Remain homeless or no?

  I (we) have been struggling with whether or not to buy a house back in the US.  We are currently on our first assignment in NZ and gearing up to bid for our second post. Of course, we have no idea where our second post will be but we do know it will involve consular training in DC. Thus, home leave plus training and possible language training following. So, we could be looking at up to a year in the States before our next post.

  Is this long enough to justify buying a house? Oh, yeah, and we want to buy one in North Carolina-where we lived last. It is a scary prospect. The boys and I will live away from Dad for the duration so that they boys can go back to their old school in NC and have a sense of belonging to a community.

  As most State Department families know, it is nice to think of having your own place to go back to for R&R and home leave instead of cramming the family into a hotel or grandma's couches. But is the expense and worry worth it? Can it be justified when you are going to leave it vacant for most of the time? The town we are from doesn't exactly have a thriving rental climate plus, I don't like the idea of people being in "my" house when I am not there.

  We have always been nomads even before the State Department and have bought and sold 5 homes in 5 communities over 15 years and never thought of them as investments, they were simply our home.  I cannot believe how conflicted I am about this decision. Most spouses I have asked thought it was a no brainer. Of course I should buy a house back in the States if my husband was on board.  Many spouses I speak to long to go back to the States and have a sense of "normalcy" for their kids. Maybe it's because I am new at this, but I look at it differently. Yes, I do miss things about the States and I love it there but this is the life we chose. When we decided to leave corporate America and all the material things associated with it, we knew it would be difficult and different. We knew we just signed ourselves up to disrupting our children's lives every 2 to 3 years until they left for college. We knew we would live wherever the State Department decided we would live and have ugly curtains if that was what was in the cards for us (just had to get that in).  Now, we are talking about trying to recapture a little bit of what we had back in the States. A safe, comforting place to go back to if there is trouble where we are posted.

  I dunno, I really don't. Surely renting a place can be a better decision during these uncertain economic times? But, then, we wouldn't have a home that we could go back to every time. If we bought a house now, it would be paid for by the time we retired - a bonus. I guess I need to think about it a little more.

My kid is running to South America

 
When Morgan first told me that he wanted to go to South America with his school's Rugby Team I was a bit confused. First of all, he wasn't on the Rugby Team.  In fact, he had never even played rugby before in his life. Second of all, what the heck would a high school rugby team from New Zealand be doing in South America?  "Um hm.  Alright honey, sounds like fun".  Then he brought home the flyer.

  As it turns out, his school's team does in fact go to South America in July for a tournament. They play in Chile, Uruguay and Argentina. It did not even warrant contemplating. There was no way I was going to send my little boy (he's 14 and 6'2" tall) to the other side of the world and play the roughest sport I've ever seen. The fact that it was going to cost $6,000 was another deal breaker. No way.
 
  Then the lobbying started.  From Dad. I thought he was insane. He actually thought this was a great idea. I think he was more excited than Morgan. I was not going to be swayed. Then the earthquake happened and I checked out for a bit. Everyone in the house knew not to upset Mom so they kept things from me. When the permission slips came home from school they were diverted to Dad. The deal was done. However, they forgot one crucial element, I have control of the checkbook.

  Ha! "Well, I understand why you want to go and I can see your point but there is no way I am paying for it", I said. "Ok, we will pay for half if you can earn enough money to pay for the other half".  Yes, I know I am the ultimate push over but he still had to make the team and earn $3,000 so I wasn't worried.  As it turns out he's not a bad rugby player. In fact, he's good. Crap.  Well, there's no way a 14 year old can earn $3000 in 4 months. He doesn't have a work visa and there aren't really any lawns to mow.

  My next lesson was to never underestimate the cleverness of a teenager on a mission. Morgan decided he was going to run the Wellington Marathon in June and ask for sponsorships. Very clever. He wrote up his pitch letter and raided our email contacts. We know quite a few runners and good friends who would be willing to sponsor a gutsy kid who promised to run 26.2 miles during the windiest and wettest month in New Zealand. But, could he get enough people to believe in him and want to give him money for it? I mean, he wasn't exactly asking for money for a charity. He was asking for money for a once in a lifetime trip for a KID.

  So far he has $2100 in pledges. I can't believe it. Granted, grandparents chipped in heavily but I was amazed at the response. He even started a blog of his journey, set up a donation site and promised to send postcards to each and every sponsor. You can view his blog here.  I am still an over-worried Mom but I cannot help but be proud. Now he just has to finish!

Can your kids have a normal life in the Foreign Service?

  When we were contemplating this life change, one of our biggest worries was that we wouldn't be able to give our kids a traditional American upbringing. They had become accustomed to playing outside, walking to their friends' houses and enjoying the freedom that comes along with living in a sleepy little suburban village. They walked to elementary school, their soccer games were essentially in our back yard (the fields were that close) and I never had to drive anyone to a play date since there were @ 20 kids in our cul de sac, half of which were near the same age as my own boys. Bliss.

  Looking back to my own childhood I realized I didn't always have that. My parents were divorced and we moved often. By the time I was 17 I had had 23 "homes" and 8 different schools. I turned out ok, right? My husband also lived a somewhat nomadic life as a child. Born in Scotland, moved to Germany, shipped back to Scotland for boarding school, then India, then back to Scotland. So, our sense of normal was a bit different.

Rather than go into the details of how it is possible to raise great kids and give them a "normal" childhood, I threw together some pictures.  After all, they are worth a thousand words right?

They get new school clothes

Go to the airport

Try new shops

Have birthday parties with new friends

Play Monopoly Kiwi Style

Check out the web

Go to school

Make new friends from different cultures

Have a track and field day with their mates (this boy is a class mate of Ewan's and our neighbor)

Win the long jump (ok, 2nd place) 

Go to the beach

Go on hikes

Endure their parent's boring cook outs 

Play soccer

Take Guitar lessons

Play in their school band

So, yeah, it is possible to have a "normal childhood", only better.

My Love/Hate relationship with NZ.

  Most of the time I love New Zealand. It's a pretty sweet first posting for a family with middle and high school aged children.  At Flag Day, when I found out that we were being sent here, I cried tears of relief.  Then, the earthquake hit and I cried tears of frustration. My feelings toward my new temporary home can only be described now as bipolar.

Yesterday I marvelled looking at Lake Rotorua where we had rented a Bach (cabin) for a few days of R & R over the Easter Holiday.  After digesting the tranquil beauty of the place it took me half a second to remind myself that it was crated by a super volcano that erupted 240,000 years ago. You could say I am a glass is half empty kind of person right now when it comes to Mother Nature and New Zealand. Reminding myself that 240,000 years was a very long time ago, I was determined to put that thought in the back of my mind and enjoy the week. We scored the best view on the lake after all.

  Not to be deterred by the terrible weather that followed us, we ventured out to discover all that Rotorua had to offer. Our first stop was the spectacular Rotorua Museum which was once a healing center offering mineral and mud baths to optimistic visitors.

  Since it was Easter, they devised a clever game to make sure the younger visitors saw every exhibit on display.  Each child was given a clip board with clues on it. Each clue could be found somewhere in the museum. Once you found the clue, you got to check it off of your list. If you spotted the "Easter Bunny" in your search, you would be entered int o a special drawing for a spectacular prize. I have no idea what that prize is, but Ewan and I had fun running around the entire museum looking for the clues. I especially enjoyed the exhibit about Tarawera. Tarawera was "one of the worst recorded natural disasters in New Zealand history. Over 150 people died under the ash and mud that rained down on the district on that fateful night, and entire villages disappeared forever" according to the placard.  This happened on June 10, 1886. Uh, that's not that long ago. Tarawera was just one of the many volcanoes that dotted area.

  The next day we went to the site which is now a tourist attraction. The Buried Village of Te Wairoa was a thriving town back then thanks to the tourist industry fueled by the nearby pink and white terraces.  Sadly, they were buried in lava and mud as well. I would have liked to have seen them. While walking through the village you really can imagine what life was like back then. It certainly was a spectacular place to build a village, except for the massive volcano disguised as a peaceful mountain lurking in the background. Then, unexpectedly, we were treated to a magnificent waterfall that took my breath away. There she goes, reeling me back in.

  Our last night in Rotorua was for me. I had been dying to go to a Maori Hangi (dinner) since arriving and would not be denied. Nobody really wanted to go and balked about the 3 hour time requirement but it was well worth it. For a thorough explanation of the evening you can read about it on Adrian's blog. I will just tell you that the entertainment was brilliant, the costumes, very convincing and the food...not as bad as I expected. Besides, where else can you see an authentic Haka?

One step forward, two steps back.

                           Me and Morgan enjoying the Sun           Boat houses along Evan's Bay

  Yesterday was a beautiful day in Wellington. We enjoyed a nice brunch on the waterfront, took a walk to take some photographs along the bay and enjoyed the glorious sunshine.  Little did we know that the Cantabrians were again reeling from a horrendous aftershock.  It seems you really can never let your guard down in New Zealand.


  Needless to say, last night I repacked the emergency bag, checked batteries, assessed the water and portable food situation and make sure coats and shoes were waiting by the front door. I have packed all the things I wish I had with me in Christchurch and have planned today to mail our irreplaceable photographs back to the States. Unfortunately, that means back to either North Carolina (tornadoes) or Florida (hurricane season approaching). The earth seems really angry right now.

  It has been almost two months since the big earthquake and I have been able to spend some time with a few fellow survivors that are here in Wellington, most work at the Embassy. We talk about where we were, how we got to the Antarctic Center and how we are coping now. They are not all coping well. Some still jump when they hear loud noises. We all feel tremors when there is a quake on the North Island, we dream about earthquakes and some unlucky ones have physical manifestations of the stress. I spoke to one woman who said she sometimes just sits and cries. I understand.

  One revelation that some of us shared is how insignificant we are. Not to our families, of course, but in general.  We are ants in a massive anthill.  We are all refocused on what really and truly matters. Personally, I unfriended a boatload of Facebook friends. I have friends on there that I've never even met but are a distant relative or the mom of one of Ewan's soccer buddies from South Dakota that I don't remember but didn't want to be rude to by not friending. Well. I don't really have time for them anymore. I have real friends to love and talk to.

  In today's newspaper there was a story about a Christchurch woman who tried to kill herself and her two children by gassing them in the car. All survived.  Can you imagine the grief that led her to that? If you would have asked me two months ago, I would have said no. The constant vigilance is exhausting. Just leaving the house to take a child to school is an ordeal. I need my cellphone (fully charged), flashlight, pocket knife, matches, candles, water, granola bars, sturdy shoes, warm clothes, rain coat, passport, external hard drive for laptop ( All of the things we took to Christchurch two months ago are still in the hotel there including Adrian's computer with 1000s of photos and documents on it), cash (ATMs will not work in a quake), first aid kit, etc. The list can go on forever. When you run from your house or work or wherever, you leave with what you have on your back or what you can manage to grab on your way out. You may never be allowed into your house again. I regret bringing so much stuff with me.

  Perhaps most disappointing was the lack of support I felt from the medical community.  You really are on your own sometimes. Nobody is going to hold your hand and make sure you are ok. Nobody is going to make appointments for you when you are trying to get through a day without having a panic attack and nobody, I mean nobody who wasn't in the same situation, is going to understand why you just aren't over it yet or why you absolutely cannot go to a restaurant downtown.

  How can you get over it when you have 17 more major and minor quakes and aftershocks within a 48 hour period (http://www.geonet.co.nz/) ? I dunno but it really makes my latest attempt at weight loss and healthy lifestyle a bit insignificant.  There was something strangely comforting about spaghetti for breakfast today.

Losing weight one measly pound at a time.

  Well, I didn't exactly break any records with the exercise bit but I did manage to lose 2 lbs by giving up alcohol and Doritos.  I have decided that Saturday nights are not applicable. That is the one day a week I don't have to feel guilty.

  Today I plan on biking 12 miles. Not because I want to but because Morgan has to run 12 as part of his marathon training and needs a coach today (Dad is working- yes, on a Sunday. He worked yesterday too) and I can't run that far so I am going to bike it with him.

  If I can sustain 2lbs a week, I think I am in good shape to be fit for winter (summer in the USA).

  It is really hard to stay on track when you have a teen aged boy in the house who requires large amounts of food.  It is just too easy to fill the cupboards with chewy bars and chips instead of chopping up carrot sticks and fruit.  Plus, eating healthy is really expensive.  I am saving @ $50 a week though by cutting out the red wine.

  It would have been easier if I were one of those women who lost weight when they were stressed out. I could be a waif by now but instead the earthquake stress just gave me a rash and 5 extra pounds.  Not cool.

Getting strong and fit.

  It is no secret that I am unfit. This is not acceptable.  I used to be an athlete.  I've run two half marathons and countless 5ks and 10ks.  Somewhere along the line in the chaos of the last 2 years, I have given myself permission to become my worst nightmare, unfit and middle aged. Frumpy.  While I cannot control my age, I can control my fitness level. 

  When I was waiting in the Botanical Gardens in Christchurch, after the earthquake, I was facing a night sleeping on the ground with no pillow, blanket or red wine.  It seemed impossible.  Luckily, I was able to get our before nightfall so sleeping on the ground was not necessary but I was surprised by what my reaction was. I was thinking about how my back was going to hurt, how my feet were hurting, stomach (acid), _____fill in the blank.  I am a mess and it is my own fault.

  My husband and I decided to make this life change and knew it would be challenging but I was very naive about it. Not only do you have to be mentally prepared to live in a foreign country, you should also be physically prepared.  Along with new languages, you are exposed to new allergens, bugs, germs and terrain (HILLS EVERYWHERE !)  Luckily, I have a good immune system so have been spared most of the ailments afflicting many of the Americans at post but the hills in Wellington are kicking my butt.  I love walking and hiking but am not fit enough to keep up with even the old and infirm.  This has to change. 

  My husband and I have vowed (again) to get in shape starting yesterday. So, you may want to avoid this blog for a bit, it is going to get boring.  The next 3 months of posts will be for me, as an online account of my progress or lack of.  I am not going to post my weight or how much I intend to lose but will post if I lose or gain any.  And, if I reach my goal weight, I will confess my starting weight.

 Day one: (yesterday)- Quit sneaking cigarettes. We're not fooling anyone anyway.  Limit myself to a glass of wine with dinner only when dining out.  No chocolate or potato chips (I ate Doritos)

Day two:  (today) No Doritos.  Go for long walk. 

See you  tomorrow.