From the moment he was born I wondered at his perfectness. It was the moment I realized a mother's love was exponential.
Sometimes it's too much, isn't it? The love and the worry it drags along with it. And the frustration. And the exhaustion. Especially in the early days.
This love is heavy and all-consuming and awesome and frightening. It's life-affirming and blessed and huge. It's indescribably beautiful.
I had thought love could be contained. I had thought I could hold it. Instead, it was an explosive force that caught me completely off guard.
You can’t contain all of this love, I realised.
My heart is full and my life is full, I realised.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
A Birth Story
Wednesday: I was a full week overdue and completely fed up. The weather was hot, and in England there's no air conditioning except for the car and some businesses, so I did the only reasonable thing and went to the mall to see a movie and kill a few hours waddling around. I was in no hurry, enjoying the A/C and stopping to rest as needed, registering looks of pity from other women who had gone before me.
Thursday: Finally the heat broke. I was never before so thankful for a mild English summer. Still nothing was happening on the baby front.
Friday: Being 10 days overdue, we had a morning appointment with the midwife to try to get things moving and discuss induction. Induction was a dreaded topic and not at all part of our pie-in-the-sky hippie dippie birth plan. All we'd ever heard about medically induced labour was that it resulted in further medical interventions (epidural, C-section, etc.), so I cried and prayed our baby would arrive over the weekend. Just to be on the safe side, we ordered spicy curry for dinner that night.
Saturday: I woke up at 2:30am to a contraction. I was so excited I woke Ben to tell him. He encouraged me to save my energy and go back to sleep. Fat chance! Today was the day! Ben went back to sleep.
12 hours later the contractions had increased from every 20 minutes to every 8 minutes, but it still wasn't enough. We walked the neighbourhood enough times to wear a path in the pavement. I bounced on the ball, breathed my clary sage, used the TENS machine and listened to hypnobirthing tracks into the early evening. By 6pm things had picked up, and my contractions were every 5 minutes (the magic number for admission to the maternity ward). We called triage and were told to come in for an examination.
Fast forward to 10pm when we were walking out of the hospital after being told we were not yet far enough along (only 3cm dilated). "Go home and rest. We'll probably see you back here later tonight," they said. "Return when the contractions are every 3 minutes," they said. Disappointed and tired, we went home to sleep.
It turns out sleeping in the early stages of labour is even harder than when I was just pregnant. No position was comfortable. Believe me, I tried everything. I managed to get a few winks while sitting on an exercise ball and leaning onto a heap of pillows on the bed with a blanket over my draped over me. Ben wasn't sleeping much either, staying awake by trying to help get me comfortable or timing the contractions.
Sunday: Ben and I were out for a walk with tears running down my face by 6am. The contractions had slowed to every 10-12 minutes, and there seemed to be no end in sight. Also I was tired, and that makes any challenge seem insurmountable.
Things continued much the same throughout the day, and again we prepared ourselves for another night of sleeplessness.
Monday: I finally got some relief (and possibly a few minutes of sleep) by taking a hot bath around midnight on Sunday, when all of a sudden the contractions became significantly stronger. They were still no more frequent than every 5-6 minutes, but there had been a marked change. By 1am I was groaning through the contractions and asking Ben to call triage again. We were told to come in for another examination but warned that it probably wasn't time yet. I was reluctant to go in only to be sent home and stayed in the bath until almost 2am when it became clear it was definitely time to go to the hospital. Ben quickly packed the car, and off we went!
This time we were right! I was 6cm dilated and ready to rock and roll. After a few checks, I slid into the birthing pool; the warm water immediately relieved the pressure and provided pain relief. I was happy as could be, breathing through the contractions with gas/air and relaxing in between. At one point the midwife became concerned about the baby's increased heart rate following contractions and called for a doctor. After some discussion I was moved to the physician-led ward, and things seemed to spiral out of control from there.
To be brief, monitoring on the baby's heart rate was continued. I endured three fetal blood samples to test the baby's blood oxygen level. This involves scraping a needle against the baby's head and is not only uncomfortable but also distressing. I was put on a hormone drip to increase the frequency of the contractions, and I could not use the gas/air while on the hormone. The birthing pool was not available, so I had no pain relief. It felt like a revolving door with one specialist after the other coming in to talk or do an examination, with seniority (and concern) rising with time. At 8am I was given one hour to push the baby out before other measures would be taken. Probably due in part to sheer exhaustion, I still hadn't given birth after the allotted time.
We were moved to the operating theatres where I was given a spinal block, making me numb from the waist down, and a feeling of pure relief washed over me. I knew I was close to meeting our baby, and the hard work was over. Ben changed into scrubs and came to be by my side.
It seems like only minutes passed before a baby boy was held up in the air, screaming and peeing at 10:12am on Monday. I burst into tears, sobbing with joy at his arrival.
Thursday: Finally the heat broke. I was never before so thankful for a mild English summer. Still nothing was happening on the baby front.
Friday: Being 10 days overdue, we had a morning appointment with the midwife to try to get things moving and discuss induction. Induction was a dreaded topic and not at all part of our pie-in-the-sky hippie dippie birth plan. All we'd ever heard about medically induced labour was that it resulted in further medical interventions (epidural, C-section, etc.), so I cried and prayed our baby would arrive over the weekend. Just to be on the safe side, we ordered spicy curry for dinner that night.
Saturday: I woke up at 2:30am to a contraction. I was so excited I woke Ben to tell him. He encouraged me to save my energy and go back to sleep. Fat chance! Today was the day! Ben went back to sleep.
12 hours later the contractions had increased from every 20 minutes to every 8 minutes, but it still wasn't enough. We walked the neighbourhood enough times to wear a path in the pavement. I bounced on the ball, breathed my clary sage, used the TENS machine and listened to hypnobirthing tracks into the early evening. By 6pm things had picked up, and my contractions were every 5 minutes (the magic number for admission to the maternity ward). We called triage and were told to come in for an examination.
Fast forward to 10pm when we were walking out of the hospital after being told we were not yet far enough along (only 3cm dilated). "Go home and rest. We'll probably see you back here later tonight," they said. "Return when the contractions are every 3 minutes," they said. Disappointed and tired, we went home to sleep.
It turns out sleeping in the early stages of labour is even harder than when I was just pregnant. No position was comfortable. Believe me, I tried everything. I managed to get a few winks while sitting on an exercise ball and leaning onto a heap of pillows on the bed with a blanket over my draped over me. Ben wasn't sleeping much either, staying awake by trying to help get me comfortable or timing the contractions.
Sunday: Ben and I were out for a walk with tears running down my face by 6am. The contractions had slowed to every 10-12 minutes, and there seemed to be no end in sight. Also I was tired, and that makes any challenge seem insurmountable.
Things continued much the same throughout the day, and again we prepared ourselves for another night of sleeplessness.
Monday: I finally got some relief (and possibly a few minutes of sleep) by taking a hot bath around midnight on Sunday, when all of a sudden the contractions became significantly stronger. They were still no more frequent than every 5-6 minutes, but there had been a marked change. By 1am I was groaning through the contractions and asking Ben to call triage again. We were told to come in for another examination but warned that it probably wasn't time yet. I was reluctant to go in only to be sent home and stayed in the bath until almost 2am when it became clear it was definitely time to go to the hospital. Ben quickly packed the car, and off we went!
This time we were right! I was 6cm dilated and ready to rock and roll. After a few checks, I slid into the birthing pool; the warm water immediately relieved the pressure and provided pain relief. I was happy as could be, breathing through the contractions with gas/air and relaxing in between. At one point the midwife became concerned about the baby's increased heart rate following contractions and called for a doctor. After some discussion I was moved to the physician-led ward, and things seemed to spiral out of control from there.
To be brief, monitoring on the baby's heart rate was continued. I endured three fetal blood samples to test the baby's blood oxygen level. This involves scraping a needle against the baby's head and is not only uncomfortable but also distressing. I was put on a hormone drip to increase the frequency of the contractions, and I could not use the gas/air while on the hormone. The birthing pool was not available, so I had no pain relief. It felt like a revolving door with one specialist after the other coming in to talk or do an examination, with seniority (and concern) rising with time. At 8am I was given one hour to push the baby out before other measures would be taken. Probably due in part to sheer exhaustion, I still hadn't given birth after the allotted time.
We were moved to the operating theatres where I was given a spinal block, making me numb from the waist down, and a feeling of pure relief washed over me. I knew I was close to meeting our baby, and the hard work was over. Ben changed into scrubs and came to be by my side.
It seems like only minutes passed before a baby boy was held up in the air, screaming and peeing at 10:12am on Monday. I burst into tears, sobbing with joy at his arrival.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Getting Close
I don't know where the time has gone. My last post was months ago, and now we're 2 weeks from the due date! Bambino could be here any day. Unbelievable!
What have we been up to?
We attended a birthing class, learned a lot and met a group of really lovely first time parents from our area. We've been swapping notes and meeting up for coffee and lunches and planning our postnatal gatherings (with wine!). One by one the babies are starting to arrive... So exciting!
We toured the hospital to see where it all happens, which answered some essential questions and helps with mental preparation for the big day.
We saw a hypnobirthing specialist to learn deep relaxation techniques to promote a natural birth. Ben and I practice the techniques at home, which usually leads to me nearly falling asleep during my make believe "surges" (contractions).. I'm not sure it will be like that in reality!
Last but not least I met with a midwife that specialises in essential oils for labour and got special concoctions for relaxation and pain relief.
The nursery is finished, the car seat is fitted and the hospital bag is packed.
I think we're set!
Other highlights:
Random man on the London underground got off a busy morning rush hour train to let me on. This was pinned to the lapel of my jacket... I might miss the perks of being pregnant when it's all over!
What have we been up to?
We attended a birthing class, learned a lot and met a group of really lovely first time parents from our area. We've been swapping notes and meeting up for coffee and lunches and planning our postnatal gatherings (with wine!). One by one the babies are starting to arrive... So exciting!
We toured the hospital to see where it all happens, which answered some essential questions and helps with mental preparation for the big day.
We saw a hypnobirthing specialist to learn deep relaxation techniques to promote a natural birth. Ben and I practice the techniques at home, which usually leads to me nearly falling asleep during my make believe "surges" (contractions).. I'm not sure it will be like that in reality!
Last but not least I met with a midwife that specialises in essential oils for labour and got special concoctions for relaxation and pain relief.
The nursery is finished, the car seat is fitted and the hospital bag is packed.
I think we're set!
Other highlights:
Random man on the London underground got off a busy morning rush hour train to let me on. This was pinned to the lapel of my jacket... I might miss the perks of being pregnant when it's all over!
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Weeks 23-25 Recap
Week 23: BK is the size of a papaya! Chewie is not impressed and continues to walk across my stomach, seemingly unaware of the growing bump.
Week 24: Babymoon in Tenerife
Sun, sand and warm weather was just what we needed to escape the miserable English winter! If you're considering visiting Tenerife, rest assured speedos and bikinis are the norm for ALL shapes and sizes in Spain's version of God's Waiting Room.
Week 25: BK is the size of an ear of corn (9in / 1.5 lbs), my uterus is the size of a soccer ball, and Ben can feel the baby kick!
I had a checkup with my midwife and heard the baby's heartbeat! Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh - it sounded so fast! For those who believe old wives' tales, the heart rate was 145, and my linea nigra goes above my bellybutton.
In other news, my mom is coming to visit in late April, and I could not be more excited! Living so far away has been especially difficult during this time, so I'm really pleased she can make the trip.
Week 24: Babymoon in Tenerife
Sun, sand and warm weather was just what we needed to escape the miserable English winter! If you're considering visiting Tenerife, rest assured speedos and bikinis are the norm for ALL shapes and sizes in Spain's version of God's Waiting Room.
It was particularly windy on the only day we managed to take the camera with us...
Week 25: BK is the size of an ear of corn (9in / 1.5 lbs), my uterus is the size of a soccer ball, and Ben can feel the baby kick!
I had a checkup with my midwife and heard the baby's heartbeat! Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh - it sounded so fast! For those who believe old wives' tales, the heart rate was 145, and my linea nigra goes above my bellybutton.
In other news, my mom is coming to visit in late April, and I could not be more excited! Living so far away has been especially difficult during this time, so I'm really pleased she can make the trip.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
Juicy Mango
Week 20 was an exciting time. Baby K grew to the size of a mango, and we had a scan to check for anomalies.
The sonographer checked everything from the spine and cerebellum to the heart, lungs, kidneys, bones, lips, eyes and stomach. Everything looked normal, which of course was a relief. We had the opportunity to find out the gender, but we've decided to wait for the big news in the delivery room. I can feel the baby moving more and more with each day, and Ben should be able to feel the baby moving in a few weeks.
Week 21: This weekend we celebrated the wedding of two friends in a beautiful town in the Lake District. Ben was a groomsman, and it gave me an excuse to buy a pretty new dress to accommodate my growing bump. Here goes Week 22!
Sunday, January 25, 2015
18 Weeks
The Bump is now 18 weeks and counting and is roughly the size of a sweet potato.
There isn't much news to report this week. I'm feeling really good despite some fatigue. I started a pregnancy yoga class to help stay limber; also it's full of friendly, glowing pregnant women which is a nice social connection.
Our next scan is in two weeks, at which time they check for anomalies and give us the option to find out the baby's gender. We've decided to wait until the baby is born to find out, and I'm looking forward to hearing "It's a _____!" in the delivery room. It will be a great reward after what will presumably be a long labour.
There isn't much news to report this week. I'm feeling really good despite some fatigue. I started a pregnancy yoga class to help stay limber; also it's full of friendly, glowing pregnant women which is a nice social connection.
Our next scan is in two weeks, at which time they check for anomalies and give us the option to find out the baby's gender. We've decided to wait until the baby is born to find out, and I'm looking forward to hearing "It's a _____!" in the delivery room. It will be a great reward after what will presumably be a long labour.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
The Bump
It was 6am on a Saturday morning when I emerged from the bathroom to tell my husband the news. We were up early to set up for our weekend market stall, and despite being technically awake, he was still a bit shell-shocked when I jumped on the bed yelling "I'm pregnant!" and pushing the stick into his face to show the positive result.
It was just our secret for a few weeks, not wanting to spread the news too early or jinx anything. When we did finally share the news, our mothers both reacted with predictable hysterics; it's wonderful to have family and friends so happy for us.
The first trimester wasn't bad at all. Just like my own mother, I didn't suffer from morning sickness,but was more tired than usual and occasionally a little nauseous. The whole thing felt a little surreal since I wasn't experiencing the traditional symptoms, and it wasn't until the first ultrasound that it really hit home. The baby was kicking and swallowing, and the tears were streaming down my cheeks before I knew what hit me.
In case you didn't see it, we sent out a baby announcement to friends and family at Christmas with our beloved cat, Chewie, front and centre.
Fast forward to Week 16, and the baby is the size of an avocado. We're trying to wrap our heads around all things baby and planning for the many changes ahead. Life is good.
It was just our secret for a few weeks, not wanting to spread the news too early or jinx anything. When we did finally share the news, our mothers both reacted with predictable hysterics; it's wonderful to have family and friends so happy for us.
The first trimester wasn't bad at all. Just like my own mother, I didn't suffer from morning sickness,but was more tired than usual and occasionally a little nauseous. The whole thing felt a little surreal since I wasn't experiencing the traditional symptoms, and it wasn't until the first ultrasound that it really hit home. The baby was kicking and swallowing, and the tears were streaming down my cheeks before I knew what hit me.
In case you didn't see it, we sent out a baby announcement to friends and family at Christmas with our beloved cat, Chewie, front and centre.
Fast forward to Week 16, and the baby is the size of an avocado. We're trying to wrap our heads around all things baby and planning for the many changes ahead. Life is good.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Market Debrief
Saturday marked my first attempt at a Tex Mex market stall in Manchester. This was brought about by a combination of really enjoying last year's Chilli Cookoff, a friend's encouragement when (yet again) 7 layer dip was devoured in 5 minutes flat at a social gathering, and a general love of cooking and Tex Mex food (which is nearly impossible to find in England).
We spent a small fortune on everything from a gas grill, 15kG propane gas bottle and chafing dishes to biodegradable serving dishes, insurance, a Texas state flag and chilli pepper tablecloths. All for a hobby, I should note. This turned out to be a much bigger undertaking than originally anticipated, but once we were signed up there was nothing to do but go through with it. Or back out, but that would have been lame.
I slaved away in the kitchen Friday night preparing my family's chilli, chipotle salsa and 7 layer dip recipes and organising the many boxes and bags of equipment and supplies. On Saturday I was out the door bright and early to set up the stall and get cooking. In short, it was a busy and exhausting day, but I'm really glad to have done it. People were really complimentary about the food, it was a beautiful Spring day, and I really enjoyed the buzzing market atmosphere. I look forward to returning in May and throughout the summer.
Here are a few takeaways and highlights from my first day:
1. There is no need to panic when other stalls are busily selling their products (coffee, art, croissants) at 10am and you haven't had a single customer. No one really wants Tex Mex food until at least 11:00.
2. Not all Brits can identify an avocado. Here's a photo in case you also don't know and are too shy to ask.
5. A woman at the stall next door commented on the chi-pote-lay salsa and how she gets chastised by her friends for pronouncing it that way (correctly, I might add) instead of the chi-pot-ul pronunciation favoured by most Brits.
Click here for one of my favourite Lyle Lovett songs that kind of sums it up...
You're Not From Texas
We spent a small fortune on everything from a gas grill, 15kG propane gas bottle and chafing dishes to biodegradable serving dishes, insurance, a Texas state flag and chilli pepper tablecloths. All for a hobby, I should note. This turned out to be a much bigger undertaking than originally anticipated, but once we were signed up there was nothing to do but go through with it. Or back out, but that would have been lame.
I slaved away in the kitchen Friday night preparing my family's chilli, chipotle salsa and 7 layer dip recipes and organising the many boxes and bags of equipment and supplies. On Saturday I was out the door bright and early to set up the stall and get cooking. In short, it was a busy and exhausting day, but I'm really glad to have done it. People were really complimentary about the food, it was a beautiful Spring day, and I really enjoyed the buzzing market atmosphere. I look forward to returning in May and throughout the summer.
Here are a few takeaways and highlights from my first day:
1. There is no need to panic when other stalls are busily selling their products (coffee, art, croissants) at 10am and you haven't had a single customer. No one really wants Tex Mex food until at least 11:00.
2. Not all Brits can identify an avocado. Here's a photo in case you also don't know and are too shy to ask.
3. Despite showing and describing 7 layer dip, British customers will still say "I'd like the nachos" when they order.
4. 9 out of 10 customers confused the Texas flag with that of Chile. (understandably)
5. A woman at the stall next door commented on the chi-pote-lay salsa and how she gets chastised by her friends for pronouncing it that way (correctly, I might add) instead of the chi-pot-ul pronunciation favoured by most Brits.
Click here for one of my favourite Lyle Lovett songs that kind of sums it up...
You're Not From Texas
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Glass ceiling pssshh.
A colleage from our German office is pregnant and about to go on maternity leave. I worked closely with the woman when I first joined the company, and our UK office still collaborates with her regularly for a vareity of things. Being the only woman in my office, I thought about organizing a baby present for her on behalf of all of us because God knows the men would never think to do it. Then I caught myself and thought NO, if I start organising the baby presents and birthday cards, the men will take me less seriously and think I'm weak and forget to fear me, and I can't have that. I'm a Manager, damnit!
So I bought the baby present and will send it just from me.
I really hated Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In (come on, it was condescending, repetitive and lacked any real revelations on workplace gender equality), but I think she'd approve of my decision.
Glass ceiling pssshh.
So I bought the baby present and will send it just from me.
I really hated Sheryl Sandberg's book Lean In (come on, it was condescending, repetitive and lacked any real revelations on workplace gender equality), but I think she'd approve of my decision.
Glass ceiling pssshh.
Silver Lining
Nearly three months after our home invasion / car theft nightmare, my car was found parked and locked less than 5 miles from our house. After waiting several more weeks for the police and insurance company to coordinate and complete the forensics, I went to the garage today and found that all of my work supplies and personal belongings were still in the trunk! Even my little burlap bag from the Unicorn organic grocery co-op where we shop. Now if only the police would catch the jerks who did it...
Thursday, November 14, 2013
So yeah, that happened.
Our house was broken into two days ago while we were at work. When I say "broken into", I do not mean a door was pried open or an intruder climbed through an unlocked window. I mean a full-length plate glass window leading from a fenced back yard into our dining room was completely shattered. The house was ransacked. Cabinets, drawers and closets were opened, and everything was thrown all over the place.
Items were stolen, though surprisingly (and thankfully), fewer things were stolen than you might expect. Unless of course you count my car. Yes, my 4 month old car was stolen. (Again, for those of you who knew me in my 20s during graduate school, though it wasn't a new car that time.)
The stuff doesn't matter. Stuff can be replaced. Locks can be changed. Doors can be repaired. The worst part of the whole ordeal is there is little else more frightening than knowing an intruder brazenly entered our home. A sense of calm and comfort at home cannot be as easily restored. I don't know how long it will take to feel normal again, but we'll get there one day at a time.
I'm so thankful for our safety and the kindness and concern shown by friends and family during this very stressful time. I'm especially thankful for my husband. He's been a rock star, dealing with the police, repairmen, locksmith and even delaying an important trip to the US so I wouldn't have to be home alone.
Here's to a fresh start tomorrow...
Items were stolen, though surprisingly (and thankfully), fewer things were stolen than you might expect. Unless of course you count my car. Yes, my 4 month old car was stolen. (Again, for those of you who knew me in my 20s during graduate school, though it wasn't a new car that time.)
The stuff doesn't matter. Stuff can be replaced. Locks can be changed. Doors can be repaired. The worst part of the whole ordeal is there is little else more frightening than knowing an intruder brazenly entered our home. A sense of calm and comfort at home cannot be as easily restored. I don't know how long it will take to feel normal again, but we'll get there one day at a time.
I'm so thankful for our safety and the kindness and concern shown by friends and family during this very stressful time. I'm especially thankful for my husband. He's been a rock star, dealing with the police, repairmen, locksmith and even delaying an important trip to the US so I wouldn't have to be home alone.
Here's to a fresh start tomorrow...
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Meet Chewbacca
Let me introduce you to our new kitten, Chewbacca, or "Chewy" as he's known around home. Chewy enjoys an Hour of Terror every morning and evening, running circles around the house and climbing the walls or having a go at the washing machine. He also enjoys typical cat activities like walking across the laptop while I'm working and settling down for a nap in the very spot I thought of sitting.
He's been here less than a week and we're smitten...
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Babies on the Brain (Just Not Mine)
I've reached that age where, as a woman, people at work seem to assume it's only a matter of time before I show up with a swollen belly, only to disappear into motherdom and never return to the office. This week a male colleague asked me point blank if I plan to have children. Newsflash: asking me in a professional setting if I plan to have children really pisses me off. It's hard enough being a woman with serious career goals and competing against men for promotions. without knowing that people have limited my possibilities when I believe I've only just begun.
I don't begrudge women who choose to stay at home to raise children, but it doesn't mean that every woman wants to do the same. Society should support caregiving and breadwinning partnerships so that no one (meaning the mother) has to completely sacrifice their career goals to have a family.
I don't begrudge women who choose to stay at home to raise children, but it doesn't mean that every woman wants to do the same. Society should support caregiving and breadwinning partnerships so that no one (meaning the mother) has to completely sacrifice their career goals to have a family.
Friday, March 22, 2013
A Welfare State of Mind
I know a guy. Let's call him Bill. Bill overshares his personal information, but here are some key points to help draw the picture...
Age: 38
Marital status: married for 10 years (same partner for 20)
Education: high school
Children: 3 (one biological aged 15 and two from wife's previous partners, aged 20 and 23)
Grandchildren: one soon to be born to stepdaughter aged 20 and unmarried partner, also aged 20
Bill grew up in a council house (i.e. government subsidised housing) with a mother who didn't hold down a regular job. Bill still lives in a council house and says his rent is £70/month (about $115.00) for what I can only assume is a 4 bedroom home (based on the number of mouths to feed).
Bill's wife works part-time at a local shop. Previously she was a manager at a fast food establishment, also part time. The adult children work low-paying jobs and still live at home.
Earlier this year Bill mentioned he and his wife were planning a trip to the Maldives. You know, that picture-perfect island with clear blue water most of us could only dream of visiting?
More recently Bill mentioned he and his wife were having the lawn landscaped and a pool built.
This is on the back of taxpayers, and (apparently) Bill has no shame.
I have no problem with my taxes supporting people when they're down on their luck or in a difficult situation, but a system that makes collecting a check (or having more babies) more attractive than working is a broken system.
Age: 38
Marital status: married for 10 years (same partner for 20)
Education: high school
Children: 3 (one biological aged 15 and two from wife's previous partners, aged 20 and 23)
Grandchildren: one soon to be born to stepdaughter aged 20 and unmarried partner, also aged 20
Bill grew up in a council house (i.e. government subsidised housing) with a mother who didn't hold down a regular job. Bill still lives in a council house and says his rent is £70/month (about $115.00) for what I can only assume is a 4 bedroom home (based on the number of mouths to feed).
Bill's wife works part-time at a local shop. Previously she was a manager at a fast food establishment, also part time. The adult children work low-paying jobs and still live at home.
Earlier this year Bill mentioned he and his wife were planning a trip to the Maldives. You know, that picture-perfect island with clear blue water most of us could only dream of visiting?
More recently Bill mentioned he and his wife were having the lawn landscaped and a pool built.
This is on the back of taxpayers, and (apparently) Bill has no shame.
I have no problem with my taxes supporting people when they're down on their luck or in a difficult situation, but a system that makes collecting a check (or having more babies) more attractive than working is a broken system.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Seabiscuit for Dinner
A horse is a horse, of course, of course.
Right?
Maybe not.
It's entirely possible that your beef burger is actually a horse burger. Your Halal food may contain pork. What is this world coming to?!
This is not food mislabelling; that suggests an honest mistake, like a misspelling. No, my friends, this was intentional fraud fueled by greed and blatant disregard for the wellbeing of consumers.
Whether or not horse is safe to eat is not the issue. The fact that you don't know what you're eating is the problem. How can you trust where anything comes from anymore? The whole situation is just revolting.
So there you have it: reason 100,000,000 you should all be vegetarians. Or really snobby about what kind of meat you put in your pie hole.
The End
Right?
Maybe not.
It's entirely possible that your beef burger is actually a horse burger. Your Halal food may contain pork. What is this world coming to?!
This is not food mislabelling; that suggests an honest mistake, like a misspelling. No, my friends, this was intentional fraud fueled by greed and blatant disregard for the wellbeing of consumers.
Whether or not horse is safe to eat is not the issue. The fact that you don't know what you're eating is the problem. How can you trust where anything comes from anymore? The whole situation is just revolting.
So there you have it: reason 100,000,000 you should all be vegetarians. Or really snobby about what kind of meat you put in your pie hole.
The End
Friday, January 18, 2013
Eyes Up Here Please
I got propositioned by a male colleague during a business trip. It made me feel really bad about myself through no fault of my own.
I dress conservatively. I act appropriately. I have a wedding ring on my finger.
I worry that no one takes me seriously at work. I worry that if I report it, I'll be seen as difficult and limit myself professionally. I worry that the same thing will happen to another woman.
Mostly, it makes me angry that one man's thoughtless actions can spin me into a spiral of self doubt.
Otherwise, it's a good time to be a woman. We have the vote and the Pill, and we haven't been burned as witches in over two hundred years. If only certain men would think with their brains, not their dicks.
I dress conservatively. I act appropriately. I have a wedding ring on my finger.
I worry that no one takes me seriously at work. I worry that if I report it, I'll be seen as difficult and limit myself professionally. I worry that the same thing will happen to another woman.
Mostly, it makes me angry that one man's thoughtless actions can spin me into a spiral of self doubt.
Otherwise, it's a good time to be a woman. We have the vote and the Pill, and we haven't been burned as witches in over two hundred years. If only certain men would think with their brains, not their dicks.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Try, Try Again
B strong-armed convinced me to do this crazy fast/feast diet with him. It's supposed to help our cells repair themselves and prevent cancer or some mumbo jumbo. On fast days, I'm only permitted 500 calories. On feast days I can eat whatever I want. Fast and feast days alternate. For eternity.
I'm currently in the middle of fast day numero dos and have a few observations to share:
1. 500 calories doesn't go very far (obvs)
2. I'm already contemplating completely giving up or seriously modifying my fast day max calorie intake to something more in tune with my ferocious appetite.
3. I'm using an app to track my calories, weight, exercise, etc. and got a little tinge of dark pleasure when my app told me I was eating too few calories and would be too skinny soon. Ahh I wish...
Oh yeah and we're doing a 100-day burpee challenge. Nothing says love like grunting and sweating through burpees at 6:30am with your partner.
I know diet and exercise resolutions are cliche, but I really do believe the New Year is the perfect opportunity to try again to be the best version of myself. Change doesn't have to be isolated to Jan 1; every day is a chance to start again. We're starting now because I couldn't bear the thought of turning down homecooked meals and cookies over the holidays.
I've also resolved to improve my patience with others, especially those I love the most. I acknowledge that I am not always the easiest person to deal with, and I want to do better. I want to show tolerance and love and kindness, even when it's difficult.
I also want to speak German. I have enough Rosetta Stone software to get me fluent and move toMunich München, yet I'm still stuck on basic vocabulary and phrases.
So there you have it. Be on the lookout for a leaner, kinder, German-speaking me in 2013.
I'm currently in the middle of fast day numero dos and have a few observations to share:
1. 500 calories doesn't go very far (obvs)
2. I'm already contemplating completely giving up or seriously modifying my fast day max calorie intake to something more in tune with my ferocious appetite.
3. I'm using an app to track my calories, weight, exercise, etc. and got a little tinge of dark pleasure when my app told me I was eating too few calories and would be too skinny soon. Ahh I wish...
Oh yeah and we're doing a 100-day burpee challenge. Nothing says love like grunting and sweating through burpees at 6:30am with your partner.
I know diet and exercise resolutions are cliche, but I really do believe the New Year is the perfect opportunity to try again to be the best version of myself. Change doesn't have to be isolated to Jan 1; every day is a chance to start again. We're starting now because I couldn't bear the thought of turning down homecooked meals and cookies over the holidays.
I've also resolved to improve my patience with others, especially those I love the most. I acknowledge that I am not always the easiest person to deal with, and I want to do better. I want to show tolerance and love and kindness, even when it's difficult.
I also want to speak German. I have enough Rosetta Stone software to get me fluent and move to
So there you have it. Be on the lookout for a leaner, kinder, German-speaking me in 2013.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
With Deepest Sympathy
First I felt disbelief, then anger. Once I finally processed what had happened, I burst into tears, sobbing inconsolably on my husband's shoulder. The murder of 26 children and adults in an elementary school is not the America I know.
Gun violence in America is absolutely appalling, and the latest events have left me disgusted. It is inexcusable that a civilized country, a leader of the free world, doesn't have the gun control laws and mental health services in place to prevent this senseless tragedy. When terrible things happen, and we think they might have been preventable, we immediatley start talking about what we might to do prevent them from happening again. Why not mass shootings?
Gun owners will defend the Second Ammendment or make the distinction between blaming the shooter, not the gun. Some will say we should just all be armed.
The bottom line is, how many more times do we have to suffer tragedy before we decide to make a change for the greater good? The current policies obviously don't work. Time and again, lunatics gain legal access to guns, only to go on a rampage. Will it ever be enough, or will supporters of loose gun laws just keep hoping it's not their child or spouse, parent or friend? Will there come a day when no place is safe?
We all make sacrifices for the greater good, and gun ownership should be no different. Stricter gun laws will help keep weapons out of the hands of maniacs. The biggest problem in America is that individuals put their own interests ahead of those of the country and even their own community. I only hope people can see past their own selfish interests and commit to a future free from gun violence.
My heart breaks for everyone affected by this terrible tragedy. My heart breaks for America.
Gun violence in America is absolutely appalling, and the latest events have left me disgusted. It is inexcusable that a civilized country, a leader of the free world, doesn't have the gun control laws and mental health services in place to prevent this senseless tragedy. When terrible things happen, and we think they might have been preventable, we immediatley start talking about what we might to do prevent them from happening again. Why not mass shootings?
Gun owners will defend the Second Ammendment or make the distinction between blaming the shooter, not the gun. Some will say we should just all be armed.
The bottom line is, how many more times do we have to suffer tragedy before we decide to make a change for the greater good? The current policies obviously don't work. Time and again, lunatics gain legal access to guns, only to go on a rampage. Will it ever be enough, or will supporters of loose gun laws just keep hoping it's not their child or spouse, parent or friend? Will there come a day when no place is safe?
We all make sacrifices for the greater good, and gun ownership should be no different. Stricter gun laws will help keep weapons out of the hands of maniacs. The biggest problem in America is that individuals put their own interests ahead of those of the country and even their own community. I only hope people can see past their own selfish interests and commit to a future free from gun violence.
My heart breaks for everyone affected by this terrible tragedy. My heart breaks for America.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Giving Thanks
I tried to schedule a meeting with an American colleague for next Thursday. How, as a fellow American, could I possibly forget that next Thursday is Thanksgiving?! Especially when it's my favorite holiday of the year! I was even making my own grocery list for when we host Thanksgiving next weekend (Saturday instead of Thursday) at our house in Manchester.
Let's call it an honest mistake.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year because it's a day filled with food, friends and family. There's no pressure to buy gifts, and it's perfectly acceptable to nod off for a bit after the meal.
Adapting Thanksgiving traditions to the UK has taken a little work. We have to order our turkey weeks ahead of time from the local butcher. I definitely couldn't walk into the grocery store to buy a bird.
Thanksgiving in the US is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, and most people have the Friday off, too, making it a four day weekend. In Manchester, we celebrate on the fourth Saturday of the month.
There are traditional dishes like turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, etc., and our menu holds close to tradition. Some ingredients are hard to find, so I ordered a few items from the online American grocery store in the UK. Everything is completely overpriced (like a box of cereal for $11.00), but some things are simply worth it (like french fried onions).
All of the food aside (which is undoubtedly important), Thanksgiving is a time to stop for a moment and be grateful. I'm thankful for a loving husband, family and friends, a job I enjoy, health, and happiness. Whether you're American or not, celebrating Thanksgiving with a meal or not, take some time and count your blessings.
Let's call it an honest mistake.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year because it's a day filled with food, friends and family. There's no pressure to buy gifts, and it's perfectly acceptable to nod off for a bit after the meal.
Adapting Thanksgiving traditions to the UK has taken a little work. We have to order our turkey weeks ahead of time from the local butcher. I definitely couldn't walk into the grocery store to buy a bird.
Thanksgiving in the US is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, and most people have the Friday off, too, making it a four day weekend. In Manchester, we celebrate on the fourth Saturday of the month.
There are traditional dishes like turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, etc., and our menu holds close to tradition. Some ingredients are hard to find, so I ordered a few items from the online American grocery store in the UK. Everything is completely overpriced (like a box of cereal for $11.00), but some things are simply worth it (like french fried onions).
All of the food aside (which is undoubtedly important), Thanksgiving is a time to stop for a moment and be grateful. I'm thankful for a loving husband, family and friends, a job I enjoy, health, and happiness. Whether you're American or not, celebrating Thanksgiving with a meal or not, take some time and count your blessings.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Sveeden
There's a good possibility that my husband is going to manage a job in Stockholm starting in January. This has been hanging over our heads for months, leading to extra stress and even arguments. Until now, there were so many unknowns that it was difficult to realistically assess the options. Recently the contracts were signed; the job is a go.
Things we know for sure:
1. We both agree that our marriage is our first priority.
2. I like my job and want to keep working. There is no possibility of me working in Sweden.
3. The job will take two years.
4. Managing the site is more lucrative than working in the office.
5. I work away from home atleast 3-4 nights a week as it is.
6. We don't have kids or other big responsibilities at home.
Choices:
1. Ben works in Stockholm for 10 days and comes back for 4, then back to Stockholm for 10, then back to Manchester for 4, and on and on and on... On the off weekends, I fly out to Stockholm for 3 days at a time and try to convince my boss that working 2-3 days/month from Stockholm is a good idea.
2. I quit my job and just go with him to live in Stockholm full time.
3. Ben doesn't take the assignment and works in the office in Manchester instead and waits for another job with a site near our home.
I need a sign from the universe!
#firstworldproblems
I don't even have a twitter account, but I think this is only appropriate... :)
Things we know for sure:
1. We both agree that our marriage is our first priority.
2. I like my job and want to keep working. There is no possibility of me working in Sweden.
3. The job will take two years.
4. Managing the site is more lucrative than working in the office.
5. I work away from home atleast 3-4 nights a week as it is.
6. We don't have kids or other big responsibilities at home.
Choices:
1. Ben works in Stockholm for 10 days and comes back for 4, then back to Stockholm for 10, then back to Manchester for 4, and on and on and on... On the off weekends, I fly out to Stockholm for 3 days at a time and try to convince my boss that working 2-3 days/month from Stockholm is a good idea.
2. I quit my job and just go with him to live in Stockholm full time.
3. Ben doesn't take the assignment and works in the office in Manchester instead and waits for another job with a site near our home.
I need a sign from the universe!
#firstworldproblems
I don't even have a twitter account, but I think this is only appropriate... :)
Friday, September 7, 2012
Leaning Left and Looking Forward
I voted today, and I felt really giddy as I dropped my ballot in the box. Actually it was an envelope in a mailbox. Even from afar, I can participate in elections without much hassle.
It was an easy decision. I voted for the person whose worldview best matches mine. To be clear, I believe in a world where everyone contributes and everyone has a fair chance and where the rich do not get disproportionately wealthy at the expense of the rest of us. I believe in access to quality education, separation of church and state and equal rights and opportunities for people regardless of who they pray to or who they love. I also believe in the wisdom of women to make their own decisions about their healthcare.
When I think about Mitt Romney as president, I literally quiver. Not only is he a buffoon when it comes to international relations (the Brits didn't really appreciate the naysaying at the Olympics and do we really want to escalate things with Iran?), a flip-flopper on important issues (abortion, healthcare, gay rights), and completely out of touch with the economic reality of the middle class (just borrow from your parents?!), but he is poised to undermine the last 100 years of social progress in this country. I cannot relate to him on any level and I don't believe he cares about people like me.
Also, Paul Ryan majorally LIED about his marathon time. Who does that?! If you ask me, that's a big clue to his character. Someone who lies about that will lie about anything.
Like I said, it was an easy decision.
The bottom line on social issues for me is that people need to mind their own damn business. If people spent more time worrying about themselves and eliminating hypocrisy between their words and their actions, instead of spreading hate and fear againts gays, immigrants, different religions, etc., we would all be in a much better place. Also, it would allow our leaders to fully focus on the really important issues like the economy, education, war, climate change, etc.
I'm actually really glad I'm not in the US during this election season. I think my head would explode.
It was an easy decision. I voted for the person whose worldview best matches mine. To be clear, I believe in a world where everyone contributes and everyone has a fair chance and where the rich do not get disproportionately wealthy at the expense of the rest of us. I believe in access to quality education, separation of church and state and equal rights and opportunities for people regardless of who they pray to or who they love. I also believe in the wisdom of women to make their own decisions about their healthcare.
When I think about Mitt Romney as president, I literally quiver. Not only is he a buffoon when it comes to international relations (the Brits didn't really appreciate the naysaying at the Olympics and do we really want to escalate things with Iran?), a flip-flopper on important issues (abortion, healthcare, gay rights), and completely out of touch with the economic reality of the middle class (just borrow from your parents?!), but he is poised to undermine the last 100 years of social progress in this country. I cannot relate to him on any level and I don't believe he cares about people like me.
Also, Paul Ryan majorally LIED about his marathon time. Who does that?! If you ask me, that's a big clue to his character. Someone who lies about that will lie about anything.
Like I said, it was an easy decision.
The bottom line on social issues for me is that people need to mind their own damn business. If people spent more time worrying about themselves and eliminating hypocrisy between their words and their actions, instead of spreading hate and fear againts gays, immigrants, different religions, etc., we would all be in a much better place. Also, it would allow our leaders to fully focus on the really important issues like the economy, education, war, climate change, etc.
I'm actually really glad I'm not in the US during this election season. I think my head would explode.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Following My Heart: A Year In Review
One year ago I was living in NYC.
One year ago I was mere days away from marrying Ben.
One year ago I was about to embark on the biggest adventure of my life.
Our wedding anniversary is coming up this weekend, and it's given me a chance to stop and reflect on the past year. It feels like our wedding was yesterday. The nervous jitters before walking down the aisle. My shaky knees and pounding heart. Looking into Ben's eyes, tears welling up as we exchanged vows. I also remember our amazing friends and family who came from all ends of the earth to support us and celebrate.
So much has changed between moving to the UK, settling in to married life and starting a crazy new job. Living abroad is mostly wonderful. I've travelled to more parts of Europe in the last 10 months than in the previous 29 years. I've learned to turn on my American charm (is that a thing?) to ask for help, get away with something and generally pretend I'm a visitor when it's convenient. My lefty views are a good match for the socially liberal Brits. You might say this is a good fit.
There are downsides of course. A family member passed away in June. I had just arrived in Germany for a full week of meetings and didn't get the news right away. The sadness was magnified by the physical distance, and I felt powerless to support my family.
Also (this is obvious), I really miss my family and friends. Skype chats and emails help, but it's not the same. The truth is, it's been hard for me to make many friends here and I often feel lonely without Ben. I travel basically every week, with 3-4 nights away from home for work, and by the weekend I just want to reconnect with Ben and get rejuvenated for the following week. I know things will change with more time and effort...
All of that being said, I wouldn't change a thing. My personal limits have been stretched and my horizons broadened, but I know I'm right where I'm supposed to be.
One year ago I was mere days away from marrying Ben.
One year ago I was about to embark on the biggest adventure of my life.
Our wedding anniversary is coming up this weekend, and it's given me a chance to stop and reflect on the past year. It feels like our wedding was yesterday. The nervous jitters before walking down the aisle. My shaky knees and pounding heart. Looking into Ben's eyes, tears welling up as we exchanged vows. I also remember our amazing friends and family who came from all ends of the earth to support us and celebrate.
So much has changed between moving to the UK, settling in to married life and starting a crazy new job. Living abroad is mostly wonderful. I've travelled to more parts of Europe in the last 10 months than in the previous 29 years. I've learned to turn on my American charm (is that a thing?) to ask for help, get away with something and generally pretend I'm a visitor when it's convenient. My lefty views are a good match for the socially liberal Brits. You might say this is a good fit.
There are downsides of course. A family member passed away in June. I had just arrived in Germany for a full week of meetings and didn't get the news right away. The sadness was magnified by the physical distance, and I felt powerless to support my family.
Also (this is obvious), I really miss my family and friends. Skype chats and emails help, but it's not the same. The truth is, it's been hard for me to make many friends here and I often feel lonely without Ben. I travel basically every week, with 3-4 nights away from home for work, and by the weekend I just want to reconnect with Ben and get rejuvenated for the following week. I know things will change with more time and effort...
All of that being said, I wouldn't change a thing. My personal limits have been stretched and my horizons broadened, but I know I'm right where I'm supposed to be.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Road Warrior
The company I work for has its roots in Emmendingen, Germany, where the main office and production facility are located. I make regular trips to the office for meetings and workshops.
Here are some photos from my first trip to Emmendingen in December 2011.
After a full week of working in the Emmendingen, I boarded a train (bahn) bound for the airport (flughafen) in Frankfurt. The highspeed ICE (inter-city express) sweeps me door to door in just over two (zwei) hours.
Here's the route and some points of reference...
I like travelling via Frankfurt because thetrain station bahnhof is located within the airport flughafen. I can go from Emmendingen to home in about 4.5 hours stunden.
Unfortunately, this time things did not go smoothly.
After zooming along for 40 min, the train suddenly came to a stop at the station in Lahr. It's a small town just south of Offenburg, and the train normally would have bypassed this station altogether.
I started getting curious when we didn't start moving again after a few minutes. Next thing I knew, people were piling off the bahn. There were announcments made inGerman Deutsche (none of which I really understood), but eventually I got the story straight. Further north on the track there had been an incident. Someone committed suicide on the tracks and we couldn't get going again until...well...you can imagine...
I understand the factors that drive someone to suicide are complex, and I do not mean to sound insensitive, but why does someone who commits suicide feel the need to do it in public? It's horrific to the witnesses (who are probably complete strangers), not to mention extremely disruptive to countless other people's lives.
It reminded me of the Yale student who jumped off the Empire State Building a few years ago when I was still living in NYC. He did it in during the evening rush hour. With tourists and children and pedestrians there to see. The reasons are impossible to really know, I guess.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/31/empire-state-building-suicide-jump_n_519490.html
The other strange thing is that the train passengers discussed the incident in a very matter-of-fact way. No one seemed particularly shocked by the news. People just went on with their business, trying to get to wherever they needed to be.
I eventually made it to Frankfurt via a taxi and another train, only to end up on my original train that had stopped in Lahr. Even with my valiant effort (including broken German, unbearably hot weather and ridesharing with a Swiss, a German and a Greek), I missed my flight home. I was booked on the last flight of the night to Manchester of course...
This was waiting for me in the hallway of my hotel when I finally arrived late last night.
This morning I caught the first flight back to Manchester. It's good to be home.
Here are some photos from my first trip to Emmendingen in December 2011.
After a full week of working in the Emmendingen, I boarded a train (bahn) bound for the airport (flughafen) in Frankfurt. The highspeed ICE (inter-city express) sweeps me door to door in just over two (zwei) hours.
Here's the route and some points of reference...
I like travelling via Frankfurt because the
Unfortunately, this time things did not go smoothly.
After zooming along for 40 min, the train suddenly came to a stop at the station in Lahr. It's a small town just south of Offenburg, and the train normally would have bypassed this station altogether.
I started getting curious when we didn't start moving again after a few minutes. Next thing I knew, people were piling off the bahn. There were announcments made in
I understand the factors that drive someone to suicide are complex, and I do not mean to sound insensitive, but why does someone who commits suicide feel the need to do it in public? It's horrific to the witnesses (who are probably complete strangers), not to mention extremely disruptive to countless other people's lives.
It reminded me of the Yale student who jumped off the Empire State Building a few years ago when I was still living in NYC. He did it in during the evening rush hour. With tourists and children and pedestrians there to see. The reasons are impossible to really know, I guess.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/03/31/empire-state-building-suicide-jump_n_519490.html
The other strange thing is that the train passengers discussed the incident in a very matter-of-fact way. No one seemed particularly shocked by the news. People just went on with their business, trying to get to wherever they needed to be.
I eventually made it to Frankfurt via a taxi and another train, only to end up on my original train that had stopped in Lahr. Even with my valiant effort (including broken German, unbearably hot weather and ridesharing with a Swiss, a German and a Greek), I missed my flight home. I was booked on the last flight of the night to Manchester of course...
This was waiting for me in the hallway of my hotel when I finally arrived late last night.
This morning I caught the first flight back to Manchester. It's good to be home.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Blackcurrant Overdose
Last week my boss and I were making a trip into London and stopped to put gas in the car. I offered to grab some cold drinks inside, as it was an unusually sunny, warm day in the south of England. The store shelves were pretty bare, and the choices consisted of milk, sugary energy drinks and what I recognized as juice.
This is what I chose...
Mmmmm apple and blackcurrant juice! No added sugar! Yum! I climbed back into the car, undid the cap and took a big swig. My boss gave me the weirdest look and immediately I understood why as I coughed and almost spit it out.
This is CONCENTRATE. Not juice.
In my defense, the store didn't even sell water to mix it with!!! Plus, the "20 servings" label is hidden in the corner.
When I repeated the story to Ben, he had a good, long laugh. Apparently it's common knowledge that Robinsons has to be mixed with water! Good to know...
This is what I chose...
Mmmmm apple and blackcurrant juice! No added sugar! Yum! I climbed back into the car, undid the cap and took a big swig. My boss gave me the weirdest look and immediately I understood why as I coughed and almost spit it out.
This is CONCENTRATE. Not juice.
In my defense, the store didn't even sell water to mix it with!!! Plus, the "20 servings" label is hidden in the corner.
When I repeated the story to Ben, he had a good, long laugh. Apparently it's common knowledge that Robinsons has to be mixed with water! Good to know...
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Tears of Rage
___ (one of many things)_____ makes me want to scream. No, cry. No wait, definitely scream. Maybe both?
I swear, nearly every day I have an out of body experience. A shit storm surrounds me and I float up into the air and look down thinking, Is this really happening?!
Other times I feel like I'm on fire in a room full of people. No one notices.
Instead of airing my grievances online for all to see, I'm going to be a mature, sensible person (damnit) and write about things for which I'm thankful. And breathe deep. Very deep...
1. My husband makes me laugh. Seriously, he's so weird and it's awesome. Also, he loves me even at my worst. That's good, too.
2. My job is stressful and crazy, but I really like what I do, so working hard doesn't always feel like work.
3. Living in Europe means I get to travel to amazing places and see really incredible things. Here's a pic from our recent long weekend inPortugal paradise.
4. I've applied for my provisional driving license, which means I'm on track for being a legit driver in the UK. After I pass my written and practical tests, that is. I feel like I'm 16 again!
5. Even though I complain about being singled about because of my Americanness, I also get to use it to my advantage. I pretend like I don't know better when I really do. Mwahaha!
6. I'm considering applying for dual citizenship (when the time comes) and one of my main worries is what happens if America and the UK go to war. Like, who am I expected to pledge my allegiance to? Doesn't becoming a citizen mean you pledge your allegiance to that country? Not (as in my case) to get another passport to make it easier to get through customs? Suddenly my problems don't seem so bad...
7. Ben gave me a bicycle for my birthday and I l-o-v-e love it! It's purple with fenders and two bells and a wicker basket. I ride it around town to do small errands like shop at the organic grocery store or take a picnic to the cricket club. It's how I always envisioned my life in England...
8. I get to talk to my parents and sister on Skype all the time. It tricks my mind into thinking they're close.
There. That feels better. No more screaming and no more tears...
I swear, nearly every day I have an out of body experience. A shit storm surrounds me and I float up into the air and look down thinking, Is this really happening?!
Other times I feel like I'm on fire in a room full of people. No one notices.
Instead of airing my grievances online for all to see, I'm going to be a mature, sensible person (damnit) and write about things for which I'm thankful. And breathe deep. Very deep...
1. My husband makes me laugh. Seriously, he's so weird and it's awesome. Also, he loves me even at my worst. That's good, too.
2. My job is stressful and crazy, but I really like what I do, so working hard doesn't always feel like work.
3. Living in Europe means I get to travel to amazing places and see really incredible things. Here's a pic from our recent long weekend in
4. I've applied for my provisional driving license, which means I'm on track for being a legit driver in the UK. After I pass my written and practical tests, that is. I feel like I'm 16 again!
5. Even though I complain about being singled about because of my Americanness, I also get to use it to my advantage. I pretend like I don't know better when I really do. Mwahaha!
6. I'm considering applying for dual citizenship (when the time comes) and one of my main worries is what happens if America and the UK go to war. Like, who am I expected to pledge my allegiance to? Doesn't becoming a citizen mean you pledge your allegiance to that country? Not (as in my case) to get another passport to make it easier to get through customs? Suddenly my problems don't seem so bad...
7. Ben gave me a bicycle for my birthday and I l-o-v-e love it! It's purple with fenders and two bells and a wicker basket. I ride it around town to do small errands like shop at the organic grocery store or take a picnic to the cricket club. It's how I always envisioned my life in England...
8. I get to talk to my parents and sister on Skype all the time. It tricks my mind into thinking they're close.
There. That feels better. No more screaming and no more tears...
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