) is one of those things. I'm simultaneously proud and a bit unnerved. I'm also a bit scared and sad. This is partially because I am just not ready for this but also because we are all military families and I happen to know she will be moving soon. I don't want to have to witness my son's heartbreak when the object of his affection leaves the country for another destination. Or when she breaks his heart by rejecting his little boy's advances. But maybe she won't, or he won't. I don't know.....what I do know is that I am just not ready for this. But then again, will I ever be?

Embracing The Change

Its amazing what a difference a few months makes. Back in May I blogged about all of the construction and one way traffic in my Mons neighborhood. At the time I was still settling in to our new neighborhood, new house and new country and only knew of a limited number of streets that allowed me to move from one place to another. Since then some things have remained the same and others have changed and I'm embracing it all.

What is the same? The road construction. A few roads have reopened but they have been countered by even more closing. It seems that as soon as I figure out how to maneuver through the neighborhood another key road closes and I'm back at square one. Now however, rather than approaching it as a deterrent, I'm using it as an opportunity to explore. After all, it really is not possible to get completely lost here. Confused and driving in circles, yes. Lost, no. And whether on foot or by car I'm discovering even more of the quaint streets, hidden alleys and surprising architecture that Mons has to offer.

And of course, the main road that connects our house to our garage remains closed. I had naively returned from our summer in the States expecting it too be reopened to vehicle traffic. Of course it wasn't and it doesn't appear like it is going to reopen any time soon. (Maybe before we leave in 2017?).  So over the past few months not only have I developed some pretty strong bicep muscles but I've gotten really good and figuring out how much I can buy at the grocery store and carry home in a single trip. Which is a good thing because things are getting even more interesting; hence the what has changed.

As of Monday morning, the street in front of our house is completely closed to traffic meaning that for the next couple of months there is no way to drive through our neighborhood. In typical Belgian form we were notified of this closure the morning it occurred. But this time, instead of thinking about how we might be inconvenienced by this change, I shrugged it off indifferently. After all we've gotten really good and carrying things up and down the hill. And besides, with the road closed the steady stream of cars--from parents dropping off and picking their children up at the music school across the street from our house; from drivers seeking shortcuts, and those lost soles who aren't quite sure how to get out of the one-way maze that is Mons--has all but ceased. No longer are cargo vans squeezing between the parked cars and our living room windows giving a whole new meaning to the term "reach out and touch someone".

So at the moment I'm enjoying the forced walk on the car free streets. When I do think that it might be nice to have the convenience of being able to pull up to my front door I quickly realize that having that luxury is such an American ideal. Here in Belgium, as is the case in so much of Europe, people of all ages, from the youngest toddlers to the frailest elderly, make their way up and down the streets going about their business. A lack of parking, convenient or not, rarely deters a European from going where they want. Its actually quite liberating to not worry about where you can park your car; you find a place or better yet, rely upon public transportation.

I'm sure the traffic on my street as well as the neighboring ones will return. But at the moment I'm going to enjoy my little traffic free world.

Because.....You're Just Supposed To Know....

.......The longer we are in Belgium the more I'm realizing that this is the way it is here. Forget clear signage, instructions or directions (in any language) directing you on how to find an item, how to complete a task or where you can locate a site. These guides seem to simply not exist with any consistency in our little part of Belgium. Rather, you are just suppose to know how to do it. Some days this lack of clarity is frustrating while on others I simply shrug and embrace it for what it is--Belgian life.

Perhaps I am still too accustomed to the American way of labeling--even over labeling-- everything. In America signs inform you of an impending turn miles before it actually appears; here in Belgium the sign, if it even exists will simply tell you to turn now. If you are in the wrong lane or unprepared, well, that is your fault. Or signs might lead you through several intersections before disappearing all together at others leaving you to wonder where you should turn next. Exact addresses are equally vague. Yes in urban areas there are street numbers, if you can see them, but more often than not billboards will simply tell you to take a certain road in one direction (in our case either towards Paris or Brussels if we are on the main highway) then to turn onto a specific road. After that you are on your own so you had better be on the lookout for your destination since it may be a few yards or a few miles down the road. When out driving through the country street numbers seem to disappear and you must rely on a sense of what is right or in my case all too often, wrong. And if we are lucky enough to have an actual street name and number, more often than not our newly updated GPS doesn't even recognize it. We've taken to studying Google maps before leaving home then looking for familiar sights along the way. Sometimes it works; but then again other times it doesn't. Of course, once we figure out where we are going it is very simple making me feel foolish that I was confused in the first place.

But my problems aren't limited to the roads. Take stores for example. I've always carried my own grocery bags with me so it was never a problem, but here in Belgium you must either bring your own or purchase reusable ones at the cash register. There isn't a sign telling you this; rather if you are so unfortunate as to end up at the register without your own bags and don't want to spend the money on buying them, you are forced to dump everything back in your cart and push it out to your car. So if no one prepared you beforehand, you could be in for a rather messy or heavy surprise. But beyond the bag issue, in most larger stores in general I have found there to be a definite lack of signage. Even knowing how to say something in French doesn't really help me much. I've learned that the key to survival is forgetting my American logic of where something should be and taking the time to learn the layout of each particular store. In the mega sports store, don't expect shoes to be in a single section. Rather soccer cleats for athletes of all ages are in the soccer section, running shoes in the running section and bicycle footwear in the bicycle section. There is a certain kind of logic to it all but I have yet to figure out where  everyday, non-specialized sport, sneakers are located. And when I asked? My question was met with a stare, shrug and sputter of "non".

Even on SHAPE, an international military base that I (somewhat naively) assumed was organized with military precision, I find myself running into confusing situations where I am "just supposed to know" what to do. Who knew that the directions for submitting a claim for a VAT (tax) refund, which are clearly laid out on the base's main website, applied to everyone except the Americans? They certainly don't tell you this on the site. We apparently have another set of rules, forms to fill out and procedures to follow. They aren't hard but how are you supposed to know what to do? Wait, that's right. You are just supposed to know...........

Life Lessons

As parents, we walk a fine line between sheltering our children from life's harsh realities and exposing them to the great big world out there while not adversely scarring them for life. While I don't believe in hiding or sugar coating reality, I struggle with knowing how much information to present in an age appropriate way. And as soon as I think I've figured it out, Sidney gets older, matures and is capable of understanding things at a whole new level. Regardless of his age or stage, we have five basic household tenets or rules that help guide us along. They are gentle reminders to all of us as to how we should be acting towards one another and the larger world around us. Sidney has embraced these rules and is quick to point out which ones he abides by and which ones he struggles with. He also does the same for the actions he sees around himself.  The rules are quite simple; beyond listening to your parents and respecting others one of the five is keeping the promises you make to both yourself and others. Simply put, if you make a promise, keep it. The rule applies to Sidney as well as us, and in his four year old way of thinking, other people as well. When he makes a promise he must keep it and when we make a promise we must do the same. Sounds easy, right? Well, maybe not.

We're always careful to not make promises we aren't sure we can keep. For things that aren't certainties, we caveat the proposed idea or event with a promise that we will do the best we can to make it happen. Sidney doesn't always hear that part and unfortunately we've had a few hiccups along the way that have left him crushed and disappointed. But for those things that we feel are a sure thing, we openly make the promise and tell him they will happen. And that is exactly what we did when we signed him up to play on a soccer league for 4 and 5 year olds.

Sidney loves soccer, or football as he often calls it. During the World Cup he proudly wore his Belgian soccer jersey while watching the games and spends hours in the backyard kicking his yellow and black soccer ball into the goal. After school Glenn, and occasionally I, will join him for kicking, dribbling and goal scoring. But as much fun as he has doing this, he keeps asking to play with other kids. If we were back in the United States, extra curricular activities for kids of his age would be plentiful. As we discovered this past spring, they are all but non-existent here in Belgium. So when I learned of a developmental soccer league specifically for kids his age, I signed him up and he was beyond excited. The league is run by the base youth services program and coached by volunteers but I was assured the league would start and the end of August. (I was even asked if I wanted to volunteer as a coach since having knowledge of the game is apparently not a prerequisite, but that is a story for another day). Having no reason to doubt what I was told---since this is a Department of Defense run organization, I excitedly told Sidney about his impending opportunity.  Now I signed him up back in June so all summer long getting to play soccer on a team was all he has been talking about. When we were back in the U.S. we went out and bought him his own soccer cleats (neon yellow just like the Belgian team) and he's been practicing putting them on and kicking the ball around in anticipation of joining his team. And in between his playing he told everyone he met that he was joining a soccer team. Yes, he was that excited.

When we hadn't heard anything from the organizers two weeks ago, we reached out to them only to be told we would hear from the coach the following week. When that didn't happen we called back and this time were given not only the name of the coach but the time, date and meeting location of the first practice. Having sent an email to the coach and hearing nothing, I got Sidney suited up for his first practice and headed to the designated spot. And boy was he excited and his excitement was contagious. That was until I saw the empty field with no coach and no players in sight. The other fields were filled with kids and coaches and while Sidney looked sadly on I did my best to figure out what was happening. Finally, after talking to the person who was in "charge" we left having been assured that we were in the right spot at the right time but something must have gone wrong and the coach would be there for the next practice. Sidney was crushed and my heart ached for him as he asked me why he couldn't play. He wanted to know why his coach hadn't kept her promise to be there because according to his rules, you always have to keep your promises. Hugging him closely I told him that I didn't know where she was but that I would look into it. That was a promise I could keep.

The next couple of days resulted in a flurry of (mostly) unanswered phone calls and emails but an assurance that we should indeed be at the field during the next designated practice time. And we were, fully dressed and excited, but this time I approached it with the caveat that I hoped the coach and team would be there. Sidney said he hoped so too and gripped my hand tightly as we once again approached the empty field. A last minute email and phone call revealed that there wasn't practice that day either but that the coach would "be in touch soon". As Sidney once again watched other kids kicking the ball around under the enthusiastic tutelage of their coach he simply said he wanted to go home. I could tell that he was dejected and promised him that his dad and I would play soccer with  him in the backyard when we got home. He smiled weakly and said he didn't want to play. Even the enticement of an ice cream treat did nothing to lift his spirits. Instead he reiterated that people who make promises need to keep them. Not doing so is just bad.

At that moment I was simultaneously heartbroken and proud of my little boy. Heartbroken since the one simple promise I had been making to him all summer wasn't becoming a reality. Not only that, his enthusiasm for playing the game seemed to be dwindling. Proud because of the maturity he was showing in a difficult situation. Instead of crying or whining he was simply accepting the reality as he saw it. As we walked back to the car he talked yet again of promises and their importance. I love Sidney's new found maturity yet it pains me that he had to reach it through such disappointing circumstances. I am disappointed that another parent would let down children in such a way and frustrated that an organization that runs youth activities was less than organized. (My disappointment is slightly tempered by the fact that at least this parent stepped forward to volunteer which is more than Glenn and I did). I wonder whether she has ever had to explain such disappointment to her own child. I now have and although I'm sure I will have to again, it is not an experience I care to repeat. Life's lessons are rarely easy and this one was just plain horrible.

So what next? We've been once again told that yes there will be practice next week. Despite any assurances we receive we'll be cautiously back on the soccer field next week. Hopefully this hiccup is behind us and the team and coach will be there ready to play. If not, unfortunately we have this routine down. If his long promised practice doesn't materialize I'm sure he will handle it with both sadness and his new found maturity. I will still ache for him; both for his sadness and his sudden understanding that not everyone keeps their promises...... And maybe, just maybe, I will take an online tutorial on coaching soccer and volunteer to coach myself during the next go around. That would be a promise I would be able to keep.

Back To Reality

Vacation is over but it was wonderful while it lasted. In fact, our American vacation feels like a lifetime ago.  It was just over a month ago that we set off for a fun filled four weeks of reuniting with old friends, visiting our old haunts and for the first time in many years, truly relaxing while on vacation. It was a month filled with dreams of our future and the reality despite being away for so long, very little has changed in our home country. I feared that my growing cynicism about where the country is headed would get the best of me but it didn't. I avoided conversations about politics, didn't watch or listen to any news and for a brief respite, generally ignored the outside world. Sidney may have said it first but I also relished in the fact that just about everyone spoke English. I didn't realize just how much easier life is when I fully understand the language being spoken around me.

But vacation was also a time filled with delight for me as I watched Sidney gain memories and experiences that he can only have in America. Sending him to a day camp for two weeks was one of the best decisions we ever made. In just a short time he blossomed as I have never seen him do before. First, his English is better than ever and as I watch his sun kissed body run around in our backyard I realize that he is no longer a little boy. As evidenced by his desire to show off his things and talk to strangers (especially cute waitresses), his shyness is all but gone. I swear he is taller, bigger (maybe it is all that ice cream he ate) and stronger than he was when we first arrived back in the States. He has gained a level of maturity and confidence that makes this mother proud (and a bit scared). I'd say this is the best souvenir we could have brought back to Belgium with us.

But reality is upon us. Reality means that in one week the school year starts again and along with it come a whole semester of extra curricular activities for Sidney. I'll be back to playing chauffeur each morning and afternoon and try to find my niche in between. Reality means I'm once again immersed in a French speaking environment where nothing is easy and I must always be on my A-game if I am to understand what is happening around me. Reality is being back in our quirky house with its intermittent hot water, sporadic power surges and ongoing dealings with a surly Belgian plumber and assorted repairmen. Reality means juggling a plethora of transformers and adapters before plugging my electronics into the wall and crossing my fingers while hoping I can find a parking space near our house. But reality means we are once again together as a family. Reality is back to driving my beloved Volvo through quaint streets instead of our behemoth, American sized rental vehicle on multi-laned interstates. Reality is also the wonderful opportunities that come with living in a foreign country. There are still so many places to explore, local festivals to attend and road trips to be embarked upon. The reality is that life and our reality is pretty darn good. And for that I am thankful.

Stopping To Smell The Roses

Vacation is winding to a close. Its been a wonderful but all too short month back in the United States. A month sounds like a long time and it is...but it really isn't. This is the longest vacation I've even taken and in the days leading up to our arriving here, I thought the time would drag. But instead it has flown by way too fast. But unlike past vacations where we've been constantly on the go, this one has been different. It has been relaxing and void of that pressure to see more and do more during our limited time.

We started out with a flurry of activity but spent the later half of our time unpacked and hunkered down in one place. There really is something to be said about not being on the go all of the time. Our days have been long and lazy with some days consisting of doing absolutely nothing. Other days have involved window shopping and leisurely lunches and new restaurants. It has been fun introducing Glenn and Sidney to so many of my old haunts. Some places look exactly as I remember them while others are completely unfamiliar to me. We've dreamed about how the other half live while checking out the yachts in the harbors and browsed real estate listings thinking about the possibilities. While these are all pipe dreams there is something both fun and exciting about plotting out the what ifs. What if we woke up to these views everyday? What if we jumped out of the rat race and into a quieter way of life? What if.......

As anyone who has spent time in Maine knows, there is just something about this place that makes it easy to forget about reality. I've loved every minute of this visit.

This pictures says it all:

I've done it.....and enjoyed every minute of it.

Complacency

Are we too complacent as a society? I started to wonder this recently while I was listening to a broadcast of Diane Rehm on NPR. Her guests were discussing the controversial issue of the Affordable Care Act, or Obamacare as so many call it, and the words of one of her callers struck a particular chord with me. The woman was from Oklahoma and was talking about how her family was now saving over a thousand dollars a month on their health insurance premiums due to health care reform. She went on to state that if the law was repealed her family would be destitute and she would then lobby her elected officials to have them fight to bring the law back. It made me ask the question of "why wait"? I mean, if something is that important to you why wait until it is gone to let the people in power know how you feel?

I'll be the first to admit that I am often too complacent when it comes to issues that matter to me. Take the health care issue for example. My family, like other military families out there, is very fortunate that we have extremely affordable (i.e. free) health care because of my husband's job. If we need to see a doctor how we would pay for the visit is something that never even crosses my mind. I believe everybody should have access to affordable health care and it saddens me that this isn't the case. But honestly, what have I done about this? Absolutely nothing. I listen to pundits talk, voice my opinions to those closest to me, maybe blog a bit and then leave it at that. Really, I, along with everyone else who is lucky enough to have health insurance should be pounding the pavement and calling our elected representatives demanding that others have the same benefits we enjoy. Whenever there are rumblings about the cost of health care for military families and veterans increasing you can bet that these families are out there writing letters and making phone calls protesting the proposed actions so why aren't we joining forces and doing it to help others? Do we think they aren't deserving? That they can do it for themselves? Or that it isn't our problem?

And I'm as guilty of this in action as the next person. I'm not out there advocating because I ashamed to admit that I am too complacent in my own little world. Like so many other people I tend to act when things personally effect me. That doesn't mean I don't care about others; rather for whatever reason I simply don't care enough to do something about it even though I know I should. I know this is bad.

So I'm challenging myself and everyone else to do something about it. Pick one issue, any issue that is important to you and do something to make a change. Write a letter or make a phone call to an elected official or volunteer for a cause in your community. Step out of your complacent zone and help make a change for the better. It may or may not directly effect you but if it helps someone else it is making all of society better. And that does help you. So just do it now.

The More Things Change.....

the more they stay the same. Or so it seems.

It all begs the question of whether you can go home again. Maybe in a physical sense you can but do you ever find things the way you left them? Physically they may (or may not) be but if you are looking at them through a different, more experienced lens, are they really the same? Are they as you remembered them or do they look older, larger or smaller, or just different?

The past couple of weeks have been a blur of activity for us as we have been traveling up the East Coast visiting family, friends, and places we haven't seen in several years, if not longer. Its been exciting and exhausting, enjoyable and disappointing all at the same time. Because just as people change, things change... meaning I'm not viewing these places I once called home in the same way I did before. It is like attending a class reunion where everyone is vaguely familiar but not quite the same as you remembered them. This isn't a good or bad thing; but rather I'm finding the whole experience to be mildly unnerving.

As we've moved from one old haunt to the next it has felt as we are slogging along in slow motion, viewing the world as outsiders looking in. Things have changed yet remained the same. The traffic in the DC metro area? It is as horrible, if not worse, than we remember it and served as a constant reminder about what we don't like about the area. The cookie cutter suburbs filled with the same oversized house after same oversized house on the identically landscaped lots struck me as disturbingly conformist. At the same time I found the vibrancy and seeming rebirth of parts of the area to be exciting. Construction that had been halted amid the economic bust the last time we were in the area was once again moving forward while other projects had been completed. We visited on the cusp of the long anticipated opening of the new silver line of the Metro. As we've seen in cities around the world, a committment to expanded public transportation is always a positive move for a community and seeing the years of talks, construction and disruption come to fruition made me stop and think that maybe the area is more progressive than I had been thinking.

Driving through our old home town of Norfolk we felt as though the city was frozen in time. Most of the restaurants and shops were exactly as I remembered them. There the same construction projects that had been unfinished four years ago still remained idle. I swear, even the pot holes and road construction signs looked as though they hadn't been touched since the last time I saw them. Our old house, the labor of love where we had invested hundreds of hours of manual labor to remodel looked exactly as it did the day we moved out. In a way it was haunting to sit at the end of our old driveway and look at the house and life that used to be ours. Did I miss it? No. But it felt funny just the same. Yes there were noticeable differences though both good and bad. First the good: the city now has its own light rail system and we saw the shiny train cars making their way through the city streets. The bad? the cars, however, appeared to be devoid of passengers at all hours of the day. And those beautiful old neighborhoods along the water that I used to dream of living in? They were still there but now for sale signs dotted too many yards to count. Their prices were so low (I looked) that we could easily afford to buy one now but is it the time to buy or to get out?

The list of things that are different but the same in places all along our journey goes on. But have these places really stayed the same yet changed or have I? Am I not seeing things the same way I used to? I guess at this point I'm simply feeling unnerved. The places that used to feel like home to me no longer do. And it all begs the question of where can I now call home?