It's Definitely Not Easy . . .

Since I'm trying to keep it real, I thought I would write about some of the harder things.

Matt has been working really hard at his new job.  With a new company comes new culture (on top of the new country culture), new co-workers, and new expectations.  He's been putting in a lot of hours during the week, and usually has 1-2 nights a week where he doesn't get home until after 10:30 PM.  He does breakfast with the kids every morning, and usually walks them to school at least once a week, and that has been great.  But without fail there seems to be a witching hour between 5-7:30 PM when Matt is still working hard at the office (or on his way home) that the kids are all demanding of me at once.  I do not think this is drastically different than Bellevue, but somehow it's a bit more lonely and overwhelming.  

James is either starving or tired or both, but I'm trying to get dinner for the rest of the crew.  Often, as I'm beginning meal prep, one of the kids will ask what is for dinner and then roll their eyes in disgust or sigh or groan.  Which usually leaves me stunned because hey, you liked (fill in the blank with a totally standard meal like spaghetti & meatballs) last time I made it.  I'm trying to teach Danny and Kaylee more about cooking, so they are taking turns being either my sous chef or cleanup crew every night.  The long term benefits of this will be awesome.  But for the moment it often means there is spilled something or a cut finger or a burnt whatever making the entire meal prep a lengthier ordeal.  Without fail at 5:50 one of my children is suddenly starving for a snack.  We have reviewed that there will not be snacks after 5:00 (we eat dinner between 6:30 and 7:00), but evidently either I am not consistent with this or they forget every day.  

Once we sit down to dinner I breathe for a moment, proud that we have succeeded in this.  But it is not uncommon that there is another complaint or a negotiation about what must be eaten.  And then my usual evening feelings of failure begin creeping in.  Why have I allowed my kids to become picky eaters?  Why can't they use utensils in a normal fashion?  How have I neglected to teach better table manners?  Why do I let them negotiate?  Why does ___ still think it's OK to eat with their fingers? Why does ____ think 3 tiny slivers of lettuce counts as a serving of lettuce?  I am totally failing as a mother.  My child is going to be at college or on a mission and eat their lettuce with their fingers.  I have failed.

Usually there is some happy conversation during dinner discussing the days events.  Then the kids disappear and it looks somewhat like a tornado hit.  Yes, they have cleared their plates.  But there is still a mess.  A mess from cooking.  A mess from spilled food.  A mess from eating.  My cleanup crew comes in to assist, but sometimes the giving of assignments is more work than just doing it myself.  

James is still unhappy.  And I realize it is now time for Abby to be in bed too, but she hasn't picked up toys yet and still needs a bath.  And I also promised dessert.  I get the baby ready for bed.  I get the girls into the tub.  I put the baby to bed.  I realize my son has been on his tablet for a long time (Terrible mom - too much media!).  Tell him to get off.  Get girls out of the bath and Abby to bed.  How is it already 8 PM?  I make the older kids pick up all the toys (even though they didn't get them out) in exchange for one show (Terrible mom - I used to have a no TV on school nights rule but somehow I forgot about it or the older kids wore me down about it).  

While the kids are watching their earned show I look at the remaining mess in the kitchen, then at the huge pile of laundry on the sofa, and I sit down and do neither for 10 minutes.  Because I am just so tired already and there are two more kids that need to go to bed.  In the end it all works out. Everyone makes it to bed and Matt makes it home.   

This witching hour and exhaustion of flying solo in the evening is not country specific. In fact this is the norm for many, many people.  But for me, it's been a huge adjustment with this move.  I took for granted Matt's short commute and was ridiculously spoiled last year to have him home 3 months for paternity leave.  Now M-F I am almost always on duty solo from 5-7:30.  It wears me down. 

The other recent challenge has been the kids.  The novelty of being the new kids has worn off a bit, and now both are trying to navigate the challenges of finding real friends.  Particularly Danny, who is an extremely outgoing and social kid, has been struggling.  At bedtime and in the mornings he tells me how left out he feels, like he doesn't belong.  He tells me he wants to move back to Washington. How he misses his friends.  After school it always seems to be a different story - he seems a lot happier and tells me about who he played with or what he did at recess.  But back in the comfort of his own room, he'll open up about just how hard the move has been on him and how much he's aching.  It has given us some teaching opportunities about being a friend and listening and praying to Heavenly Father for comfort.  But wow is it hard when your kid, particularly the one that you did not expect to struggle so much, is hurting. **** 

I feel confident in our decision to move here.  I know this is where we need to be right now in our lives.  But there are some hard, hard things mixed in with the adventure and fun of it all.


****I wrote this post in mid-March, but debated for a long time about posting it since it felt like me venting more than anything.  I decided since the blog is sort of a journal of our time here in London, I'd go ahead and post it.  Since originally writing it, Danny's experience has improved significantly.  He is certainly still adjusting, but has much more enthusiasm day to day about going to school and friends at both church and school.  We are still searching for a really good friend, but making progress.  Answered prayers for sure!