A Short Tour.

The road leading to our house. If you look left, you see the freeway, right and you see the road leading into the village.

The village Church. Still active.

Across the street from the church, the graveyard.

With a place to rest.

Continue on the road and see our lonely bus stop.

And some rolling hills.

Not a bad place to call home.

The Nitch.

It seems as of late that my family life has been evolving, taking on new aspects that we never saw up until just a few months ago. I think that this is to be expected, for things to change like this, when you have a trans-continental move. I think that life probably changes like this a lot even without the move when you have two little people walking in your wake who are changing each and every single day, coming up with new independent tendencies and exploits to make you feel awkward in public. Our life changed like this one other time (in the years since we've been married), and that was our transition from England to St. Louis, which also happened to coincide with our transition from young newlyweds to overwhelmed parents. I was not prepared for that change. I had only just gotten used to England, and had only just gotten used to married life. St. Louis will forever be that awkward teenage-stage of our marriage, where there were too many things going on in our own bodies and lives to really be able to focus on what newlyweds normally tend to in those first few years. It was a great time, a time of change that I will be singing songs of thanksgiving for for the rest of my years, but one that I wasn't really feeling too equipped to be dealing with.

And then we made the decision to come back to England. One that was intertwined so tightly with both excitement and anxiety that I couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. I was so ready for a change. St. Louis never felt like home, and I could never come to grips with putting down roots. It just never happened. It could have been the house, it could have been the heat. I'm not entirely sure. But England presented us with an opportunity to start over. So we took it.

I really can't explain just how happy we are here. Within weeks of us moving into our house, it feels more like 'home' than St. Louis ever did. The Lord was gracious, as He always is, and lead us down the right paths to meet some amazing people. I have a circle of women that I adore, all of whom have children the same ages as mine. The kids have FRIENDS. Friends that they ask for by name.

Adjustments are still being made, by Paul and I and the kids. Alex is overwhelmed with the amount of playmates she has here. We go to an organized playgroup once a week in the village next to us, and then we get together with our new buds once a week as well, for a slightly less organized but much more fun playdate. It's taken her a while to get used to all of the activity, but she is blossoming. The other night Paul and I were going out, which usually involves us sneaking away while the kids are distracted by our babysitter, but Alex caught sight of us, and instead of screaming and clawing and not letting go, she ran up, said "BYE MOMMY! KISS!" It was no big deal. I was amazed. It was such a huge step. Sharing is still a hard concept, but we are getting there.

She is getting so big. She helps me cook.

I am starting to see myself in her. In her cheese grins that she gives me when I ask her to smile. I see years and years of goofing off for picture time coming back to bite me.

Eli is doing really well too. He gets helped out by his sister alot, which makes me happy to see. He spends most of his days finding new ways to amuse himself, and lately, it's been trying to fit into our toy bus. I have to hand it to him, once he sets his mind on something, he sticks to it. That will serve him well in the future. Now, though, not so much.

I've been finding my own way as well. I realize now looking back on it that I did not manage my time very well in St. Louis. I was always with the kids. Each and every single day. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. But I never took breaks. I never did anything to hold on to myself. I was mom, or wife. This was especially true during Paul's deployment. I see now that had I taken more effort to have time to myself, things would have been healthier for both myself and the kids. Best to learn from these mistakes though. So here, I've been going out of my way to find things that inspire different parts of my mind than the ones used to change diapers and do laundry. And it feels so good. I can come home from these things and be a happier mom, and happier wife. I feel more like the person I was before I had kids. I'm not trying to hold on to my youth, and I understand that change is inevitable. But I want the kids to remember me as more than the tired looking woman who shuffled behind them to pick up their wake.

Anyway, one of those things has been a ceramics class that I frequent on occasion. I've only done two pieces, but it's nice to get into a room filled with other people who are quietly bent over their projects, taking in the silence. This was my second piece, and I am altogether thrilled with how it turned out.

I've also been having fun in the kitchen. When the kids go to bed, our kitchen gets transformed into a baking machine. I love it. I've been experimenting with new recipes, and also ones with that are my own. It's been fun. I have a husband with a strong stomach, and that has certainly made it easier.

All in all, we are happy. We are content. And that's a really great feeling.

Short.

Hello again.

Sorry it's been so long. Our move, plus our lack of internet for the past few weeks make it a wee bit hard to get on here and update. But there are things happening here that deserve a little time.

Problem is, I just hosted a birthday party for a friend here today, as it was filled with fun times with new friends, and more baked goods than I can remember, and has left me just plum exhausted. So the update will have to wait. I plan on getting out the camera and taking a few shots of the house. I would say that 80% of the boxes have been unpacked, and the rest sit untouched in the 'office' and 'guest room'. Beds are not built, desks are not assembled. My mind implodes when I walk into those rooms, so I have quietly shut the doors to both rooms and let it go for now. They'll come around eventually.

So, sorry again for the wait, and sorry that the wait is a little longer now. Hopefully tomorrow will be lazy and give me some energy back.

:)

The Tough Decisions.

Being an adult blows sometimes. But along with those crap moments, it's peppered with moments that make me revel in the freedom and maturity that adulthood brings. I get to appreciate things that I wouldn't have understood as a child. I get to taste and savor moments of severe contentment, and have them logged in my memory to access as I need them.

Paul and I have made the very-adult decision of finding a new home for our first child, our puppy, our little dog Violet. It was brought on by several factors, the two most prominent being that she was not getting the active lifestyle that she needed with us, as we were overwhelmed with taking care of the kids, let alone a dog (who, really, was another child). Also, she's in such a good home right now, with a doggie friend and a loving and willing family that has agreed to take her in as their own.

Some people can juggle the kids, the dog, the house, the cooking. I am not one of those people. I really wish I was. Maybe I will continue to grow into my role as a stay-at-home mom, and will be able, in the future, to take on more tasks without losing my mind. But right now, the kids have all of my attention, all of my energy, and it just wasn't fair to Violet.

It makes me sad. Paul had to deliver the news, as I was curled in on myself with my fist shoved in my mouth, willing myself not to jump in a say "Nevermind! Nevermind! We want her back!" It was not the hardest decision I've made in my life. I've known for some time now that she would do better with a family who was able to give her the attention she needed. But it WAS the hardest decision I've ever had to follow through on. Knowing something is right does not make it easy to do.

I am happy for her, that she has this new home and new family to run around with. I am sad for us, that we've lost what was possibly the best dog ever to grace this earth. If we get another dog in the future, when things have settled down a bit, it will have some big paws to fill, as anyone who has met Violet would agree. There's a little empty space in our family right now, but it will be alright. We've done what's best for Violet.

We will miss you, girl.

No, I've never smoked Weed.

There are things that are different here in the UK. People drive on the wrong side of the road, they say lorry instead of truck. I'm pretty sure that if I told someone I liked their pants, they would walk away thinking that I just complimented them on their underwear. Just little things. Also, if I give someone the peace sign with my palm facing in, I might get punched. These things I knew about when we moved here. I had experienced them for a little while when Paul and I first married.

There's one thing, though, that has taken me by surprise this time around.

I was at the park with the kids today, enjoying some of the sweet sun that has infiltrated this cloudy country. The park is adjacent to a church, and within walking distance of our pimp-pad here in Cambridge (this latest temporary housing is so streamlined and sweet... therefore so inappropriate and frustrating with two toddlers). There are two little caged-in play areas (LOVE them for caging in the play areas. LOVE THEM), and a seemingly misplaced skate ramp. I was in the bigger of the two areas, enjoying myself while my youngest was learning the ropes and finally understanding why it's always best to go feet first, and my oldest had made a friend and was joyfully running around, enjoying the freedom. My back was facing the skate ramp, but I was aware of two older guys (well, older than my 2 year old... they were probably my age) that were doing some type of training with their bikes. Alex had just taken it upon herself to run out of the cage (why they put the gate so you push to get out, instead of pull, I'll never know), yelling BIKE BIKE BIKE. I quickly grabbed her, told her it was too early to start chasing boys, and brought her back inside. As she set about playing with her friend again, I caught a scent in the air that was striking me as vaguely familiar. It was a sweet, a little cloying. I tried to sift through my memories and place the smell. I glanced around to see if I could see the source and my eyes caught the guys, who were now perched on top of the ramp, apparently taking a break. And there in one of their hands was a little cigarette. Nay, a joint. Suddenly, I was in high school, feeling very uncomfortable as my old friend's new (and mildly, ok, really weird) boyfriend pulled over his car that we were driving in, pulled off the face of the steering wheel, and continued to roll a joint and smoke it, with the windows up. Oh my gosh, they're smoking weed on a playground. Why are they smoking weed on a playground?! Why are my children getting their first taste of weed at the ages of OOONNNEE and TWWWOOO?? I was trying to figure out what I should do, but was left with the option of staying put when they finished up and went on their way.

When Paul got home, I quickly told him what happened, laughing at the absurdity of it. And do you know what he said? That it's LEGAL.

Now, I haven't done any research, so I don't know if he's mistaken or not... but if he's not? GOOD TO KNOW.