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...
