Have to keep on moving.

When I lived in France, I moved once in 18 years and I don't even remember it. My parents had bought a plot of land and built the house on it when I was about 6. They have lived there ever since. I go back there every summer. I don't know where that urge to move, live somewhere else came from. All I knew is that I didn't want to live in France.

Then I made what some people consider the ultimate move. I have moved from France to Ireland. When I first came here back, some dozen years ago, it was a big deal. I was only 18 and there was no such thing as mobile phones. The Internet wasn't as widespread as it is now. My parents used to call me once a week for a mere 15 minutes. I was an au pair, trying to improve my English. Being a foreigner in this country back then was still something quite 'exotic'. There weren't as many of us. And you couldn't help but be noticed. The plan was to live here for a year, go back to college for another one and then move to Australia for a year or so. It didn't happen. I stayed here, found a job and never left.

Here, I moved a few times. I stayed with 2 families as an au pair. There were issues with the first one. The kids used to spit on me when I was getting them up to go to school. I couldn't understand why a Stay at home mum would need an au pair to look after her children. Things didn't work out and I moved to another family where I stayed until the end of my contract.

I then shared a house. I'll always remember cleaning one of the bedrooms after one the guys left and finding a piece of paper with chat up lines on it and their English translations. He was French and his English was far from good (that's what happens when you work in French all day and only socialize with French people after work). I had a great laugh picturing him in a pub, trying to chat a girl up, and slipping that piece of paper out, looking for the next thing to say.

Eventually I bought a house. I couldn't wait to be able to do whatever I wanted with it, paint the walls green today, red tomorrow, put my own touch to it. I bought things for that house, looked after it. So many expectations. And then a few years later, I had to move again. Flee it. With nothing but Marie in tow and the clothes on my back. I left all my possessions behind that day. Nothing mattered but my safety and Marie's. I went back to collect some things, things I could carry, some clothes, a few toys, my laptop. I left anything unnecessary or too bulky behind, books, Cd's, furniture. Everything I had worked hard for, I left. A few months later, just before it was sold I went back to collect more things but everything that belonged to me had been put in bin bags, out the back, subject to the elements. There wasn't much left, all my books had disappeared, all my Cd's were gone. The house was in a terrible state, broken counters, broken tiles, broken floor boards.

Some work colleagues put us up for a few months, but with 7 of us in a house, it quickly became too crowded. We were asked to leave, on New Year's Eve. 'Happy New Year to you, now could you please clear off?' Thanks to Mr Foodie, we found a roof. And literally that's what it was, the converted attic of a small bungalow. The first time I saw it, it took my breath away. Not in a good way. Shock. Realization that I went from having my own comfortable 3 bedroom house to this. That all I could afford was this roof. That all I could give Marie was this. It was tiny, three rooms, one after the other. I fought back tears (not very successfully though). We moved in anyway.We had no choice. Mr Foodie stayed with us, as I was afraid to stay on my own at night. 'Only until you feel more comfortable' was the deal. Since then, the only time we have been apart at night was when I went into hospital to give birth to Noelie and her short stint in hospital last October. The place grew on us. Marie slept in the bedroom and we slept on a makeshift bed, half sofa / half fold up bed. We had to tiptoe through Marie's bedroom to go to the bathroom if we needed to at night. We did her room up, we put glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. We made it our own and think about it with fond memories. We didn't have much money, we had to make do, but we were happy. It is now remembered fondly as 'the Roof'. My own house was sold eventually with a little profit made. And we left the Roof for the luxury of a 2 bedroom apartment. We had space, a lovely view of the city. But things went wrong again. Lifts were broken every second day, I was 6 months pregnant and couldn't see myself carrying a baby, a buggy, shopping and a 7 year old up 5 flights of stairs, cars were broken into in the underground car park, a non existent landlord. We decided to forfeit our deposit and moved back to the bungalow. But this time, not in the Roof, but in the house. This is where we are now. And we like it.

But we have decided to move again, at the end of the school year. Since I have lost my job, there is nothing to keep us here apart from Marie's school. Mr Foodie spends a small fortune in petrol and toll every month. Although we managed to get the rent down, it is still high for what we have. So from a financial perspective, we have decided to move on the other side of the city. There is also another perspective to it. We are somehow restricted here, I don't really like the area, there is always the probability of bumping into some people I don't want to bump into. I am not comfortable walking around the shopping centre in case I bump into them, I am not comfortable picking up Marie from school because I could bump into them. If they are looking for trouble, they know where to find me and at what time to find me there at. I am really looking forward to being free from all that stress and bad memories. We have started to look for a new place. Ideally, we would love a bungalow. We have told Marie about it and she is delighted to move. It is all a big adventure for her. So we are going to start packing, find a new house, a new school and start anew. But there is one thing to remember, the greater the expectations, the greater the fall. So I'm keeping my expectations low. Things have a way of working out.



This post was written as part of Josie's Writing Workshop over at Sleep is for the Weak. I wrote about prompt 1: 1. Tell me about a time you decided to move house. What prompted it? Did you want to move? What did you leave behind, and what did you find when you got there?

The voice of worry.

Once again, as part of Josie's writing workshop at Sleep is for the weak, I have chosen prompt #3: What have the voices in your head been telling you lately.

- So he wants to have her overnight, eh?

- I know but she keeps telling me she doesn't want to, she doesn't like going up there.

- She told him she wanted to.

- But she tells me the opposite.

- Who do you believe then?

- I believe her, I want to believe her.

- Why does he say that then?

- I don't know. Maybe she says that to him and the opposite to me?

- Maybe... So she's lying then?

- She is not lying. She's caught in the middle.

- So what are you going to do?

- I can only take her word for it. If she tells me she doesn't want to, I won't make her.

- You know what's going to happen then, don't you?

- I do, yes. Back to that dreaded place.

- That could swing his way. Like it has, most of the time.

- I know, but I don't want to force her to do something that will make her unhappy.

- What about asking the question, in front of him and let her answer what she really feels?

- That's an option, I don't want her to feel uncomfortable though. I don't want her to feel like she's being asked to chose.

- At the end of the day, it's about her not you and not him.

- I know. I would hate for her to say she does, but I would have to go with it.

- Did you talk to her?

- I did. I explained that, if she wanted to, I would ask in front of him.

- What did she say?

- She said she wanted me to do it and that she would be able to tell him then.

- Able to? Does she fear him?

- She might. I'm sure she remembers his temper.

- What if she says she wants to?

- If she does, I'll arrange it.

- Are you sure she's not going to say that she doesn't want to go because she doesn't want to hurt you?

- I told her many times that the only thing that matters to me, is for her to be happy.

- Is he going to accept if she says no?

- Probably not. If he doesn't, then it will prove that he is doing it for himself not for her.

- What are you going to say then?

- I'll tell him that I had thought about what he said the other day, and that the best way to know is to ask her because it's about her, not him, not me. She's the priority. Then ask her. If she says yes, then we can talk and arrange it. If she says no, then we'll have to see what his reaction is.

- He will say that you coached her to say it.
- He probably will. But I know in my heart, I didn't. If anything, I pushed her to say yes. I pushed her to tell us that she wanted to. That it wouldn't hurt us, or make us sad. Reassured her that if that was what she wanted then it would make us happy to see her happy. She hasn't budged though.

- Would she keep saying no if she wanted to say yes?

- I don't think she would. She doesn't know how to lie. I know her, she couldn't keep that up for that long.

- Is it the right solution though? Putting her on the spot?

- What do we have to lose? If she agrees with the idea and she is comfortable with it, why not?

- Are you sure you are not going about it the wrong way and creating some kind of psychological problem?

- I hope not. She says she wants to be asked. She says she misses us when she's up there. Is that not creating some problem, too?

- She's only 6. What would she know about what she wants?

- She is 6 but she knows her own mind. Why can't other people see that it is about her, not anybody else. Why do they keep saying she's too young to make up her mind? She isn't. In other countries, they would ask her even at that age.

- What about you? Are you comfortable with the idea?

- I am and I'm not. I am if it stops there and he accepts her saying no, if she says no. I'm not because I know he is not going to consider her opinion, he is not doing it for her, he is doing it for himself. Remember his words? When do I get to see her? I. Not when does she get to see me?

- Are you worried?

- I am. Of course I am. I want her to be able to say what she thinks, what she wants, how she feels and not worry about the consequences. She is a child. I don't want her to be forced into doing something she doesn't want to. She does already. But she understands that I can't do anything about it. The decision was made for us, and we can only go along with it. My stomach is in knots, I have that permanent ball in my throat, I can hardly eat or drink. My head is spinning. My brain is overheating. The house is warm and yet I'm cold inside. My heart is beating hard, not fast, just big thumps. It will all unravel tonight. But there are so many uncertainties. It is not the end, it will probably go on, go back to that place and risk it all again. I might have to make her do something she doesn't want to, just because some powerful person will say so. But we will cross that bridge when we get to it, if we get to it. In the meantime, it all rests on today, this afternoon, on what she says and then we'll see...

- Indeed we will see... And then we can start it all over again, when it happens again, because you know as well as I do, that it is not going to stop, not yet anyway...

Thank you...

This week, I chose the following prompt from Josie at Sleep is for the weak : Write something to say thank you to some who has made a difference to your life, whether from your past or present.

There are a lot of people I could say thank you to, but then it would feel like an Oscar acceptance speech, thank you Mum, thank you Dad, thank you Brother, thank you JD the hamster (RIP), thank you the World in its entirety etc.. (although I have to say Marion Cotillard's one for La Vie en Rose was great!).

So here goes:

I barely knew you, yet I trusted you.

Work colleagues, were me and you.

Same company, different location.

Had never met you, but a friendly connection.

You listened to me pouring my heart out,

Telling you how I couldn't see a way out,

That I was trapped and I was scared,

That my little girl too was there.

Your kind and friendly words gave me strength,

I realized it couldn't go any more length.

The time had come to make a decision,

We had to get away from all of this poison.

And so I said: That is it!

Then you, or I, suggested we meet.

It was a sunny day and you waited for me,

sitting on a step, yet I could not see.

You were there when things turned violent,

And you became my shoulder to cry on.

And things just moved on from there,

Secretly at first, then out in the open air.

Marie took to you like a fish to water.

You accepted her as your own daughter.

Your bond is such she calls you Daddy now,

And, me? Well, I could not be more proud.

Then we found out we were pregnant.

I couldn't have received a better present.

Our little bundle of joy arrived,

And of love, she'll never be deprived.

I know, at times, I can be difficult and moody,

but it never lessened your love for me.

You, too, sometimes are a bit crazy.

I'm afraid to say some of your jokes are not so funny.

You are my knight in shiny armour,
My best friend, my companion, my lover.
We did go through a lot together,
Yet those hard times just made us stronger.

So for being there for us, then and now,

for the future and for the present,

for the support and strength you give me,

I really want to thank you, Mr Foodie.

Love always.

Foodie Mummy.

I miss....

Right, I'm taking the plunge. I have been reading Josie's writing workshop at Sleep is for the weak through December when I discovered the world of Blogging. And I decided that I would start participating in January. So this is my first post based on one of her prompts: What do you miss?


So here goes nothing:

There are a couple of things I miss. I miss my family, being an expat is not necessarily the easiest thing in the world. It is great that you can move somewhere and be utterly and completely yourself and shed any stereotypes (I come from a small village and you get labelled practically at birth) and expectations. People might say I didn't have to move that far. But I did and do not regret it at all. However, it does not prevent me from missing my family. Up to a couple of years ago, I would have said quite easily that I do not miss my family, well not that much. But life took a different turn and being in turmoil meant more regular contact with them and a few open hearted conversations. And it has warmed up the relationship, we went from one phone call a week to a phone call a day (sometimes more). And now I can openly say, I miss them. I miss my mum's cooking, I miss my dad's witty comments, I miss my brother's awkwardness. I miss them all the more these past few days because they were here but not long enough. I miss the fact that I can't just pop in for a coffee and a chat, I miss the fact that we can't go out to lunch somewhere at the drop of a hat, I miss the fact that they can't pop in anytime they want and see the girls. I miss them all, even though I am used to not seeing them.

On a more practical note, I miss some things about France. I miss the slower pace, the 2 hours lunch, the 35 hours week (although I never experienced it myself). I miss the school system that allows you to have a full time job without making you feel like you are missing out on your children. I miss the choice of activities that are available for kids and families. I miss the supermarkets and the variety of foods (although things have much improved here since I moved over). And most of all, I miss the weather.