Are We There Yet?

Moving halfway around the world is somewhat exhausting, in case you're considering it. And I haven't even gotten there yet!

There are the arrangements to be made... packing up enough of our stuff to make the house rentable (in progress and neverending)... finding someone to rent said house (TBD), figuring out what to do with our two beloved cats (they are going to my mom's).

There are endless negotiations... with work over what they will and will not pay for (ongoing, but getting better)... with P over whether or not he will be coming as planned (ongoing, not getting better)... and how many stuffed animals each child is permitted to bring with him or her (ongoing and neverending).

I want to be excited. I really do. I mean, this is pretty much the most exciting thing to happen in my life since I rode in an elevator with JFK, Jr. And I'm trying. I bought new luggage -- huge rolling bags that Lulu and Boo can actually fit into -- and a new computer (way nicer than I could afford thanks to my company, which is reimbursing me for it). But it's hard, because with P likely not going, I am frequently hit with panic attacks about getting myself, two children, and at least 7 bags to Australia, as well as actually being so far away all alone.

And what does that mean for me and P? He says it doesn't mean we're breaking up, that he will visit, maybe even for a long time. It sounds good in theory, but a year is a long time to be apart. I don't know what to think. I can't make him do something he doesn't want to do, and I don't want him to be miserable. But I don't want to go alone either. If I think about it too much it makes me cry.

The only way out is through

Fortunately, there's plenty to do to keep busy. Thanksgiving is next week and I have 7 people coming, plus me, Lulu, and Boo. I realized last night that I don't have enough plates, silverware, or cloth napkins -- the most I've ever had for dinner at one time was 8! Thanksgiving Day is also P's birthday, so I need to add a cake to my cooking plans. Then two weeks later is Boo's birthday. He and Lulu are having a joint bowling party since she won't be here to celebrate her January birthday with her friends. Then Christmas. Then Lulu & Boo's big Christmas gift, a trip to Harry Potter World the day after Christmas (while the timing isn't ideal right before we move, I really am happy about this trip. The kids will be thrilled. In addition to HP World, we're also swimming with dolphins at Discovery Cove and visiting one or two Disney parks, which are gorgeous during the holidays.) Then we're home for a week before heading to Australia. It's a lot. I need a nap just reading over it all. But there's nothing to do except keep moving forward.

Stay tuned

Given the infrequency with which I seem to be able to keep this blog updated, I'm guessing we'll be Down Under next time you hear from me. Wish me luck!

Down Under Everything Is Upside Down

“You mean Christmas is in June?!?!”

That’s what Lulu said when I told her Christmas in Australia was in the summer. I explained that everything is backward there. Christmas and New Year’s are warm and sunny while June and July are cool (but not cold, at least not where we’ll be living on the Gold Coast). If you go north, it gets hotter; go south and it gets colder. The water goes down the drain the opposite way.

“But if everything is backward, nothing will be the same as here,” she replied. Well, I said, that’s why we’re going.

Do not adjust your screen. You read right. We’re moving to Australia for a year, in theory so I can help out my company’s fledgling Aussie operations. But really so Lulu and Boo and I can have an adventure. And P. P’s coming with us, which any of you who followed along on this blog back when I actually updated it know is something like a miracle. 

Welcome back

It’s been a challenge to blog over the past year or so. Things have mostly the same, in a good way. Lulu and Boo are healthy and happy and (usually) wonderful. We spend the summers swimming at the pool and the winters in front of the fireplace. Lulu and Boo started Tae Kwon Do lessons in February and will test for their orange belt at the end of the month. They’re both good, but Boo (who at 5 is always the smallest in the class by at least a head) is something of a savant. His reflexes are astoundingly quick and his kicks and punches are sharp.

P. and I have been reassuringly solid. There are fights from time to time, all resolved with relative speed and kindness. And we’ve grown closer in the past year, enduring his being fired from the company we both work(ed) for – a challenging time for both of us, but one we got through together. He no longer even speaks to the WW, a switch that once seemed as unimaginable as me moving to Australia. We had a great 10 days in Oak Island, NC, this summer with the kids. I loved how kind and patient he was with them. It was marred only by the sad discovery when we returned that his cat would have to be put to sleep. P decided he wanted to bury the Little Guy in my backyard. Digging a grave together is an undeniably bonding experience.

Even ex-H has been stable. He’s still with L, and she is still as sweet as ever with Lulu and Boo. Nothing’s perfect – there’s never enough money and always more things that need to be paid for, work has been difficult of late (pre-assignment to Australia), the kids fight a little more (and a little more loudly) than I would like – but it has been, if I may say, a pretty good time.

Does everyone really say “G’day, mate”?

But now with the upcoming move and the prospect of an incredible adventure ahead, I thought it would be a good time to revive my neglected blog and document this exciting time.

First up, figuring out a place to live. We looked briefly at Sydney, which is a bit like San Francisco, which I visited last month on a work trip. Insanely beautiful and insanely expensive. We crossed it off the list pretty quickly – P is not much of a city boy and I didn’t want to spend my year abroad fighting crowds.

Next we looked at Brisbane, which is about 11 hours north of Sydney and an hour north of where my new boss lives. It’s the third-largest city in Australia, and is semi-tropical, with warm winters and hot, humid summers. Then, we gazed a little south of Brisbane to the Gold Coast. In addition to the gorgeous weather (warm winters, slightly warmer summers) and relatively inexpensive housing, it has this going for it:

Yeah. Decision made. Since this is where my boss lives, he is able to help me out with schools, which is huge as public school quality varies as much in Oz as it does here. He recommended the school his children go to, where – much to the consternation of Lulu and Boo – all the kids wear green-and-gray uniforms, complete with required wide-brimmed hats. (There is apparently no ozone layer over Australia, kind of a problem.) I made the mistake of telling Boo I thought the uniforms were cute. He told his nana (my mom), “if my mom says something is cute, is IS NOT CUTE.” Point taken.

I can't say I understand the political references here, but this cartoon shows what the uniforms look like. I still think I am right -- Boo will look so cute!

Oh, and the school year runs late January through mid-December, so we’re going Jan. 1. I wanted Lulu and Boo to have a full semester here before we leave – Boo’s starting kindergarten and it seemed ideal that he learn to go to school before I toss him into school on another continent. It gives them a full Aussie school year, too, then another full term once we get back. They haven’t caught on yet that they will be skipping a summer. I think living at the beach for a year will more than compensate. 

Actual view from one of the apartments I've been checking out online:

Lulu and Boo aren't entirely sure about the move. But the more pictures like the ones above and below I show them, the more they start to come around.

That’s all for now. Next post: Can just anyone hold a koala? And, what percentage of the world’s deadliest snakes live in Australia?

Lazy Summer

I know I should apologize for my two-month-plus absence, but I can't. Why? Because this summer has been so much fun that I haven't had time for the usual angst and obsessing that fuels this blog.

So what's been going on? Lots of this:

Some (but never enough!) of this:

And almost (maybe none?) of the perpetual insanity of last summer. Between the unstable ex, moving, and multiple breakups, last summer was, well, kind of hellish.

So really, I could have done nothing this year and 2011 would still win hands-down. But we've done so much more! The kids and I joined the neighborhood pool club, where we've spent many a post-camp/work late afternoon. Lulu went from needing a flotation vest to swim back in June to jumping off the diving board (in 11-feet water!) last week with no lessons! I took the kids to Chincoteague for a couple of days in June and P and I spent a perfect week in the Outer Banks at the end of July. So perfect that he offered to take me back for my birthday in a few weeks.

He and I feel pretty solid these days. We've gotten better at resolving conflicts before they go too far, so the drama level has fallen considerably. Mostly, we've just been relaxing and enjoying the time we have together without much stress. Certainly no complaints about that!

And even work is looking up -- I just got offered a new role in an entirely different area of my current company after about two years of trying to change jobs. I'm so excited to get a new challenge without having to change companies!

Some Unexpected Things

I don't like to be surprised. Surprise parties? Unthinkable. Pop quizzes? Not a fan. Look, I just like to be prepared. I like to know what's coming and formulate a response. Email is like the best thing that has ever happened to me. Phone calls? Not so much.

I am so determined to be prepared for any possible occurance that I can make myself crazy imagining all the things that could possibly happen in any given situation. As a result, I am almost never surprised.

But the past week held some unexpected events.

First, P is back. No big emotional drama or anything, he just came over last Friday and said he didn't want space any more and now we're together again. I was at least 95% sure that we were done, so this was a big surprise, though a good one. P and I are never going to have the easiest of relationships. I doubt this will be the last break. But I am glad to have him back right now.

Second, I signed up for a community college class. I spend a lot of time complaining about my current career and dreaming of what the next one might be. But I never DO anything about it. Until today. One career I've been thinking about is becoming a marriage counselor. I know, I know, I am not really so good at the whole relationship thing ... and who would take marriage advice from someone who's divorced? Still, I'm intrigued. I seem to be pretty good at giving my friends advice about their marriage problems, and since this interest has lasted more than my standard 3-6 month whims, maybe it's worth a shot. I found a part-time master's program nearby that I can apply for this winter. It requires a course in Abnormal Psychology. So I signed up for one this fall. I'll keep you posted.

Finally, Boo is wearing shorts. Uncoerced! I wasn't sure we were going to get there. He's still rocking the faux Uggs, but what can you do.

Stages of Grief, APGT-style

Oh, I know all about the Kubler-Ross model. My father died when I was 8 and my mother, bless her, dragged me in and out of therapy for a few years before she realized that I was really not getting anything out of it. I was doing well in school and had lots of friends, so I was fine. Except I wasn't. Not that that's her fault, because it isn't. It's just that for a child, having a parent die pretty much fucks you up irrevocably. Google it, it's true.

Anyway, back to grief. It sucks, no matter what you're grieving. Or might be grieving, because I still don't know for sure that P and I are over, but I'm thinking we are. And I figure the sooner I get over him, the better. Yeah, it sucks. A lot.

But here's the good news...
I have a well-tested plan for getting over breakups. It involves lots of magazines, mindless books (and/or TV shows), and bourbon. You can substitute other alcohol for the bourbon if you must, but make sure it's the good stuff. No boxed wines, vodka by the gallon, or what have you. There are two reasons for this (ok, three). One, you deserve the best right now. Two, you don't want to add to your woes by becoming an alcoholic -- I don't know about you, but I am pretty careful with my $50 bourbon (Blanton's, if you must know*). And three, it gives you unbelievable street cred to talk high-end liquor (seriously, ask a bourbon drinker whether he prefers Woodford Reserve or Basil Hayden and see what happens).

Books and magazines are up to you -- in the past, I've gone with the Cosmo/Glamour-types and romance novels, but I found that too depressing. This time I've done a variety of home and garden magazines and six seasons of "Weeds" on Netflix. "Weeds" turned out to be an excellent choice -- single mom dealing drugs, clearly things could be so much worse! I have "Mad Men" lined up next. I'm finding gardening -- previously one of my most-hated chores -- pretty therapeutic. I may not be able to sustain a healthy relationship, but perhaps I can manage roses. Or a not-embarrassing lawn. We'll see how those turn out.

Also, and this one will be a bit controversial, don't talk about it. It helps that I don't really have many friends and that the wonderful friends I do have are busy with their own lives, but I know in the past I have spend countless hours obsessing, analyzing, etc. over breakups and with exH and now with P, I haven't and it's better.

Finally, have some kids. Ideally your own, but if you don't have them already, this is probably not the time. You can't cry around kids, it really freaks them out. So being around kids means you have to pull yourself together at least for awhile. And you can't drink *too* much around them. Plus, and most important, they're funny and fun. Mine are possibly (almost definitely) insane, and they are often (usually) (always) exhausting, but they are an endless supply of hugs, kisses, cuddling, and unconditional love. Who doesn't need that?

*Aside from tasting incredible, Blanton's comes in gorgeous cut-glass bottles with tiny brass horses on the stopper. Each horse is labeled with a letter (the letters spell out the brand) and when you put them all together, they look like they're racing. I'm trying to collect the set; it gives a nice sense of purpose to my drinking.

The Age of Uncertainty

I'm sure we've discussed this before, but since I can't seem to find the relevant post, I'll just start by saying how much I hate uncertainty. I mean really hate it. Like, if were given a 50/50 chance of dying tomorrow, I'd probably just kill myself today to get it over with. Yes, I know how absurd that sounds. But like I said, I hate uncertainty.

Yet that's smack dab where I find myself these days. I have no idea what's going on with P. A couple of weeks ago, he said we needed to "figure out" some things. After a few days of oddly distant behavior from him with no further discussion, I said it seemed like he was the one with things to figure out and that I would leave him alone until he did. We haven't talked much since then. I guess he could legitimately be trying to figure something out. Or, more likely, this is his passive attempt to break up.

I want to know if it's over and I want to know why. Everything in me is dying to march over to him and launch into some emotional confrontation. But I'm trying to just sit back and wait it out. Because if he truly has something to work out, he needs space. And if, as I suspect, he's breaking it off, what do I have to gain by hearing that out loud? Closure, I guess, but not really. To continue my unfortunate metaphor, it's like dying instantly or over a few hours. Either way you're dead.

As for why ... at first it seemed crucial to know, but now I am wondering about that, too. Does it really matter? If there's someone else, I can't change that. And while I would be hurt, I would also be happy for him, too (really). If there's not, if he just doesn't love me anymore, then I can't change that either. In any case, no matter why it's over, it hurts all the same. No answer he could give would ease that. And I know him well enough to know he probably doesn't have any answers.

I truly love P. He is brilliant and courageous and unconventional and I have learned so much from him. I am absolutely a better person for having gotten to know him. But it has also been a rocky road for us. We have such different needs and expectations from a relationship and frankly, neither of us is all that good at love in the first place. So it may be for the best. I just need to stay calm and maintain the grace I have so often lacked in past breakups and try to remember that while being alone seems scary and sad right now, I used to actually like it.

If You Can't Stand the Heat ...

So it's been awhile. I could give you the usual excuses ... I've been busy with work, kids, travel, confusing relationships, work issues, insane exes. You know, the usual. I could try to catch you up on everything, but for now I'm just going to tell you a story about Boo.

Boo, as you may recall, is the most wonderful and most stubborn boy ever. And he's pretty serious about his clothes. Specifically, he is very attached to his fleece sweatpants and long-sleeved hoodies and his dark brown faux-Ugg boots. That was great from, oh, October through March. Even into April and early May. But now it's in the 80s here most days and he still refuses to wear anything remotely weather-appropriate. His preschool teachers are afraid he'll get heatstroke. So I have tried everything I can think of, including bribery, forcefully dressing him in shorts, and anything in between. He won't budge. He insists he's not hot even as he's drenched in sweat.

Why does he hate shorts and short sleeves? I think because he can. The kid spends all day every day being told where to go and what to do, what to eat, when to sleep, and which parent will put him to bed. I think he just wants a little control in what must seem like a crazy world full of bossy tall people. I respect this, but I can't let him sweat to death. So we are at an impasse.

Now, I know you are thinking the kid is what? 4? (yes) and who the hell is running the show over there? Get some freaking shorts on that boy already!

Look, I hear you. I think I'm a pretty tough mom when it comes to most things. I insist on pleases and thank yous, I enforce early bedtimes and I'm getting them a piano and I try very hard not to feed them anything with artificial coloring. But it's hard for me to lay down the law when it will crush their spirit. Because no matter how hard I have tried to shield them from the cheating and lying and financial and emotional fall out from the divorce, we've all been crushed enough for awhile.

I try, I really do, but the sad truth is that they still sometimes hear me yelling at their father for whatever crap he has pulled most recently (and let me tell you this last one was a doozy) even when I try to hide in the bathroom. They sometimes even see me crying.

I'm still struggling with this control stuff myself. Every time I manage to get some, something or someone throws me off my game. Again. Like, I finally get to a place where I feel good about me and P and then out of nowhere he's not so sure how he feels anymore. Or, I manage to get my finances kinda sorta good and then exH informs me he's going to let the house we jointly own (but that he's supposedly legally responsible for) go into foreclosure. Wrecking my credit for the next 7-8 years. Awesome.

So what does that mean for Boo? I don't know. I guess I'll just keep pleading and compromising and bargaining and hope he embraces shorts on his own. Or hide all the winter stuff in the attic.