The kids are all right

When we first brought up the possibility of our Australia adventure, the kids' initial responses were pretty characteristic of their personalities.

Lauren: Cool! When do we find out for sure? Can I come? Can I have one of our cars here at university?

Maddy: (in the middle of G's sentence "my company has an opportunity in Australia-"): YES! Let's do it!

Sam: (quiet, measured look on his face): Hmmm. I don't know. I'll have to think about it.

Keep in mind that we have always talked about how great it would be to live abroad as a family. And that we love to travel and have tried to emphasize experiences over things. On top of all that, we have a pretty strong lineage of wanderlust and adventuring. So, while this opportunity came kind of out of the blue, the concept is not too earthshattering for our offspring.

Even so, as we've absorbed the reality of the enormity of this change, of course all of our initial responses have gone through stages of both tempering and leavening. Sam has gradually warmed to the idea and now is enthused and even predicts he'll want to stay through high school. Lauren remains upbeat and inquisitive but I'm sure she has moments when it feels like we'll be far away (I know I do).*  Maddy has had some sad moments of leaving-itis (e.g., student body elections for next year) sprinkled amidst her excitement. She kindly demonstrated the progression of her emotions:

As I told my parents and sibs recently, it definitely feels like that metaphoric roller coaster ride, complete with adrenaline and the occasional leaden lurching stomach. Weeee...oh no no no....weee! But it will be good, all in all. We'll learn a lot, explore new things, and figure out everything else. Mostly we feel upbeat**, encouraged, and calm in the knowledge that no matter what, we have each other. That will stay the same.

. . .

*L posted this about it on her blog.

** How can you not feel upbeat about Australia when you listen to this?

Crikey: A year with two springs

We have some pretty crazy news. It's part of why I've been so radio silent around here; mum was the word and it is nigh to impossible for me to keep these kinds of things to myself. 

We are stunned/anxious/giddy to announce that we are moving to Australia! G has the opportunity to head up legal there for his company and it's just too tempting an adventure for us to turn down*. We'll live in the capital, Canberra, a small city about 3 hours south of Sydney and are signing the final papers this week (so, truth in advertising, it's more like a 98% chance at this point but I can't hold back any longer).  

We definitely have mixed feelings about leaving our good life here: people, neighborhood, & schools we know and love dearly. It feels a bit like we're playing Let's Make a Deal and we have a lovely, known option of our current life revealed by Door #1 and a mysterious, unknown option behind door #2. We say "Chuck, we'll take our chances with Door #2!" and the audience kind of gasps. Time will tell.

At the moment we're mostly focusing on the good parts of this change: Hosting visitors who will have to tarry a good long while after traveling all that way. Having two springs this year. Exploring a part of the world we've not seen. Warm, sunny Christmases. Possible Aussie twangs in our speech. Saying "shrimp on the barbie" and "crikey" and "g'day mates." Taking up surfing (a bit of a stretch, since we're an hour inland).  No US presidential election commercials on tv. Oh, and two words: Hugh Jackman.

As you can imagine, our heads are spinning a bit at this point. My lists keep multiplying and having lists of their own. This is what we've figured out so far: G will head there in early June and we'll join him by September. He'll come home in between to help with the move and we'll visit family&friends in the west. Or such is the ideal plan at this point, subject to the tinkerings and hammerings life is sure to contribute to it. 

More soon, mates.

. . .

*You might remember that we thought we might go a few years ago. This time 'round they approached G about it and the process moved (mercifully) quite quickly in the last few weeks. 

Down to the Cod

The kids had spring break last week so we took an extended weekend and headed to the Cape (or, as my 17-year-old self called it, The Cod. I'm so sophisticated.). We lucked out with glorious weather despite a forecast of rain and spent those days doing what we wanted when we wanted: whalewatching (squinting way in the distance off the beach, see those plumes of water?), bike riding, beach combing, napping, reading, talking, watching movies, and eating well. Reeeeal well. Practically perfect, save for a missing Lauren. And we won't mention how one of us broke a bed, and someone threw a rock at someone else, and a few other moments.

p.s. The light on the Cape is breathtaking. Something about all that light-reflecting water casts a magic glow over the whole thing. Someday I'd like to paint it. First I have to learn how.

An absurd little bird

...is popping up to say cuckoo. Cuckoo! Cuckoo! This is me dipping my toe back into the blogging pond. Helloooooo! Anyone out there?

I've missed this, missed you.

The Sound of Music is in the air around here ever since Sam began his role as Friedrich, the oldest von Trapp boy, for his middle school musical not long ago. He rocked it. Plus, he was a true team player and all around good sport*.  Here are a few selected moments for the grandparents and others who asked. Please excuse the iphone video quality (and if only I had turned the camera the right way...).

Oh, and I want to give a shout out to Madi, our Maria, who was amazing.
Hard to believe that's a 13-year-old girl singing those notes. 

Listen carefully for a Friedrich solo at the end:

My mom and aunts loaned many of the dirndls shown here. Thank you!
Another Friedrich solo here:* 

*First, they gave him the high notes, which is not necessarily thrilling news for a 13-year-old boy. Sam has a pretty low speaking voice but he has a terrific ear and falsetto so they made him gave him the opportunity to use it. The director said that his favorite part of the whole play was when Sam did the octave jump for: Good night! (you can hear my chuckle and scattered applause on that last video if you listen closely).

Good sport item #2: They rented the sailor costumes from a theater and when they arrived one of the boys' outfits was too small for both of the boys. By a few years. Since the other (younger) boy was a little bigger width-wise, Sam got stuck with the small one. You'll see. There are some Winnie-the-Pooh moments.

Good sport item #3: Take a look at the play clothes made from curtains. They made floral suspenders and pinned them to their shirts. Tightly. He was, however, delighted that he escaped wearing lederhosen. You've got to draw the line somewhere.

Confetti

{Ahem. Fast forward three weeks...}

Hi!

Allow me to re-tell a story. Once when I was a young mother we were preparing to go on vacation, taking a road trip a couple of states away. I do what you do in that situation: lists and crossing off and packing and re-packing and checking. Do I have enough diapers? Does everyone have pajamas? Where are the little busy things for the long car ride? Did I stop the mail? Who will water the plants? You know.

Finally, we pulled out of our neighborhood ready for the adventure. After a while, 3-year-old Lauren piped up from the back seat. 

"Mom, did you remember to bring my blankie?"

"Yep, here it is."

Silence.

"Mom?"

"Uh huh?"

"Did you bring pink bear?"

Silence. Quick calculation of how far we've already driven. Too far. Life would have to go on without pink bear.

"No.......I think I forgot it Lauren. I'm sorry!"

Silence.

"Mom. Can't you even remember two things?"

 . . . 

Every once in a while over the past month or so I've chided myself "can't you even juggle two things?" but then I remind myself that those Two Things actually include so very many pieces that it feels like juggling confetti. So I decided that juggling is overrated. It's completely the wrong metaphor for my life right now in this season. What's the point, really, in trying to juggle confetti?  If you have confetti, you should be enjoying how it floats around your head and admiring the colors. You should be celebrating. I'm not sure where to go with that analogy but those were my thoughts. Be in the moment. Be glad for the bounty. Don't be so tough on yourself. Be wise in choosing your metaphors.

All this is just to say that it's a little crazy sometimes but I am loving being surrounded in our particular blend of confetti.

looking cool - losing teeth
sewing patches - contemplating schools

dressing up for Oscars - enjoying early spring
promming - celebrating oreo's 100th

jury duty - lunchtime walks
Sound of Music costumes for Sam - Celtics Game with G

Party of one

My people have headed south for the week. G had a conference in DC and the kids are on February break so it seemed like a perfect time for a road trip to the nation's capital. As much as I love a good adventure, I'm brand new in my job and we thought it might not be time quite yet for me to take the week off so, in a strange twist of our usual mode...here I am, holding down the fort. I sent Maddy off with a set of Downton Abbey paper dolls since we would miss watching the finale together. In return, she texted me a photo of the whole cast happily set up on the dashboard of the car. I love her frequent updates and photos of what they're up to.  This morning they attended Supreme Court arguments, had crepes, and walked to Arlington cemetery. How cool is that?

As for me, I've been running a bunch of long-postponed errands (Sam needs a new belt, I need new work pants, etc.), reading addictively on the sofa in the late afternoon, catching up on a few shows on our tivo, and going to bed early.  Wild and crazy, that's me. I'm actually a little overwhelmed with the possibilities every day: get a pedicure? see an early evening movie? go to a museum? explore a corner of Boston? start a project? write? What would you do?

. . .

Changing topics a bit....This week my Sunday School lesson for the 12- and 13-year-olds was about adversity so I was happy to play them one of my favorite talks of all time, The Currant Bush by Hugh B. Brown (fast forward about 2/3 and listen to 17:43 through 28:15 for that portion of the talk). Do you know that one? Many years ago a friend gave me a cassette tape with this particular recording and it got me through many ups and downs in high school and college. It felt like such a personal pep talk (and I've listened to it so often) that I feel like I know Brown personally, with his kind uncle voice and poetic cadence: "God is aware of you, individually. He knows who you are and what you are and furthermore he knows what you are capable of becoming. Be not discouraged then if you do not get all the things you want just when you want them. Have the courage to go on and face your life..."

It's been swimming around in my head lately. So often I feel simultaneously laden with fruit and cut down. It's comforting to remember there's a gardener in charge of all that pruning and growth.

On being the new girl

Our middle school has a day each year (fondly known as stalk-a-student day) where parents come along and follow their children through their classes. Even though it's scheduled on a shorter day with shortened classes, I am always SO EXHAUSTED at the end of the day, drained by all the newness, the trodding from place to place, the sitting still and listening over and over.

Every year it made me a little more charitable towards my drooping, tired teenagers who would come through the door at the end of the day. Suddenly I better understood the need for snacking (not that I ever needed to stretch to understand that, mind you), the pull of the sofa (ditto), the need to put their feet up for a few minutes before launching into the afternoon.

I had the same, exhausted feeling all last week. I think I experienced some kind of jet lag job lag with adjusting to the new schedule, filling my brain chock full of new information, talking to grownups, being "on" for a whole slew of hours in a row, and getting up earlier & hitting the ground running.

Sunrise, Boston

Now that the job lag has mostly subsided I can wrap my brain around some of my impressions of highlights, challenges, and essentials for this new venture.

Highlights:

1. Having a name badge that I swipe to get in and out of a restricted door between the museum and the elevators to my office. It just feels so clandestine and official at the same time.
2. Wearing work clothes. Still feels like dress up but maybe the novelty will wear off eventually.
3. The luxury of focusing without distraction for a few hours.
4. The flexibility of my workplace. I work 7-3 and it could not be more perfect (well...8 to 2 would be awesome, too). Also? Most of my department works from home at least one day a week; after a few months there I'll be eligible to do that, too.
5. The location on the wharf with a lovely view of Boston and the harbor. Have you been to Boston? My office is above the Children's Museum, the building next to the the giant Hood milk bottle on the dock, and near the site of the Boston Tea Party. The views make me happy every time.
6. Having work mates. Although I've only admitted it to a few people, I have been just plain lonely for the last while and this is a nice remedy. (By the way, one colleague is planning on going on 180 dates in 2012. She's got some good stories.
7. Two words: Office supplies.
8. The job itself feels like such a great fit and, at the same time, it stretches me. It's gratifying and invigorating.

Challenges:

1. The obvious: Getting everything done at home that I used to do. It took me about 4 days to finish all the laundry last week, where I used to be a Monday-is-laundry-day, start to finish, kind of gal.
2. Leaving the house at 6:15 a.m. Yawn. One day at a time on this one.
3. Negotiating my flex hours. I was nervous to ask but I'm so glad I did. Note to self: you don't know if you don't ask.
4. I miss margins. I kind of like long transitions between things and prefer big margins to my day. Those are gone. It's a tradeoff.
5. Will I ever make it to the post office again? (Sorry, Lauren, your package is coming SOON.)
6. Being the new girl is exhilarating and also humbling. It's a challenge to start from scratch on everything: where the light switch is, how to do everything, what the office culture does and doesn't do, and all the details about the organization and my particular job. It hurts me brain sometimes.

Couldn't do it without:

1. G. taking over the morning send-off responsibility. I miss those morning minutes with Maddy and Sam but I'm thrilled for him that he gets to have that time with them. I'm so grateful for him and his boundless, enthusiastic support. Plus he has a cold this week. Extra bonus points for G.
2. Calling, texting, leaving notes, adding new routines and rituals to our day (my every-morning note to Sam, for example).
3. Amazon and the occasional grocery home delivery. Some things had to go and I have pretty much abdicated my errand running in favor of online purchasing. Again, it's a trade off.
4. Protecting my time at home. All I want to do when I get home is hang out with my people. I'm both an adventurer and a homebody (trivia: did you know this blog was first named "Ambitious Homebody"? It's true.) and I need my home time. Work will be plenty adventure for me for now.
5. Ah, at the risk of repeating: That flexible schedule. I'm so grateful to preserve my afternoons at home and to feel like there's still a good part of the day left when I get home.
6. Supportive, lovely friends (both near and far) who talked me down and built me up on more than one occasion.

Speaking of lovely and supportive, thanks for your kind, generous comments and emails and texts. They meant more to me than you know.

Friday Fun

Have you seen these? If you love Downton Abbey, you'll find these spot-on funny:

Hat tip to my friend Jen for pointing out these spoofy clips.

Three cheers for Friday! I made it. I even escaped the car accident on the freeway that happened right in front of me this afternoon. Welcome, weekend. I embrace you: haircut, sleeping in (whoops, reverse those), baking/cooking, teaching Sunday School, feeding the missionaries, and watching the Super Bowl/Downton Abbey/The Good Wife.

Overheard in the kitchen, yesterday

We recently got a letter from the middle school, alerting us to the fact that the 8th grade will soon be starting the human sexuality portion of the health class.

M: Oh, I remember when we had that program in health. Is Mr. ______ still teaching it?

S: [reluctant to discuss this] Yeah...

M: Don't worry, it's not that bad.  

S: [dubious] Really?...

M: Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, I kind of liked sex ed. There was a lot of role playing.

S: .......

Me: [bursting out laughing] I think you'd better clarify that, Maddy.

. . .

Of course we established that she meant there were lots of roleplaying exercises about saying no and making choices and that sort of thing. But we still have a good laugh about it.

Triplicate

Artist: Brian Kershisnik

1. I got a job.

2. I got a job!

3. I got a job?

. . .

1. The straight-forward version is that an incredible opportunity has come up at a terrific national non-profit organization I've long admired. It wasn't the precise timing I was anticipating doing this but it does feel right for our family and we have all felt sweet assurances that it is indeed the thing to do, on many levels and for many reasons. I'll be the director of program research and development and I start Monday. The eventually has arrived, the season for this.

2. It is the exact kind of job I always said I would eventually like to do when people asked "so what are you going to do with that degree, teach?" (I would say something like "I do love teaching but I'd really like to help lead a foundation or non-profit, connecting research and practice to help children and families in innovative ways," not sure if there were, in fact, jobs with all of those elements at once). In fact, I have the eery feeling that someone was secretly taking notes or that my words flew out and become some kind of seedling that cultivated this particular, newly created job. They are paying me to come up with ideas! To have a big-picture perspective! To pilot new programs and innovate and connect the dots...and then hand off those things to someone to do the nitty gritty implementation.

3. And yet. Still, I'm nervous. And terrified. 90% excited (or, honestly, sometimes 74%), but the rest rather terrified. I worry about other people's opinions. I worry about logistics. I worry whether I'm up to the task. I worry worry worry but it's all the kind of uninspired fear that is unhelpful and belittling, the kind you have to tell fear, go sit in the corner until you're more productive. Each concern I've had has been resolved (Oh you want to be home in the afternoons? Sure, you can work an earlier, flexible schedule) but still I ruminate about things, long after the calm, right decision was made. Yesterday morning I expressed some worries to G as he got ready for work. I leaned against the kitchen counter in my pajamas (pajamas! they won't let me wear pajamas to work, will they?) and quietly wailed "what if I'm not doing the right thing?" He looked me in the eyes, kissed my forehead and whispered you're doing the right thing. Which is, of course, just what I needed.

. . .

Just wanted to say that today.

And I'll still be here. Here and here. 

To be continued...