Trying and testing times. That's what I'd call these past few weeks. But seriously what should I expect considering the circumstances?
Some people look at me with dumbfound astonishment when I explain to them our 'situation'. I think that some are jealous (some) but most must think; 'You crazy stupid woman, Why would you do that to yourself?'
And why do I? I don't know.
We are currently somewhere in between Vegas and Los Angeles on a 17 day road trip. We are visiting 9 cities, crossing three states and will clock up more than 2500 miles. Our kids are spending on average 4 hours a day in the car and being subjected to restaurant food, extremely cold weather, make- shift beds and small hotel rooms with limited toys. And yet sometimes it still puzzles me why they seem different and less enthusiastic about most things. Is this not what kids love?
I love being an expat. I love traveling. Driving through the Nevada country side yesterday in the barren dry land, bar the odd weird looking barn which I swear is where most horror movies are filmed, I love taking photographs of this beautiful country. It is so diverse and in some ways reminds me a lot of South Africa. One minute you're in 18 inches of snow with pine cones littering the streets, icicles dangling off roof tops and the next you're in dry land, towns with tumbleweed, strip malls and casinos's everywhere you look.
We are currently staying in a beautiful place in north California called Mammoth Lakes. Yesterday involved taking William to the local hospital to get checked out as he hasn't eaten anything since leaving New York on Thursday, has hardly said a word and has been sleeping for about 17 hours a day. In some circumstances I would have thought this a pretty good thing but on holiday it's proving quite, well, inconvenient.
Turns out he's ok but whilst filling out forms at the surgery and talking to the DR I find explaining our 'situation' rather complicated.
We're traveling from New York, no we live in New Jersey -oh yes Hoboken, yes, we got flooded in the hurricane, no everyone's fine thankfully, the accent? no, not american, South African actually but my husband is from Northern Ireland. Kids not used to the cold, born in Singapore, yes only moved here 10 months ago, do you like it here? yes love it. Sadly leaving, Moving to London in 3 weeks. Where we going next? Vegas. With two kids? Um, yes unless you can recommend anywhere we can leave them for 3 days. (Luckily she didn't think I was serious)
As much as I like being an expat, I'm tired of explaining myself and maybe I'm starting to like the idea of not being 'not from here'.
We fly home next weekend and have eight days before the movers arrive to up sticks our stuff to London. Address still currently undecided.
I'm going to be closer to my family, the kids might finally have a home, find friends they'll keep longer for three years and we can get a cat they ask for every time we see one. I also realise that as beautiful as Hoboken and New York is, maybe I was in this post Singapore bubble that made me think that nowhere else in the world would compare. I thought that until I got here. San Francisco is beautiful and the west country is, if not, even more spectacular.
Maybe I'll find more beauty in places I'm not expecting.
And maybe at least my kids might settle, calm down and not expect to go to hotels and on holiday every second week.
I can finally admit, I'm looking forward to London.
Of course that might all change after tomorrow when I win millions in Vegas and am able to buy my way into this country.......check back in tomorrow!
Tuesday, 13 November 2012
Saturday, 3 November 2012
BOKEN, NOT BROKEN.
I think words cannot describe what this week has been like.
There are certain things in life I thought, or assumed I might never have to live through. In my mind I always assume, I'm sure like most other mothers do, that my kids will grow up healthy, I'll live a long and happy life and that I'll never have to face hardship, disaster or unprecedented grief before it's time.
I also assume, or hope, I'll never die in a plane crash, get struck by lighting or be run over by a bus. Much like I never thought I'd have to live through a tsunami, earthquake or hurricane. From a small town in South Africa at one point in my life this seemed a given.
Then, last week whilst on a family trip to Washington DC we slowly learnt that a category 1 hurricane was fast approaching the east coast of the US expecting to make landfall on the Jersey Shore sometime late Monday night. It seemed unreal, especially as we sat in Gerogetown, Washington DC on Saturday afternoon there wasn't a breath of wind and at one point it seemed as warm as a mid summers day. We kept joking to each other - there couldn't possibly be a big storm coming. Frankenstorm as she was nick named.
Hurricane Sandy has been described as the worst storm ever. A super-storm that has restulted in hundreds dead, $50 billions worth of damage and for me, a lifetimes worth of bad memories.
We arrived back to Hoboken late Sunday afternoon and within minutes we where sandbagging our doorways, taping the windows, tying down furniture and late Sunday evening I spent almost two hours driving around Hoboken and Jersey City looking for higher ground to park our car. It was a mad dash to try find water, fresh milk, flashlights, batteries, beer and wine. It was serious Armageddon.
And then after all the chaos our curfew kicked into place and just like that we where locked up, sandbagged and house bound until further notice. It all seemed too surreal. We fed the kids early, bathed them, filled the baths, baby baths and two storage containers with water, charged everything we could find and sat and waited.
Our house is situated between two taller blocks of flats and behind another two so in some ways quite protected from wind. It's also incredibly sound proof. The double or triple glazing is incredible. In between the TV, chatting and making dinner we could hear wind but nothing like what was going on outside.
Pete casually wandered down to our bedroom around 9pm and found this.
Adams Road, or is that Adams River. We couldnt' believe our eyes. It was gushing down the street and we could barely open the windows without fear of them blowing off the hinges. We sat and watched the water rise and rise and soon worried for the safety of our things on the lower level of our property and the kids asleep in their bedroom on the same level as this.
By 2am Tuesday morning we had firefighters paroling the streets in boats putting out fires caused by trees bringing the power cables down, and rescuing families from their homes. In between the dying wind, the gushing water, car alarms, and the high pitched shrieks from the electrical power stations being flooded I dozed into sleep thinking that by morning it would all be over.
Tuesday morning we woke up to no power. The day was spent in doors with 6ft of water blocking our way out and with no lights, no internet, no TV and no radio we where non the wiser to the destruction that Sandy had created. My phone started beeping every five minutes with messages from all over the world saying ' We've seen the photos, are you ok?' ' Seen this picture on the news and heard about Hoboken, I hope you're ok' Really? We had no idea! It was the worst 24 hours.
Despite that, the kids seemed non the wiser and quite enjoyed the novelty of 'no lectricity'. We enjoyed the time to play games, watch the water from our bedroom window and eat dinner by camp light.
By Wednesday afternoon the water had receded enough for us to try venture out the house and for this intense want to know what had happened and see the destruction, I put on the wellies, plastic bagged my legs and headed out. Hoboken was more than 70% under water and the streets where horrible - dark dirty water stained with sewage and gas leaks, littered with trees, random cars and the odd personal item.
Finally by late Wednesday we where able to shoulder lift the kids to higher ground to give them some much needed fresh air and the chance to jump in muddy puddles.
There has been far too much going on since Wednesday making it impossible for me to write about it, but we've since gained our power back, hosted several play dates, cooked for our neighbours, walked the streets trying to figure out ways to help those that have lost their homes and above and beyond that keep the kids happy and safe.
It is SO sad to see the destruction that Sandy has caused in Hoboken but I can't even begin to think what it's been like for those in areas like Staten Island and the Jersey Shore which where hit worse. My heart goes out to every single person who's been affected by this.
As for Hoboken, I'm sure she'll recover. Eventually. We've only got 20 days left before our forced eviction from the US so sadly we may not see her back to her original beauty but in my mind this truly has been the best city I have ever lived in and will always have very very special memories for me and my kids.
Adams Street from our Roof
Our closest pub
Whats left of people's house and lives
Saturday 3rd, the clam after the storm
There are certain things in life I thought, or assumed I might never have to live through. In my mind I always assume, I'm sure like most other mothers do, that my kids will grow up healthy, I'll live a long and happy life and that I'll never have to face hardship, disaster or unprecedented grief before it's time.
I also assume, or hope, I'll never die in a plane crash, get struck by lighting or be run over by a bus. Much like I never thought I'd have to live through a tsunami, earthquake or hurricane. From a small town in South Africa at one point in my life this seemed a given.
Then, last week whilst on a family trip to Washington DC we slowly learnt that a category 1 hurricane was fast approaching the east coast of the US expecting to make landfall on the Jersey Shore sometime late Monday night. It seemed unreal, especially as we sat in Gerogetown, Washington DC on Saturday afternoon there wasn't a breath of wind and at one point it seemed as warm as a mid summers day. We kept joking to each other - there couldn't possibly be a big storm coming. Frankenstorm as she was nick named.
Hurricane Sandy has been described as the worst storm ever. A super-storm that has restulted in hundreds dead, $50 billions worth of damage and for me, a lifetimes worth of bad memories.
We arrived back to Hoboken late Sunday afternoon and within minutes we where sandbagging our doorways, taping the windows, tying down furniture and late Sunday evening I spent almost two hours driving around Hoboken and Jersey City looking for higher ground to park our car. It was a mad dash to try find water, fresh milk, flashlights, batteries, beer and wine. It was serious Armageddon.
Our house is situated between two taller blocks of flats and behind another two so in some ways quite protected from wind. It's also incredibly sound proof. The double or triple glazing is incredible. In between the TV, chatting and making dinner we could hear wind but nothing like what was going on outside.
Pete casually wandered down to our bedroom around 9pm and found this.
Adams Road, or is that Adams River. We couldnt' believe our eyes. It was gushing down the street and we could barely open the windows without fear of them blowing off the hinges. We sat and watched the water rise and rise and soon worried for the safety of our things on the lower level of our property and the kids asleep in their bedroom on the same level as this.
By 2am Tuesday morning we had firefighters paroling the streets in boats putting out fires caused by trees bringing the power cables down, and rescuing families from their homes. In between the dying wind, the gushing water, car alarms, and the high pitched shrieks from the electrical power stations being flooded I dozed into sleep thinking that by morning it would all be over.
Tuesday morning we woke up to no power. The day was spent in doors with 6ft of water blocking our way out and with no lights, no internet, no TV and no radio we where non the wiser to the destruction that Sandy had created. My phone started beeping every five minutes with messages from all over the world saying ' We've seen the photos, are you ok?' ' Seen this picture on the news and heard about Hoboken, I hope you're ok' Really? We had no idea! It was the worst 24 hours.
Despite that, the kids seemed non the wiser and quite enjoyed the novelty of 'no lectricity'. We enjoyed the time to play games, watch the water from our bedroom window and eat dinner by camp light.
By Wednesday afternoon the water had receded enough for us to try venture out the house and for this intense want to know what had happened and see the destruction, I put on the wellies, plastic bagged my legs and headed out. Hoboken was more than 70% under water and the streets where horrible - dark dirty water stained with sewage and gas leaks, littered with trees, random cars and the odd personal item.
Finally by late Wednesday we where able to shoulder lift the kids to higher ground to give them some much needed fresh air and the chance to jump in muddy puddles.
There has been far too much going on since Wednesday making it impossible for me to write about it, but we've since gained our power back, hosted several play dates, cooked for our neighbours, walked the streets trying to figure out ways to help those that have lost their homes and above and beyond that keep the kids happy and safe.
It is SO sad to see the destruction that Sandy has caused in Hoboken but I can't even begin to think what it's been like for those in areas like Staten Island and the Jersey Shore which where hit worse. My heart goes out to every single person who's been affected by this.
As for Hoboken, I'm sure she'll recover. Eventually. We've only got 20 days left before our forced eviction from the US so sadly we may not see her back to her original beauty but in my mind this truly has been the best city I have ever lived in and will always have very very special memories for me and my kids.
Adams Street from our Roof
Our closest pub
Whats left of people's house and lives
Saturday 3rd, the clam after the storm
Thursday, 20 September 2012
It'll be alright in the end...
It'll be alright in the end..if it's not alright, it's not the end.
As I was packing quite anxiously, yet excitedly yesterday morning for my five day trip to London without the kids I received a text message from my husband simply saying,
Sorry P
(P being short for princess). I was confused. Sorry for what? I racked my brain for things I thought he'd done wrong that morning before rushing out the door to work. Nothing came to mind. So I typed my reply,
Sorry for what?
and then I remembered...
Amidst my excitement at leaving housework and the kids for a long weekend to see friends and family in London and enjoy the only business class flights I would have ever take without the kids, we where slap bang in the middle of one very big ugly cloud of uncertainty regarding my husband's job. It was rumored that a large number of people where going to be let go this week from his firm and yet despite joking about it, we never really thought it would happen to us. I mean seriously. The company had recently just paid almost a quarter of a million dollars to relocate us from Singapore to the USA. They wouldn't really let him go would they? We'd only be here 9 months....
Oh yeah?.... in the cut throat world that is banking, no body gives a f*k about anybody but themselves. (ok, so that's my opinion) And so after 9 years service and a million and one hours (and that's probably just since we've moved to the US) I find I have a husband at home. A victim of the global financial crisis.
I didn't get a reply from my text message. Instead I got a phone call to say,
'I'm on the 10.45 ferry, beer in 30 minutes?' FU*************K! NOOOOOOO!
I am obviously upset for him. He's lost his job, the certainty he had about how to provide for our family, the routine he's had for the past 14 years. Yes, it must be odd, but I feel like there is so much more than that.
This year has thrown everything its got at me. Moving country, dealing with being alone and taking responsibility for my children for the first time ever, adjusting to American culture, coping with being a single parent whilst my husband worked 72 hour weeks, leaving my husband, dealing with separation, reuniting, counseling, moving the kids out of school, putting the kids back in school and finally last month settling William into pre-K and buying a house. I kept thinking no wonder I'm not settled. Maybe come December when we finally take the keys to our new house and move into our first family home things will be better. Maybe.. or maybe not. So just when I thought the cloud of doom had finally lifted.... another shitty hand.
Who knows what happens now. I cancelled my flight to London and began thinking of everything that might change in the next few months. We've had to pull out our house sale and rethink everything we've been planning. It's only been a day with Pete at home but already I sense William knows something is up. He's moody and acting up and for the first time ever screamed and kicked his teachers when I dropped him off at school this morning. We haven't told him daddy wasn't going to work and we haven't told him we're not moving into the nice new house he keeps going on about (it surprises me what a 3 year old remembers) yet he seems to know. Cant wait to tell him we're leaving the country and his friends... again!!
I'm teary eyed now just thinking about having to leave the US and Hoboken. It's been a hellish 9 months, yes I've had to deal with more drama than I can imagine but I love it here. In 9 months I love Hoboken and New York more than I ever did Singapore and I just can't imagine being made to leave. Pity it's not up to me.
As I was packing quite anxiously, yet excitedly yesterday morning for my five day trip to London without the kids I received a text message from my husband simply saying,
Sorry P
(P being short for princess). I was confused. Sorry for what? I racked my brain for things I thought he'd done wrong that morning before rushing out the door to work. Nothing came to mind. So I typed my reply,
Sorry for what?
and then I remembered...
Amidst my excitement at leaving housework and the kids for a long weekend to see friends and family in London and enjoy the only business class flights I would have ever take without the kids, we where slap bang in the middle of one very big ugly cloud of uncertainty regarding my husband's job. It was rumored that a large number of people where going to be let go this week from his firm and yet despite joking about it, we never really thought it would happen to us. I mean seriously. The company had recently just paid almost a quarter of a million dollars to relocate us from Singapore to the USA. They wouldn't really let him go would they? We'd only be here 9 months....
Oh yeah?.... in the cut throat world that is banking, no body gives a f*k about anybody but themselves. (ok, so that's my opinion) And so after 9 years service and a million and one hours (and that's probably just since we've moved to the US) I find I have a husband at home. A victim of the global financial crisis.
I didn't get a reply from my text message. Instead I got a phone call to say,
'I'm on the 10.45 ferry, beer in 30 minutes?' FU*************K! NOOOOOOO!
I am obviously upset for him. He's lost his job, the certainty he had about how to provide for our family, the routine he's had for the past 14 years. Yes, it must be odd, but I feel like there is so much more than that.
This year has thrown everything its got at me. Moving country, dealing with being alone and taking responsibility for my children for the first time ever, adjusting to American culture, coping with being a single parent whilst my husband worked 72 hour weeks, leaving my husband, dealing with separation, reuniting, counseling, moving the kids out of school, putting the kids back in school and finally last month settling William into pre-K and buying a house. I kept thinking no wonder I'm not settled. Maybe come December when we finally take the keys to our new house and move into our first family home things will be better. Maybe.. or maybe not. So just when I thought the cloud of doom had finally lifted.... another shitty hand.
Who knows what happens now. I cancelled my flight to London and began thinking of everything that might change in the next few months. We've had to pull out our house sale and rethink everything we've been planning. It's only been a day with Pete at home but already I sense William knows something is up. He's moody and acting up and for the first time ever screamed and kicked his teachers when I dropped him off at school this morning. We haven't told him daddy wasn't going to work and we haven't told him we're not moving into the nice new house he keeps going on about (it surprises me what a 3 year old remembers) yet he seems to know. Cant wait to tell him we're leaving the country and his friends... again!!
I'm teary eyed now just thinking about having to leave the US and Hoboken. It's been a hellish 9 months, yes I've had to deal with more drama than I can imagine but I love it here. In 9 months I love Hoboken and New York more than I ever did Singapore and I just can't imagine being made to leave. Pity it's not up to me.
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
decisions decisions decisions....and some insomnia
I read a lot of blogs. It seems there are thousands of moms; wives; expats out there who find the same sense of satisfaction or fulfillment I do in sharing life, stories, pictures and adventures with the unknown. I don't know why I started this blog initially. Maybe it was because I figured with moving country and heading out into the unknown it was a way for me to share what I was feeling and experiencing with the unknown. I felt like I could be honest with what I did, how I behaved and who I am at a time when I didn't have many people to talk to.
It's July already and everyday I'm here I keep thinking about how I can't believe I still live in America. Am I weird in thinking that after seven months I should feel settled? Should I? Or is it normal to still feel like my house is ok to be messy because we just moved in? I feel like apologizing to the managing agents every time they pop round to fix something but clearly they know we haven't just moved in.
The past seven months has been a whirlwind of emotion based on decisions I never thought I'd have to make as a mother or as a 32 year old. I still occasionally feel so childish that I'm seriously not old enough to have two toddlers who are solely dependent on me making decisions that will affect and shape their livelihood. That can't be right. I can't decide most days what to wear, what to do or what to have for dinner. How am I meant to make more meaningful choices for two small kids?
Take my son for example, he's still enjoying day care three days a week, and this month (August)- sh*t it's August, sorry correction for above, I thought it was still July- is his last month at his current private centre. Next month he begins Pre-K in Hoboken which I'm incredibly nervous about. Will loves his school and his teachers and I'm so concerned that moving him from something that he finds so settling will only cause more disruption to his already chaotic three year old life. I sometimes look at him in awe and wander how much of all of this he might remember. I'm sure he certainly won't remember Singapore and all the friends he made there but I wander how much of Hoboken and the US he'll take in.
Since arriving here 8 months ago we've already been to Houston, South Africa, England and Virignia and he's been taken in and put back in school too many times for me to count. I've approached the subject of him now having to attend a different school but I'm not sure he fully understands it yet. His private daycare is lovely. Of course it is, it's private so I pay a lot of lovely money for it to be lovely and well lets just say that the public schools in Hoboken are nice. I'm probably over thinking everything and I'm sure to any three year old it probably won't matter. I'm sure with undivided attention, the opportunity to paint when he wants, toys and 14 other kids to play with he'll be happy. But I can't help thinking that I have the power to make a decision and what if its the wrong one.
Little E on the other hand is another story. I am amazed by her with each passing day. Not to say that William isn't extraordinary in his own way, and for those who know me well - this is NOT me declaring she is my favorite!! (that's a whole other story) but she's exceptional. At 22 months I'm able to take her to a coffee shop, sit her in a normal chair, order her food from a menu - which can contain any number of vegetables and which she'll eat, and have a conversation with her about what we've done and what's going on around us. She's the most amusing thing I have going on these days. She can make me smile by just looking at me and when she opens that mouth of hers I'm honestly amazed at what comes out. I don't remember William talking as much at this age -with the ability to understand and remember. Little E has moved from parrot talking to stringing sentences which everyday astounds me.
Only today she picked up a toy microphone and sang the whole two verses of Old MacDonald whilst trying to dance. Sadly she seems to have got her moves from her dad as well.
I fear with speech however comes attitude. I am faced with "No mommy, Emma will do it' often followed five minutes later by 'Help Mommy, Emma can't do it' and "Yay, Mommy did it' and quite often she'll walk over to me with a cup in hand and say ' Emma water please, Get up mommy. Up Mommy.' Which she'll repeat parrot fashion until I do. She's one determined, strong willed little girl who certainly knows most days what she wants to wear and what she's going to do. But I think she's a LOT like me. Maybe that's why I love her so much.
After our month long vacation in England and Virginia beach this past month I had the pleasure of dropping E off at day care today for the first time only for her to throw such a tantrum she managed to kick her teacher in the face. Let's hope tomorrow will be better.
This week I have the joy (and I mean that in the least sarcastic way) of house hunting. We have decided that despite job uncertainty and what ever else life might throw at us, we want to live in Hoboken for the forceable future and so might as well look to try give our kids one thing I've wanted since before they where born. Our own home. House hunting however only brings more and more decisions I'm likely to have to face, which I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed by already and I don't even know what they are. I'm clearly problematic.
I am looking forward to poking my head into other peoples lives for a bit and I do love nesting so will keep you posted.
I have managed to take tiredness these days to an all new extreme level. Only recently on our drive back from Virginia beach, after being behind the wheel for over eight hours with a husband and two chatty, noisy kids in the back, I was honestly delirious. I had never felt that exhausted before. I forgot it was eight hours behind the wheel interspersed with two hours at Chucky Cheese! Anyway, driving along the Pulaski skyway heading back into Hoboken with the beautiful Manhattan skyline ahead of us, I swerved the car unexpectedly, luckily escaping impact with anything to the right of me only to avoid a monkey. Yes, monkey. A monkey on a busy motorway over a bridge in the middle of a city. OK. So it was actually a brown paper bag with a few loose ends but I honestly seriously thought it was a monkey. I should have stropped driving at that point. Yesterday, although I wasn't seeing wildlife or anything else strange as such, I was borderline over the limit again and found myself talking to myself for nearly an hour before Pete arrived home from work only to realize I was alone.
I never used to be an insomniac but with the kids sharing a room and the noise that Hoboken provides us, I have found that since moving to the US I am becoming an increasingly frequent night owl. I would happily sit up till 1am knowing that If I went to bed then and woke up two hours later it would be 3 and then it meant I could get up as it was only 3 hours till light. God help me in Winter. I might need to invest in some relaxation therapy.
Saying that its almost 1am now and I should take myself off to bed. Till next time. x
It's July already and everyday I'm here I keep thinking about how I can't believe I still live in America. Am I weird in thinking that after seven months I should feel settled? Should I? Or is it normal to still feel like my house is ok to be messy because we just moved in? I feel like apologizing to the managing agents every time they pop round to fix something but clearly they know we haven't just moved in.
The past seven months has been a whirlwind of emotion based on decisions I never thought I'd have to make as a mother or as a 32 year old. I still occasionally feel so childish that I'm seriously not old enough to have two toddlers who are solely dependent on me making decisions that will affect and shape their livelihood. That can't be right. I can't decide most days what to wear, what to do or what to have for dinner. How am I meant to make more meaningful choices for two small kids?
Take my son for example, he's still enjoying day care three days a week, and this month (August)- sh*t it's August, sorry correction for above, I thought it was still July- is his last month at his current private centre. Next month he begins Pre-K in Hoboken which I'm incredibly nervous about. Will loves his school and his teachers and I'm so concerned that moving him from something that he finds so settling will only cause more disruption to his already chaotic three year old life. I sometimes look at him in awe and wander how much of all of this he might remember. I'm sure he certainly won't remember Singapore and all the friends he made there but I wander how much of Hoboken and the US he'll take in.
Since arriving here 8 months ago we've already been to Houston, South Africa, England and Virignia and he's been taken in and put back in school too many times for me to count. I've approached the subject of him now having to attend a different school but I'm not sure he fully understands it yet. His private daycare is lovely. Of course it is, it's private so I pay a lot of lovely money for it to be lovely and well lets just say that the public schools in Hoboken are nice. I'm probably over thinking everything and I'm sure to any three year old it probably won't matter. I'm sure with undivided attention, the opportunity to paint when he wants, toys and 14 other kids to play with he'll be happy. But I can't help thinking that I have the power to make a decision and what if its the wrong one.
Little E on the other hand is another story. I am amazed by her with each passing day. Not to say that William isn't extraordinary in his own way, and for those who know me well - this is NOT me declaring she is my favorite!! (that's a whole other story) but she's exceptional. At 22 months I'm able to take her to a coffee shop, sit her in a normal chair, order her food from a menu - which can contain any number of vegetables and which she'll eat, and have a conversation with her about what we've done and what's going on around us. She's the most amusing thing I have going on these days. She can make me smile by just looking at me and when she opens that mouth of hers I'm honestly amazed at what comes out. I don't remember William talking as much at this age -with the ability to understand and remember. Little E has moved from parrot talking to stringing sentences which everyday astounds me.
Only today she picked up a toy microphone and sang the whole two verses of Old MacDonald whilst trying to dance. Sadly she seems to have got her moves from her dad as well.
I fear with speech however comes attitude. I am faced with "No mommy, Emma will do it' often followed five minutes later by 'Help Mommy, Emma can't do it' and "Yay, Mommy did it' and quite often she'll walk over to me with a cup in hand and say ' Emma water please, Get up mommy. Up Mommy.' Which she'll repeat parrot fashion until I do. She's one determined, strong willed little girl who certainly knows most days what she wants to wear and what she's going to do. But I think she's a LOT like me. Maybe that's why I love her so much.
After our month long vacation in England and Virginia beach this past month I had the pleasure of dropping E off at day care today for the first time only for her to throw such a tantrum she managed to kick her teacher in the face. Let's hope tomorrow will be better.
This week I have the joy (and I mean that in the least sarcastic way) of house hunting. We have decided that despite job uncertainty and what ever else life might throw at us, we want to live in Hoboken for the forceable future and so might as well look to try give our kids one thing I've wanted since before they where born. Our own home. House hunting however only brings more and more decisions I'm likely to have to face, which I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed by already and I don't even know what they are. I'm clearly problematic.
I am looking forward to poking my head into other peoples lives for a bit and I do love nesting so will keep you posted.
I have managed to take tiredness these days to an all new extreme level. Only recently on our drive back from Virginia beach, after being behind the wheel for over eight hours with a husband and two chatty, noisy kids in the back, I was honestly delirious. I had never felt that exhausted before. I forgot it was eight hours behind the wheel interspersed with two hours at Chucky Cheese! Anyway, driving along the Pulaski skyway heading back into Hoboken with the beautiful Manhattan skyline ahead of us, I swerved the car unexpectedly, luckily escaping impact with anything to the right of me only to avoid a monkey. Yes, monkey. A monkey on a busy motorway over a bridge in the middle of a city. OK. So it was actually a brown paper bag with a few loose ends but I honestly seriously thought it was a monkey. I should have stropped driving at that point. Yesterday, although I wasn't seeing wildlife or anything else strange as such, I was borderline over the limit again and found myself talking to myself for nearly an hour before Pete arrived home from work only to realize I was alone.
I never used to be an insomniac but with the kids sharing a room and the noise that Hoboken provides us, I have found that since moving to the US I am becoming an increasingly frequent night owl. I would happily sit up till 1am knowing that If I went to bed then and woke up two hours later it would be 3 and then it meant I could get up as it was only 3 hours till light. God help me in Winter. I might need to invest in some relaxation therapy.
Saying that its almost 1am now and I should take myself off to bed. Till next time. x
Thursday, 3 May 2012
something about nothing...
I'm finding it a struggle these days to find time to write posts. I don't even have an excuse for the lack of effort. If anything my opportunity to write should have doubled with little E now at school 2 days a week, yet I feel like days and weeks just pass before my eyes without me having done or accomplished a thing.
I think my lack of production confuses me the most these days. Where does the time go? What do I do?
First, how can four people produce SO much laundry and make SO much mess- especially when the smallest two are away from the house 3 days a week. I feel like I'm constantly putting on the washing machine, dishwasher and cleaning up the floor and when I'm doing that I'm thinking about clothes mountain I have to fold, put away and the dinner I have to prepare for myself. I keep thinking that one of these days I'll be in a routine and things will get easier...when, I'm not sure, but hoping soon.
We've been in the US now for 5 months and I still feel like somedays I've just arrived and that I'm still in the chaos of having just moved country. Our house is littered with 'to do' jobs and 'will get there' projects that wait for weekends and then weeks and then weekends again. I sometimes dream that a seven bed country home with enough space to hide everything might make me feel like my life is a bit less chaotic.
I am confused about a lot of things these days. I received the 'good to go' from the US government a few weeks ago and am now officially allowed to seek employment here. I have always wanted to go back to work. I don't know why but being a full time SAHM (which btw means stay at home mom- took me a while to figure that out too) has never been something I wanted. I love my kids, just not 24/7/365. So, with the rest of America I began looking for work. I've been pretty fortunate in the past having fallen into roles and having known the right people to get the right jobs before W and E but here in the city of dreams I feel lost. I have registered with agencies, spoken to contacts, googled jobs till I'm square eyed yet nothing. I've woken up to a whole world of NO.
I used to love job hunting, interviews and everything that came with it. I used to think it meant an hour devoted to talking about me. And now I love the idea of getting dressed up, feeling like I can wear clothes that aren't going to have grubby hands smeared all over them within five minutes. I've been feeling a bit down hearted that despite my efforts I haven't received much love. I seemed to think it would be easier.
I am still trying to market and promote Little Prints William here in Hoboken and New York and have also recently taken up sewing and started a new project called That Sew Cute. Maybe this is where my time goes? Making seriously cute baby bedding and accessories for little E has now got me thinking I can do it for the general public. If you haven't already had the chance - check out my new website: www.thatsewcute.com.
As I write this my house looks like an indian wedding, I've rice stuck between my toes and I'd rather sit in the corner ignoring the kids, sipping my cold Sav B hoping the mess cleans itself up then face up to it.
Pete is out tonight having drinks after work and although I obviously don't mind his time out and appreciate he needs some time to have fun too, I wonder now what it's like to go out not having to worry about feeding, bath and bed whilst trying to put on make up and change outfits three of four times. At least here I'm not sweating like I used to in Singapore. Although I remember in Singapore I never used to bath my kids, or put them to bed- and then I get depressed and have more wine.
Despite my moaning, I'm loving Hoboken, my new friends, Macy's and my new wardrobe (pics should follow soon) and can't wait till summer here. Next Wednesday I am off to Miami beach for 4 nights sans kids (thanks Granny and Gaga). Life is incredibly different from what it was this time last year but I don't think I'd go back or change a thing.
It might be lonelier, much more hard work but wine is a sh*t load cheaper - thank God!
x
I think my lack of production confuses me the most these days. Where does the time go? What do I do?
First, how can four people produce SO much laundry and make SO much mess- especially when the smallest two are away from the house 3 days a week. I feel like I'm constantly putting on the washing machine, dishwasher and cleaning up the floor and when I'm doing that I'm thinking about clothes mountain I have to fold, put away and the dinner I have to prepare for myself. I keep thinking that one of these days I'll be in a routine and things will get easier...when, I'm not sure, but hoping soon.
We've been in the US now for 5 months and I still feel like somedays I've just arrived and that I'm still in the chaos of having just moved country. Our house is littered with 'to do' jobs and 'will get there' projects that wait for weekends and then weeks and then weekends again. I sometimes dream that a seven bed country home with enough space to hide everything might make me feel like my life is a bit less chaotic.
I am confused about a lot of things these days. I received the 'good to go' from the US government a few weeks ago and am now officially allowed to seek employment here. I have always wanted to go back to work. I don't know why but being a full time SAHM (which btw means stay at home mom- took me a while to figure that out too) has never been something I wanted. I love my kids, just not 24/7/365. So, with the rest of America I began looking for work. I've been pretty fortunate in the past having fallen into roles and having known the right people to get the right jobs before W and E but here in the city of dreams I feel lost. I have registered with agencies, spoken to contacts, googled jobs till I'm square eyed yet nothing. I've woken up to a whole world of NO.
I used to love job hunting, interviews and everything that came with it. I used to think it meant an hour devoted to talking about me. And now I love the idea of getting dressed up, feeling like I can wear clothes that aren't going to have grubby hands smeared all over them within five minutes. I've been feeling a bit down hearted that despite my efforts I haven't received much love. I seemed to think it would be easier.
I am still trying to market and promote Little Prints William here in Hoboken and New York and have also recently taken up sewing and started a new project called That Sew Cute. Maybe this is where my time goes? Making seriously cute baby bedding and accessories for little E has now got me thinking I can do it for the general public. If you haven't already had the chance - check out my new website: www.thatsewcute.com.
As I write this my house looks like an indian wedding, I've rice stuck between my toes and I'd rather sit in the corner ignoring the kids, sipping my cold Sav B hoping the mess cleans itself up then face up to it.
Pete is out tonight having drinks after work and although I obviously don't mind his time out and appreciate he needs some time to have fun too, I wonder now what it's like to go out not having to worry about feeding, bath and bed whilst trying to put on make up and change outfits three of four times. At least here I'm not sweating like I used to in Singapore. Although I remember in Singapore I never used to bath my kids, or put them to bed- and then I get depressed and have more wine.
Despite my moaning, I'm loving Hoboken, my new friends, Macy's and my new wardrobe (pics should follow soon) and can't wait till summer here. Next Wednesday I am off to Miami beach for 4 nights sans kids (thanks Granny and Gaga). Life is incredibly different from what it was this time last year but I don't think I'd go back or change a thing.
It might be lonelier, much more hard work but wine is a sh*t load cheaper - thank God!
x
Sunday, 1 April 2012
March Madness
So much has happened in the last month I don't even know where to begin....
I can't believe it's April and that we have been in New York for almost four months. It feels like yesterday I gave my best friend a hug goodbye yet forever without her around.
The past month has been a tough one. On Friday 18th February at 5am in the morning with my (Kate Spade) bag packed, I sat nervously on the couch at home waiting for my lift to hospital to have my hernia operated on. Arriving for surgery on your own is a pretty awful feeling. Doc had discovered whilst having my tests done earlier in the week that we of course don't own a car (yet), so I would be getting a taxi to and from hospital. She also couldn't grasp the concept that I didn't have any family or friends around to ask for help, so after what seemed like ages of in-depth whispering and calls I was moved from Summit Hospital to Florham Park private medical centre and collected and delivered home by private limo. Nothing like a 10 seat mini bus with bar to take you to hospital. The whole experience was surreal. The last time I was poked and prodded strapped to a table I woke up to Emma. Sadly this time it was George who swept the floors Tuesday to Friday, lived in Newark and has a son called Dominic. My surgery was however completed successfully and four hours later I was wheeled outside and on my way home. Felt like I was coming back from an unsuccessful shopping trip to Target.
The weeks since have been good and bad. I was under strict instruction not to pick up either kid for 4 weeks, keep bending over to a minimum and refrain from all strenuous activity. With two kids under the age of three I have found that SO easy. I explained to Emma, 17 months going on genius, that I couldn't pick her up or cuddle her because I'd just been operated on and she seemed fine with it. No problem whatsoever. My kids are happy to bath themselves, Emma has found a way to spring jump catapult herself into her cot, William is confident climbing the fridge to get his own milk and even occasionally able to start the gas burner to cook dinner in time for Pete coming home at 10pm. Now if I could just figure out a way to get him to school on his own, I'll be sorted.
Pete kindly took a couple week's off work and assisted with my recovery which in some ways was great. Some ways. Every way. By day three I was fully mobile again and with little pain and discomfort able to get up and do most things. William was dropped at school, Emma bundled into the pram and Pete and I would wander the streets of Hoboken or NYC, drink coffee and read books. Apart from my fleeting moments of guilt for being slightly incapable, the first two week's breezed by and I felt like I was back in Singapore with someone to help bath my kids, cook and feed them dinner and tidy up after me. Could I go back for more next month please?
Never one to slow down or sit still, 8 days after the op, feeling like there was little or nothing wrong with me, we boarded a flight and headed to Houston for the weekend to visit good friends. After a rather stressful- to put it nicely- shitty month, it was so great to be somewhere warmer with familiar faces. Houston Rodeo rocked and the weekend was everything I wanted and needed. I was so sad to leave on Monday afternoon. Back to the cold, back to being alone.
Pete's job- as I'm sure he will admit- isn't exactly what we had in mind when first moving here. Singapore spoilt us in so many ways. I think he's found it hard actually having to 'work' again but we've found it extremely difficult the hours he's had to put in. Singapore expat wife one day, Wall street widow the next. It's been a shock to the system. I'm sure for him having to put so many man hours in but for me too, spending so much time alone. Thankfully I quite like my company but still, it hasn't been easy. So, to get a break, a bit of help and attend a beautiful wedding I decided the day after coming back from Houston to head to South Africa for 3 weeks. It was a crazy 24 hours- arriving back in New York at 10pm, unpacking, putting the kids to sleep, packing, sleeping, waking up at 4.30am and heading to JFK for the 16 hour flight to Johannesburg. Being my 4th solo flight with both kids I think I'm well trained to know what works and what doesn't. I am extremely grateful they are very well behaved children (on flights) and surprisingly actually enjoy it.
South Africa was amazing. Kerry's wedding was so beautiful- even if I only got to see two hours of the reception- and I really loved the opportunity to spend as much time as I got to with my sister and her two kids, considering two years ago we hardly spoke to each other or even acknowledged one's existence. There is something so magical about Africa that will always draw me back and always make me wish I lived there. Not sure my Kate Spade collection would be fully appreciated in Pietermaritzburg or whether I would survive, but non the less it will always be 'home'. The three weeks passed so quickly and so did the flight home. I'm still in disbelief that both kids slept 11 of the 16 hours back to New York.
It's good to be back in Hoboken. I arrived back to my approval for employment so I guess there's no excuse now for not making a concerted effort to find a job. Since being back it's great to see my new friends, familiar faces and to get the kids back into routine. I have sure missed daycare!
I'm thinking that possibly things might actually be getting better...
The weeks since have been good and bad. I was under strict instruction not to pick up either kid for 4 weeks, keep bending over to a minimum and refrain from all strenuous activity. With two kids under the age of three I have found that SO easy. I explained to Emma, 17 months going on genius, that I couldn't pick her up or cuddle her because I'd just been operated on and she seemed fine with it. No problem whatsoever. My kids are happy to bath themselves, Emma has found a way to spring jump catapult herself into her cot, William is confident climbing the fridge to get his own milk and even occasionally able to start the gas burner to cook dinner in time for Pete coming home at 10pm. Now if I could just figure out a way to get him to school on his own, I'll be sorted.
Pete kindly took a couple week's off work and assisted with my recovery which in some ways was great. Some ways. Every way. By day three I was fully mobile again and with little pain and discomfort able to get up and do most things. William was dropped at school, Emma bundled into the pram and Pete and I would wander the streets of Hoboken or NYC, drink coffee and read books. Apart from my fleeting moments of guilt for being slightly incapable, the first two week's breezed by and I felt like I was back in Singapore with someone to help bath my kids, cook and feed them dinner and tidy up after me. Could I go back for more next month please?
Never one to slow down or sit still, 8 days after the op, feeling like there was little or nothing wrong with me, we boarded a flight and headed to Houston for the weekend to visit good friends. After a rather stressful- to put it nicely- shitty month, it was so great to be somewhere warmer with familiar faces. Houston Rodeo rocked and the weekend was everything I wanted and needed. I was so sad to leave on Monday afternoon. Back to the cold, back to being alone.
Pete's job- as I'm sure he will admit- isn't exactly what we had in mind when first moving here. Singapore spoilt us in so many ways. I think he's found it hard actually having to 'work' again but we've found it extremely difficult the hours he's had to put in. Singapore expat wife one day, Wall street widow the next. It's been a shock to the system. I'm sure for him having to put so many man hours in but for me too, spending so much time alone. Thankfully I quite like my company but still, it hasn't been easy. So, to get a break, a bit of help and attend a beautiful wedding I decided the day after coming back from Houston to head to South Africa for 3 weeks. It was a crazy 24 hours- arriving back in New York at 10pm, unpacking, putting the kids to sleep, packing, sleeping, waking up at 4.30am and heading to JFK for the 16 hour flight to Johannesburg. Being my 4th solo flight with both kids I think I'm well trained to know what works and what doesn't. I am extremely grateful they are very well behaved children (on flights) and surprisingly actually enjoy it.
South Africa was amazing. Kerry's wedding was so beautiful- even if I only got to see two hours of the reception- and I really loved the opportunity to spend as much time as I got to with my sister and her two kids, considering two years ago we hardly spoke to each other or even acknowledged one's existence. There is something so magical about Africa that will always draw me back and always make me wish I lived there. Not sure my Kate Spade collection would be fully appreciated in Pietermaritzburg or whether I would survive, but non the less it will always be 'home'. The three weeks passed so quickly and so did the flight home. I'm still in disbelief that both kids slept 11 of the 16 hours back to New York.
It's good to be back in Hoboken. I arrived back to my approval for employment so I guess there's no excuse now for not making a concerted effort to find a job. Since being back it's great to see my new friends, familiar faces and to get the kids back into routine. I have sure missed daycare!
I'm thinking that possibly things might actually be getting better...
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
When it rains... it pours.
Its Valentines day and whilst waiting for the train back to Hoboken from Millburn, NJ this afternoon, sitting in gloriously sunny weather for February, my hubby turned to me with an affectionate look in his eyes then said 'It isn't easy being married to you. Nothings ever straightforward'
Awww, how romantic.
Ok, yes I agree, nothing ever seems straightforward and I am prone to the odd melodramatic performance but isn't every marriage like this? Its true to say in my life, when it rains, it pours.
If moving to a new country with two toddlers, leaving all my friends and comfortable life behind wasn't enough oh I know what, I'll go rupture a stomach muscle and get me an umbilical hernia. Yes, that sounds fun.
Hernia is one of those words that just sounds odd. Kind of like the word blog.
Pete asked after my appointment with the surgeon this morning if I was able to keep it. Keep it? Um, what? Not sure he realises it's not gallstones. So, for anyone else who is slightly confused, to save you time having to google it, a hernia (umbilical that is) is basically a protrusion formed from the inner lining of your belly (abdominal cavity) that pushes through a hole in the abdominal wall (muscle tear) at the belly button. It turns out that hernias are fairly common especially in woman after pregnancy. I (apparently) developed mine in December due to stress and a change in my lifestyle activities. That made me laugh. Change in my lifestyle activities - ie; actually parenting, bathing my kids, feeding my kids, pushing my kids up and down New York City in a pram all day, bending over and tidying toys, cleaning up mess and doing housework. Yes, there was definite change. Paybacks a bitch.
We got up this morning, dropped William off at school and then headed to Hoboken's Bariatric clinic where I had an appointment to see one of New Jersey's leading general surgeons. My appointment was scheduled for 9.20am. 9.30 with the offices still locked I decided to give them a call. Tuesday appointments are run from their Springfield office near Millburn, New Jersey, a 40 minute drive away. Thanks for telling me that.
Four hours, one very expensive taxi ride and three Drs later I was signing my life away, filing out insurance claim forms and agreeing to pre-assesment tests for surgery scheduled for this Friday morning. I was not expecting that. Of course I burst into tears.
I'm not sure what to think about another impending surgery. At least the last time I went into hospital a baby came home. This time it's in a wierd town to an unknown Dr and with no family or friends around, I'm nervous to say the least. Nervous, scared, resentful, grateful. Emotional.
Apart from thinking how things will go on Friday I keep thinking at the back of my mind, What next? Seriously? Might it be possible that after the surgery and the supposed month of recovery that I might actually be able to lead a normal life without something else coming up to bite me in the ass?
And Why? Why me? Why now?
I've had some moments of complete darkness, when I'm feeling so sick in the stomach and where I think I hate the world, my life and my luck but thankfully it only takes one look at my two beautiful kids to make me stop feeling sorry for myself and for me to still be grateful for what I've got; the health of my kids, my husband, the house we live in, my family (although absent) and the understanding from Pete and his company to let him have two weeks off to stay at home and help look after us. Without them I don't know what I'd do. I know my mom would do anything to be here to help out next week and I keep going on about being so sad that I have no family around, but then I realise, I do. I overlook that Pete, William and Emma are my family and what matter most to me.
I came home this afternoon from having blood tests and William ran to me at the door, hugged me and said, ' I'm so glad you're home mommy, you're not sick anymore, I missed you I love you so much. Let me kiss you better' That made me cry tears of joy.
What ever I did to deserve this I guess everything happens for a reason. The good side of today. We got to see a lot of the beautiful countryside of New Jersey and I had my first ever ECG, on Valentines Day. Turns out #Ihaveahealthyworkingheart .
So, with a BIG sigh, I'm off to bed.x
Awww, how romantic.
Ok, yes I agree, nothing ever seems straightforward and I am prone to the odd melodramatic performance but isn't every marriage like this? Its true to say in my life, when it rains, it pours.
If moving to a new country with two toddlers, leaving all my friends and comfortable life behind wasn't enough oh I know what, I'll go rupture a stomach muscle and get me an umbilical hernia. Yes, that sounds fun.
Hernia is one of those words that just sounds odd. Kind of like the word blog.
Pete asked after my appointment with the surgeon this morning if I was able to keep it. Keep it? Um, what? Not sure he realises it's not gallstones. So, for anyone else who is slightly confused, to save you time having to google it, a hernia (umbilical that is) is basically a protrusion formed from the inner lining of your belly (abdominal cavity) that pushes through a hole in the abdominal wall (muscle tear) at the belly button. It turns out that hernias are fairly common especially in woman after pregnancy. I (apparently) developed mine in December due to stress and a change in my lifestyle activities. That made me laugh. Change in my lifestyle activities - ie; actually parenting, bathing my kids, feeding my kids, pushing my kids up and down New York City in a pram all day, bending over and tidying toys, cleaning up mess and doing housework. Yes, there was definite change. Paybacks a bitch.
We got up this morning, dropped William off at school and then headed to Hoboken's Bariatric clinic where I had an appointment to see one of New Jersey's leading general surgeons. My appointment was scheduled for 9.20am. 9.30 with the offices still locked I decided to give them a call. Tuesday appointments are run from their Springfield office near Millburn, New Jersey, a 40 minute drive away. Thanks for telling me that.
Four hours, one very expensive taxi ride and three Drs later I was signing my life away, filing out insurance claim forms and agreeing to pre-assesment tests for surgery scheduled for this Friday morning. I was not expecting that. Of course I burst into tears.
I'm not sure what to think about another impending surgery. At least the last time I went into hospital a baby came home. This time it's in a wierd town to an unknown Dr and with no family or friends around, I'm nervous to say the least. Nervous, scared, resentful, grateful. Emotional.
Apart from thinking how things will go on Friday I keep thinking at the back of my mind, What next? Seriously? Might it be possible that after the surgery and the supposed month of recovery that I might actually be able to lead a normal life without something else coming up to bite me in the ass?
And Why? Why me? Why now?
I've had some moments of complete darkness, when I'm feeling so sick in the stomach and where I think I hate the world, my life and my luck but thankfully it only takes one look at my two beautiful kids to make me stop feeling sorry for myself and for me to still be grateful for what I've got; the health of my kids, my husband, the house we live in, my family (although absent) and the understanding from Pete and his company to let him have two weeks off to stay at home and help look after us. Without them I don't know what I'd do. I know my mom would do anything to be here to help out next week and I keep going on about being so sad that I have no family around, but then I realise, I do. I overlook that Pete, William and Emma are my family and what matter most to me.
I came home this afternoon from having blood tests and William ran to me at the door, hugged me and said, ' I'm so glad you're home mommy, you're not sick anymore, I missed you I love you so much. Let me kiss you better' That made me cry tears of joy.
What ever I did to deserve this I guess everything happens for a reason. The good side of today. We got to see a lot of the beautiful countryside of New Jersey and I had my first ever ECG, on Valentines Day. Turns out #Ihaveahealthyworkingheart .
So, with a BIG sigh, I'm off to bed.x
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