Category Archives: Reflection

Delayed.

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I can’t believe I’ve been away from my blog for so long. Especially since I started this blog in January 2011 after learning my family and I were going overseas to live for 3 years. Since then I’ve shared posts about military life, creating a home, my world as a mother and various moments in my life. However, when it came down to the actual move and our transition to life in Madrid, I found myself unable to write about my experience. Not knowing where to start, I probably would have just set aside this blog if it wasn’t for my dear friend, Katie of NNY Life, a fellow writer and very missed friend from New York. Through her help, I realized how much I miss writing and how this blog is more necessary then ever.

In the beginning, the Army was sending us to Portugal and I was incredibly excited by the opportunity. Tom and I had been trying to get an overseas assignment for over 10 years and it seemed the Army Gods finally decided to smile upon us. However, in a few months the Army changed it’s mind and we learned our orders were on hold and we were going to Madrid.

This wasn’t welcome news. My family and I love coastal living and we had spent hours combing through information and photographs about Lisbon. We found schools, neighborhoods, a playgroup and even made a list of places we must visit in those early months. While Madrid is certainly a unique European city and a popular tourist destination, it just didn’t feel right to me. I was disappointed and for the first time in my husband’s career, I asked him to seek a different assignment. Others thought I was insane and part of me thought I was too. I started spouting off all the incredible opportunities my family would have in Madrid and I always nodded encouragingly when others commented on how excited I must be to move to such an exotic city.

But I was right. Madrid has been a hard transition, one difficult to share since so much of my experience is still fresh and even ongoing. When we arrived we had a car service take us to an apartment we rented in the city of Madrid. On paper it seemed ideally situated: minutes from the metro, within walking distance to amazing sites in the city, and in what was described as a vibrant part of the city, Chueca. The apartment was modern and beautiful, with two bedrooms and a kitchen that possibly prevented the starvation of my little family. Unfortunately, I also arrived three months pregnant and incredibly sick. Nausea followed me everywhere and a month of living with family and traveling back and forth across the United States had not helped. I was grouchy, exhausted, and frustrated, but I kept on pushing through everything, determined to make Madrid wonderful.

Our street in Madrid.

Only this time my methods weren’t working. Even though we lived within walking distance of some of the most loved parts of the city, I could not find anything to connect with, something vital when constantly moving. To start with, Chueca, while a great neighborhood to visit, is not the best to place for a young family used to their beautiful Northern New York home with a sprawling backyard. Restaurants and bars were everywhere and drunken shouts and laughter drifted through our windows until nearly 4:00 am. I was sick from the moment I woke until the moment I fell asleep and found myself constantly up and down with Regan who was restless and waking more than ever. Seeking relief, I would throw open my windows to the smell of pee, garbage, and stale cooking. I dreaded leaving the apartment, but I couldn’t hunker down. I had two girls and a husband wanting to get out and a family to feed. We wandered the city, visiting some of the more beautiful sites and walking the streets, but so much was forced for me. Our long metro rides to and from Tom’s work were exhausting and almost impossible with my nausea and two little girls. But I did it. Looking back, I probably should have just sat down and cried (and I did a couple of times, after sending Tom and the girls out to find something for dinner). It may not have helped, but I would have felt much better.

Meals became one of the biggest obstacles our family faced. I was sick and cooking made me gag, so I hoped to use the extra money we received for food to eat out as much as possible. Before moving to Spain, I read about restaurants closing at 4:30 pm and not opening again until 8 or 9 at night, but I thought it was a few select restaurants. I was mistaken, as we discovered our first evening in Spain. We explored the streets, searching for somewhere to eat, but found nothing available except bars and I wasn’t taking my girls and my pregnant belly into a bar. So we ended up with sandwiches from Starbucks. Only they weren’t that delicious…hmm, I thought. That’s odd. Everything in Spain is supposed to be delicious, right? Even Starbuck’s food. Except that it wasn’t. After several expensive meals of wasted food and even tears from my little girls, we realized it was best to feed everyone at home, shopping from the little grocery and market (Mercado) around the corner. So pushing down the vomit in the back of my throat, I cooked everyday and thanked the idea fairy that had me throw that jar of peanut butter into my suitcase the day before flying.

(In all fairness, we did find a little cafe/deli/take away next door to our apartment that offered tasty sandwiches, salads, and desserts. The owner had lived in Boston for 26 years…so maybe that explains the appeal of his food. Many times Tom would go over and get food for the two of us while I put the girls to bed then crashed in a nauseous heap on our own bed.The owner loved seeing Tom walk through the door and often sent him home with free, fresh, icy lemonade for me and custard for the girls. We will happily visit Diurno cafe for some sandwiches and fresh smoothies every time we’re in the area.)

The truth is that I have yet to become comfortable in Spain. We have seen some beautiful places, walked down amazing streets, and splashed on a pristine beach. And while I’ve captured those moments on camera and tried to write about them, it all felt fake without the truth about how I’m feeling about Spain right now. I have met some interesting, caring people to include the Kenyan man selling papers outside our grocery in Chueca, our apartment building manager who absolutely adored the girls, and the many established American’s who’ve made this transition a little easier. E and R both love their schools and Tom is getting settled at work and taking to Spain far better than I am. Still, I don’t feel comfortable. This is not common for me. I have moved 17 times in my adult life and this is my 14th with Tom. I know what to do to make a new home. I have a method, a way of throwing myself into a community, but it is really difficult here; I cannot manage to overcome this slump. Maybe it is because I miss the little life we made for ourselves in Northern New York so much, maybe it is because I made that fateful decision to study German in high school and French in college (both of which I speak very, very poorly), or maybe I just have the wrong attitude about the whole experience, but I’m trying. I swear.

And I’ll continue to try to make a little home here…maybe blogging about our adventures and some of the more hilarious moments will make me feel better about our experience. So check back next week as I share our last days in the United States and our first two months in Spain. I obviously failed at this, but hope to make it up soon! I hope that some of my readers can learn something from my experience and maybe make some better decisions (like yes, take advantage of the free version of Rosetta Stone offered by the military and learn some of your host country’s native language), but I also hope that I find some assurance that I simply did the best I could.

10 Years

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10 years ago I was a college freshman at the University of Pittsburgh. Having just completed a 4-year enlistment in the Army, I was enjoying the freedom of these first weeks in school. My husband and I had created a home in a little apartment in Brookline (a neighborhood in Pittsburgh) and I certainly felt like a city girl, riding the bus or trolley to school everyday.

Between classes I was relaxing on the Cathedral lawn, soaking in the September light, when I heard an emergency alert sound from speakers I never before noticed. Students were then directed to evacuate the campus, students living in dormitories were given further instructions, but I was numbly packing my bag, wondering what could possibly be wrong.

Waiting at a bus stop, rumors were flying. Some waiting passengers were passing mixed messages of explosions in New York, bombs heading for Pittsburgh and attacks across the US. Speculation and exaggeration were rampant until I simply stated “If bombs were truly heading here, the university wouldn’t have us standing at a bus stop corner.” A few nods and then silence.

A bus came along and we all squeezed in. I’ve never experienced a quieter bus ride. Riders were captivated by the simple facts the driver passed on. It all seemed so insane. The Pentagon? New York? I then doubted Pittsburgh was under real threat, but the evacuation was still very real.

Stuck in a standstill, I asked to get off the bus and walked towards downtown. I tried to stop at every single payphone, but there were lines I wasn’t willing to wait in. I just felt this need to get home. Eventually I came to a downtown trolley station, piling into a car to get out of the city. On the longest ride of my life, I heard pieces of news and practically ran the 1.5 miles to our apartment.

I opened the door to a ringing phone. Tom wanting to know if I made it home, family from Arizona wanting to know how close we were to the Flight 93 crash, local family wondering if Tom and I would be called back to the Army or if Tom’s National Guard unit had been activated.

I had no answers. All I knew was that this moment was devastating for my country. I thought of all my friends still serving and I cried for what this might mean. For days I watched the news, but returned to school once the University reopened (cell phone in my bag, since Tom felt it was a necessity now).

The impact of those four planes on my life has been ongoing and amazing. Tom has now safely deployed four times (except for an IED incident, thankfully while in a tank). He reenlisted in the Army as a tank gunner and was accepted to Officer Candidate School in 2005. We now find ourselves in Spain, trying to find our way, but thankful for each other and our two little girls. As I sit in our Madrid apartment, watching the memorial services on CNN International, I realize how this event was a marker in history and I wonder how the future will continue to play out.

Currently, the national unity sparked by the terrorist attacks on 9/11/01 is just a memory. Our military is still at war. My own child even told me “I will choose to believe this when I am a grown-up.” Tom and I were dumbstruck. Despite our assurance that it did happen, that this was why her father and so many soldiers have deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan, she continued with this horrifying assertion. I finally asked her why. She said “It’s too sad and too bad. I can’t believe it.”

I understand the desire to forget, but remembrance is required and necessary for our country. I truly hope this day never disappears into future American History books, no matter how horrifying or transforming the results of this day  become.

I’m Back?

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Yes. It has been 4 weeks since I’ve posted to my blog. And while I don’t know where to begin, I know I have to write or I’ll let this slip into oblivion. The good stuff, Spain, is just about to start and I hate to disappoint my fabulous readers!

In the last 29 days since I last posted, I have finally made it out of our home and am on the first leg of our journey to Spain (a stop at the in-laws). Next week will find us in Arizona, followed by a brief stop in Pittsburgh before hopping a plane for our new home!

I was also blown away by some unexpected news. Our adventure in Spain will now include a pregnancy and new baby.Yes, baby number 3 will be making it’s Spanish appearance in Spring 2012. Tom is actually hoping for a Leap Day Baby (of course). This changes some plans for me, but I’m finally learning to get over the shock. I’m now dealing with exhaustion and nausea and all the other fun things that visit during an early pregnancy.

We found out one week before we were leaving our home. I was comatose for a few days, then scrambling to finish the laundry, sorting, packing and cleaning before the packers came. It was absolute chaos. My calm, organized process was thrown aside for chaotic scrambling, manic laundry folding, and some occasional screeching. We made it, thanks to a last-minute decision to take the kids to our in-laws a few days ahead of us.

I miss my friends terribly. I miss the lake and the farmer’s market and my backyard. I miss my home. I’m a little sad that another family is already in it (and were in the home about an hour after we left), but it is a sweet home and I hope the military family who is renting it will enjoy it as much as we did.

I hope this renews my blog. I can’t wait to get pictures up to include some of my empty home as well! (That is always so strange!) Thank you all for your patience, I promise, Spain is coming!

For My Dad

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For Father’s Day, I thought I would share a bit about my father and how he’s impacted me as a mother. I don’t talk about how fabulous fathers are nearly as often as I should, but I’m going to fix that right now. (I know Tom, I’ll get to you soon…you too, my favorite father-in-law!)

My father is one of the most calm, level-headed, constant people in my life. In fact, I could probably count the number of times he ever raised his voice to me. He just knows the appropriate reaction to almost every life circumstance. I’m sure some of that is clouded by adoration, but truly, he seems to come pretty close to the mark every single time. As I trudge through motherhood, I constantly try to recall the value of a calm voice, of thinking through an issue before reacting, but also how to recognize a moment that needs swift, immediate action. In that case, I’ve learned to trust my instincts, follow through, and not apologize. Again, learned from Dad.

My Dad with a much younger Emma.

There have been several truly trying moments in my adult life and I found myself turning to my father. He always listens, reserving judgement until the end. His most famous, insightful advice often comes in the form of a wise owl: “I think you know the answer kid…” He will listen and listen and make sense of the pile of nonsense I dumped at his doorstep. And he’s right. I do know the answer (and I love being called kid, especially now, makes me feel young).

On a more personal level (yes, there is something more personal than motherhood), as a writer I’ve always valued my father’s ability to share his life. He is one of those amazing storytellers who weaves just the right amount of detail into a story without being overbearing. I love hearing about his many adventures (and trust me, he’s had some amazing ones: arresting one of the FBI’s 10 most wanted single-handed, a military tour in West Africa, tales of Tucson in it’s earlier years, owning businesses, creating a town, serving as mayor…the list goes on). Another useful tool as a writer is observing how he can get just about anybody to warm-up to him. A little smile, a joke, and a sympathetic comment and BAM!, he’s in the door.

And with a much younger Regan and his sweet dog, Taco. Yes, I must get new pictures next month!

Who isn’t in the market for a strong, brave, loyal, loving father who looks like John Wayne? Luckily my father fits the bill. (As an aside, I was once on a weekend trip with a childhood friend and her family. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant with walls dedicated to John Wayne. I asked my friend’s mother why there were so many pictures of my Dad on the wall…) I am continuously amazed by the strength of his love and I am eternally grateful to count such an amazing man as my father.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

I love you.

3 Steps Towards Enjoying Motherhood

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As I find myself droning on and on about sleepless nights and moving my family and my girls’ massive Barbie collection across the ocean, I realize it may sound as though I’m not enjoying this moment of motherhood. Sleepless nights, tantrums, and fake crying aside, I love being home with my girls and boredom has yet to force me to extremes. I was thinking of the three things that have really helped me enjoy being a mother and I came up with three concepts to inspire other moms to examine their relationship with their children.

1. Accept you’re a mom…accept you’re more than a mom.

One of the most important lessons I learned as a mom was from my friend Lisa A., who is not a mother. Gasp! I will give you a moment to absorb this…ready? Lisa and I worked together and share many interests, political views, music, and sarcasm being at the top (is sarcasm an interest? I think so). While talking about some fabulous music one day, Lisa stopped me and gave me one of the most insightful compliments I’ve ever received (it was 3 years ago, so this is approximate): “You know, you’re an amazing mom, E is the coolest kid I know, but you’re not just a mom. I love that you enjoy life and you share that with E.” Wow. Still feel’s good…thanks Lisa!

As a Mom it is so easy to slip into mommy mode 24/7. At this time I was working, Tom was deployed (surprise!), and most of my closest colleagues were not parents or were parents of much older children and this may have made it easier to not share E’s latest toddler quirk (though I could have easily segregated myself and slipped into the “no one understands what I’m going through mode”). On the other hand, I really embraced my love of music, literature, design and great food at this time. I didn’t (and still do not) have a single kid’s CD in my car, E gobbled up Thai food, and to this day wants to be a house builder (though she recently changed this to a home renovator since my earth-friendly self rubbed off on her and she decided it is better for the earth to fix old buildings…seriously, came up with this on her own).

Even if you’re a stay-at-home Mom, find what you love and don’t feel you have to keep it from your children. It is a part of your life and should be part of theirs. If there is something your child likes that drives you crazy, try something new (i.e. switch out TV shows, get rid of the insane CD, throw out the Moon Sand). It doesn’t need to be a negative, just choose some music you LOVE, turn it on and sing at the top of your lungs. I promise your kids will join in. If you do the switch with enthusiasm, they will take to it. That said, most kids easily adjust and welcome something fresh, though this doesn’t always work if it is an absolute favorite, like E and her Barbies.

When you begin incorporating your own personality and loves into motherhood, you will begin to enjoy little everyday moments (imagine that commute without “Old McDonald’s Farm”). More importantly, your child may take an interest in concepts beyond the everyday monotony of a young child’s life. Music, books (especially any picture book that has ever been censored), and time spent exploring our backyard have prompted endless conversations between my girls and I. Television, do-it-all toys, and childhood songs? No, not much inspiration there for me.

2. Say yes when you can.

A couple of days ago I was desperate to get some writing done and sat down for a few minutes while my girls were preoccupied. Immediately they came over, asking me to show them how to blow bubbles (I was entertaining them with my bubblegum blowing skills while Tom was changing our flat tire). Of course I said, “Not right now, I’m busy.”

They asked again, but not in a whining way, and I said no. They asked again and I thought about why I was saying no and didn’t come up with a fabulous reason, so I said yes. They had a great time popping bubbles and spitting gum into my poorly placed diaper bag when they tried their own bubbles. They even learned a little bit about patience (I have to chew the gum to the right consistency) and I learned how time is one of the best things shared with others.

It is so easy to get wrapped up in busy-ness and obligations. When simple childhood requests get a no or are met with annoyance, it’s time to reassess. Try saying yes to some things, especially when it means giving your time and attention. Saying yes and taking the time to play with your child or teaching her something new, is never wasted. This is a simple way to gain happier children without spoiling them. (Wouldn’t you rather say yes to bubble-blowing than yes to a new toy?) If you share and enjoy your time with your children, they will learn important lessons about sharing, respect, and love.

3. Love your home and make it peaceful.

It took quite awhile for our current home to become our home. Tom deployed right after we moved in and I was soon hit with winter and holidays. The girls and I spent a great deal of time at home, E went to preschool two days a week, but that was about the extent of it (except mindless shopping trips). The layout of our house wasn’t working for me and I could never relax and enjoy my children. When March came and I still hadn’t tackled taking down the Christmas tree, I realized change had to happen. I took a deep breath, admitted Tom was not here and though I hated to do it, I had to change things in my house, by myself, again (love you, babe!). I hung pictures, I created a final play area (this was the fourth time I moved their toys around), I said yes to sheet forts and indoor beach parties and in the end, the house became our home.

If you and your family do not feel comfortable in your home, figure out the cause and change it. Hang your pictures, rearrange furniture, or even use your unused dining room as a playroom…whatever it takes to make you enjoy your home, do it. This doesn’t require a kitchen overhaul (though if that’s in your budget and it makes you happy…), just some changes to make your home accessible to your family and supportive of your activities. It is so easy to think of what you’ll do different after a move or after the kids grow a bit older. I urge you not to wait.

A supportive physical environment will lead to a supportive, more stable emotional and mental environment for your family. Wanting to stay home and having access to activities or comfy chairs to snuggle in are essential in building a happier relationship with your children. If you enjoy staying home, you will be more willing to share your time and interests with your child and experiencing the first moments of a happier, more fulfilling relationship.