I cannot tell from your accent....

On Saturday I got an afternoon to myself..... hooray. So obviously I spent the first couple of hours running errands and doing jobs for Father's Day the next morning (because this is what Mums do during their "me time"... right?). But first I bought a cinema ticket. Because then I knew I wouldn't bail after I had done the jobs. My usual trick. Not this week Bad Mummy Guilt, not this week.

Finally, comfy seat, shoes off, ice cream in hand, relaxed, looking forward to a couple of uninterrupted hours with Clive Owen, not expecting the Spanish Inquisition.... well no one... Yeah exactly! What I really was not expecting was to be ambushed by those bastards at the Australian Tourism Office.

I genuinely thought I had pretty much accepted the move. We have been here three and a half months now and in the house for 10 weeks, nearly 11. To be honest I have genuinely been more concerned about R and the frequency of requests to go back to Aus, how desperately he talks about his good friends and favourite places. And then some days not even a mention. Some days all cuddles and happy; others the tantrums and throwing and hitting start at waking and go till bedtime. Consistency in parenting becomes the stuff of fantasy in these circumstances. 

My approach the entire time has been openly discussing whatever he wants to talk about. 

"Yes we all miss x and y, it is ok to miss them because they are our friends and we love them."
"You are right, we have not seen any crocodiles here yet and we may never see one as cool as Rex, but he is still looking out for us...."
"Oh yes I do miss Mummy A and Mummy B - they were really well when we Skyped them - lets arrange a time to do it again soon..."

It was only after being in the cinema that I realised that I have not been starting these conversations - only responding to R when he does. Partly I think I thought it I didn't raise it, he would gradually stop. Finally I realised that I just find it too hard, too heartbreaking for me, as well as him. Selfish Mommy.

The Advert started over Whitehaven Beach and a sweeping helicopter shot of that most spectacular beach we are ever likely to set foot on, then the shot switched to someone sailing under Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Opera House at their back. Then Cottesloe Beach, the reef, Vivid festival.... on and on. Fuckers.  It's like they have been checking my Facebook history. The second that the advert started with a long shot of the inlet I knew what was coming and immediately thought someone had sat on my chest.  By the end of the second shot I had to put down my ice cream I was sobbing so hard. And then the music blah blah blah... I must be right in some advertising houses sweet spot. Even when W asked me if I had enjoyed the movie once I got home, I was on the verge of tears again. I missed all the previews and have no idea what the hell happened for about the first five minutes of Clive too....

I hope it was the surprise element that led to such a strong reaction. I was actually relaxed and looking forward to something and keeping up the brave face was, for once, far from my mind. And it is not that I am not finding lovely folk to spend time with here... I had actually invited someone to come with me but she couldn't make it - probably best. I find there's nothing like a total emotional breakdown to put a new friend off you a bit... I also absolutely feel the weight of news, good and bad, from afar. Friends having and expecting beautiful new additions to already beautiful families.  Friends losing precious precious people, for  whom I grieve like a member of my own family. Friends starting fights of their own against things way more fearsome than moving house. Friends who are all far away, and to whom I can provide nothing more than remote support and love and prayers.  Not even a damn cake or bottle.

So I made a point to use pictures of fun times only since we left Oz in Ws Fathers Day pressies. I somehow convinced him to spend a lot of the day putting up pictures that make the place look and feel more like our home, like a permanent place. Happy Daddys Day - here's your hammer and some nails. And I am trying to start more conversations with R about lovely things and people here, there and in the UK. On the good days at least, or maybe just in the good moments.

And I am soliciting and taking advice on coping strategies. And the brave face is back up and the stiff upper lip is back. And really only wobbles when folks ask me if I am a Brit or an Aussie, "I cannot tell from your accent....."

P.S. I had planned to include photos from the most amazing holiday in th Whitsundays, from my day sailing on the Harbour, even a link to the advert and song. I find myself unable to even look at these things this evening. Too raw. Google them, go to Australia.com,  try YouTube (it's like love), Vividsydney.com . I have no idea if you will find the advert but you may find enough to get you on a plane.

Complacency and Cherry Tomatoes

On Tuesday, while my better half was away on a work trip, my three and a half year old broke into the fridge, grabbed a jug and chugged down a good mouthful of milk.... No big deal right? Unless you are a complete germaphobe, or maybe bit of a control freak who is anti kids controlling their own snacks or maybe you just really cannot bear the thought of cleaning the kitchen floor AGAIN today (I feel your pain...).

Or maybe he is anaphylactic and last time he ate even just one crisp with milk in the ingredients (what the what....?) you had to do the adrenaline pen in the thigh - ambulance - leaving houseful of guests in our house two step shuffle...

I was dreading coming to the US from a food perspective. One of my greatest pleasures when travelling used to be mooching around the supermarket in a new place and picking up new, different things - trying new flavours, cuisines, fruit and veg. With two allergic kids, one anaphylactic to eggs, nut and dairy, the pleasure is considerably diminished - and that's nothing to do with taking 2 smalls to do the grocery shop!

I was also a bit freaked out by my perception of the US as a PB&J obsessed culture. Kids in the playground, on the street, all around with peanut butter smeared faces and "moms" unwilling to spend a moment thinking of an alternative packed lunch or breakfast when I spend so many moments thinking about alternative bloody everything. I think I had been reading too many social media conversations.... I once read a US mother complaining about having to not give little Buddy his favourite lunch because some other kid had the impertinence to be allergic to peanuts. When someone asked how she would feel if someone came to school with arsenic sandwiches,  her response was that 'nobody would be dumb enough to bring something so dangerous to my kid into school. '  There is apparently no accounting for dumb.....

However, I have been pleasantly surprised by how much less painful than I expected the process of finding new foodstuffs has been. There are a lot of products here labelled as VEGAN and often KOSHER which helps tremendously with kids that are allergic to eggs and dairy products! The fact that most Oreo flavours are suitable has been a big win with Daddy as well! Obviously we have had hits and misses but most of the new things we have found have gone down ok. We are still working on the eating out with confidence battle but, lets be honest, that is going to be a lifelong challenge for the boy wonder and for us.

Another source of some concern is flying with anaphylactic smalls. Cue interesting conversations with airlines where they basically shrug and say "we'll put them down for no meals then Dr Barber. We cannot guarantee anything." Yeah-huh. Cheers then. I love reading about people worried about occupying their small people for the duration of intercontinental flights - add feeding and watering them to your panicking brain. I also love talking to airport security people about why I have a cool bag full of food and soy milk going onto a plane.... no really. 

Thank heaven for my Mum who sorted food for our flight on from the UK to here. Unfortunately I forgot to empty the last 4 cherry tomatoes out of the cool bag. And after an 8 hr flight,  an in airport transfer,  then standing in line for an hour at immigration, then balancing our 7 cases, and double buggy and travel cot and hand luggage onto a couple of trolleys to finally escape the airport, we got pulled over by a scent dog and put into another freaking line to get fined for bringing food into the US! In the 16 and a half years that I have known my long-suffering husband, I have never seen him look quite so utterly frustrated with me.

Thank goodness I had seen fit to squeeze a final trip to our allergist into our slightly-busy last week in Sydney, and got him to fill in two certificates for the kids documenting their allergies and the need to carry food and drugs on the plane. Also thank the sweet baby Jesus that the US Dept of Agriculture employee looked at me and said "my son is allergic to eggs. Travel must be a nightmare for you guys...."

No thanks at all for the rule that states every item of luggage must be unloaded and scanned to double check. Even after the nice lady has taken your 4 cherry tomatoes,  put them into a sealed bag labelled "toxic material - biohazard" and sent them for destruction!  I think I saw that look again from the long suffering husband but he generously bit his tongue! 

As for the fridge diver? He is fine. I heard the screaming and he immediately knew he had drunk cows milk. We got the antihistamines into him within seconds and whilst his rash came up, it faded quickly and there were no breathing or swelling impacts.  He was a bit wiped out but ok.

I on the other hand have re-organised the fridge, the cupboards, the store and am sorting through recommendations of GPs and pediatricians like a mother possessed. Sometimes it takes a lucky escape to focus the mind.

So how did I never notice?

An early night...

And another (teething induced?) late night wake up. Sitting in the rocking chair, just wondering how I never noticed that your now sleeping almost 17 month form was made to fit into my corners and curves. How the top of your foot is the exact curve of the inside of my thumb. How your head fits in the crook of my arm and your crossed up frog leggies balance your bottom on the top of my thigh and your heels on my wrist. All perfectly, comfortably; like it was designed that way. Until you shift in your sleep and I see that even on your side, you are the perfect length for me to clasp my fingers together and hold you all in, from elbow to elbow, your head to scrunched up toe. Perhaps I can hang onto this moment....

And its gone.

And I realise that I don't know where the last three months has gone, Christ, the last 6. That I barely noticed my baby turning into a toddler, that I have had my head up all the time, not down, not noticing, not focusing on what is important but on boxes or bills or bloody suitcases or bureaucracy.  Head up all the time thinking about where I would rather be, what I should be doing. Not noticing your face changing from babe to child.

What I should be doing is this. But better. Not wishing the time away,  not desperate to finish whatever the next thing should be... You are the only things, you and he, that I need to be worried about not finishing.

And the moment is gone, but hopefully I am back.

Tomorrow may be the end, but it ain't over....

Tomorrow morning a shipping container will roll up and all of our lives will be unpacked and magically be put back together and back on course.... or not!

In the eight weeks since the packers showed up in Sydney our worlds have been upended and yet stayed completely the same. We remain Team Barber, we retain family and friends that stabilise life and sanity, but so much of the day-to-day-ness of life has gone; the glue, almost, of life.

This week has been one of the toughest of my parenting life. No catastophe (unusually for us!) No emergency. Just gut wrenching joy and sadness crunching into each other like icebergs into other monstrous icebergs. I am never really very good at reading and interpreting my own emotions - I tend to be much better at reading those of others. When I finally realise that I am spending most of time on the verge of tears, it is suddenly apparent to me why Master R, (often high maintenance) has become utterly unmanageable and I feel I can hardly bear to spend another day trying to deal with him.

I would normally share laugh-a-minute tales of abandoned strollers,  sprinting baby wearing English women and full bore screaming three year olds wreaking havoc in the sacrosanct hall of learning that is the Smithsonian dinosaur gallery or the head butting toddler, being carried fireman style kicking and screaming. Or of the same child literally moments later walking up to a strange child, taking his hand and asking to play with him or another little man who let the villain of the piece play with his toys and caused such happiness and joy in that simple moment that I thought my heart would break.

But these often amusing (for others - still not for me) tales that only ever seem to happen in our world are coinciding with Miss M taking her first steps, and now her first meanders, across our temporary home whilst deciding that she is no longer interested in mummys milk. And so so chatty. We had an entirely sound based nonsense conversation today most of the way to pick up W..... No idea where she gets the chatty from...

As Glennon says over at Momastery.com - it is brutiful! Brutal and beautiful. All at the very same time.

I am a firm believer that optimism and positivity as a mindset is key to surviving life with a smile. Being able to smile through the crappy days means less crappy days. But I also think that this move has been way harder on William and I, because it has been so hard on Master R. The move to Sydney was irrelevant to him at 4 or 5 months old. This time around he knows that he is moving away from things he loves and people he loves to spend time with. The loneliness has been very hard to witness, perhaps especially because I am a social animal who needs the company too. The fact that  Miss Ms first real word has been 'bye bye'  with an accompanying wave has been exceptionally hard though I suspect is far from unusual. Somehow everything is magnified by the circumstances. 

And yet there are moments of joy and pleasure in the mix just as much... R loving his soccer "training" whilst M shows off a few more 'first steps' and I meet a few lovely new local mums.  R calling M "missy moo", presumably because I do it way more than I think.... The pleasure of finding a shop on a fabulous friends recommendation that caters for our special food needs wonderfully and allows treats like R friendly freshly made chocolate mousse! All these and many many more.

And so in a spirit of optimism I commit tales of woe to digital print, not in a bid for sympathy which is undeserved,  but in the hope that the return of familiar things will help set us all back on an even keel. And so that in a few weeks when the dust is settled and things are on the up, I will look back and think about "lifes rich tapestry" and know that I am even more my mothers daughter than my father says!

Things That Are Making Me Smile - an 'inspired' post

The lovely Charlotte of Charlottes Kitchen posted a blog with this same title the other day! What a great idea and it had inspired me to gather the things that are making me smile today rather than have a good whinge... that can wait until tomorrow!! *Except I started writing this and things did not make me smile so much - 48 hrs later I am back and the world seems brighter...*




The other morning the kids and I had a catch up on Skype with some of our very great friends in Australia... Laughs and familiarity, good news and bad. This makes me smile because the depth of real established friendships make the tricky times of making new ones seem really worthwhile and really make me smile, even when sometimes the catch-up topics are tough.




Looking out of the window at the snowman that we (and some other families new to the snow from Florida and Arizona) made on the astro-turf  pitch across the road... He hung around a while after the snow had melted sitting in the middle of the astro pitch whilst the football players had to dodge around him! None of the 'locals' bother to go out in the snow anymore this season - they have had so much....


The fact that after several very tricky days there are currently no toys in confiscation on top of the fridge. I admit that it is still early in the day but two days ago we had every dinosaur in the joint on the fridge by morning coffee time.... Hence not being able to finish this post two days ago!! The trauma at bedtime that day when there were no dinosaurs to get into bed with R was unbelievable. Finally things are starting to settle down I hope.


Miss M playing peek-a-boo and 'talking' away to herself.. No idea where she gets the talking to herself thing from.... ;o)


Rs disappointment that 'Soccer' class is only once a week... "but why can't I go again today?!"


Knowing that we have a new friend coming for a playdate in an hour...

Halfway around the world and halfway again....

Written March 17th - overtaken by events!

We are safely ensconced in Washington DC after our adventures in England. Leaving Australia really was even harder than I had expected - not least because people were so very kind and generous.  The actual process of leaving was massively complicated by the incompetence of others and rescued by the generosity and kindness of friends and strangers alike. I am not sure that I can commit to virtual page the horrors of the packing up, the car sale and the traumatised children resulting, but I can absolutely say that I would have gone over the edge without the love and kindness of folks like the Hawkins family, Fran, Zoe, Jane and the kids and a broken foot and the Walkers next door.... Never has a friendly face been more welcome and one bearing coffee and sandwiches could never be overvalued! A reminder to me that seemingly small acts of kindness can truly save a life (or at least prevent a total breakdown!).

Our last weekend was just joyful - Sydney turned on her very best weather with farewell visits to the wildlife centre (bye Rex!) and aquarium, lunch and waterpark fun with the Waterman posse and the calming Chinese garden before a hilarious bottle of wine with good friends! Never has such an expensive bottle of wine travelled so far just to have it's cork pushed into the bottle! Still tasted great - though the real highlight was Raf being handfed crisps by his newly recruited personal slave Jack!

On Sunday we managed bus, train and ferry, breakfast and sad/happy farewells at WUC, fish and chip lunch with the gorgeous girls (and their Mommy and Daddy!) in what used to be our favourite train park then a drop into Ws office for final housekeeping before I squeezed in a drink at Opera bar and then under the Bridge for a last supper with the Super Hawkins! Crazy busy but every moment a gift, every person a joy. And that doesn't even cover Fiona and Leah coming to check in on our last morning and playing trains with R&M in the empty boxes scattered around the hotel room!

We had expected the flight from Sydney to the UK to be pretty dire with a 3 and a half yr old and a 15 month old but we were all so exhausted that to be honest it was way better than our predictions! Poor Raf only failed as we collected the bags and tried to escape through customs at Heathrow! Then Mum, Dad and my brother Ben were unexpectedly in arrivals waiting for us with the most amazing banner made by Adam Daniel and Holly with some help from Ellen....! What a wonderful welcome home and a great surprise at 6am on the wrong side of the M25!

Even better Team Freese took most of our baggage to their nearby car while we schlepped out to collect our hire car on the courtesy bus! After getting sorted we headed out to Essex on the dreaded Road to Hell and within a few minutes saw a GB Liners van (who packed us up to leave the UK 3 years ago!) a bread van from Roberts in Northwich (around the corner from our house in Cheshire!) and then a beautiful Ford Puma - happy memories of our first and my favourite car! They must have known we were coming....

The sadness of leaving Australia was infused with a belief that we have made many friendships which will endure the distance, with the knowledge that we became part of a wonderful community at WUC and beyond and a hope that we made a difference and left something of ourselves in Sydney, as well as taking so much from so many people with whom we were lucky enough to spend time. Australia didn't make Team Barber but we have certainly been imprinted by it. The Lucky Country it may be, but Lucky Team Barber for sure....

Not the post I had planned to write....

Today has not been a great day. We are all in one piece but feeling a long way from everyone and I really feel a bit knocked sideways. 

After an awful night with Miss M, who seems to have about 10 teeth coming through at once, she and I had retreated to bed again since Master R had finally agreed at 6am that 4.30am was actually a bit early to be up and at 'em. He sloped back into our bed at about 7.35 which was also about when the phone rang. I vaguely remember getting a peck on the cheek before 7 as W had left for work so assumed he had left something behind or was ringing to be congratulated on finding where he was supposed to be going (no doubt there will be a "my husbands non-existent sense of direction" blog along in the not too distant future.....).

Sadly this was not to be and a rather quiet and confused chap was on the phone with his opening gambit of "I seem to have been in an accident".

The conversation continued along the lines of "I am on someone else's phone" ( See Lesson No. 1),  " I have no idea where I am" (See Lesson No. 2)  and concluded with me hearing an offline conversation "we need to get you into the ambulance...." (oh yep - thats Lesson No.3).

So here I am in an apartment with no transport save the metro, with 2 small children baying for food and drink, knowing barely a soul within several thousand miles.... errrrmmmm (proceed directly to Lesson No. 4).

Lesson  No. 1 : It is foolish in the extreme to assume that you don't need to sort yourselves a local phone because we have a landline in the apartment and hubbies work will hand him one on his first day in the new job. Because, for example, they might have a policy that you have to pay your own phone and reclaim it... but why would they tell you that in advance and of course there might be frickin' snow storm that makes his commute 90 mins his first two days so he is home too late to go phone shopping and then he might have a car crash the next morning and no way of contacting you on his Australian phone that is not working anymore as "he has joined the US business now.... ". We both have local mobiles now. Within about an hour of him getting out of a hot bath once we got home actually. 

Lesson No. 2 : Sat Nav.... oh dear blasted Satellite Navigation system. You are occasionally brilliant and useful. More often though you send a directionless soul in the most non-sensical direction on earth around a massive metropolis of which they know nothing, trying to get to a place that they have visited once sitting in the back of somebody else's car. We are now looking to procure a real paper map book of the area - old school I know, but once I have taught him how to hold the map book the same way up all the time at least we might have a chance.....

Lesson No. 3 : There are at least 12 hospitals along the most likely routes from here to his expected end point (see Lesson No. 2 re. Ridiculous route selection of Sat Nav...) . I know that because I rang them all....  Thankfully he was in none of them.

Lesson No. 4 : A refresher... Support and help can, and often does, come from the most unexpected places. At the request of W on the phone I had e-mailed the colleague he was supposed to be meeting explaining the situation.  She rang within minutes and turned the car around to come to the apartment to get us to anywhere we needed to go. She waited until we had tracked him down. She played with the kids whilst I made calls and she had already notified Ws boss and the client they were supposed to be meeting. Once we knew that he was ok and we had worked out where the hell he was, she refused to leave the area until he was home because she didn't believe that the hire company and tow company would see him right. She went to the local coffee shop to work and wait and when I rang to say he didn't feel up to driving the new hire car she shuttled the three of us to where he was.... God bless her cotton socks and her Irish soul. What a star. And in the middle of all this she managed to invite R to her sons birthday party and determined his favourite dinosaur as well as reading Miss M her favourite book...several times. Alongside this our relocation consultant was checking in with lists of new hospitals to try and suggestions of what the hell to do next.

Sometimes out of disaster comes a shining light.....

Last but not least Lesson No. 5 : I think that we may have selected the car to be purchased... Ws comment as our now sadly deceased hire car was towed off was "I would buy that car".... As I helped him fish out the child seats from under all the now deflated airbags and put them into the new car he told me that he was confused because he could not get out of the car immediately after the accident and the car had used his phone to dial 911 before he realised what it was doing. Of course so many people get injured in the aftermath of accidents trying to get out into on-coming traffic, but that does leave the single outstanding concern. Should we drive a car that is smarter than him - he couldn't get the damn phone to work and the car had no problems at all - even with all it's airbags hanging out!