US

I'm 'right.

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 09:18:00 +0000

Kessler and I went to the mall today so I could get a haircut and highlights. I've never taken him with me to get my hair done, but he's such a good boy--I was certain there would be no problems.. Worst case, I'd just give him my phone and he could watch dinosaur things on YouTube.

All was going as planned until he desperately had to go to the bathroom... while I had my hair full of foils. I tried to convince him to hang on; he did his best to oblige, but mother nature was more convincing. So, we ran through the mall to the furthest end of Myer (similar to Macy's). I'm sure people noticed, but I didn't notice them noticing me because I was too busy making it a point to reassure Kessler that we were nearly at the toilet. Not for his sake, of course. Anyone within earshot was going to know that I do not accessorize with foils.

Kessler finished his business and we sauntered back to the salon. I searched for ways to surreptitiously explain my appearance to those who might have missed the first spectacle. I drew a blank. Finally we were safely back at the salon.

About 30 minutes later, nature called again. At least this time the stylist was nearly finished drying my hair so we made our way to Myer for the second time. Kessler made a mad dash as soon as the restroom door was in sight. I arrived just a few seconds after him. After a few more seconds I stood outside of the only stall with a closed door. "Are you okay, buddy?" "Yes." "Do you need any help?" "No." "Okay, let me know if you do." "Okay." A few seconds later the lock began to turn. I gently pushed the door open so I could go in and help him button his pants. Much to my horror I found an equally horrified woman staring back at me. In typical Aussie style she says, "I'm 'right; thanks for checking."

Regaining composure, I quickly scanned the row of stalls once more trying to find the closed door that I previously missed. There wasn't one. "Kessler?" "Yes." I walked toward his voice and found him 2 stalls down, door wide open. Just sitting there, resting his chin in his hands, without a care in the world.

Kessler and Polina

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 01:39:00 +0000

This is a photo of Kessler and his best friend, Polina!

My lovely girl!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 01:28:00 +0000

Sorry for the orientation of the video. My phone has lost its bearing; it doesn't matter which way I hold it, it's going to be wrong.

Makena has been taking piano lessons at her school for about 3-4 months. (It's an external company, but they come to school to do the lessons.) Every other term they perform a concert. Makena was supposed to do 2 songs, but I think the teacher forgot. The laughing you hear in between songs is because of the exchange between Makena and Marcus, her teacher. She wasn't going to get up until she played her 2nd song!! Well done, MakNaks!

Makena saved the day!!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 11:30:00 +0000

You may have read on Facebook that I had to call in an emergency locksmith the other day. I locked myself and the kids out and Merlin in. It all started because I was trying to surprise Mark by picking up his bike that had been serviced. That'll teach me.

Getting out of the house is always an ordeal. It's like herding cats while juggling ~~jello~~ jelly. And considering that I have moved 20 times in the last 19 years, with it being impossible to lock one's self out of many of those places, I think I did well not to need a locksmith at this place within the first week of moving here.

In an effort to see the positives of every situation (new resolution), I'm very grateful that I did manage not to forget my phone inside so I was able to do a search and find a local locksmith (their office is about 500 meters from the house). I'm also grateful that I forgot to lock the car the last time I used it. I was able to chuck the kids in there, you know, to keep them warm and all. Not so they wouldn't drive me batshit asking questions while I futilely checked every window and door. I'm also grateful that the locksmith turned up within 15 minutes and was able to unlock the door in less than 10 minutes. (He did have some trouble, otherwise he would have been done in 2 minutes.) I'm grateful the locksmith cut a free key for me so I could hide it outside. I am, however, not grateful that he charged me $180. $180!? I have no issues paying a premium for the service given that it was an "emergency", but $180??!?! It just seems unethical, immoral. It does cause a big lump in my throat as I ponder whether this would happen in the U.S. I honestly don't think it would--as an exception perhaps, but not the norm. I don't need another reason to be homesick.

It is what it is, I suppose. Putting it behind me, I chucked Merlin outside and buckled up the kiddos and off to the bike store we went. (These are kind of mundane details but I feel they are necessary. Someday I may think I want to have more kids. I can't imagine that, but stranger things have happened. If being too old doesn't make me feel better, perhaps a reminder of a day in my life with 2 young kids will snap me back to my senses.) I find the bike store, but have to drive by it. You see, I missed the entrance to the access road. The access roads are always one way here.. which inevitably is never my way given you have to enter them before you find the place where you're trying to go. So, I passed it. A series of left turns entwined with constant commentary: "Mom, you just went past the bike store." " Mom, why are you going past the bike store?" "Are we going home?" "Where are we going now?" "Is forty-seven-fifty-six-one-million more than 5?" "Can I have ice cream?" eventually lead us back to our destination. I parked the car behind the store. I'm grateful for the perpendicular ~~parking spaces~~ parks as I hate parallel parking particularly while being talked at. The only problem is the parking lot is a bit of a hike from the entrance to the store, but no big deal. I explained to the sales guy why I'm there. He retrieves the bike and tells me how much I owe. I promptly realize my debit card is not in my wallet. Damn.

I just had it to pay the criminal locksmith. The kids and I schlepped back to the car and found it on the center console. I'm grateful I didn't leave it at the house.

Back at the store, I pay for the service. The sales guys then shows me the massive crack in the frame of the bike. This is Mark's commuter bike. When he doesn't run the 9 miles to work, he rides his bike. (It saves $7 a day in train fares, 30 extra minutes commuting (each way), $100 a month gym membership.)

Let me recap. I just locked myself and the kids out of the house, wasted $180 to get back in, frustrated the hell out of myself trying to get the damn bike, paid $85 for the service on said bike -- only to find out the bike is on its deathbed.

THEN, I had to put the godforsaken thing in the car (while being talked at.) I had to call Mark and ruin the surprise because I wasn't sure how to get the back wheel off. By the time I got it in the damn car it needed to be serviced again. .

Needless to say I couldn't wait for nightfall so I could say good riddance to this day. While all good things must come to an end, apparently bad things can linger as long as they damn well please. The following day, I attempted to unlock the door after going to the supermarket. I was surprised that I couldn't turn the lock immediately, but thankfully, I was able to get it in a few seconds. The day after it took even longer. Each subsequent attempt was worse than the time before until a few days ago when I just could not get the lock to turn. I had just dropped Kessler off at preschool. This time I did forget my phone inside. For more than 15 minutes I wiggled, jiggled, shook, twisted and turned the key and handle.. trying to get the lock to open (while being talked at). I had my keys and the spare key, a lot of good that did me! And, the front door has a lock (similar to a chain) that cannot be unlocked from outside. Shit. I could have gone down the street to the locksmith that gouged me just days earlier; the one that caused this problem in the first place, but I couldn't bear the thought of being charged another $180 in case they didn't see it that way. I was just about to give up and head to a friend's house where I could ponder my options when I decided to let Makena have a try. Even though I wiggled it every possible directions, perhaps she'd get just the right angle.

Makena beamed when I told her to have a go. (She lives for moments like this. If I can't get a jar open, she always asks if she can try.) She grabbed the keys with determination. "What do I need to do?" she said as I watched the key turn 45 degrees. She nearly jumped from her skin when I grabbed her hand/keys before she could turn it back. And we were in on Makena's first go. We celebrated with high fives and hugs! I'm grateful that Makena was able to unlock the door. I'm a little less than thrilled that my beautiful little girl thinks her mom is an incompetent boob that cannot unlock a simple door.

In case you come for a visit, you now know why there is red tap affixed to the lock.

Happy Birthday, Kessler!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 05:00:00 +0000

To honor Kessler on his birthday, I'll quickly share some current Kesslerisms.

1. "No, I love you more. I love you fifty-six-thousand-million dinosaurs. Is that more than 3?"
2. " Is 56 more than 7?"
3. "Dad, you're a disgusting man head." He says this when he's particular mad at Mark and he's as serious as can be.
4. "What comes after 39?"
5. "I'm going to give you the biggest hug ever." As he strangles the crap out of you.
6. "Who let the dogs out? Woof Woof Woof."
7. "Who let the cats out? Meow Meow Meow."
8. "Who let the dogs and cats out? Woof Meow Woof Meow Woof Meow."
9. "Slimey did it; he's an herbivore." When asked about why he'd ripped the leaves off of my house plant.
10. "Slimey's sister died because she touched a red back spider."
11. "Oh no, I made a big mistake." In a voice like the Cookie Monster.
12. "I'm dooooone." In the voice of the Cookie Monster, Opera Singer, Dinosaur, mouse and whatever else comes to mind when he's ready to have his bum wiped after a pooh.
13. "I loooove Salmon."

I wish I had words to describe his big brown eyes right when he realizes we're watching him. Not looking at him, but watching him in amazement. It happens a lot. He's a hilarious little boy. The stuff he comes up with is pretty amazing and it's all delivered with a straight face.

I could write a book about him, but I'll just stick with some simple facts I hope to never to forget. He's still all about dinosaurs. He prefers carnivores to herbivores. He goes to Rainbow 2 days a week where his best friends are Polina, Chile and Kiara. He also goes to St. Mary's 2 days a week where his best friend is Edie. He's quite the ladies man. His favorite colors are pink, purple and brown. His favorite food is chicken nuggets -- so he says, but I think it's Salmon. He'll pretty much eat anything. He loves to color and paint but nothing compares to going to the museum to see the Dinosaur exhibit. He often asks, "what's today?" If the answer is a weekend day, he'll ask if we can go to the museum. I know I'm slightly biased, but he really is an amazing kid.

We love you, Kessman!!

It's been a year..

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 06:48:00 +0000

It's been just over a year since we arrived in Australia! It's very hard to believe it's been that long though, at times it seems like it's been a lifetime since I was back in the States.

Things feel mostly normal with the occasional uprising of trepidation. It's quite unsettling to be able to take nothing for granted. Like, for example, I still can't trust that one day I won't look up and find myself driving on the wrong side of the road. It's only happened once in a year and just as Mark warned, it happened when there were no cars around, thank goodness.

It's tough having to think about how much something weighs or how far away a place is or what 17 degrees will feel like. Mailing a letter means going to the post office because I haven't bought a book of stamps yet. I don't know if they sell books of stamps nor do I know how much postage is required for a simple letter.

My wallet still weighs 100 pounds (50 kilograms) because there are no notes smaller than a $5. I end up with a bunch of $1 and $2 coins in my purse because I don't want to have to inspect each one to determine the denomination before I start to count. It goes something like this.. "okay, that one is $1.. this is $2, that makes $3.. here's $.50.. shit, how much do I have now? $2.50? Alright, that one is $1 and this is $2. Don't forget to go to the post office to mail that letter. This one is $.20.. no $.50...." "I know it's only $4, but can I pay with my debit card, I mean EFTOS?" (whatever the hell that is.)

A new boy joined Makena's class a few weeks ago. He and his family are from Canada. I instantly befriended the mom; it's amazing how much you can have in common with a complete stranger. I picked her up one night to meet some of the moms for a drink at a local restaurant. When the time came to order drinks from the bar she deferred to me because she wasn't sure how to do it. It's exactly the same, well except for the inevitable miscommunication caused by the conflicting accents. But, I knew what she was feeling. It's almost as though for months on end you haven't taken a deep breath. Because, taking a deep breath means you will switch off for that split second while you inhale just a bit deeper. Switching off isn't allowed because you might be forced to think right at that exact moment! The last thing you want is to look like an idiot doing something that is mundane to everyone else; how uncool.

That's a look into the emotional side of being here a year.. I'll post something about the tangibles later.

Kiddos

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 06:07:00 +0000

Here are some photos of the kiddos. The ones of Kess were taken at St. Mary's. That's where he goes to "kinder". I can't remember if I have written about it before or not, but it's a council (government) provided preschool program. It's just 2 days a week, 3 hours each day. It's about 2 blocks away from where we live currently. Kessler loves it!!! He skips all the way there and exclaims with glee, "I'm so excited!" as he bounds down the sidewalk.

Makena's are through Brighton Primary. She's doing really well. Some of her friends call her Mrs. No. Hopefully she remembers this for the boys when she's a teenager!

At the footy

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 06:11:00 +0000

Had a wonderful birthday yesterday complete with chocolate cake, sprinkles and gummi dinosaurs. We went to Bendigo to see Mark's grandma, aunties, uncles and cousin. Mark's grandma isn't doing so well, that was quite tough to see.

Today we are at the footy match... Essendon and St. Kilda..Mark's team and Makena and my team. I've recently decided to piss on Mark's parade and become an Essendon fan. It's hard to talk shit when you barrack for the same team.

(I had a photo but when I try to upload it from my phone.. it's sideways and I can't fix it.)

So Inappropriate..

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 10:19:00 +0000

Last night Mark and I attended an "Inappropriate Party" hosted by the parents of one of Makena's classmates from last year. We were given several weeks notice which is of no benefit to me. I don't get serious about these things unless time is of the essence. Also, we weren't sure we'd be able to find a babysitter.

As time grew closer I started to fret. I don't remember ever going to a costume party even as a child; I really wasn't sure what to expect. Anyway--I finally had an idea--Hugh Hefner and a pregnant playboy bunny. And I'll be damned if the second that entered my head, I couldn't think of anything else. After a couple of days of desperately trying to come up with an idea that didn't involve me wearing a bunny tail I set out to put together the costume. Dammit!

After several trips to the costume shop-- trying to find a bunny suit that was big enough for a pregnant belly but not too big for my less than pregnant bosom--I finally determined that such a costume doesn't exist. Yet, the mental block that was disallowing any other ideas to flow freely was still in full force. I finally pieced together enough of an outfit with what I had at home. And had 2 very sleepless nights stressing over my choice of costumes. "It's just like wearing a bathing suit--it's just like wearing a bathing suit…” became my mantra.

The morning of the party we had to go back to the mall to pick up some final accessories--namely inserts to assist my bosom. As Mark and I were standing in front of the display, pondering my options, Makena said, "Look, it fits (or it sticks--I'm not sure which one)". She had lifted her shirt up and had one of the falsies stuck to her bare chest. There comes a point when you realize your kids are far more aware of what’s going on than you thought (like deducing the purpose (somewhat) of an object by looking at the package.)—this was definitely that point. Makena—we owe you a few therapy sessions for that one. Sorry, sweetheart.

The babysitter issue was resolved by the party’s host. They gave us the number to a nanny service and we shared a sitter with another family—some friends of ours who are also parents from last year’s class. A few hours before the party, the mom sent me a text with concerns about the logistics of leaving the kids with the sitter—she couldn’t have the sitter see her in her get-up. Apparently the sitters from this agency are of the mature variety.

Good thinking, Rebecca! Janet was probably in her 70s, extremely nice and extremely proper! She kept referring to Kessler as the “little gentleman”. I was embarrassed to be wearing my diversion dress and fish nets, let alone a bunny outfit. It took us about 45 minutes to leave because the little gentleman was not warming up to Janet. She was taking it in stride—encouraging us to leave and all would be fine. We finally did make the mad dash to the door—by the time we got settled into the car we could hear that he had settled.

We finished getting dressed at Rob and Rebecca’s. I was so relieved to see their costumes—Rebecca was a suicide bomber with a see thru burka. It was awesome. Rob was a pedophile priest complete with bible, advertisements of child models from clothing magazines falling from it and a broken zipper. He also had a pedophile’s hair cut as well (who knew they had one)?

The party was a blast—complete with inappropriate games and food. We stayed out until 2:00 a.m. I cannot remember the last time that happened. I had to don my diversion dress to return home. To confirm that we made the right decision about said dress, Janet walked to the front door and hesitated. I opened the door for her and we walked her to her car as she thanked me, explaining that it wasn't proper for the guest to open the door of someone else's home.

Rubbish!!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 12:35:00 +0000

Last year I loved Makena's school.   But, I've grown a bit cold this year. There are a lot of reasons for this; most of which I will keep to myself as I ponder them endlessly. (It sucks to be nonconfrontational sometimes.) One reason is self-induced (volunteering to be class rep) so I can't count that one--at least not in this post. I'll do a self loathing post later. But one reason is just a quagmire of disappointment, for lack of a better description.

Those who know me know I live in a world of oblivion. For example, our realtor commented a few months ago that some/one/all of the taps in our house were the opposite of what they should be. Turn on cold, you get hot... No way. I asked Mark; he confirmed. We lived there for 3 1/2 years and I didn't know this? There's little doubt in my mind that I repeatedly turned on the wrong tap, realized my error then turned on the correct one, never giving it a second thought. So, when I noticed the school yard had a lot of litter--that meant it had a LOTof litter.   Everyday at drop off and pick up I would step over it, just as all the other moms, dads and kids did. And everyday I would have this inner monologue.

"Wow, I can't believe all of this garbage!"
"I should at least pick up what I'm stepping on/over."
"Yes, but where would you put it?"
"Surely, they'll clean it up soon."

On top of the guilt I had for not doing anything about, I was starting to get disgusted that the kids were playing amongst all the trash, THEN I really started to stew about what a poor example this was for the kids (the fact that they were allowed to leave the grounds looking like that AND that all the moms, dads and teachers were clearly okay with it too!)

Enough is enough I said! I wanted to do something about it without being confrontational. I decided I'd recruit Makena's class to help me clean up after school that day. I mean, movies are made about moments like this.. okay, maybe that's only in my head. So, I sent out an email:

"Hi everyone, As I walked through the playground this morning, dodging litter, I thought why not just pick it up! I'm going to recruit Makena to help me today after pick up. Anyone want to join us; I'll bring extra trash bag?"

All day I imagined the little preppies working together cleaning up the rubbish. All the moms and dads would be so proud; the principal would thank them at assembly. It was a beautiful thought.

Reality was a little different.  Makena and I clamoring around by ourselves in the sweltering heat (temperature was 20 degrees higher than the day before). That was until Makena spat the dummy and left me on my own to pick up the garbage AND deflect her incessent whining. "Why do I have to do it?" "Well, there's a very good answer for that, but I'm too hot and pissed to tell you now." I was determined though--I got my head back in the game, continually reaffirming that I was doing the right thing.

And then.. and then she turned up. "Hi Kelly. I got your email. This is not your responsibility. You need to stop. No one is going to thank you. You look like an.. " she finally paused and thought better of finishing that sentence. I stuttered and stumbled as I spat out my retorts--I don't need a thank you.. I don't care what I look like (except the whale tail from my pants sticking to my legs when I bend over.. that kind of bothers me).. I'm doing this for my daughter--I want to set a better example.. "No, you need to stop.. you need to complain to the principal."   The irony is that that would have been much less confrontational than the passive approach I took. I wouldn't have gotten nearly as stinky and sweaty either.

She finally left. I was even more determined to get the yard spotless.. for about a nano second. I waffled back and forth between quitting and seeing it through. One minute I was telling Makena we were leaving only to find myself walking in the opposite direction picking up more crap. (The kids were literally using the garbage to make structures..) We were finally done in about an hour. It wasn't 100% but certainly good enough. I think we collected about 1 1/2 bags of garbage.

The next morning some of the parents complimented us on how much better it looked. Many explained that they couldn't stay to help because they had other commitments (I did only give them a few hours notice afterall).   Then at pick up, sadly there was more garbage. Not nearly what we cleaned up the day before, but definitely an indication that in a few weeks time our efforts will have proven to be futile. Well, except for the fact that Makena will now be able to say, "One day, my damn mom made me clean up everyone elses' garbage while they got to play on the monkey bars!!!"

Sorry Mak-Naks--hopefully this will make sense one day!

Rock you!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 12:54:00 +0000

(I was looking through the videos I've accumulated and came across this one. It was easy enough to edit, so here it is!)

There's an assembly every Monday morning at Makena's school. At the end of last year the band played this song. It quickly became one of Makena's favorite songs and subsequently one of Kessler's. The ever obliging daddy ripped it to CD so we could enjoy it while in the car! : )

What happened was..

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 12:21:00 +0000

Kessler was in a big Christmas concert back in December. It was 3 hours long; every kid performed the entire 3 hours. It was absolutely adorable, but required a lot of editing. It will take me hours to find software and edit it and since I hadn't finished my immigration paperwork or our 2009 taxes, I decided I'd better put it on the back burner. And unfortunately, I have a very difficult time updating the blog out of sequence. One of my quirks, I guess. Anyway, it makes me quite sad to think of all the things that didn't make it to the blog during that time. And even though the immigration paperwork is done (pending with immigration), 2009 AND 2010 taxes are done--I still feel inundated with responsibilities.

I've decided that's no excuse. You see, a few weeks ago we went to Tasmania for Mark's best friend's father's funeral. It was an amazing funeral, as odd as that sounds. They spoke a lot about Barry. They played several of his favorite songs, all country--which was quite appropriate for a funeral. One of the speakers was Mark's friend, Barry's son. Among other things, he talked about how his father always remembered everything. He recently found out that this was because he kept a journal and would frequently go back and reread what he had written. I only met Barry once, maybe twice. But from the stories Mark told about him (and the eulogies) he's not the kind of guy you'd peg for having a diary. It made me realize that if a hardcore guy like Barry cherished his memories so much to write them down and read them, then everyone should do it. Then I remembered that I had been doing that with my blog--and I also remembered the joy of going back and reading the stories, stories that would have otherwise been forgotten.

So, here I am.. setting aside my quirk to move forward with the help of Barry. Thanks, mate.

It's been almost 10 months since we landed in Melbourne. I can't believe it's been that long--yet, I also can't believe it hasn't been longer! Makena is back in Prep again. Since she started halfway through last year and just barely met the birthday cut off to start prep anyway, we decided it was best to let her have the whole experience. It was a tough decision because she had so many wonderful friends. We weren't counting on that when we rationalized that holding her back might be the likely outcome when we enrolled her. Regardless, she's doing so well. I'm so proud of her for being able to roll with all that has been thrown at her. She's just such an easy going, happy kid. I hope she stays that way!!

Kessler is going to Rainbow 2 days a week. We dropped him down from 5 days because it was just so expensive, $1800 a month!! He's going to a regular Kinder program as well called St. Mary's by everyone but Kessler--he calls it Saints Mary or the "blue gate school". He only goes there 2 days a week for just 3 hours a day. The council (government) offers these kinder programs. They are quite cheap, relatively speaking, and the kids will generally move up to primary school with some friends. It's just a block and a half away. He loves it; I'm not exactly sure why. But, as we walk up to the door he clinches his hands together and says, "I'm so excited!"

Makena and Kessler are both taking swim lessons. Makena LOVES to swim. Kessler does too, except when he's in class. Then it can go either way. Makena also just started taking piano lessons. This is offered at her school. She and one of her friends from class take the lessons together. She's really enjoying them so far!

Kessler is all about dinosaurs these days. Nothing I write here will give that sentence justice. A few weeks ago he was watching a Dinosaur documentary--clearly not aimed at 3 year olds. Later he retrieved his dinosaur encyclopedia (again, not targeted toward the toddler demographic)--and found one of the dinosaurs featured in the documentary. There are hundreds of dinosaurs in this book and honestly, they all look nearly the same--but he's able to distinguish between them. He remembers their names, no matter how many syllables. He'll go to a random page and tell me that that particular dinosaur is a carnivore. At first I assumed he was just guessing correctly--but when I asked him how he knew he explained that he had to be a carnivore because of his teeth and his talons then he explained to me that the dinosaur on the adjacent page was a herbivore because of his neck and lack of talons. I kind of felt like an idiot after that.

He's graduated from simply roaring to.. well.. roaring like a dinosaur--I can't even begin to spell it phonetically. Let's just say it's quite realistic--so much so that we have to tell him off all the time because he's scaring other kids. Incidentally, he's still quite the chic-magnet, despite this. He and Polina are going strong.

That's enough for now! I'll write more later!!

I can't sing..

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Fri, 01 Oct 2010 17:25:00 +0000

This is so much the case that I took singing lessons shortly after Makena was born so I wouldn't make her cry when I sang her lullabies. Not that she did cry, but it would have been a perfectly reasonable response. The lessons helped the ittiest bit--my teacher taught me to whisper-sing. I'm pretty sure she made up this technique, but it did relieve the guilt I felt about possibly being brought up on charges for child abuse by vocal torture.

While I can't sing, Mark can. He's quite talented actually. He also plays the piano well and can often just recreate any song he hears. I'm not sure whether my disinclination to music is related to my clear lack of talent, but I've never been one to know who sings what song and who's the latest rising star. I do like a good song, but it takes a bit for me to even make the mental note of the title/artist. Mark, on the other hand, listens to every genre--jazz, country, hip hop.. you name it, it's on his iPod, along with a bunch of other songs you can't name.

No matter which way you slice it, Mark has an affinity toward music. With it comes an almost compulsory need to sing along with whatever song is playing. He thinks I'm making fun of him.. but I adore this. The other day we were driving along and the song, "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum came on the radio. I couldn't help but smile at him, especially when he sang the "need" part--if you know the song you know what I'm talking about. The smile wasn't even a smile.. it was an ooze, but he doesn't know this; all he saw was the smile.

So, Markus, I declare before all four of the people who read my blog.. I love to hear you sing... don't ever stop!

Footy!!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 16:53:00 +0000

I used to like American Football. When I was kid, my dad, brother and I would watch the Redskins whenever they had a game. They were good back then. I was a really good player too. I could run fast and catch and I could throw the ball better than most men I knew. But, after moving away from the east coast I grew away from the sport. The Redskins sucked so badly their games were never broadcast outside of the Va/DC area. Meeting Mark put the final nail in the American Football coffin. He just could not get into the sport. After watching a few Aussie Rules footy games.. I figured out why.

Several years ago, on one of my first visits to Australia, Mark took me to a footy game in Tasmania. Much of the story I'm about to recount was told to me by Mark. Since he was the one who told me the bird that was bullying me was a Magpie and later refuted that in the comment sections, you might not want to make any life altering decisions based on the information contained below. Aussie Rules originated in Victoria, the state in which we currently live. Since Melbourne is the biggest city in the state, the area is saturated with teams. Quite different than the US.

There is currently no team in Tassie, but according to Mark they tend to ~~root~~ (root means something altogether different here... I can't remember if that's just an Australian thing or if its alternative definition is known in the US as well??) barrack for Hawthorne in Tassie. Now, this is information Mark did not disclose to me until.. well ever, I worked it out on my own when we turned up to the game. You see, Hawthorne was playing Sinhilda, I was told. (That is what everyone says--don't let anyone tell you different.) Mark, being the loving husband that he is, wanted me to get into the game so he bought me a Sinhilda footy top! Now, you may or may not recall that in the early days of visiting Australia I was under the impression that Australians hated Americans. Why, you ask? Because Mark said they did. For this reason I rarely ever spoke in public. I really tried to keep a low profile. Nothing like keeping a low profile by wearing a red/white/black jersey in a sea of yellow and brown. Thanks Mark.

Not that Americans aren't into their football, but it's different here. The game is so extremely intense. They rarely have commercials because there's NEVER a break. They don't wear pads or helmets or any protective gear. They don't stop after each play. Every player is fit beyond belief because they are running constantly. There are no overweight players as you sometimes see in the states. It makes American football look like a tea party, I don't mean the political kind. I imagine it's because of this that the fans are intense as well. So, turning up in the opposing team's jersey was nothing short of traumatic. Once again, thank you Mark.

After much mockery I finally learned that Sinhilda is actually St. Kilda, the St. (Saint) Kilda Saints, in fact. Australians have a law against enunciating, apparently. Lucky enough when we moved to Australia our closest team is St. Kilda (not like the other teams are far or anything) but, since I already had the jersey, I already had my team! Serendipity!

The reason I'm writing about this now is because yesterday was the Grand Final--the Superbowl of Australian Rules football. Another comparison that makes me marvel at the difference between Australia in the US is there are oodles of people at Mark's work that were going to the game. Kessler's teacher went as well. I only heard of people who knew people that went to the Superbowl. Anyway, my team, St. Kilda made it to the Grand Final along with the Collingwood Magpies. It's unfortunate that my mother and father-in-law are Collingwood fans. I just can't ~~root~~ barrack for a team whose Mascot is terrorizing me.

I wasn't too interested in watching the game, until I started watching the game. Holy hell it's action packed. It just took a few seconds before I was ooowing and aaawing. Next thing I knew I was yelling at the TV. St. Kilda was a few goals down at half time. I kind of figured they were going to play less aggressively because of the deficit. Not the case, my friends. They rallied back to tie the game, then take the lead. Collingwood answered and the game was tied with only a couple of minutes on the clock. Mark and I started talking about whether they would go into sudden death or whether they'd have to play another quarter if there was a tie. We'd soon find out; the game did end with a tie. We anxiously watched the TV as many of the players collapsed onto the ground out of sheer exhaustion. The expression on both teams' faces was nothing short of disbelief and defeat. Those who weren't on the ground were wandering around the field aimlessly. Why weren't they getting ready for the tie breaker? Because there isn't one, until next weekend. They have to come back and play again!!!! The poor bastards! Can you imagine? I feel so sorry for the players and the die hard fans that won't be able to come back next weekend. I don't feel sorry for the AFL or whoever gets the proceeds from two Grand Finals in an 8 day period!

On a side note, it's so [insert a range of emotions here] to watch the nuances of how the kids are changing as they adjust to living here. For example, Mark was getting Makena excited about the game. The week before last there was footy day at school where the kids were allowed to wear civvies with a footy top instead of their uniform. So, we bought Makena a St. Kilda top. With it came a lesson on who she was "going for" as this is all new to her, of course. Mark kept quizzing her so she'd know the right answer to give. At various points over the last several days "who are you going for" has been the topic of conversation.

The choice in wording, though subtle, elicits excitement, wonder, disbelief... I mean, my kids are Australian. They always have been, but it won't be long before that's all they'll remember, especially Kessler. Every day their accent changes and they use a new word. Of course this is completely normal for them. It isn't any different than it's supposed to be. I really am so excited for them, but at times I feel a little sad because it feels like a part of me is slipping away. Like, they'll never know their mom was a kick ass quarterback!! Lucky for me, I'm not much of a traditionalist, so the feeling is fleeting rather than an anchor that ties me down. I am quickly reminded that the type of "me" that I am, is exactly what brought us here. So with that, I look forward to the future with anxious anticipation and a small tear in my eye.

Letter

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 12:33:00 +0000

Dear Mr. Magpie,

I hope this letter finds you well. You're right; that's a lie. But, I do hope it finds you reasonable, reasonable enough to honor my requests.

I'm not sure what you think I've done or plan to do to you, but whatever it is, I assure you your attacks are unjustified. Really, I'm just walking to retrieve the car from the train station so I can pick up my beautiful kids. Surely you can find no harm in that, can you? Yet, you still find it necessary to dive-bomb me. While I'm glad you have yet to drop a "bomb", the near misses of your body to my head are getting a bit unsettling. Please understand, I am far too cool to duck and cover and shout expletives at birds, but that is what you've driven me to do. Unlike you, I prefer to fly under the radar--you know, go unnoticed, blend in with the scenery. While we are on the subject. Your morning serenade is really starting to piss me off as well. You see, dawn is when I go to bed and that is when you decide to announce your presence to the world--from the tree right outside my f'g bedroom window. While I absolutely adore my husband, having you screech his name during those delicate first few moments prior to slumber well, it just doesn't endear you to me. "Maawwwwwwk.. MAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWK" In fact, it's downright maddening. Is it necessary to be so loud? On one of your more vocal days--you know, the one where you started at dawn and were still at it when I left at 3:00 p.m. to pick up the car, I could hear you loud and clear for over four blocks. Other sounds came and went but your incessant screeching remained for FOUR blocks!!

So, please accept my offer of a truce. I promise never to write about you on my blog again, if you immediately cease and desist with the terrorism. Fair?

Sincerely,
Kelly Pellas

Young Love

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 12:29:00 +0000

Makena and I found Kessler and his friends on the playground today at pick up. The fact that that is where they can be found on a fairly regular basis gives me a huge sense of relief; our Year of Winters is nearly coming to an end. I won't be sorry to see it go!

It took me a few seconds to spot Kessler; it always does. I think I feel I should be able to know where the kids are instantaneously--it gives me pause that my eyes aren't drawn to them immediately when I'm within a certain range. I think that's why a few seconds feels like an eternity. Anyway, he came bounding around the corner with a little girl in tow. Polina is her name. Kristi explained that they had been holding hands since they came outside. I suspect they were taking turns dragging each other around as Polina had now taken the lead. She and Kessler were making their way into the playhouse right outside the door to their classroom.

Makena loves when there is something to distract me; she wastes no time skirting around my peripheral until she finds something to play with. There's no shortage--it's really an amazing classroom. And lucky for Makena I'm easily distracted when I enter Kessler's room. I always hope to catch a glimpse of him doing whatever it is that he does when I'm not around.

A few days ago I arrived when he was doing Show and Tell. It was great timing. His back was to the door even. Kristi asked where he had gotten the stuffed Penguin--which Kessler used to call Penguingy. He told her he found it in his room. Which is sort of true. He received it for Christmas last year and it was one of his special babies for a while. When I was unpacking boxes a few weeks ago I found it and showed it to him. "Awww, it's Penguin!" It made me just a little sad that he pronounced it properly. Kristi asked if any of his friends had any questions. A bunch of hands flew to the air. She prompted Kessler to call on one of his classmates. "Ummmmm... Alesky." Kessler said like a seasoned public speaker. "Who bought it for you?" Kessler quickly responded as if to quell anyone from getting the wrong idea about Penguins origins, "My mommy didn't give it to me. I found it in my room." Kristi prompted him to call on someone else.. "Ummmmm.. Zack." "Does it talk?" "No." Kristi asked, "What if I push on his belly?" "No". "Give it a go; let's see." So, Kessler pressed the belly and nothing.. "What about his beak?" Kessler pressed his beak, nothing again. By this time, Kessler's audience started to stir because of our presence and Kessler turned around to see me. He gave a bashful smile as I came over to greet him. I am so impressed with Miss Kristi. She really puts in a lot of effort--getting a bunch of 3 and 4 year old to be comfortable speaking in front of a group is nothing short of brilliant.

Then yesterday Ms. Mina, the music teacher was there. The kids were in a circle--again, Kessler's back was to me. They each had a ball behind their back. Ms. Mina sang, "I'm looking for a blue ball, a blue ball.. Who can give me a bluuuue ball?" Kessler sneaked a peak behind his back, no doubt trying to remind himself of the color of his ball. It was green. "I'm looking for an orange ball, an orange ball... Who can give me an oraaaange ball?" Kessler's feet were stretched out in front of him, rocking back and forth. I assume he was anxiously anticipating his turn. "I'm looking for a green ball, a green ball... Who can give me a greeeen ball?" It was almost as if you can identify the exact second he realized, me.. I can give you a green ball!! He whipped it around then gently rolled it to Ms. Mina. When they were done with the ball song, Ms. Mina looked at us and asked if Makena would like to join in. She said yes, and sat down next to Kessler. He seemed proud to have her there--almost as proud as I was.

Back to today, Makena had long since left my side; climbing on the various play structures. I summoned them to join me at the door; to my surprise they both came almost immediately. Polina stood there watching Kessler getting ready to leave; I thought for sure she was going to start crying. I asked Kessler if he'd like to give her a hug. He immediately ran to her and gave her a big hug. She beamed as soon as she realized he was coming back for her. Kessler joined me again and I noticed another little girl was now standing next to Polina with a look of anticipation. I asked if he wanted to give her a hug. He said, "I already did." Then Kristi clarified, "Anna." Kessler obliged.

There are a few doors connecting the inside to the outside. For some reason, the one we always go through is connected to the toilets. The doors are all glass--no need for modesty with 3 year olds, I suppose. Makena needed to go so Kessler and I were waiting. I looked back to see poor Polina still standing there gazing at Kessler. Shortly after I noticed, he noticed and walked over to the door. He put his hand on the window; Polina's face absolutely lit up as she ran to the door and placed her hand against the window.. right where Kessler's was. They both gently kissed the door. Everyone, together now.. "awwwwww"

I was telling Mark the story on the way home from the train station. Of course he got a kick out of it. For my benefit, he asked Kessler if he wanted to get a belt soon? So he could start putting notches on it... to which Makena responded, "I do; I want a belt!" Doh!!

M100W

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 18:56:00 +0000

I mentioned the "The Magic 100 Words" in an earlier post. Makena has to learn to read and write the 100 most common words. We practice nearly everyday and she's doing extremely well. One day when we were reviewing the words, Kessler came up to me and said, "I want to do it!!" "You do? Which color?" He picked a color. So, I read each of the words as he repeated after me. It's not quite the same exercise we do with Makena. He confidently repeated every word, very focused, very determined. When he was done he proudly received a high 5. Now he has to practice every time Makena does and he also earns the same treat she does for working so hard.

Get Away!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 13:50:00 +0000

Father's day in Australia is September 5th. We celebrated this year by going to the museum to see the Dinosaur exhibit--that was Mark's idea. This shows exactly why he's such an amazing dad. The kids love dinosaurs and nothing makes him happier than seeing them happy.

In addition to the Dinosaur exhibit, there were bug and animal exhibits; the kids loved both. But, the highlight was the Dinosaur IMAX movie! Kessler's first IMAX experience. We loaded up on drinks and popcorn; Mark hates popcorn so much that he can't even stand the smell. I'm too selfish to forgo the overpriced heart attack in box. After all, we've only seen about 6 movies in as many years. We found great seats, halfway up and dead center. The kids and I immediately dug into the popcorn when the lights went out.

"We need to get out of here!", Kessler warned. "Why?" "It's too dark!!" I did my best to settle him; I failed as he evacuated his seat and climbed across the armrest. I didn't try hard to discourage him as he wiggled his way onto my lap, resting his head against my chest. Ever since he was just a few weeks old he seemed so big to hold comfortably, but for some reason, on this day he fit perfectly.

As the movie began he sat upright with nervous anticipation. There was a lot to talk about and whispering was not an option. The commentary ran the gamut from, "Oh, he's so cute!!" to "Get away! Get away!" as he pushed himself into my chest. I showed him that he could reach out and feel the illusion. With that bit of information, he started swatting--finding comfort in the nothingness that met his hand. Every so often I had to remind of the swat. Each time he realized he was safe, but never safe enough to whisper!

Geography Lesson

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 15:04:00 +0000

I thought I'd give a quick Georgraphy lesson..

Too smart to be just 3

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 12:18:00 +0000

The other night we were having dinner when one of the kids realized they didn't have anything to drink. I neglected to put their cups out and they noticed because they saw I was drinking something they aren't normally allowed to have. (Schweppes Agnus --YUM). I agreed to let them have some, but only if one of them retrieved their cups from the cupboard. Kessler took up the task. He came back with a green one and a blue one. He asked Makena which one she wanted; she responded, "Blue." Kessler said, "No, I want blue" and gave her the green one.

Mark and I shook our heads in unison.. It was a little funny, but definitely wrong. So, Mark said, "Kessler, do you want chocolate (pause) or a smack on the bum?" Mind you, a smack on the bum is by no means a bad thing for the kids. It's a game they play where Mark tells them he's going to do it (as though it's a threat) and they take off running, cackling, giggling and screaming until they are caught and the bum smacking ensues. The kids love it, but not as much as chocolate. Or, they know if offered a smack on the bum they have to decline else they can't get chased which is the whole point of the game. Anyway, Mark settles in to explain the point behind his question when Kessler immediately hands Makena the green cup, snatches the blue cup.. then says, "Now, can I have chocolate?" To which Mark responded, "Ahhh, yes." We both smile as we realize he was just outsmarted by a 3 year old.

Bonjourno a tutti!

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 16:59:00 +0000

I had just arrived at the pick up area when one of the moms from Makena's class greeted me and introduced me to the person she was talking with. This mom always does this--it's such a thoughtful thing to do!! She explained that we are new and told the other mom how well Makena is doing. Then she said that Makena has been participating a lot more in class. Then her face lit up as she said to me, "Oh, I forgot to tell you! Madeline (her daughter) was telling me the other day that Makena said, "Bonjourno a tutti" in Italian class last week." Apparently, each week in class the teacher has the students take turns coming to the front of the class to say, "Hello everyone!" in Italian. Makena has been too shy to do it, that is until last week! Madeline was sooo excited for Makena; she couldn't wait to tell her mom. She said everyone in class started clapping when she did it.

And there I stood, tearing up at the thought of my brave little girl and all her wonderful friends.

Makena

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 12:52:00 +0000

I've only really glazed over Makena's leap into the big girl realm. I would be remiss if I didn't give some more details which have been both heart wrenching and heart warming. It's quite timely given that all of her classmates just started kindergarten this week.

Makena turned 5 on April 27th. The cut off to start ~~kindergarten~~ prep is April 30th. In addition, the school year started in February here, so by the time Makena started they were almost exactly halfway through the year (less 2 days). So, she's one of the youngest, if not the youngest and she's half a year behind. It was quite difficult to decide what to do. If we waited to start her in prep next year she'd actually end up 18 months behind if we ever moved back to the U.S. Also, if she didn't go to prep she'd have to spend another year in ~~pre-school~~ kinder. Combined for her and Kessler, the cost would be around $3500 per month. Yes, really! Another drawback is she'd go to kinder for a year then switch schools again. That just seemed like too much change.

So, we decided to send her to prep. Worst case, if she didn't catch up we'd hold her back a year. Next year she'd be ahead of the game rather than just starting.

The zoning for the schools here isn't always enforced. We have the option to go to pretty much any school. There are probably 5 that are near our house (within 3 miles). There's one school that does enforce their zone--and we are in that zone. We heard a lot of great things about the school, but we heard a lot of great things about all the schools. We checked that one out and liked it. On a side note, that's when I had to bite the bullet and drive. We checked the school out in the morning then Mark had to go to work. The receptionist asked if I could get the paperwork back to her that day so Makena could start the next day, a Wednesday. So, for the first time ever, I sat myself on the right side of the car--behind the steering wheel and drove Mark to the train station as I pleaded with the kids to be quiet so I could think.

When I got home I started to fill out the paperwork. I came across one labeled "Christian Religious Education". The sheet had a long explanation about the importance of values. At the bottom we had the choice to agree to the 30 minute a week class, a Judaism or Greek Orthodox equivalent or opt out altogether. There was no explanation for the other 3 options--just the Christian option. Along with the clear implication that your child will lack values if they don't participate in the Christian program. The tone was very much dismissive of other religions but in a very underhanded way. Coming from a school system where there's clear separation of church and state I was taken aback by this. Over the course of my life I have come to believe that religion is a very personal decision, especially the interpretation of religion. My preference would be for both me and the kids to receive a religion education that delves into all the major religions--not just one. And that is fact/theory based rather than faith based. After speaking with Mark, we opted out.

I drove the packet back to the school--stressed as hell from having completed my 2nd driving adventure. A few minutes after turning in the packet the receptionist came up to me and said, you marked "opt out" for CRE. I said, "yes." She said, "I just want to make sure you know, Makena will be taken out of the class while the remainder of the class stays for the CRE. Do you want to reconsider? It really is a lovely program." Again, I was floored. I asked if could sit in one of the classes; she told me I could not. But, she could provide some literature. All I could think about is Makena being escorted out of the class while the other students sneered at her--pelting the heathen with wads of paper. I didn't feel any better about any of it given the the receptionist's response. So, feeling in-over-my-head, I deferred the issue Mark. He called the school and spoke with the principal. He arranged a meeting with the CRE teacher. I felt so unsettled by all of this I couldn't send Makena to school the next day. I looked into other schools but found this is a Victoria policy, not an individual school policy. So, we went to school and met the CRE teacher. She showed us the material that would be covered and while it was pretty innocuous we still felt like it just wasn't appropriate. We decided to stick with our original plan.

I felt better after making the decision. I felt even better after seeing how the kids treated Makena. She really is a little rock star. Kids will run up to her and nearly knock her over trying to give her a hug. Though, one day I did hear one kid singing, "William and Makena sitting in a tree...." and William (I assume) was shaking his head back and forth abruptly--trying to get the other kid to shut up. I left not really knowing how to feel about it--except worry for my little baby. She has no idea what this means--she didn't even hear it though she was standing right next to me. Hell, I'm not sure I know what it means. But, I know I'm not ready for it!!

Besides that little incident, all things were great for Makena at Brighton Primary. Me though, well I felt totally disconnected. I just wanted to go sit in class so I could know what's going on. There was no orientation so we were flying blind. I hate being unprepared and playing catch up. Things like the uniform stressed me out. The last time I dealt with a uniform was when I was in the military--and that was no joke. Ironing each night for an hour, shining boots. I still remember the uniform regulation that we had to adhere to, 34-10. "Airman, you better check your 34-10!" I don't remember my own birthday most years, but I can remember that reg--so that will give you a sense as to why my little 5 year old's uniform requirements were a bit daunting to me. And why I nearly lost my mind when Mark dressed in jeans one day. "She'll wear dirty pants before she wears jeans!!!" I said, still half asleep running from room to room in a panic--trying to remember where the washing machine was because near it would be the dirty clothes hamper.

(That was just a few weeks ago. At the time, I would stay up until about 4:00 a.m. trading then I'd sleep until 7:45 a.m. I'd get up in a dazed state and drive Mark to the train station and the kids to school. Then I'd come back home and sleep from about 10:00 until 2:00--at least I'd try. I was never sure which duties I was waking up to--pick up, drop off.. but there was always panic. That didn't work out so well as evidenced by my "she'll wear dirty pants...." tirade.)

Back to Makena.. we started to learn the ropes. Among Makena's routines are a "reader" every night. It's just a small easy book that Makena reads to us. Now, Makena has never "read" to us. We've always read to her. We were starting to fret--I mean, don't they learn how to read before they start reading? Well, no. Mark sat down with Makena and she read the book from cover to cover. She sounded out words and looked at pictures to figure out the context.. and she read it. It was amazing to see. Now she does it night after night and we are still amazed. In addition, she has "The Magic 100 Words" that she needs to learn. It was a week or two before we realized these existed. Most of the kids are onto the 4th or 5th set of the 100 words. Makena is now on her 3rd set, ready for her 4th. Miss Greenslade said that most kids take several weeks to get past the first set. So, Makena is doing really well. Jeez, I start to smile as I replay her little voice, "if, on, the, they..." Such a beautiful girl.

Incidentally, I started this post over a week ago. On Wednesday of last week I found a worksheet in Makena's school papers titled, "Thank you, God, for colors." (Ironic that color is spelled the American way.) I sent her teacher an email. Apparently she didn't get the "opt out" notice. She apologized profusely and promised to make sure that Makena didn't attend the session that day.

When I picked Makena up from school, I asked her if she was taken out of the class. She said yes, along with two of her classmates. I guess she got to play on the computer. I've since had conversations with a few of the class parents. The difference between the States and Australia is quite fascinating--but I'll save that for another post.

Much more importantly, everyday when I pick her up from school--she comes bouncing out, scanning all the mommy/daddy faces until she sees mine. Then she beams this cheeky little grin as she schleps to me, with the lean that comes with lugging a backpack that's half your size. She grabs my hand and we walk to the gate and across the crosswalk. She always asks me where I parked and gives me grief when I tell her it's far--creating memories I'll never forget.

76 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Fri, 13 Aug 2010 18:34:00 +0000

It's been 76 days since we arrived in Melbourne. I knew when we made the decision to do this that it would be hard. I haven't had a hard life by any stretch, but I have made a lot of hard decisions, like joining the military, moving across country and back and across again, changing careers.. having kids. So, I know that hard really means nothing without context. And, you have no context until you've had the experience. Now I know what hard is in the context of uprooting your family, your young family, and moving them halfway around the world and doing it in less than 5 weeks. Yep, it's hard.

It begins with utter exhaustion from your own jet lag, which is not the same as each of your child's jet lag which is not the same as your husband's jet lag. Then, there's the emotional and physical drain from everyone getting sick in parallel or taking turns, taking many turns. And then the worrying about how you'll take care of your basic needs like getting food when you have no car or finding a permanent place to live when you haven't a clue about... well, about anything. Then there are all of the decisions. Being decisive has never been one of my strong points. I'm tortured with practice around every corner. And, you must educate yourself before you can make a decision. Like--what's a "cap" for your ~~cell~~ mobile phone service? How much bandwidth do we need from our internet service provider? Which neighborhood, which school, which car? Of course, there's the driving--accepting that the wrong side of the road is now the right side. Resistance is futile, to say the least. You must cope with all of this hard with the constant madness of the dangling loose ends back in your former home. And then there's the mourning of all that you took for granted, like your friends and family, having two cars, your husband's flexible work schedule, having to only worry about one time zone in which to get things done.

The hardest of the hard is done now though. Makena and Kessler are in wonderful schools. Makena is treated like a celebrity, both because she's the new kid and because she's so small relative to the rest. They love looking after her. When we're walking across campus kids of all ages are saying, "Hi Makena!". At first she ignored them--assuming they couldn't be talking to her because she didn't know their names. Now she soaks it up--running off to play when a friend greets her at drop off, never looking back at her proud mommy. I feel a little cheated that I didn't get the full run up to her first day of ~~kindergarten~~ prep--but I'm so happy to see her happy.

Kessler loves his school as well. Apparently he's a hit with the little ladies in his class. He and some of his friends will end up in a fit of laughter that's contagious. His teacher says they laugh so hard they can't breathe. Kessler has the sweetest belly laugh. I can just picture him there giggling with his friends; it brings tears to my eyes.

It's amazing how much better things are when you know your kids are good.

Wound tight.

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 12:49:00 +0000

I have a million more posts to make.. but this story has to be told and it won't hurt that it's out of sequence.

I'm high strung--just wound a little bit tight. There are several drawbacks to this. The first of which is that I tend to way over think things. Things are much harder than they need to be in my world. For example, I haven't put gas in the car yet. Perhaps it's because they call it Petrol. Perhaps it's because some of the stations are full service and I'm unsure what to do. Perhaps it's because I don't know on which side of the car the gas tank resides. Perhaps it's because the gas pumps are so different.. no place to put your credit card. Perhaps it's because I'm not sure exactly how to use my debit card. (Every time you have to tell the cashier whether it's cash, ~~check~~ cheque, or savings. It is our checking account, but we have to tell them credit else it doesn't work. Then we have to tell them pin or sign).

Until today, I've only had cause to get gas once and I conveniently waited until Mark was in the car with me to drive to the station. But, today, the light was on. There was some indication of how much mileage (or is it kilometerage??) I have left, but I wasn't really sure what it meant for practical purposes. I don't have a good sense for kilometers yet. It's really too much to ask for me to contemplate that while still having to remind myself to stay on the left side of the road.

With all that on my mind, I pulled into the ~~gas~~ petrol station. I hopped out and opened the door to the backseat to retrieve my wallet from my purse. Of course it was on the other side so I had to crawl across to get it. I pulled out my debit card and swung around to grab the nozzle and SCREAMED! The gas attendant was standing right behind me. He scared the living hell of me. Another drawback of being high strung. I can say I was just a wee bit embarrassed.

There was more to move in day

noreply@blogger.com (Kelly) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 10:43:00 +0000

...but the post was already too long and that was without many of the necessary details to really give you an idea about how horrible the day was.

I'll sum up the rest, but before I do I forgot to mention more about the car deal. On Monday, when we went back in and selected the Audi there was some necessary negotiating. Mark said to Bernard, "ok, so is there anything we can do about the price." (It's amazing the standard blank white paper, price written in large font, then crossed out strategy is used across both hemispheres.) Bernard wrote the price down on the top of the page, crossed it out then wrote a price that was 20% less beneath it. This was much less than we hoped to negotiate and less than the fair market value of the car. That was the easiest negotiating either of us has ever done. And, they wanted to keep the car the extra day while the financing was being worked out so they could replace the tires. I think Bernard scored a customer for life. Between him and Fiona, I'm not sure how we would have managed.

So, we had electricity. Life was definitely getting better. We still had no utensils, towels (bath/kitchen), pots/pans, bowls, plates, cups or anything similar. We did have toilet paper (thank goodness). We had no soap. Even as I write this 3 weeks later, I think, that doesn't seem too bad. But I remember the sheer anguish of trying to just get through the first day without any of the essentials. Banana bread was everywhere, yet there was no way to clean it up. There was no way to stop it from getting everywhere because we were digging in with our fingers to eat it. But, the beauty is.. I met Mark at the door when he got home at 6:30. I had to go check out our new wheels. When I came back to the front door I noticed a grocery bag on the doorstep--I had stepped over at least 3 times that day. What's this?, I wondered. Nothing more than yogurt (the squirtable kind), bananas and other wonderful food that Mark had brought the previous night. Since I didn't know it existed, I didn't know to look for it. Since Mark didn't know we only had the banana bread, he didn't know we didn't have it. All day we had all the great food at the door step!!!

I had to laugh.. but it was over now. We were in the house, the electricity was on, we had a car, Mark was home. I was happy.. for about an hour. We headed back to the apartment to make sure we didn't leave anything. I asked Mark what happened with the down payment for the car. In the haze of the I never coordinated with him about what to do. As I have mentioned over and over again, getting our money here has been extremely difficult. He said, Oh, I just paid for it with our debit card from back in the States. I felt like someone had just punched me in the stomach. First, I knew we didn't have that much in that account, so the account was definitely overdrawn. Second, I've been trying to get whatever money we do have in there sent here for weeks. So, now I'd have to send money BACK there to cover the deficit. AND, Mark gave that debit card number to the apartment manager to pay our rent for the last 10 days. What a nightmare. We did sort it out, but it wasn't easy. And, it wasn't Mark's fault--it's just the nature of having a million things going on at once and not being able to communicate every single detail, even the important ones.

While I was at the apartment grabbing the rest of our stuff and getting it tidy, Mark and the kids went to the supermarket to get food for dinner. Mark was so incredibly proud of himself because he had enough foresight to buy a bunch of frozen food so we could sustain ourselves for several days. He didn't mention this until we got back to the house and he headed toward the freezer... the freezer we don't have. I did mention this to him earlier, but he forgot. As much as I'd love to give him grief for this, it's not too unreasonable to assume you have a freezer in your fridge. We cooked as much of the food as we could--as if it would matter. We would have to throw it out cooked or thawed because we couldn't eat it all anyway.

At least we had yogurt and bananas the next day.