The Little Things

We spend so much of our lives obsessing over the big things- working for them, recognising, and comparing them to the big things others have achieved. I'm not only talking about the material things, but also big landmarks. That big new car. The big vacation. Paying off that credit card. An important anniversary. A wedding, a birth. A move, a new house. In my mind, life is dotted with these big moments and achievements and they make up the outline for the people we are and the lives we lead. But if you look carefully, there are little dots on these maps to ourselves, all mixed up with those big landmarks. These little dots may be moments, memories, but in the brief moment they manifest, they tuck themselves deep in our hearts and nestle up, filling us with goodness. A look, a kind word from a stranger, the quiet observation of a loved one filling our hearts with warmth.

I find myself obsessing and worrying over the big things a bit too much lately (my entire life constitutes as lately, right??). Money, family, the future. These are important things, but due to my obsessive, anxious nature, I have to be really careful not to let myself become completely absorbed, or bad things happen.

I want to take a few minutes to make a list of those little good feeling things that have tucked deep in my heart and made me feel happy lately.

-Last week, Mick came home with a bag from the grocery store. It held a copy of the most recent Twilight film, a bottle of bubble bath and another of wine. A sweet surprise.

-Mornings that require me to be nowhere but in bed, with a warm husband ready for cuddles next to me.

-Eggs for breakfast.

-Time. I'm off work this week and the extra time has allowed for me to do some things I've really needed to get around to, and some things that I simply wanted to do for me. Sorting through a mountain of laundry and cleaning the kitchen and bedroom fell under the need category, while writing, taking pictures, cooking some recipes I've been wanting to try for a while, a walk in the local country park with Mick and my camera, as well as some solo shopping trips (with my new car) fell under the want category.

-Celebrations. Yesterday, Mick's dad got married. It was a beautiful day for two beautiful people. I met some more of Mick's family that I hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet, and enjoyed the day a whole lot.

-My marriage. Even before it was a marriage, just our relationship in general. I'm a pretty laid back and low maintenance girl, living in jeans and converse, which doesn't bother Mick at all. But during the course of our relationship, there have been a handful of occasions (weddings, engagement parties, etc) where I've had to make a real effort with myself - you know, actually using more than just the blow dryer on my hair, wearing dresses with heels and pantyhose, and actually wearing foundation. I will forever love Mick's reaction when he sees me all dolled up, and the way his arm seems to snake around my waist a lot more often on these special occasions.

Hoping you can find some little moments that stay with you this weekend.

xo

They were kids that I once knew

A few hours of sunshine snapped on the way to work.

I don't have much to talk about these days, which is why things have been really quiet for me.  Work is fine, good. I've made friends with a really nice girl I work with. Life is life, the kind of stuff that's important but personal so I don't really want to put it on here- lots and lots of marriage discussions (not discussions about marriage, just the kind of important talks that married people have with each other) important, but boring to outsiders. We are on a desperate apartment search. We've looked at two, both at each end of the niceness and money spectrum. The first was amazing, but too expensive. The second was extremely small and underwhelming but more affordable than the first, but probably overpriced for what it was. And number three. Oh, number three, how I love thee. We've only seen pictures of it online, but it looks even nicer than the first one, similar size, but more affordable. We are seeing it tonight and I can't wait. Apart from that, it's just a matter of counting our pennies and making sure we can do this.
And then doing it anyway.
That's pretty much what is consuming our time and thoughts around here. Also the ridiculous pricing of towels. We were at ASDA the other day (UK's Wal-Mart partner) and I saw some towels. I decided to have a look and a feel, knowing that we'll be needing to get some soon. The towels weren't very soft, but they were £5 each. For cheap, scratchy towels. That's like, $7.50! I couldn't believe it! And my father-in-law's girlfriend said the nice big bath sheets you can get at the good department store are £22! Is this normal? Or is it just an England thing because I can't handle it right now. But I guess that's what Argos is for. I found a bundle of 6 towels for £12, go me.
Yeah, sorry for all the towel talk- these are the mundane things that occupy my mind lately!
Mick and I are doing well. We've had some time recently to sit down and really talk, an activity that life hasn't given us the chance to do lately. We walked away from a very open and honest conversation feeling closer than we have for a long time, and a bit more full of one another's love. And I think that's something we've both really needed lately.

The other day I walked to work, listening to a song I discovered recently. It's called "Dead Hearts" by Star. It was cool, not cold (it's been a very mild winter), and I had my headphones on and nearly skipped to work in the sunshine. Yes, sunshine. Since moving to Kent in October, I haven't seen a lot of sun. In Sussex during the summer there was loads of it. For a minute, I really missed Arizona and the endless blue skies. There was a day early last week (Monday?) and a girl I work with and I were upstairs taking down all the Christmas decorations and it just started to pour. Angry rain, people. And the wind was pushing it in these clouds of water racing across rooftops. I felt like the windows were going to break. And then it stopped... and got sunny for an hour. And then the rain started again, then stopped... it was pretty crazy.
Anyway, I hope you all have a great week!

Going the Distance

In writing this blog, in telling the story of Aindrea and Mick, and in talking to people face to face, I've been surprised to hear how many of them (the women, really) want what I have. I'm not surprised that they want a fantastic husband who is also your best friend, but they want the whole process. It happens almost daily, a customer at the pub will notice that I'm obviously not from around here, ask where I'm from.
"America"
"Oh, what are you doing all the way over here."
"I married an Englishman."
"Oh, how did you meet?"
"We met online as teenagers. Over the years we kept in touch finally met, and now here we are."
"Oh, how romantic, what a love story!"
And I'm always a little bit surprised. Even a friend of mine said to me once, "I want what you have. I want that love story and I want a British boy."
We all want a love story, and we all deserve a great one. British men are plenty nice, but they're still just men. What I don't think people realize is just how hard it all is, and how much it entails. I love Mick more that anything in the world, but would I recommend that any couple go through what we did? Absolutely not. It's hard, it hurts, you find the most stupid things to argue about when you're apart, and you just end up not being very nice to each other a lot of the time. Not because you're horrible or you don't love each other, but because you're so frustrated with the situation and you don't know how else to express it. We were only apart for 7 months, but in that time, we had a lot of arguments, a lot of doubts, and I even had to visit the ER twice because I was in so much stress, I had a panic attack that lasted for several days.
Mick and I have both talked about this, and we have agreed that if, for some reason (God forbid) things didn't work out for us, we wouldn't do this again, with another person. Would I do it again, with Mick? Yes, because what we have is special and unbreakable. It takes unquestionable and complete trust, a lot of faith, and the kind of love you only find once in a lifetime.
I think it's really important that people don't limit themselves. If you decide at some point in your life that you're going to have, x,y,z (in my friends case, a British man), you're going to be focused on only one area. And if you do that, you're going to limit yourself and you might miss out on something really fantastic. Perhaps a Swedish guy? An Australian guy? A guy from New York or Vancouver, or, most desirably, a guy from your own town. Don't put yourself in a box, be open to life and all the surprises that life sends your way. I didn't plan to fall in love with an English boy, but it fell in my lap, I discovered how important he was to me and I decided that, come hell or high water, I'd fight to keep him. We can't help who we love, and so that also means that you can't make yourself love someone. You might find someone who checks all the boxes on your list, but at the end of the day, you might really surprise yourself with what you actually want.

Today I met a girl in the pub, and she asked all those typical questions. Once she realized we had been long distance, she immediately launched into all these questions about how she should handle a sitation with a guy that is long distance. I immediately recalled the insecurities, the desperation, the excitement, and the sadness. Let me tell you, I didn't envy this girl one little bit. I basically told her that she just had to be open, honest, and decide what would work for her, and would just have to go with the flow.
And then she spoke the words, "but I don't want to just wait and see, I want to know."
I could have laughed out loud. Not because it's funny what she said, or that it's so unusual or unreasonable to want to know how love will turn out, but because I can remember saying that to my mom, or to Brittany, curled up on her couch and wallowing in the distance. "I just want to know if we're going to make it." Over and over. I was such a broken record. I wished the girl luck and walked away wondering when I'd become Dr. Love, but I was glad to be able to help, because I certainly know how she feels.
Nobody has a crystal ball (as my mom has told me over and over and over my entire life when I worry about something) and we can't know how something is going to turn out.
But isn't not knowing half the fun?

I guess I just wanted to bring some light to the situation. I'm not saying I'm not really happy, because I am. I have snagged an amazing opportunity- I'm living in another country and learning about another culture, I'm a newlywed and the world is my oyster. But we're still a couple, like anyone else. We fight. I'm sometimes really unreasonable, and he's sometimes really insensitive. I get sad and homesick and want to go home somedays, and he gets sad about that. But each day, we wake up in the same bed, happy to see the other there. And that's all we wanted for so very long.

You just have to greet life with open arms, take what it gives you, and turn that into something that makes you want to get up every day and smile at the world. I found it in an English boy, but you mind find it somewhere else. And that is beautiful.

Some Randomness for You

Some things you may not know.

I detest the feeling of lipstick and lip gloss. My lips go au natural 99% of the time- weddings qualify as lipstick time. However, I have found lip stain, which doesn't bother me.

I have a strange fondness for dandelion clocks (that's the actual name for dandelion poofy ball thingies)

I love the smell of spicy candles.

I've wanted to be a writer since I was 9. Wrote my first story in 4th grade and my first poem in 5th.

I inherited the shutterbug gene from my maternal grandfather.

I love the smell of baby head. You know, fresh out of the bath, wrapping them up in a towel, and just burying your nose into their wispy hair and breathing in real deep. My niece has been a victim of this activity a time or two.

I'm a real believer in the "live and let live" outlook on life. I feel like way too many people express anger at situations that don't really involve them or affect them. So what if those guys want to get married? So what if that lady isn't Christian? So what if that girl is covered in tattoos from head to toe? Does that mean the world is coming to an end? Does it mean that I can't carry on in my life and hold true to the things that I've been taught and value the most? Absolutely not. Times will always change, people will always say things we don't like. And that, my friends, is beautiful. At the end of the day, you probably should be looking at yourself and your own life more than spending time obsessing about what's happening outside. Start at home. I'm not saying we should ignore what happens in the world, or that we shouldn't try and make a difference, but it's important to tell the difference between what we can change and what we can't... and that moaning about it won't make the difference.

I believe in a strong work ethic. My parents pounded into me from a very young age that it is important to be at work or school. I wasn't allowed to take a day off "just because" and I don't let myself do it now.

I never had a blanket or stuffed animal that I drug all over the place as a child. I did, however, have a pillow that went on all overnight trips with me. I still have that pillow, and it has traveled the world with me, thank you very much.

I love to cook. I'm pretty new to it, but my mother in law handed me the reigns to the kitchen when I moved to England. It's been a bit off since I've started working and have been ill, but we had some pretty cool meals there for a while.

My husband drives me crazy, in every sense of the word. He can say things that baffle me, enrage me, confuse me, amuse me, or just make my heart melt. It's weird how things deepen the longer you love someone. I feel like every day he grows more handsome in my eyes. He doesn't change physically, of course, but as I learn more about him and love him more, those things show in his face.

I have serious guilt issues. Like, if I do something even remotely naughty (as silly as not putting something back where I found it) I have an internal battle about how horrible I am.

I have a dangerous addiction to Diet Coke and Coke Zero. I don't have it every day or anything, but if it's in the house, there's a good chance I won't drink any water until it's gone. For the most part we keep it out of the house, but I'll treat it to myself when we go out.

We are movie people. Every night, Mick and I select a film to watch, take refuge on the couch and dive in. We often pause for tea breaks and discussions- occasionally it'll be an in depth plot analysis, but typically we criticize acting skills and continuity errors.

I require three pillows when I sleep: said comfort childhood pillow, one to go underneath it because it's pretty much flat and dead, and another to wrap myself around because husband can't cuddle during sleep. Bummer.

I have a hunger for traditions and heirlooms and look forward to making rich, deep histories for the children I will someday have.

I was raised to be proud of my ancestry.

I love trying new things- whether it's an activity, a food, a game or a new place, I'm usually willing to try it. I even tried eating Black Pudding (see: pig's blood mixed with herbs and spices, fried and made like a sausage) a few weeks ago.

I am a roller coaster junkie- love the rush!

I love a good lazy day, but enjoy a busy day out doing things as well.

And I love, love love to take pictures.

A Moment

It happened Saturday night. The pub was relentlessly busy, a coworker had a sick son and couldn't make it in, so three of us were pulling it together and making it work without so much as a breath between customers. I was baptised with fire that night, learning by doing. I stood, mixing a Malibu and diet coke facing the back part of the bar where all the spirits are stored. I glanced up to reach for something and caught my face in the mirrored back-splash. I looked younger than I have felt in a few years; fresh faced and wide eyed, eating up the new. I thought about how much my life has changed in the past year. That tired, drawn "teacher face" is gone. I saw freshness, newness. I thought of my Mick, and of the huge thing I've done for him- us, even for me at the end of the day. I saw myself mixing this drink and suddenly felt the positive impact this huge transition has had on me. Everything shifted, fell in place and aligned in one of those moments where you are suddenly very aware of your little place in the universe. It hit me that the steps are all over- we are done with visas (for two years), I managed to snag the first job I applied for, and we are in motion. Things are happening now, and this is the life that was planned for me, the very same one that I chose.
I remembered my teenage dream- moving to Ireland and opening a pub. I had to chuckle- I made it to England, and am working in a pub. Not exactly on target, but a very pleasant alternative. And the thing that makes it all worthwhile? That boy who stole my heart when I was 17 and took me as his wife three months ago. I felt peace, and turned to mix the next drink, once again absorbed in the sounds of inebriated laughter, clanking bottles, and cheerful banter.
And so after work this afternoon, I ran to the store to buy a sandwich for a late lunch, found myself a new pair of gloves and a scarf, and bought that boy I love so much the pair of slippers he pointed out a while back.
Which may or may not have gorilla faces. I'll never tell ;)

Happy Thanksgiving

Someone I know made a blog post the other day about the things for which she is thankful. As I read the post I was shocked to find the things that have happened in her life. Shocked and proud. And yet a little ashamed of myself, too. I'm not afraid to admit that, with the holidays fast approaching, my family and friends somewhere beyond the sea, and a nearly empty bank account dictating that I can't buy lavish gifts for them this year to compensate for the 5,000+ miles that I willingly put between us... I've been feeling pretty sorry for myself.
I knew when I made the decision to move to England that there would be bad days. Sad days and hard days. But I didn't really think about the fact that there would be, without doubt, days where I wanted nothing more than my people and my things. Because while my husband's people and things are truly wonderful... they're not mine. Not yet. I didn't spend 25 years developing bonds with them, and it's not, and probably never will be the same. It can be great, but different. In time.
I stop and think about the fact that I've been here, in the Queen's country, for five months now. Five whole months, and not much has happened. I only just got my visa, we still don’t have our own place. I still feel a pang in my chest and a knot in my throat 8/10 times I speak to my family and friends back home. I still feel the hurt when I hang up Skype and feel unfulfilled with crackly conversations. I feel guilty for leaving when there was still so much to learn about people, so much more love to give them, so much more deepening of relationships possible. And I start to panic: was I too hasty? Should I have given this more thought before I gushed about moving off to another country and marrying a guy with a sexy accent? I mean its every girl's dream! Five months and it still doesn't feel like home.
But then I stop and think about how in life, five months is really nothing. Let's say the average person lives 80 years. That's 960 months. Nearly 1000 months to live!!! That makes 5 months roughly .52% of your life. Less than one percent! It's when I realize things like this that I have to shake off and take a step back. It is not reasonable or fair to get frustrated with myself because I haven't gotten an entire restart to life figured out in .52% of my time here on this earth. It is ok to feel like I don't have my ducks in a row. Only .52% . It's ok to feel like this isn't home yet, especially when I spent another 31% building a life somewhere else. Half of a percent of my life. I will not let half of a percent of my life dictate what the next 657 months of my life will be like. Actually, that’s silly to say. No matter what I want, think or feel… it simply won’t dictate the rest of my life. This is a hiccup, a rut, a funk, a waiting room before I can get the rest of my life going. Things will get better, and in time, Mick and I will be able to do things and make adjustments that will make England a home. We haven’t been able to do many of these things, just because of the whole visa situation- the waiting room.
Everyone has always said the first year of moving far, far away is the hardest time. So is the first year of marriage. And, just because I never like to do things the easy way, I did it all at once, guaranteeing an emotional rollercoaster. And, oh boy, has it been just that.
So while there are things that will never change (I will probably always feel empty after I hang up the phone with certain people, I will probably always feel a little bit guilty, and there will most definitely always be days when I want to crawl into my old bedroom at my parents house, lay on the floor and think of all the fantastic memories), there are the things that will, and that’s what I need to focus on right now. I need to focus on the times Mick and I will have, searching the housing section of the paper for our first flat, a place to put the bed-sheets-pillows-plates-vases-chairs-tables-sofasfor which we’ll spend hours searching hand in hand. A safe, happy place to raise our children and fall in love with them. A place to put our life, not so much the things, but a place to put the things that represent our time together, and our love.

Now, let’s get on with that very Thanksgiving-y bit of this post - the things and people for which I am grateful.

My own strength
I think I’ve seen myself as a very weak person most of my life. As a little girl, I literally had panic attacks every single morning at the thought of going to school and being separated from my mother. It’s taken a lot of therapy, a lot of medication, a lot of feelings of worthlessness and insecurities to realize that I was quite the opposite. I may not have achieved greatness, but I have achieved goodness. I am a fierce friend, a loving daughter, granddaughter, sister and aunt, and a passionate wife. None of my shortcomings, though they be many, take away from my strong points. In fact, I think the fact that I’ve overcome (i.e. learned to accept and live with) those shortcomings has added to my strong points. My weakness has made me stronger. So much so that I’ve been able to do this very big thing without popping a single Xanax in almost a year.

A sense of adventure
It surprises even me that somehow, in that terrified little girl, stirred a soul wanting to break out and see the world. The one everybody thought would stick very close to home wanted adventure enough to go out and find it.

My mother
Where do I even begin? I am beyond grateful for a mother who pushed me, and still does to this day. I am so, so blessed to have a mom who was able to stay at home and raise me, not only for the typical benefits of such a thing, but because I got to know her extremely well. My mom is not just my mom, but she is my best friend, and no matter where I live, she always will be. I went into pretty deep detail in a previous post about all the things my mom has done for me, how she’s gone above and beyond the call of duty, even though there are no boundaries to a mother’s love. I think the most important gift my mom has given me is the hunger to have my own children someday, so that I can love them the way she loves me. I am grateful to have been raised by a woman who doesn’t hesitate for one second before going out and buying Christmas decorations for her daughter and son-in-law’s first Christmas tree after being told that we can’t quite work them into the budget this year. Something about that really tugged at my heartstrings – I think basically the knowledge that she is still there to take care of me. But I think, above all things, I am grateful for the fact that even though a twelve hour flight separates us, I still feel as close to her as I did when she was one bedroom away.

My father
My hero, my superman. My father is that strong, deep rooted tree. Never changing, always reliable, and always, always, always, beautiful in his dedication to the things he feels are most important: working hard to provide for the people he loves, being more of a listener than a speaker, and giving sound advice when he does. I am grateful for the things my dad has instilled in me, including a solid work ethic, an appreciation for my ancestry, a love of history, and a deep and abiding dedication to doing the right thing. I love hearing the stories from his childhood, which differs greatly from mine – stories of getting into trouble on a farm and riding motorcycles with his friends. I think I ache the most over being away from my dad, because there have just always been so many things I wanted to say to him, but never seemed to find the right words. Maybe I can find them now, and I hope my mom shows him this (he’s not the most tech savvy person): I am grateful for my dad because he is the person I want to be. I still want to be just like daddy.

My Grandma Flo
Though Grandma Flo died when I was 16, she taught me that if I have only two pennies to my name, I still have one to give away. I am so grateful to have been shown so much generosity by this beautiful woman, and miss her every day. Her lesson has stuck with me, because even though my savings account is dwindling away, I have that urge to give and share.

My dad’s parents
Your traditional down home, Irish Catholic cow folk family. I am grateful to see what love looks like sixty years down the road. My grandparents met when they were five, began dating in high school and never loved anyone else. I am grateful to see such an example of love and loyalty.

My brother
Time changes a lot of things, but one thing it will never change is that I still want to follow my big brother around. I really don’t think that any little sister in the world was as lucky as me. Gone are the days of playing Ninja Turtles and Matchbox cars together. Gone are the days of watching him play video games and watching out for bad guys with him. No more pretend WWF, him on his knees and one arm behind his back to make it more fair to his six year old sister. No more Mambas and Cactus Cooler brought home to me from his biking adventures with his friends. But now we have other things- a shared love for sushi, hiking, the same lame but fantastic sense of humor, numerous instances where we’ve both walked away from a funny situation with sore cheeks and a stitch in our side from laughing so hard. I am grateful to have a big brother who never made me feel like I was anything but the coolest little kid around, and like he was as lucky to have me as I was to have him.

My sister
My sister is a decade older than me, and by the time I was nine she had already moved out, but I’m often surprised to find out how much we have in common. This year she has achieved so much in her career, and my pride has driven me to tears at least once. She is so much like my dad- hardworking and dedicated and so, so driven. She is an amazing mother, a fantastic story teller, with a snappy, witty sense of humor and one of the most efficient women on the planet. I’ve often wished that we were closer in age so that we could have been closer growing up, but now I find myself feeling really lucky to have someone who has experienced so much more than me. I am grateful for the chance to watch her be the mother, wife, and driven amazing women I hope I can be, too. I am grateful that I get to learn from her and love her the way only sisters can.

My niece
That same amazing sister of mine gave our family a beautiful gift almost exactly four years ago (with the help of her lovely husband, Fes, who I am also grateful for and love like he’s been a part of this family since before I was born). Little Ella was born with a slate blue eyes and a soul wrapped beneath layers of blankets that we would all swoon over. This little blonde haired, blue eyed angel has cast her spell on our family and nobody can remember what it was like before she was born. She is scary smart, gentle, kind, generous, hilarious, full of pure, unbridled joy and wonder, and if you looked up the word “magic” in the dictionary, you’d see her face as the definition. I am grateful that I have such an amazing little person to bestow with cuddles and kisses and toys and candy.

My friends
I have far too many special friends to dedicate a section to each of them, so I’m going to focus on the two who have been the biggest influences in my life.

I met Tabatha when I was two years old, and therefore don’t remember a time in my life when she didn’t exist. We grew up across the street from each other until that fateful day in 1996 when my dad, mom and I moved to Arizona. All along the way, I have loved this girl and she has loved me back. She comforted me during those daily panic attacks on the way to school, taught me how much fun it can be to get into just a little bit of trouble, and shared her beautiful imagination with me. I’ve seen her struggle, but most other people would have no idea that there was anything other than candy and rainbows in this woman’s life. There is never anything but a smile on her face and a silly remark on her lips. She is the most happy-go-lucky person I have ever met and makes the best out of every situation. I am grateful to have a friend who has seen me through crayons, nail polish, training bras, funerals, weddings and birthday parties, and that I’ve been able to be there for her as many times as she’s been there for me.

I met Brittany when we were both in college, studying to become teachers. We instantly became good friends, rounding up our long, uneventful night classes with Hamburger Helper and Harry Potter movies at her house. Brittany and I have watched each other grow from college students to full time working teachers. We’ve shared shattered relationships, and the joy of creating new, life changing ones. I’ve listened to her frustrations with motherhood, and she held my hand through a devastating, 3 month long emotional breakdown. I fell in love with this girl- with her ability to adapt to any situation and fight tooth and nail to get what she wants out of this life. I am grateful to have a friend who is willing to drop her very full list of obligations to help those she loves.

My in laws
Mick’s mom and stepdad asked no questions when we got engaged. It was understood and accepted happily that we would live with them until we got on our feet. They have really helped us out and made it possible for us to be together. They also helped a lot with the wedding, and so did his dad. The financial and moral support from his family during this time has made all the difference. I’m also really glad Mick has a sister- it’s like a built in friend, and she’s really cool. I’m grateful to have been welcomed into a family like this.

My Husband
Ah, here we are. You might think that this one would be the easiest, but in fact, I find it quite difficult to put just how grateful I am for Mick into words. I think that there are a lot of people in the world that you can be happy with, and then there is that one person who encompasses everything you need and love. Mick is my best friend, my family, my partner in crime, my alter ego, and the love of my life. I always knew (mostly because my mother reminded me of it during those difficult teenage years where I probably made her extremely frustrated on a daily basis) that it would take a special kind of guy to love me. Well, Mick is certainly special. He has his days, but most of the time he is incredibly patient with me. He lets me be sad when I miss my family and reminds me that it will get better. He shares in my joy (when I am sad, I’m very sad, but oh, when I’m happy, it’s euphoric). I wouldn’t want to spend my life loving or arguing with anyone else. And isn’t that exactly how marriage should be?

This Blog
I am really grateful to this blog, and to the people who read it. Writing in here during the engagement, wedding plans, after the honeymoon and through visa applications has really helped me. I’ve always loved writing, and have always been better at expressing myself with my fingers than with my lips. I really think that coming here a few times a week has helped me with this transition. Sometimes I sit down to write a little something and the thoughts that come really help clear my head. Thank you for sharing this journey with me, and I hope you stick around for the rest of the ride.

Wishing you and yours a very peaceful Thanksgiving, full of cheer, love, and good food. May we know, each and every day, how truly blessed we are. I ask that when you sit down at your table tonight, you remember those who are far away and want nothing more than to be sitting next to you. Including me. God bless.

Looking forward

I know I've asked you to be patient with the lull in events over here. I have the feeling it's that calm before the storm that we are all so familiar with. I've been learning as I've grown up that life just keeps getting busier- gone are the days of after school snacks and cartoons being your biggest concern. Now that the wedding is done, I feel the gogogo of life beckoning me. Thursday I go to my interview for my national insurance number and if all goes well, I'll soon have my own number. And then it will be time for applications and interviews and resumes (ugh, stressful things!). Then we'll be saving and hunting for a place of our own, furniture hunting, rent paying, and I'll start driving lessons and looking for a car. And then life will be in full swing and babies will be planned (that's a fast forward) and on and on and on! So I guess I should savour days like today, where I'm free to hang out on the sofa with a can of Diet Coke and a stack of Christmas cards to add messages, signatures and addresses to while watching Gilmore Girls, snuggled under the quilt my mom gave me for graduation.

Leaving you with some snaps, as always!

For Mom

My mother started a tradition with my sister, her oldest child. When each of us graduated with our bachelor's degree, she made us a quilt. I chose pink and green and toile. And with love and patience, she stitched a beautiful masterpiece.

The other day my mom asked me, “how could you move like that?” She didn’t mean it in any harsh way. She and I are very different people, and she just meant she personally couldn’t do the massive thing I have done- quitting my job, leaving everything I know, and starting over in another country. I always knew that it would be hard for my mom when I left.
But it made me think- how could I, the little girl who used to have a panic attack every day before school and couldn’t spend the night at a friends house without wanting to go home in the middle of the night, become this woman who did what I did.

And then I got this quote, and I think it answers both my mother’s and my own question.

"Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible."  ~Marion C. Garretty

And it’s true. I’ve always had anxiety problems- most of the time it’s underlying, but other times it’ll flare up and can be pretty debilitating. When I was a kid, I wanted to quit school because I hated it so much, and I had a literal phobia of going to school until I was about twelve, as well as separation anxiety. But my mom and dad pushed me, because education and socialization is very important and they didn’t let me drop out and get home-schooled. I begged. I threw fits. But because my mom and dad loved me enough to not give in (and to go through the panicked battle with me day after day after day after day) and do what was best for me, I was able to finish elementary school. I was able to finish middle school, high school, earn an associates degree and graduate with honors with a Bachelor’s degree.

And then, when Mick came back in my life two years ago, I knew I would have to make a decision at some point. It was difficult for me, because I knew that for he and I to be together, a lot of things in my life were going to change. I worried what my parents would think, what my brother and sister would say. But I found the answer within myself. I found the strength to do what was best for me, because I’d seen my mother do it for me when I was a little girl. I saw her say no to the easy way, and do it the right way.

So, to answer my mom’s question- I was able to move away because I did what she did- I knew what was best for me, and even though I knew it would be hard, I did it anyway. She loved me and did the impossible, so that I could, too. 

Although a Mother's love isn't a love I understand just yet, I do know some about it, because I've been on the receiving end. I've also watched my sister grow with motherhood; I've seen how she looks at my niece and listened to her talk about just how much that gorgeous little girl means to her. So while I don't yet have my own children and can't completely grasp what a mother feels, I have an inkling, and I am thankful to be loved in such a way by such a remarkable woman, and for the opportunity to love her back with a daughter's love.

Just some thoughts

Sorry I missed on yesterday's photo assignment and failed to blog. I was feeling pretty under the weather yesterday but by bed time felt like myself again. I plan to do a photo post later in the day, but for now I just want to share a couple things I've been thinking about lately.

The other night, I ordered a pizza for Mick and myself. I used my credit card with my maiden name, so the pizza was delivered to Aindrea Muldoon, not White. I can only imagine the confusion of the pizza delivery guy when he arrived at the house with a pizza for a person with a very Irish name, and someone with a very American accent answered the door, in an area of England with a large Polish demographic.
The world is such a melting pot, isn't it? This little thought made me smile.

Something else I've been thinking about... do you ever have those moments spent with someone very dear to you... you might be a bit annoyed with them or just feeling grouchy in general. But then,you notice a certain word, or look, or movement of their body so characteristic to them. You watch, observe, and take this in without their knowledge, and suddenly the essence of that person, why you love them, why they mean what they do is in that moment so completely evident, and you can't help but feel bad for being a bit annoyed in the first place. Does that make any sense? Do you know what I'm talking about?

Last week I was a bit of a grouch, and just short in general, especially with Mick. He hadn't done anything wrong, I was just feeling really down and homesick. And then we were in the garden, trying to outsmart the rabbits and get them out of the run and he just did something, I'm not even sure what. A certain movement, a look on his face, and I was just smacked in the face with all the reasons why I love this sweet guy so much.

And here's one of those reasons, right here in this picture. This is from last Christmas day. Let's just get one thing very straight- women are silly creatures, and we sometimes want to do things without much rhyme or reason. Well, I'm clearly a woman, and so I'm not immune to such whimsy. And Mick is just so great with that 99% of the time. Even if it does mean freezing his bum off in the snow because his desert rat of a (then) girlfriend who hasn't really ever seen it wants to throw snowballs and make snowmen.
And then, when the snow is nothing but melted and refrozen as ice... it takes a true man not to get angry when the outing becomes snow wrestling.