It's not like I'm slacking in my duties. As much as I enjoy sharing the nifty stuff we see and do here in Australia, my job is to build a life and home for my family so that we can settle in and enjoy our time here. And yet, as the days have turned into weeks and the weeks into a month, the guilt I have felt for not blogging (and for not returning many of your emails) has been eating away at me.
My plan was to blog in the evenings. Not every night, of course, but every few nights I would sit down and fire off a few words and pictures. I figured it would be a great way to keep a record of our adventure here, as well as keep friends and family close to us. I also intended to email friends and family either in the evening or in the morning while I had my coffee. When the kids were in school I would finally begin a regular exercise routine, keep the house clean and stocked, and explore the cafes and fun spots in the city.
But I failed to take into account the words of wisdom you see up there in my profile picture:
What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it is supposed to be.
Before the move, I was too consumed with all the details of moving. I didn't have a moment to read up on how to live life as an expat or how to help my kids adjust to all the changes. Nope, instead I boarded that plane pretty sure that life would be a breeze from that moment on... because nothing, absolutely nothing, could be as exhausting as trying to empty a house that I've lived in for 13 years as a pack rat.
If I had to offer an apology for not blogging, if I had to explain my spotty online presence (sometimes posting a quick photo on Facebook, and yet taking forever to respond to my email), it would be, ironically: I'm exhausted. So those evenings when I was going to be doing all that blogging... yeah, I'm in bed sleeping... usually by 9:00.
That picture in my head of how I'd spend my days and evenings... a lovely picture, but a bit naive. Adjusting to life in a different country — even when the cultural and language differences are very subtle — can be very challenging at times.
When you're driving down the street, all the store names are unfamiliar. What do they sell at Harvey Norman or David Jones or Bob Jane? Bob Jane?!? When you ask a clerk for bathroom caulk or banana peppers, why do they look at you like you have two heads? Because here, peppers are called "capsicum" and caulk is called "sealant." (Plus, if you say "caulk" to a Brit or Aussie, it sounds to them like you're asking for a certain part of the male anatomy... you know, the one that rhymes with "clock.") And how are you supposed to help your child with their homework when you had no idea that "horse" really and truly rhymes with "sauce?"
It's those little things that make life here interesting, and it's those little things that I really want to share with all of you. But those little things can weigh heavy like big things when they come in large numbers. And rather than being funny, they can be like the straw that broke the camel's back when they come on the heels of a true challenge.
I promised myself that I wouldn't blog about the big challenges I/we have faced in the past two months. And so I won't. I don't want to dwell on the negative, and I don't want to record the tough spots so that I can reread and relive them again and again. Yet, I also feel like I can't suddenly resume blogging about the fun stuff without feeling a bit phony. I guess the purpose of this blog post is to acknowledge, without going into detail, that it has not been easy. And perhaps I can use this as an opportunity to answer, briefly but honestly, some of the questions you have been asking:
Are we settling in?
We have a routine, but the house doesn't feel like home. It's empty and echo-y and the bare floors are cold. Things are expensive here, so rather than shop, we prefer to wait for our furniture. We found out this week, that our shipping container left a port in Taiwan on Aug. 17 and should land in Australia on Sept. 5. Whew! It's good to know it's finally on its way after spending two months somewhere in the States.
Are the kids enjoying school?
Yes, and no. They are starting to make friends, but the new friendships are not yet comforting. There are areas in the curriculum that are too easy for them, and others that are providing them with a manageable challenge. Thankfully, there is pressure on them both to improve their handwriting as well as their reading aloud with emphasis and clarity.
What are we enjoying the most?
The animals! We love finding little lizards in our yard and big lizards in the parks. We love the birds — even if they can be a bit too noisy at times — they come in so many different colors and sizes. And we love the different bugs, just as long as they are not inside the house!
Am I meeting people?
I've made friends with a few moms from school, but the friendships are still in that courting stage when they feel really fragile and you're not sure what's acceptable. One thing that can be an issue with making friends with school moms is that you have to be sure that everyone's kids get along. Since I usually see these friends on school grounds at the end of the day, the suggestion comes up to go to a park. The mums can have a chat, and the kids can play. But if the kids' personalities clash, I spend more time settling disagreements and calming hot tempers than I spend actually having an adult conversation. Annoying, awkward and no fun.
What do we miss the most?
Adrian and I miss satellite radio in our cars (they don't have satellite radio in Australia), and we all miss having a couch to sit/sleep on in front of the TV. But most of all, we miss our friends. I especially miss the ones that I can say absolutely anything to, the ones that I can laugh with until I snort and then laugh with some more until my face hurts and I'm crossing my legs, trying not to pee my pants. Yes, that's what I miss the most.
