England Is Not A Vacation

I am sitting in the kitchen of Andrew’s cousin, Shameen. Shameen lives in this beautiful refurbished old castle with her husband Jim and their four children, Max, Tess, Nathan and Rowan. My boys are ecstatic. The house is perfect for playing hide-and-seek in the dark. When you think you have gotten to the end of the house, it keeps going. It is easy for all of us to be quietly enjoying our space in the house and not run into each other. Although, the kitchen can be the busiest and most popular area of the house.

Outside, the grass is green and the house is surrounded by a wood of trees and bushes and a little boy’s exploring heaven. It is often raining here and the cold goes straight to the bone. I wear my scarf and hat inside on occasions. Hot tea and hot chocolate are a must. The boys (all 3) and I have enjoyed sleeping in, leisurely morning breakfast and tea, and relaxing in our pjs until around noon. After a shower, we then slip outside to the car and go for a drive to breathe in the brisk air and let the Scottish scenery feed our souls. It feels like Colorado and it makes us miss it even more than before. The past 2 days, we had warmth and sunshine on our drive. A perfect backdrop to the magical scenery. This is exactly what I needed. I needed to get away and disappear in a novel without thinking about my job and the stresses in England. Sigh…Ahhhh….

Those of you who are jealous of someone who has moved to a different country need to look around at their own backyards and remember where you are and what you have. I love England as much as any. I have always been romanticized by the beauty, the royalty, the history, and the lush green rolling hills dotted with sheep and a steaming cup of tea with biscuits. This is the England I love and have visited often. The romanticized England is on vacation.

When we moved here, I was getting used to the language, the differences in how to ask or explain about something I needed. I was learning how to drive on the left side of the road. I was catching myself saying, “that is weird, or that is strange.” Until I caught myself being redundant and decided I should say, “that is different.” The other sounded cold and judgmental. I feel comfortable now going in to the stores to buy groceries or paying for gas. I have even compared prices with different stores and know which store I should go to get the items I am looking for. I have the routine down and feel comfortable navigating my way to soccer practice, games, and weekly agendas.

Life is routine, that is what it comes down to. I like the routine. It is dependable and mindless. But routine, and mindlessness is not vacationing. England is our place or residence right now and we do not drink in the scenery or live the life of a queen. My coworker, Kelley, said the other day, that we need to remember to stop and smell the roses – she had just given me a bouquet of flowers with 2 small red roses. It was good advice. I had forgot to smell the roses. I have been living the life of duty and obligation.

On the weekends, our family does our weekly chores of cleaning house, doing laundry, going to soccer practices and games, occasionally making it to church, and getting ourselves ready for the school/work week just in time to live out the week and then start it all over again. Maybe your family has this same routine. Ours is not different really we just happen to live in a different place.

This school year has stretched me more than I can remember. It is not the curriculum that I am teaching since it is quite similar to the one back home. It is not the kids really since kids are the same wherever you go. It is not the staff since there are good people to work with wherever you go. It is the planning for 30 kids with amazing expectations and fewer resources. But even then I cannot put my finger on it. I don’t know what it is really. I feel like I am under a microscope but no one has said if what I am doing is right or wrong or even in the ballpark. I just keep plugging along in hope of feedback and praise or even critique. I just wonder what people think. I have been more of a police officer than a teacher which has been disappointing since my heart is in teaching. I want to do a good job and so I keep on.

Outside of school, the boys and I are an American accent haven. We love each other and take all our frustrations out on the people closest and most important in our lives – each other. I guess the culture does play into our frustration and mostly the boys miss their friends. They hate being “the kid from America.” They just want to blend in and mess around with school friends that they have known since kindergarten. This loneliness would be the same if we had moved to Washington DC. It might be more acute here but then maybe not. We are enjoying the experiences that we have. We do not diminish the amazing opportunities that our children and we are experiencing. But we also miss home. It is not a vacation but we don’t feel like it is home either. So in some ways we are caught in between.

Nothing is harder on a mother than watching your children hurt, struggle, and cry. I’m trying to be tuned in to the difficulties that my children are facing and separate the anger from the sadness and the hurt from the joy. It is a strange place for our family to be. I do not regret the move but I know it is harder and more difficult than I would have imagined. Life is funny really. If we were back home, things would be changing as well. Nothing stays the same. I guess it is how you deal with the changes and how well you take the time to smell the roses. There are flowers in everyone’s life. You just have to stop, breathe it in and exhale.