Homesickness .... it's truly a bitch.

I've been pretty homesick in the last couple of weeks, it hit one Friday and didn't shift for a few days and I've then had the odd day here or there where it's descended on me without warning. What I have learnt is that there's no point fighting it, no amount of internal pep talks or being all Pollyanna about it will help - when the homesickness hits, the only way to deal with it is to talk it through and let it wash over you (preferably at the same time as a glass of wine washes over you - alchohol may not be the answer but after a glass or two of wine, who gives a toss about the question!) I'm lucky that I live where I do, there's a huge Pom ex-pat community here so every 2nd person will have been through what I'm going through, which makes it easier to talk to people about. I'm also lucky enough to have friends here that I can text when it's all a bit bleuuggh and say 'you know what I should be cleaning/tidying today but can we bin that off and have coffee instead' (I'm very lucky that I have chosen friends who regard housework with enough loathing that they'll drop their plans for bleaching the loo to come and eat cake with me too!) I sent one text last Wednesday, to a friend from school (as in 'one of Jakob's school friend's Mum', not as in 'I went to school with her') asking how she'd dealt with the homesickness (they've been here 5 years, originally from 'oop North, UK) within a few minutes not only had she replied with an amazing amount of good advice/her own experiences but, I later found out, had then texted 3 other mutual friends to tell them I was homesick and they then all rallied round. It was kind of a defining  moment and one which truly showed me that I *do* have friends here, and that though my default setting is 'internalise and try and deal with things alone', admitting that I'm sad every so often isn't wrong and it certainly doesn't mean I'll be on the next flight back to the UK, it just means I'm still adjusting to life here. The upshot of it all is that I spent a happy Friday afternoon with some friends, drinking wine, watching the kids play together and generally feeling a lot more me like than I had at the beginning of the week.

I think the problem with homesickness is that it hits when you least expect it, I'd managed nearly 6 months without finding it too hard being so far from home.I think that emigrating is always harder for the people you leave behind to start with. When we landed here we were too busy getting a life (literally - house/phones/school/car etc) to give much thought to how much we missed home.  Everyone we left behind was having to get used to us not being where we should be. Over here we were in holiday mode, in a rental house by the sea, enjoying the local wine and generally discovering all the cool stuff about Hawkes Bay. Then we moved, the kids were settled in school/kindy and then it all became 'real life' and we had time to process the move we'd made. That seems to be the point at which everyone at home has got used to you not being there and other people, entirely naturally, slip in to the space you've left and life moves on for everyone. That's when it hit me, we're here, they're there and there's a frickin' massive expanse of planet between us.

So, this was my first blip in an otherwise amazing adventure.I'm not going to dress it up, without the friends I've made here I'd probably have taken to my bed in a darkened room and tried to sleep through the heart wrenching feeling of being so far from home BUT I didn't, I went out, I saw friends and I talked about it and it really helped. What have I learnt? That homesickness is a bitch, a big tear inducing bitch who hides round corners and happy slaps you when you least expect her. I've learnt that people come though for you if you give them a chance and admit you're struggling, I've also learnt that however hard it's been the last couple of weeks, a lot of good's come out of it. I realise that I'm part of a nice circle of people here, which isn't a place I thought I'd get to here in NZ, I probably kept people at arm's reach because, hey, I'm 38, I'm not good at making new friends (which reminds me of a card my Mum sent me once, which stated on the front 'does not mix well with others' with a picture of pouting stroppy child on the front!) Last thing I've learnt? That you can be homesick *and* happy, and that's the most important lesson of all.  

6 months in ..... what's with the sandals?

Wow, 6 months in and I'm only just getting time to sit and write an update, time really has flown by. It's now mid winter here and so far it's been much the same as a UK summer, maybe dare I say it, a little sunnier! We're in our own home now, have been reunited with all our belongings, we've got a pet cat and the kids are settled in school and kindy. Jakob's made the hockey team and has soccer practice once a week, Ol's eagerly awaiting starting school in August and Leni's happy to be wherever her brothers are. The journey here seems to have been so quick and yet, when I look back on life over the past year, it seems to have been a long process to get where we are now.

So, where are we now? Well, we're part of a lovely community here, something which has really helped with our settling in process - everyone knows someone who can help you out somehow, that's very much the kiwi way of life, they're welcoming, helpful and eager for you to fall in love with their beautiful country. And we have, we've only seen a small part of this place so far but every where you look there's something amazing to see. We live in the shadow of Te Mata and there's not a day goes by when the view of the mountains here don't make me take a sharp intake of breath with their awesomeness. The pacific ocean is on our doorstep and the wild beauty of it never fails to soothe my soul when I'm feeling particularly homesick. All that aside, it still feels very new and slightly off kilter being here, we left a life filled with incredible people back home, this move was never powered by a need to leave people behind, we were blessed to have amazing families and beautiful friendships so the leaving them bit was the hardest part of the whole process. That said, we still have those people in our lives, it's just not as easy to get a hug, or a soothing cup of tea and 'it'll be alright' pep talk anymore, though skype and some good friends have saved my sanity by moments!

We arrived in high summer and having stepped onto a plane at Heathrow wearing a fleece, Uggs and many jumpers (it was snowing!) to being spat out of our climate controlled 747 into the heat of Auckland International meant the kids and I were slightly shell shocked on arrival. Factor in a journey which started with me being pee'd on before our plane taxied away from Heathrow (thanks Leni), had a mid point which featured being puked on by Jakob, seeing a cockroach the size of my hand in Kuala Lumpur and finished with me tearfully remembering I had some baby food in my backpack when I went through the (very stringent) MAF controls at the airport and you can see why next time we do that journey, we're doing a stopover somewhere to break it up a bit! Still, the family were back together after 5 weeks of Mr T being here before us and that was all that mattered to me, real life could take a running jump at this point, I was just glad to see the kids with their Dad again. 

We decided a long while before that Hawkes Bay was where we wanted to be and luckily it all worked out with jobs/rental house etc. We're pretty rural here, something which my jet lagged brain registered vaguely on our road trip down here - there's a whole lot of mountain and single lane roads to get to HB! You're more likely to encounter a logging truck than a petrol station on the Thermal Explorer Highway, it's beautiful, rugged, isolated and has more impressive scenery than any I've seen anywhere before. And I think that's the thing that NZ gives me, every day, every where I go, there's all this scenery, almost assaulting your eyes, like you can't quite take it all in at once. At no point have I taken a photo that can do it justice, I look at the photos and think 'No, it was bigger and more beautiful than that' and until you see this place,  you can't imagine the scale or accessibility of it all. There are beaches here that if they were at home would be heaving with people, but we're often the only ones there because right round the corner, there's another beach and so on and so on. 

That's the upside of it all here - the space, the freedom and the life we can give the kids just wouldn't be possible at home. We've had to balance that with how hard it is to be so far from everyone we love and yet, despite bouts of homesickness, this is where we need to be and this is where the kids are thriving, changing and growing before our eyes. The boys have kiwi accents, and their attitudes are very kiwi now (as in, there's less of a sense of fear here - kids climb trees at school, run round like lunatics at lunchtime and are allowed to be slightly more feral than I'm used to from home) The school don't seem to expect the kids to sit still and not run round, when the bell rings for the end of school the classroom doors fly open and the kids pour out - running, jumping, rolling, play fighting and carrying some form of ball (mostly rugby, this place is obsessional - Kris made a joke to a friend of Jakob's that Richie McCaw isn't that great a player and was met with an indignant response) In the summer 50% of the kids at school don't wear shoes, the other half wear leather sandals the like of which I haven't encountered since my own school days. That's the other thing that's surprised me - the high school kids wearing uniform vaguely reminiscent of the 1950s, the boys wear shorts (all year round, even in biting wind and rain, they all wear shorts) and knee socks with clumpy shoes in the winter, or those ever present leather sandals in the summer. The girls get to wear school dresses, jumpers and the same clumpy black shoes/leather sandals as the boys. There's nothing like seeing a sullen 15 year old boy walking along trying to look cool in knee socks and ugly shoes to make you giggle. 

This is my moment, this is my perf .... oh shut the fuck up Martine, what do you know?

We all have defining moments, moments that even years later you can remember exactly where & when you were when you made a decision that shapes you, or something happens that changes your life forever. Mine will forever be played out in my mind with me stood in the kitchen of our rental house in NZ on valentine's day, realising that I had a split second to make a decision that would decide what path the children and I will take in life (well, until they're 18 and then they get to have their own defining moments, right now, they're included in mine, like it or not!)  The view from the window will be etched on my mind forever as I stood and tried to make a decision about whether we could stay here, whether we could leave everyone and everything and make it work here. After all the planning, the tears, the money, the horrific 24 hour flight, here it is, my life,  reduced to a split second decision.

I'm not a gambler by nature, but I'm taking a huge gamble on New Zealand being the best thing for all of us - as a family, as a couple and for me. I've had my foundations rocked a bit (appropriate given that we live on the shaky island) but I'm putting my faith in God's own land (a name an old kiwi I met on Marine parade the other used, I think I like it!) and I'm hoping that faith is repaid.

This place gets under your skin, it makes you feel fresh and alive, whilst also making you feel insignificant with it's wild, immense beauty.  If you ever have a big decision to make my advice is to fly here, sit looking out at Napier bay and make that decision. It strips away those feelings of being a bit too big for your boots, it makes you realise that in the big scheme of things, you and your problems are really rather minor. The upshot to my soul searching? Well, that I'm here & I'm staying here. I've choosen my path.

Things that make me smile and don't render me a snivelly mess ...

..... 'cos, you know, lots of stuff does make me a snivelly mess at the mo, so anything that makes me go 'oooh, pretty' or 'oooh, shiny' can only be a good thing! Clearly anyone that knows me knows that Zinfandel Rose tops my list of 'items that can be depended upon to turn Ruth's frown upside down'. I'm the first to admit that I may have a slight dependency issue when it comes to the old Zinfandel, I feel I owe it a debt of gratitude, after all, we almost gave our 'surprise!' baby Leni-lu the middle name Zinfandel in honour of it's part in her creation ... so, clearly Zinfandel makes my list of things that make me smile this week. Good work old friend.

Next up in my 'smile-a-thon' is this;

an amazing piece of art work that I commissioned from my old friend Sandie (view her blog at http://sandiegardinerartandillustration.co.uk/website/Blog/Entries/2012/1/9_VIP.html ) I wanted something personal and lovely for my God daughter's christening present. She and Leni are a tag team of chaos and carnage, we nicknamed them Idi and Lenin when they were babies, and they're a formidable team that make us laugh and pull our hair out in equal measure - being 18 months, their grasp of sharing is sketchy to say the least and they can be hilariously screechy to each other! It's got elements of Edie's Mum and I's friendship all over it - the teapot Sandie included in the piece is my leaky old Emma Bridgewater teapot that we've put the world to rights round too many times to count,  old NZ stamps, the girl's names and Summer 2010 which was our golden time as I recall, both girls were tiny babies, we were on maternity leave, lots of long lazy mornings with cups of tea whilst we breastfed the girls and ate good cake ... happy days of coven meetings. Anyway, I had 2 canvasses made of the print and gave one to Edie and one is currently somewhere on the sea sailing it's way to our new life in the Southern Hemisphere (or it may be the Northern hemisphere, to be fair I can never remember which is which) 

And now, the moment everyone's been waiting for, the answer to the 'what the feckity feck is Ruth going to do without EBay?' question. I'll tell you what shall I? That's right www.trademe.co.nz that's what. A-mazing. I've already sucked Kris into my way of thinking and the boys now have bikes and scooters waiting for them in NZ, Leni has a travel cot and a high chair and I'm under strict orders NOT TO SCOUT IT OUT AGAIN as Kris (apparently) has better things to do with his time than drive round picking up my Trademe bargains. Spoilsport. It's still making my 'smile'list mind!!

Nextly, and maybe most shallow-ly, comes Chanel's Paradoxal nail varnish. It rocks my world right now, especially when covered with a layer of OPI silver shatter varnish. It's the most expensive way of making it look like you've trapped your fingers in a car door ever. Fact. Being back at Mum's means I have access to a nail varnish collection that rivals most supermodel's. 

So, lastly, my Rieker boots. I never thought I'd veer away from my beloved UGGS but *whispers lest her old faithfuls should hear her* these boots make my life better, so much better. They are warm, and chunky, and keep my feet warm and dry *swoon* sorry UGGS, I still love you but these boots look less like a baked potato than you do and have a certain German cool-ness ( I hate to buy into cultural stereotypes but they're pretty solid, functional boots that would probably walk the black forest for years before giving you a blister)  that you're missing. 

Here endeth this week's love list!

And now, the end is near and so I face the final curtain ....

Which actually sounds like I'm about to leave my mortal coil, which is wrong, maybe I should have gone for something slightly less, I dunno, maudlin as my title? Anyway, however sad the lyrics, I've always loved Frank Sinatra's 'My Way' after a booze fuelled college trip to Spain when I was 17, during which myself and 5 friends (one of whom is now top chef and all round good guy Tom Kerridge) got absolutely rat arsed after a trip to Rioja and ended up singing this, at the top of our voices, whilst walking across a sleepy Spanish town square. Bet they loved us. Anyway, fond memories (not of the rioja though, I'm still not able to drink red wine since that very night. Work of the devil. That and Southern Comfort. Bleuughh,  they're like my version of Superman's kryptonite!) Anyway, here I am, ensconced at my Mum's house, with 3 small children,, whilst husband has landed and started the process of getting settled in New Zealand. I know right? When did it all go from 'are we doing the right thing' to 'the real estate guy wants $1500 up front to secure our rental house' .... scary, scary times!

We bid a hideously sad farewell to our little house and all our belongings. Truth be told it was horrendous, absolutely horrendous. I spent the best part of the time between Christmas and New Year in tears, there were boxes everywhere, no sign of me and the children's visas, imminent departure of husband to contend with and saying farewell to our family home. It all got a bit much. Factor in that we had Christmas with 3 small children (and 4 different days with grandparents - the joys of having divorced parents), Mum in law's wedding and my God daughter's christening so emotional 'this will be the last time we do x,y and z' thoughts abounding for everyone - it all made for a tired and tearful family Tovey.

Thankfully things have improved, once the house contents were packed up and gone the process of trying to see our house as 'just a house', as opposed to 'home', was easier. I've managed to emotionally detach from it since all sign of us and the children was removed, though I still get a pang when I walk in to pick up post/switch on the heating and expect to see our things and hear the children bombing round. I also find myself going up and sitting in Leni's old room, which was always the nursery, and trying to capture and hold on to the memories of decorating it for J's arrival, then Ol's and finally Len's. Each nail and screw in the wall takes me back to putting up pictures and shelves for each of them and I will admit I can get quite tearful. I have to remind myself that I actually still have the kids, and how much K and I actually hated DIY and therefore each screw and nail also has an attached memory of he and I bitching at each other! Generally as I accused him of not putting shelves up straight or him accusing me (rightly!) of using blu tac and doing a botch job of putting the bunting up etc Happy days .... hmm, not all the time now I come to think of it! Still, this beautiful old house has seen every major event in our lives for the last 7 years, and they're the biggies, children, getting married etc so it will always hold a special place in my heart. The friends and neighbours we have here are the biggest wrench. We genuinely have some of our closest friends living 2 doors down and 7 doors up and that will be impossible to replace.

I'm dreading the day I close the door of that house for the last time, I know it will be hard, but even now, I still know 100% that what we're doing is the right thing for us. I hope that sustains me in the coming 2.5 weeks because the goodbyes are gong to be a killer. I need to keep focused on the end result - 3 children, living slightly feral by the beach, surrounded by some of the spectacular scenery anywhere in the world. I need to close my eyes and remember the picture on our fridge that started all this .... mountains, clear skies, vast open spaces and the need to give the children an opportunity that we didn't want to pass them by. Deep breaths as I face my own personal 'final curtain' ,saying goodbye to my amazing family and friends. Come on Frank, do your stuff, let's give 'em a rousing chorus ....

So, what have I achieved thus far ....

Gah, what a horrid question to ask yourself, you'll only ever fall short of your childhood ambitions of 'where I should be/have done by the time I'm really old'. In fact, depressingly, I believe I once decreed that anything over 29 was ancient and I would hate to be 'that old'. Fucking youth, it sets you up for a giant fall when you blink and realise that your skin elasticity and days of clubbing 'til dawn are long gone. Do I feel like I've done what I wanted to do? Probably not, I'm not a famous author, nor am I a vet, so my childhood dreams clearly never panned out (in my defence I hate blood/guts/bodily fluids of any kind - human or animal - so my career as a vet would have been severely limited) As for being an author, I never managed the peaceful garret room overlooking the Seine that I'd planned on penning my first best seller from, so on that score it was an epic fail.

What have I achieved? What am I most proud of? Well, the kids for one thing I guess, for someone who can't put together flat pack shelves, growing 3 little human beings was quite an achievement. They give me an ernomous sense of purpose. That's not to say I'm living the dream I had when pregnant with Jbird of floating around wearing White Company outfits and cooking up gourmet food for 3 appreciative Boden catalogue model children whilst still being uber glam, sexy wife. Oh no, no, no - I am screechy Mummy/bad tempered Mummy and over protective Mummy, as well as being lovely Mummy, mummy who bakes and mummy who wants to instill a spirit of adventure in her kids. I am also *shamed face* the kind of wife I swore I'd never be - fat of arse, grumpy of temper and sometimes too tired to talk to my gorgeous husband. I try, truly I do, but after an evening of dinner/bath/bed routine, followed by the washing/dishwasher/tidy the house routine, I'd quite happily skulk off to bed at 9pm. This, apparently, will get easier as the kids either get older or learn to load and unload the dishwasher/washing machine. I'll let you know if it's true. If I have the energy to type.

I'd like to be proud of more though so I'm sat here, wracking my brains trying to come up with more .... am I a good friend? A good daughter/sister? I like to think I am, I can be viciously sarcastic and use humour aa a defence mechanism when I'm nervous, so sometimes I may indicate to people that I'm just not that bothered about them. I am though, I invest a lot in friendships/relationships. Some fall by the wayside naturally, some new ones sneak in when you're not looking and some stand the test of time. The sign of a true friendship is realising that you'd still like that person if you met now, in the present, as opposed to way back when. It's also about realising that you'd still be friends with them even if they didn't know all that dodgy sh*t about you from way back when!

Though they may be little, they be damned loud

I write better than I talk, I always have done, even as a little girl I'd write reams and reams of very-important-things-about-my-life. It's a blessing because I get to scribble my thoughts down and then revisit them (sometimes whilst cringing at my angst at the time) years later, but it's a also a curse in that there are things I'd love to say to people but can never find the words to speak them. I was reading back through a note I wrote when I'd just had Ol and it still makes me misty eyed;

Jakob - came out a ball of fury & doing things his way or no way, had reflux, never ever ever slept, crawled at 4.5 months, walked at 8.5 months, always on the move, fearless, stubborn, independent, loyal, passionate about the things he loves (he could name all of Thomas' side kicks at 12 months and would recite Slinky Malinki word for word not long after that) He's always reserved his smiles and cuddles for a select few and is never won over by fake charm from anyone! His eyes flash dangerously when he's angry or upset but seem to be made of liquid chocolate when he's sad. He makes us laugh like no-one else can and has a wicked sense of humour. He's like quicksilver though, he can be laughing one minute and furious the next.

J's my high maintenance boy and I love him passionately whilst always knowing that he walks his own path and always will. I think I'm just his caretaker until he's old enough to take off on his solo adventures! He'll either be prime minister or in borstal by the time he's 20!!

Oliver - arrived quickly and easily, sleeps like a dream, eats anything we give him (and steals things we don't!) Placid & easy going, he's happy to lie and let the world come to him, has a slow easy smile he bestows on anyone and everyone, loves cuddles, drinks in what his older brother does with a knowing look and a slight air if 'what on earth are you doing?' about him, he's strong but not desperate to move, he can wobble back and forth in an attempt to crawl but is already 2.5 months behind Jakob when it comes to actually moving! He never cries unless he's hungry or hurting.

He'll be my strong silent boy - taking it all in ready to make anything better with a cuddle and beautiful smile. His eyes are like marbles and are grey one day and brown the next, they change like those weird mood rings you used to get! He's a sweetheart.

I love them both equally and I'm glad they're so different!

Wow, what a difference 4 years makes, and how wrong can a parent be? Ol is certainly not my strong silent boy! He is, by all accounts, a whirling ball of complete lunacy. He's devilishly handsome and works a room to his advantage, he's selfish and stubborn and strong willed and I crack far more often than he does. He will either be an international playboy, he does so love nice food and being the centre of attention or a builder, he likes bashing things with other things and taking things apart! He's just started school and part of me knows he's ready (socially anywhow) the other part of me feels a bit tight chested that my just-4 year old is in a class with children who are just-5. I want to cuddle him and tell him he doesn't have to be the loudest, bumpiest in the class to make his mark and be noticed, he just needs to be him, because that's enough, he's wonderful. He's a beautiful soul, inside and out, and he doesn't need to try so hard to impress the bigger boys.

As for J? He's still my warrior, my little pace setter, the boy who leads the way, but he's also a thinker and a muller-over-of-things. He's so clever it makes my heart almost burst with pride. This morning he was ansty because he thought he'd be late for school, and therefore his maths lesson (this is surely no child of mine? I failed GCSE maths no less than 3 times!) He reads voraciously (that one does come from me - maternal 'looking for things that I have passed onto my children' satisfied there) He writes lists and lists of things and stuns me with his appetite for knowledge and facts and whys and whens and hows. He's also a comedian, he comes out with the most wickedly funny one liners and observations. He and Kris have started a book about the move to NZ, every night before bed J writes down questions about NZ and then Kris writes the answers in and they talk about it the next morning. Kris has also started adding pictures (of Lake Taupo, the sky tower, a mountain range and a marlin) Last night's entry by Jakob, underneath the picture of the mountain range simply said 'this is not a question Daddy, this (arrow to the picture) is beautiful'.

And then there's Leni-lou. What can I say about Leni-lou? I hesitate to use the expression of 'little Princess' but that's exactly what she is. Her brothers adore her, and she adores them, though there are moments when she'll be squealing at them and they'll be yelling at me to get her away from the lego/pencils/gogos they're playing with, and at those moments you'd be hard pushed to feel the love in the room! As is her genetic predisposition, she's stubborn, determined and forthright. Even my lovely Mum (who, don't forget, has raised me and my siblings - a trio of stubborn, noisy, self righteous beings if ever there was one) has had to admit that Elena brings with her a special kind of determined. She is very sweet though, and though I know all parents think their children are beautiful (as they should) she is particularly delicious. She's not classically pretty or especially 'bonny baby competition' but she's sparky and fiery and gorgeous and interesting to look at. I can spend hours wtaching her little head bent over some task, taking in her little curls, feline eyes and chubby cheeks. My friend Suz once gave me a badge after she visited the RSC, which took pride of place on Leni's change bag for a while, it said 'though she may be but little, she be fierce' .... I like to think William Shakespeare had a premonition of a sparky little girl called Elena when he wrote that, because never a truer word has been spoken about anyone!