Category Archives: Adventures

What I’m Looking Forward To

I wrote the other week about a few things I’ll miss about living in Australia. Now that we are here longer than we thought we’d be, I’m starting to look forward to the conveniences of the USA. Just like I didn’t intend my “things I’ll miss” posts to sound like complaining, I certainly don’t mean this to either. I love my home here, and I know I’ll love my home there, where ever “there” is.

Parking Spaces: I think there must be a different law in the USA about how many available parking spaces there are for supermarkets and malls. I am always searching for parking, even at 10 a.m., even at 4:30 p.m., even at 7:30 p.m. Monday-Saturday, I’m searching. It was so bad at Christmas that we left the mall without ever finding anything after driving for 30 minutes, giving up our schedule family portrait time. It’s bad every day.

Drive Thru: I’d love to be able to stop at an ATM without getting out of my car. I’d love to be able to pay for gas at the pump without going in to the station. I’d love to give my car a carwash without having to go into the station to pay for it. There are so many conveniences that just aren’t in Australia. Is it wrong for me to not want the grocery store checker to check my card signature? It’s much faster if I don’t have to keep my wallet out. …

Consumer Goods: I needed some more make-up ( foundation): $18 for a small tub. Is it that much in the USA? I stopped to browse at the bookstore: $26.99 for Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin. A few weeks ago, I bought jars of baby food: $1.99 for 170 grams (about 5Â½ oz). Because everything is expensive, there aren’t as many options for consumer goods. I’m looking forward to affordable prices again.

Books: See note above about Consumer Goods.

A New Car: I get to buy myself a car, my car, to last for 5+ years. I’m very excited to go for test drives! (My husband probably won’t get a car until he gets a new job, which we hope is soon, but might not be for a few months yet; we’ve been a one car family for more than a year now and I never thought we could do it.)

Service: Tips are not expected at restaurants. It was nice at first, but I’m really looking forward to some actual service from waitresses or waiters: it’s like they make an effort to ignore us and only come if we look annoyed. It would also be nice to be able to order pizza and have it delivered. I haven’t actually ordered pizza since college, but it’s the fact that I can’t that bothers me!

There are a number of other reasons I’m eager to move back to the USA (namely, family!) but this’ll be all for now.

We may get a departure date soon!

Playing in the Park

Why I’m Still Here

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I’m still in Australia.

Why, you may ask? Good question. Here’s a rambling answer:

USA Client wanted Husband to do Said Project. Australia Client said if USA Client asked politely for Roll-Off (i.e., finding another person to do Husband’s job and sending Husband and family home), then Roll-Off would be in three weeks. Husband agreed to perform Long-Distance Telephone Consulting for Said Project during Roll-Off period. USA Client promptly neglected to ask Australia Client for Roll-Off. After one month of Husband performing Long-Distance Telephone Consulting for Said Project in early Australian hours of morning, Australia Client said to Husband, “No Roll-Off until USA Client asks for you,” and USA Client still didn’t ask Australia Client for stated Roll-Off. Why? Because Long-Distance Telephone Consulting is cheaper than Flying Husband to Virginia each week. So, Husband stopped awaking for 4 a.m. Long-Distance Telephone Consulting for Said Project. Now USA Client for Said Project says “Help, or we’ll find someone else,” Husband says, “Arrange Roll-Off from Australia Client or find someone else,” and Australia Client says “I won’t allow Roll-Off if USA Client doesn’t need you.” So Husband and family are waiting for someone’s mind to be made up. As soon as Said Mind is made up, Roll-Off will happen in about three weeks. Husband and family will then return to USA.

Clear as mud, huh?

“Lime Cordial, Delicious!”

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When my sister and I were young, we watched Mary Poppins almost every day. One favorite part was when Jane, Michael, and Mary were taking their medicine after being caught in the rain.

“Lime cordial, delicious!” says Jane.

“Strawberry, Mmmmmm!” says Michael.

My sister and I would take a spoon, pour water or something in it and pretend it was magicked into delicious lime or strawberry cordial.

This last week, I bought cordial.

Cordial = Kool-Aid.

It was so disgusting. It was so disappointing.

Going Somewhere

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Every recess, my best friend and I ran to The Tree at the back of the playground. We circled it three times and entered our world. Sometimes we escaped a spider’s web. Other times we traveled a tight rope in a circus. We went somewhere together, as long as we walked around that tree.

In the summer, we met in the middle of our street with our bicycles: her bike was red and mine was blue. As soon as we got on them, though, we were no longer school girls but “cops and robbers” or “Gold Medal winners.” As long as we stayed on our bicycles, we went somewhere.

When my friend wasn’t available, my brother and I opened our basement door and walked down. When we reached the third step, we entered Ijona (“ee-john-a”), a world beyond the solar system where my brother was King (I think) and “table” meant “chair.” Sometimes, by the third step, waves would splash our toes. Other times, we searched for the exit in a three-story castle, facing all sorts of challenges on our way. We went somewhere, as long as we reached the third step.

Somehow, though, my worlds — our worlds — disappeared. I learned to drive. I went to college. I got married. I moved 16,000 miles (literally — I moved from Chicago to Australia).

I was going places in life.

And yet, as an adult, I no longer go anywhere. Three steps into the basement only take me three steps down.

I didn’t realize I was missing it.

Last week, my eight-month-old found his reflection in a three-inch metal fixture on his bathtub. One moment he was splashing by himself: the next minute another bald baby was laughing with him.

He was fascinated by the baby. I watched as he leaned forward and tried to push his yellow sailboat through to that other world: the other baby tried to share his yellow sailboat at the same time, and they were unable to share. No matter: my son was happy to giggle together.

Now, every time I put him in the bathtub, I think about his reflection-friend. Will he remember? Will he seek out that magical world that is just waiting to delight him? He’s just now entering a world of infinite creativity.

My days of going places may be past, but now I get to experience a world of creativity through my child. I’m so excited to watch him go places I can now only imagine.

To my son, my daily delight

(True response to June Write-Away Contest “Going Places” at Scribbit.)

What I Will Miss, Part 2

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What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet

I have always loved my given name. It is so beautiful, so complete. I dislike the fact that I never went by it.

I don’t like my nickname.

I tried to go by my given name when I was a teenager. I told the temporary staffing office my given name and I succeeded for three weeks as a receptionist before I forgot and answered the phone with my nickname. In despair, I gave up. I decided I could never remember to refer to myself by my name — the nickname was so ingrained in me.

When we moved to Australia last year, I told my husband, again, that I’ve always wanted to go by my given name. He told me, again, that I should go by it then. Why not? With him as my support system, I have. For the past year, I have been “Rebecca” to everyone I meet. And I love it.

Rebecca is an adult.
Rebecca is a wife.
Rebecca is a mother.
Rebecca is an active, participating member of a ward.
Rebecca cooks dinner for her family.
Rebecca feels competent with her everyday responsibilities.

Whenever someone calls me “Becky,” I think of pigtails. I imagine my buck teeth. I feel insecure again.

Becky is a little girl.
Becky reads The Babysitters Club.
Becky is afraid of the stove and cries at the thought of cooking.
Becky sits by herself, secretly wondering why no one is her friend.

Now, whenever I do something dumb, I hear myself say in my head, “That was dumb, Becky.” Every other time, I refer to myself, in my thoughts, as Rebecca. I love being Rebecca. I finally feel like me.

At some point in the coming month (still no departure date), I’ll leave all the people who know me as Rebecca. I’m returning to a place where everyone calls me Becky. I am very sad to leave my identity here in Australia. I’ll never feel like myself again, completely.

I know, I can continue clarifying my name for everyone I re-meet for the rest of my life. But some people have already made it clear to me that they don’t intend to even try to remember that I’m Rebecca now.

Sigh. I love my name. Why can’t anyone else remember what it actually is?

Note: If someone you know signs their name in a particular way or calls themselves by a particular name, why wouldn’t you refer to them that way? I just don’t get it.

ETA: To all reading this post, please understand that I don’t mean to offend anyone! My purpose in writing this post was to show that there is something I’ll miss when I return to the USA from Australia, going by Rebecca, and that when I return to the USA, I will be fighting to be Rebecca instead of Rebecca-by-default. I sorry if that offends you; offense was not intended.

Photos from the Past: Train Ride to Melbourne

What I Will Miss

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One sunny 50-degree winter day last July, I walked to the supermarket. I was 7 months pregnant and brand-new to the country. Outside of the supermarket fly six Australian flags. As I walked by the first of the flags, the flags flapped in a light breeze. I looked up to see a beautiful, blue-sky backdrop for the Australian flag. I decided then that I was home, and I loved it.

Today I walked up to the supermarket again, as I have many times in the past months. It is now fall, and I crunched leaves as I walked down the street, pushing my almost eight-month-old in the stroller. As I walked under the flags, I felt a sense of sadness: I’m leaving.

What I will miss: Being 10 minutes from the temple.

The temple is open for about four sessions a day Wednesday through Saturday, and it is such a lovely, friendly temple. Saturday morning at 9:25, I decided to go to a session. I made the 10 a.m. session (I don’t like to rush to get ready; it just worked out well this week). I will miss being so close.

What I will miss: Being a short drive from mountains and empty fields and little traffic.

Sunday afternoon we went for a drive. We didn’t go anywhere in particular: we just drove. Because we live where we do, we could drive for 10 minutes and be away from traffic, among fields with cattle grazing. It is so lovely here. I will miss the scenery of Australia.

What I will miss: My husband walking to and from the train station every day.

My husband comes home every night. When we return to the USA, he’ll go back to flying to his work Monday and returning home Thursday. We’re obviously looking at other options; I’ve been spoiled by his presence this year. I will really miss being so close to a train line, with his job on the end of it.

Sigh. Still no departure date, but it is certainly going to happen.

Two Years

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I meant to post this yesterday, but didn’t get the chance. It’s written as if it still were May 20. Since it’s still May 20 in the USA, I guess I can still count it.

Two years ago, my 100-day engagement drew to a close. May 20, 2006 was such a perfect day for me: I had a pleasant breakfast with friends and family, a lovely wedding, and a perfect reception. It was the perfect beginning to our perfect marriage.

Don’t get me wrong: we’re not perfect. And life has its regular ups and downs. But I very happy now, two years later. I am looking forward to the next 48 years! I’ve decided we’re going to live to celebrate 50 years together. My husband tells me that it isn’t very long and I’m going to be very surprised when we actually are celebrating 50 years. We’ll see.

We celebrated by getting our temple recommends renewed. How wonderful that we can be worthy to enter that glorious building!

I am so grateful for my husband, who already believes I’m the woman I some day hope to be.

Procrastination

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“Let’s go to lunch next week instead of this week.” I say to my friend. “Or we could go the week after that if it’s better.”
Why don’t we invite our visiting teaching sisters for lunch next month? This month is so busy.”
“Oh, I’ll read that book later,” I tell myself. “I can always renew it.”
“I’ll do a major pantry clean out next month,” I tell myself.
“We’ll go to the temple next Saturday.”
“I’ll take my Sunday School class members treats next week.”
“We can always see New Zealand on the next family vacation. Let’s just take a short trip this time.”
“No, we’ll go see Tasmania next month. Let’s stay home this weekend.”

And then we get a call: We want you to come to a new assignment in three weeks. In New Jersey. Nothing for certain yet, but will you plan for it?

Obviously, three weeks is impossible for an international move. But all of a sudden, the next weeks are limited; the next months are gone.

Last June, we entered Australia on a three-year visa. The project’s paperwork said through “September 2008,” but we hoped for two full years. I figured I’d have a walking and talking little boy. I figured we’d have visited all of Victoria and parts of Tasmania and New Zealand and maybe Sydney and the Gold Coast and maybe Ayers Rock. I figured our savings account would have grown (although those two dreams don’t really follow, a girl can dream!). I figured the housing market wasn’t going to tank and that the dollar would be worth a little more when we transferred our money back. I figured I had more time before I had to move my home across the globe again. I figured I could enjoy being cozy in our new home.

Of course, I am excited to be near family again, within a four-hour flight of both sets of my baby’s grandparents and all of my baby’s aunts and uncles. I’m excited to be able to get more variety in terms of consumer goods. I’m excited that things will cost less (relatively). I’m excited to choose a new car for myself. I’m excited to re-enter summer. I’m excited I might be able to go to my friend’s wedding in August. I’m excited that my family might actually call me when my phone number isn’t international. I’m excited that I don’t have to wonder how long we’ll be here (things have been a question mark for a few months).

But now I realize I have to start all over again: the third home and the third ward and the third search for friends in two years of marriage.

I’m realizing now that I shouldn’t have procrastinated being a friend. I shouldn’t have procrastinated making home cozy for my family. The end can, and does, come at any time.

What are you procrastinating? What “end” do you dread (and/or hope for at the same time)?

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Thoughts on womanhood and motherhood