And......We're Off!

What a relief to leave our home and be done with the massive preparations!  You'd think something massive would have fallen through the cracks during all the craziness--the only pre-trip stupidity I've realized so far is this: I ran some last-minute neighborhood errands the morning of our departure, delivering holiday cards, returning library books...I headed to the grocery store to use one of those Coinstar machines to trade in a baggie full of coins.  I dutifully watched as the coins trickled down through the metal slots, the machine counting each quarter, dime, nickel, and penny.  Then..............feeling very proud of myself for all I had accomplished before 7am, my errand was complete and I walked away, leaving the slip of paper in the machine that I should have brought to the cashier to get my money!  Ahh, well, it undoubtedly brightened someone's day.

5 days in the redwoods has been just what the doctor ordered.  We visited a neighbor's unbelievable oceanfront property to watch a herding dog in action, rounding up the sheep and responding to certain whistles that alert him to go in a clockwise or counterclockwise direction.  It was, in a word, incredible, from the dog's skills, to the waves crashing into the cove right off their front yard, to the milk cow grazing lazily right by the front door, even down to the flock of white pigeons that flies around overhead.  We played games with family, took walks in the redwoods, kayaked and canoed in the lake, and reveled in the fact that all our work was done.

I felt so much anxiety the day the Australians were to arrive--we had left our house a dusty mess with a cleaning lady scheduled for the next day, but clearly the control freak in me wanted concrete proof that our house was in appropriate order for our guests.  Luckily, all went well and they arrived only a couple of hours late due to a snowstorm that brought 9 or so inches for their arrival.

We are now at the San Francisco airport--Kenyon vomited as soon as we got out of the car.  Cross your fingers that it was due to the drive and not a stomach bug, or I have a feeling that Fiji will be memorable in ways that I'd rather not think about.  We've got plenty of fun traveling toys to keep us busy, thanks to the boys' grandparents (have you heard of Nanoblocks?  They're awesome!).  Just a short hop to Los Angeles, and then we're off for the big haul.  I've taken some pictures, but of course I'm not quite organized to have the USB cord for the camera with me.

While you're crossing your fingers, put some good thoughts out there for a smooth, uneventful flight.  I'm not keen on being over water for 10 hours and 45 minutes.  At all.

We'll be in the air for the holiday, so Merry Christmas!

Sleepless

At the wee hour of 4:38am, my eyes popped open and the to-do list began playing in my head like one of those unmanned pianos that you see in old-timey western saloons. It was much too early to be up puttering around the house, and I'm going to have to pace myself if I'm going to get through these agonizing last two days of preparation. I 'rested', tossing and turning for a while, but finally decided to use my time wisely (ha!) and write this blog entry.

Yesterday was massively productive, despite the emotional weight that came with the kids' last day of school. I wore sunglasses at the afternoon pickup, which did a poor job of masking my tears. Jackson's teacher had given him a book as a parting gift; to be honest, I haven't been able to bring myself to look at it yet. Both the older boys have received journals from their friends; so sweet.

Jackson is old enough that he feels the pang in his heart and was a little teary-eyed at bedtime. I did my best to honor his feelings and at the same time reassure him that Skype was a great way to see his friends' faces, and that along with writing real letters, he could also dictate an email that I could send off to a parent to pass along whenever he'd like. I also told him that I'm sure he'll make good friends while we're down there, to which he replied, "But then I'll just have to leave them, too!". Right, son...there are definitely benefits and drawbacks to having an open heart; I know them well and struggle with it daily.

This weekend is forecasted to be sunny with highs of 53, which in the Colorado altitude makes for glorious weather. Oh, did I tell you that our area of New South Wales has had an unseasonably cold and rainy summer so far? It's predicted to stay that way; here's hoping that Australian meteorologists are about as accurate as American ones, because as coastal transplants, Sam and I have quite a bit of beach time to soak up to make up for all the these inland years in Colorado.

Salty sea air, here I come (if I can make it through this to-list). It's now 6:08am; time to get going. Next post will likely be quick, as we wait to board our plane to San Francisco on Monday.

For Mom and Dad

One mere week from today, we will close the door to our home and we won't be back for a year. 

I don't think any Move Across the World For a Year Preparation would be possible without help from parents.  We were fortunate enough to have my parents come in for a last visit over the weekend--we had just seen them a couple of weeks ago for Thanksgiving, but my mom wanted to complete her mission of brainwashing of my children into getting on Skype every day squeeze in some more quality time with her grandsons.

In between reading stories and playing games with the kids, my parents were workhorses--Dad tightened the loose cabinet in the kitchen, fixed the shoddily-installed dishwasher so it doesn't fall forward each time you open it, replaced the faulty circuit in the electrical box, installed a circuit cover, and copied all the information from the desktop computer onto a thumb drive.  Whew.

We have a cleaning lady scheduled for the day after our departure, but Mom took care of some cleaning that she figured the cleaning lady wouldn't get to--she took down and washed each of the glass globes in the light fixtures, dusted wood blinds and tops of door trim, and completely readied the downstairs guest bedroom and bathroom.  She has a penchant for breaking things during cleaning frenzies, but I'm happy to report that I only heard the tinkling of shattering glass once all weekend.  I have no idea what broke, but it likely wasn't important anyway and I'm just so thankful for everything they did.

What better time to throw a birthday party for your child than 9 days before you move out of the country for a year?  We managed to pull off a simple pool party at the rec center with Alex's favorite friends; it was a great way to get together with friends outside of school and let him know that we think he's pretty awesome and want to celebrate his existence in the world.  On his actual birthday this Thursday, I'll make sure to prepare the yummiest stack of pancakes exactly how he has requested for his birthday dinner--with chopped kiwi, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, and homemade whipped cream.  And of course, a candle on top so he can wish for something amazing.

With all the work my parents did, I was kind of in relax mode, and it wasn't until they left Sunday afternoon that I kicked into gear.  The playroom is now organized and inviting, the toys anxiously awaiting to be scattered by the two kiddos who will be living in the house.  Sam and I have made strides in preparing the closets and moving clothes that won't be taken down to the basement storeroom.

I sold Kenyon's toddler bed (thank you, trusty Craigslist).  He slept on the mattress on the floor last night, an experience he declared 'awesome'.  Just wait until we are camping amongst kangaroos, buddy...

It's really happening.  And even as an official, card-carrying, fully-grown adult with kids of my own, it's still awfully comforting to have to have the love and support of parents.  Thanks for everything, Mom and Dad--I can't wait to meet you at the Sydney airport and have you experience some of this adventure with us.

Running the Gauntlet

At T minus 14 days and counting, we're looking pretty good.  The dining room chair with the wobbly leg that has sat in the corner for nearly a year has now happily joined the rest of his tribe at the table.  The guest bathroom shower handle has been tightened; its threats of breaking toes by hurling itself to the floor now silenced.

I straightened the kids' myriad bookshelves, organizing by genre, author, and reading level.  This means either the boys will not be allowed to read anything for the next 14 days, or I am going to be the Crazy Mom Book Police, hovering over their every selection to make sure it is put back properly.  But really, who am I kidding?  They don't reshelve books on their own anyway; the floor/coffee table/car/kitchen counter is their bookshelf, so I should be able to manage the organization from here on out just fine.

I weeded out the stray toys from the playroom and, because Kenyon will be nearing 5 years old when we return, sold the babyish ones at a garage sale.  The boys need to decide what items are keepers on their personal shelves, and those will be boxed up until our return (i.e., I don't think the Aussie kids want to be greeted by the random animal bones found on hikes that currently grace Jackson's shelf.  Or the tanned squirrel hide.).  I think I'll make an executive decision and sneak that delightful little keepsake into the garbage.

You might be thinking that these minute details mean we are all prepared, but there are some big things still looming over us.  I liken the remaining tasks of the next couple of weeks to running the gauntlet, after which we will hopefully emerge victorious, boarding the plane to begin our adventure.

entering the gauntlet...

Where to park our minivan for a year?  No easy task.  The Aussies will pay utilities here, so I need to make sure certain bills are switched to online billing and switch utilities back to paper billing (which means countless phone calls, which means running the gauntlet otherwise known as Automated Customer Service).  I have never before yearned so steadily for a personal assistant who I could pass this off to with a wave of a manicured hand while languidly sipping my cappuccino.

Since I didn't have anything better to do, I decided at nearly the last minute to refinance our mortgage at a lower interest rate and take out a little cash so we have some money to do a couple of really memorable things during our trip.  Our mortgage is through our credit union, so I figured it would be straight-forward and relatively pain-free.

Ha!

When the bank guy analyzed my credit report and started asking me about my second and third mortgage and my credit line with QVC, I knew something was terribly wrong.  An address listed in the residential history shows a PO Box in the mountain town of Gypsum, Colorado--I have never lived there.  And there, under my aliases, was the name of someone whose name closely resembled my maiden name.

Somehow, my credit report has been intertwined with this other woman, and I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to disentangle myself from this mess.

The good news is that she is paying her bills regularly, but this error is still negatively affecting my credit because of the sheer amount of credit she carries.

In other words, lady, lighten up on the 'quality diamonique' QVC bracelets.

My bank guy understands the situation and is working to at least clear up the credit report internally so the refinance can proceed in the most favorable manner.  We'll see if it all happens and we can eke out a closing by late next week...cross your fingers.

Thank You, Kerrville

As children, my brother and I spent many a vacation in Kerrville, Texas at my grandparents' house.  Now, you may be thinking that Kerrville doesn't necessarily sound like a luxurious place to vacay, but like my mom's parents' place in Maine, my dad's parents' place set in Texas' Hill Country is a kid's dream, and one that has a special place in my heart.

The property is 9 or so acres within a 3000-acre working ranch, so opportunities abound for exploring creek beds for arrowheads, skipping rocks into the lake, finding the perfect walking stick, and keeping an eye out for deer, blackbuck antelope and mouflon sheep.  When we were kids (gloriously before insurance premiums took the fun out of nearly everything), we galloped on horses and dove from the diving board at the community pool.  We played tag on the windmill out front (so much for parental supervision!), tiptoed across the cattle guard, and baked many batches of cookies and peanut brittle in Grandma's kitchen.

My grandfather, a mechanical engineer by trade, could build anything.  I felt so privileged to be invited into his workshop to help construct delicate miniature furniture that outfitted the Victorian dollhouse he made for me.  He built model planes that really flew.  He once sawed off half his pinky finger just before a big camping trip, and decided to leave it off because he figured he didn't need it much anyway (although I think he especially delighted in shocking the younger grandkids with the real live version of the ole 'separating your finger from your hand' trick).

I felt wistful as we entered the property this year, reaching the place in the hill that descends down towards the lake where you can spot my grandparents' windmill and barn from across the valley.  I wished my kids could have met my brilliant grandfather, whom we lost far too young to early-onset Alzheimer's.  I told stories about him, and Alex (whose middle name comes from his grandfather) said that he figured he got his grandfather's good building skills.  I like that he feels a connection to someone that is special to me, despite the fact they never got to spend time together.

I do feel so fortunate that my kids get to spend time with their great-grandmother.  This year, she taught all the great-grandkids how to play Charades, and Jackson got a lesson in a few solitaire card games.  In my parenting moment of the year, I bribed Kenyon with a promise of candy to entice him to come out from hiding underneath the table and participate in this picture with his brothers, cousins, and great-Grandma.

We followed the typical Thanksgiving itinerary--gorged ourselves on my mom's cooking, hung out, and played Ticket to Ride, Catan, and Mexican Train.  The kids got some good time in with their cousins.

We picnicked and explored at Dinosaur Rock one afternoon.  

What picture of any Nana and Papa with their grandkids would be complete without the obligatory grumpy 3-year old smack dab in the middle?

On the way back from the picnic, a group of horses were clustered right by the road, so we rolled down the windows and stopped to say hello.  

Um....horses' heads are big.  I astutely noted this as the horses stuck their heads inside of our vehicle.  Well, hello there!  It was part cute (my mom's thinking), part frightening (my dad's thinking) to pet their soft noses and eventually thank them for their congeniality but we must really be going now, don't you have some hay to nibble on or something?

Mom with an overly friendly horse

One night, Jackson braved the cold with my two cousins that he idolizes and my aunt (nicknamed Uncle Nora) to witness the Christmas Parade in Comfort, TX.

We'll be roughly 9,000 miles away from Kerrville this time next year, likely not celebrating Thanksgiving at all, but the feeling of family will stay with me despite the distance.  I love these people.

Is There Such Thing as a Tissue Sommelier?

Friendship is unnecessary, like art...
It has no survival value; rather, is one of those things that give value to survival.
~C.S. Lewis

We don't have family in town, but we are so fortunate to be surrounded by amazing friends.  Denver is the only city I've lived in during my adult life, so I don't have much to compare it to in the realm of making friends as adults,  but people are really friendly here.  And cool.  You know where I met many of my friends?  Through my involvement at my kids' school.  I'm not talking about the 'Crap, there's a school function and now I'm going to have to chit-chat with a bunch of fake people' kind of friends, but real, down-to-earth friends.  God, I love this school.  I'm coming to the realization that the fact that my kids' school is what I'm truly going to miss most during our year away either makes me a lunatic, or incredibly blessed.

Jury's still out on that one.

Some friends have suggested that we throw a going-away party before we leave for Australia.  While that sounds like a great opportunity to see everyone, especially those friends that we consider dear but only see once or twice a year, I balked, saying that I would likely just be a teary-eyed disaster.  Hell, I cried at my son's end-of-season soccer party when his coach had the audacity to talk about the spring season and then looked at Alex and told him that he's looking forward to having him back on the team the following spring when we return.


You see, Alex's soccer team is made up of kids from his 1st grade class--one of the dads is the coach, and the end-of-season party was held at the cozy restaurant Satchel's on 6th, which is owned by another dad.  He opened up his restaurant just for the occasion and served a delicious grilled salad and braised short ribs, with wine aplenty.  Warm atmosphere, good people...I wish I could blame my tears on the wine, but I didn't even have a sip.  


Really, Annie?  The fact that your son will miss out on a year of soccer team participation elicits tears?  Yikes.  I guess I just really love life here, so even though I'll be back in a year--hopefully with my kids at the same school, although it's not a given--I'm just really going to miss everyone.  Don't get me wrong; I'm incredibly psyched for this next year and am having way too much fun in the evenings planning a rough 3-week camping itinerary...but I'm still going to miss everyone.


As I was in the midst of writing this post, I received an email from two friends (that I met at the kids' school, damn them for being so awesome) saying that they weren't going to accept not having a going away party and tossed out some ideas.  Want to know the height of lameness?  At the dinner table tonight, I told Sam that I have the nicest friends ever, and couldn't even get the words out about the party without crying.  Then I had to explain to the boys that I wasn't sad, I was just really happy.


Did you hear that, Sara and Laura?  Better pick a place that is known for their selection of fine tissues.  And hey, maybe start being a little bitchy so this whole process could get a little easier on me.


Love you guys, and I look forward to you rightfully ridiculing me when I sport an affected Aussie accent just over a year from now.

Over the Edge

A couple of hard weeks dealing with a friend's death on top of the usual stress of preparing for our journey has put a couple of chinks in my armor.  This recent Travel Vaccine Fiasco just about put me over the edge...

I'm not anti-vaccine by any means, but I do believe in being informed about what is going into my kids' bodies and why.  I followed a modified vaccine schedule, spreading shots out a bit even if it meant more needles, because I didn't like the idea of overwhelming their little immune systems with multiple vaccines all at once.  By the time Kenyon was born, giving newborns vitamin D supplements was standard practice.  I declined, because really, it would be an effort to not get enough vitamin D in Denver, with its more than 300 days of sparkly bright sunshine.

In preparation for our trip, a phone appointment with our insurance's Travel Clinic informed me that Sam and I would need Tetanus/Whooping Cough and Hepatitis A vaccines, and both older boys would just need the Hepatitis A vaccine (Kenyon had already had it, as it was standard by the time he came into the world).

Jackson, at 3 years old

As always, I asked what symptoms to watch for in case of a terrible vaccine reaction, and the shots were uneventful--the nurse gave me the handy tip of doing a few push-ups, even just against the wall, to reduce post-vaccine muscle soreness, and it really worked well.  Jackson, Alex and I were in the elevator heading out when Jackson leaned against the wall, saying he was really tired and wanted to rest when we got home.  We walked across the lobby towards the other elevator that provides access to the parking garage.  As we headed down to the garage, Jackson weakly said he didn't feel good at all, that he felt like he was going to throw up.

The doors opened and we stepped out into the parking garage elevator lobby, where Jackson's legs buckled, body collapsed, and he lay there totally unresponsive on the ground.

Jackson, at 5 years old

Inwardly, I was in complete panic mode, thinking of the possibility that he was having some freakish reaction to the vaccine that was just pumped into him.  I struggled, trying to lift him, but it quickly became apparent that his 8-year old body as dead weight is too much for this mother to carry.  The jackets and vaccination papers that I had been carrying were strewn all over the place.

Time stopped for me there, with my son lying limp on the tile floor.  With no one around to help and me unable to lift him, I had to drag his seemingly lifeless body into the elevator to get back up to the main lobby.  Alex was awesome; I'm sure he was totally freaked out inside but he stayed calm and I didn't notice it at the time but he swiftly picked up all the stuff that I had dropped and rode in the elevator with me.

Jackson, at 7 years old

Frustratingly, the elevator didn't appear to notice the emergency and took its merry time bringing us up to the main floor, where I dragged Jackson out in to the lobby and yelled for help; at this point he still wasn't conscious.  As nurses ran over, he was finally starting to open his eyes, and we took him in a wheelchair back up to the doctor's office while I tried to not completely lose my shit in front of my kids.

Turns out he just fainted; they said it's fairly common for boys to hold their breath while they get a shot and then it catches up to them a few minutes later when they're on their feet.

He was completely back to normal a short time later, but me?  I am ready to either spend some time locked away in a mental institution or at a spa.  Given our finances, an institution seems far more likely.

Who finagled me into this having-children-that-you-love-more-than-life-itself business?  I could be sipping Mai Tais on a beach with my biggest worry being deciding between the conch fritters or the lobster tail for dinner instead of trying to make peace with the terrible predicament of a mother desperately loving three human beings and not being able to protect them from life's dangers.  What worries me most is that in the grand scheme of things, this fainting incident was super minor, and it almost took me down for good.

There's no way I'm going to survive parenthood.