Expat Focus asked me to write about expat children this month.  I thought that rather than make it a general article about bringing up kids in an expat environment, I’d make it very personal and talk about the ways in which I think expat life has shaped my children.  If you’d like to know more you can read the full article at Expat Focus

How has relocation challenged your identity? (Photo: istockphoto.com)

Its been a busy month and I’m afraid my already erratic blogging schedule has suffered.  I’ll be writing about some of the things that I’ve been working on over the coming weeks but today I’m going to talk about identity which is the topic for Friday’s Expat Partner Online Coffee.

When the psychologist Erik Erikson coined the term “identity crisis”  in 1970, he was talking about the process of identity formation as experienced by adolescents.  Erikson spoke of an idenitiy of sameness and continuity, a relatively static concept.  However, those of us who move overseas know that moving to a new country can challenge our identity, our sense of self, on many levels.  We often start to appreciate as we become accustomed to living overseas, that the experience has, on some level, changed us fundamentally.  Looking at my own experiences, here are some of the ways that they have changed me:

1. When I first moved, my cultural identity was very much tied into my national identity.  While I still identify myself as Scottish, my views are more multi-cultural.  I understand the relativism of cultural perspectives and am not only more tolerant of cultural mores which are not my own but have adopted some which are definitely not those I grew up with.

2. Re-learning how to do simple daily tasks in several new countries where I don’t know the language has challenged my sense of self  as a competent and confident person (though this is usually only temporary).  On the positive side, I’m a person who can organise and execute and international relocation in 6 weeks and I can get things done in unfamiliar places.

3. Relinquishing my career to stay at home with the children has been a huge shift in identity.  I’m part of a generation of women who expected to have careers and continue them when we had our families – we actively rejected the 1950s/1960s ideal of a mother who stayed at home with the children.  Like many women, my identity was deeply entwined with what I did. So when I stopped working because moving internationally, maintaining a career and having young children seemed impossible, well, let’s just say it was definitely (maybe on some level still is) an identity CRISIS!

4. My foreign language capabilities in school were not that great.  I never thought of myself as a linguist.  In the last 15 years, I’ve learned to function in 4 languages besides my mother tongue.

5. Like women around the world, whether they’ve moved or not, being a mother has become a key part of my identity.   On some days that’s a good thing, on others not so much, but it’s part of me that is not going to change.

6. I’m an introvert by nature; happy in my own company, but moving around, making new friends and becoming part of new communities has made me step out of my introvert’s shell and take on some more extrovert characteristics.

Those are just some aspects of my identity that have changed but other things about me remain relatively unchanged; my fundamental values, I’m still an introvert at heart, there is still a core of me which is (for better or worse) tied up in having grown up in a very small community.

What challenged your identity when you moved overseas?

What aspects of yourself have remained unchanged?

How has living in a different culture and forming new social groups changed you?

Louise Wiles, Judy Rickatson and I will be discussing these and other questions when we talk about the “Impact of Relocation on Identiy and Sense of Self ” at the Expat Partner Online Coffee this Friday May 4th at 13:00 London/08:00 New York/20:00 Hong Kong  (if you’re not sure about the time in your own location check here ‘http://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/converter.html).  Join us by clicking on this link https://www.linqto.com/rooms/thesmartexpatlive

We’ll continue the discussion on the Expat Partner Online Coffee Facebook Group (its a closed group, so you’ll have to ask to join).   Join us for what promises to be a lively discussion.

Think creatively about where to find support (i-stock photo)

When you become an expat and particularly an accompanying partner, the rug is pulled out from under your feet in terms of all of your familiar forms of support.  It happens at a time when you are dealing with multiple new challenges and could probably use a bit of EXTRA support.  This month at Expat Focus I wrote about where accompanying partners can find the support they need when nothing is familiar.

How did you feel about the support you had when you moved overseas?

How did you fill the gaps between the support you needed and the support you had?

Did you get support from an unexpected place or person?

Share your experiences in the comments section below.

Build your Support Network at the Expat Partner Online Coffee (photo: istockphoto.com)

You’ll remember that back in January,  Louise Wiles and I had the opportunity to participate in a conversation among accompanying partners hosted by the Global Niche.  A common theme that we took away from the very open, honest and sometimes raw dialogue between women from diverse cultures and backgrounds was the value of a forum which helps accompanying partners to feel that they are not alone and where accompanying partners can share experiences and support each other.  Families In Global Transition (FIGT) Director Judy Rickartson suggested that a regular “coffee morning”  might be a useful forum and the idea for the Expat Partners Online Coffee was born.

Our first meeting is this Friday at 12:00 noon GMT (use this time converter to check the time in your location) and our subject for the session will be Moving Beyond Expatriate Challenges.  If you’re an accompanying partner, please join us to share experiences, ask questions of others who have “been there, done that” or simply to listen.

You can find the information about how to join the event on our Facebook event page.  Louise and I have also posted some resources to get you thinking about the topic on the Event page.  Mark your calendar for this Friday, grab your cup of coffee, tea (or even a glass of wine if your time zone is right!) and join us for what promises to be a lively and informative event.

Which women touched your life?

One of the unequivocal benefits of being an expat is having had the opportunity to cross paths with a multitude of women whom I would never otherwise have met.  Each has touched my life in her own way and all of them have enriched my life in different ways.  I am still in touch with some of them, some I will likely never see again and others I have yet to meet in person.   Who are they?  They are:

• The women I have worked with – In my banking days they were the ones with whom I pulled all-nighters to finish a merger analysis .  Doing voluntary jobs like sorting clothes, they were the women with whom I laughed about the absurdity of people donating their questionable underwear and with whom I cried over the plight of the people to whom the clothes were being sent.
• The soon-to-be Mums, sharing the joy and fears the unknown lives ahead of us and the new Mums in baby groups, relieved to be in the company of other adults but so sleep deprived that we could barely string a sentence together.
• My fellow students in language classes, all grappling with the intricacies of a new language and the challenge of becoming a student again.
• The teachers of my language classes who patiently suffered the butchering of their mother tongue while trying to instill correct grammar, a respectable vocabulary and a bit of cultural understanding into their struggling students.
• The amazing Philippina women who have helped me in my home and with my children.  Making the unimaginable sacrifice of leaving their children behind so that they can earn enough money to give their children a better education and a better life, they manage to smile and to love our children like they were their own
• My fellow students (all Chinese) in my yoga teacher training class who struggled to comprehend the idea of Hindu deities and who (mostly) managed not to laugh at my relatively un-bendy Western body.
• The women who have taught my children, supporting them as they have made the transition to new schools and teaching them valuable life skills as well as academics.  They have provided my children with a supportive yet disciplined environment in which to learn and have saved me (and my children) from all but the briefest flirtation with homeschooling.
• The yoga teachers who have helped me to ground myself and stay balanced through all the stresses of international moves and the students who have attended my classes to enjoy some time focused on themselves
• My running buddies whose commitment to a goal has helped to make sure that I dragged myself out of bed  to make my own fitness goals
• The women that I’ve become friends with in each of the countries I’ve moved to (though our kids,  classes, committees, book and Bunco groups); the ones whom, as we’ve got to know each other better, become surrogate family members in the absence of  our real families.
• My online expat and coaching friends; the ones I’ve come to know as I’ve set up my business and who are unfailingly supportive of each other and the lives we all lead

These women have diverse backgrounds and nationalities.  They speak different languages and they have different goals in life but I was lucky enough to share a path with each of them for part of the journey.  As International Women’s Day comes to a close, I’m taking a few minutes to savour my good fortune in knowing each of them.  Who are the women who have touched your life as an expat?

What did you choose when you moved overseas? (istockphoto.com)

Thanks for your response to the Career Choice and the Accompanying Partner survey.   So far a phenomenal 300+ people have shared their experiences overseas but Louise and I want to be sure that everyone who has an experience to share has the opportunity to complete the survey.  If you haven’t already done so, please take 15 minutes to complete it now.  Here’s the link:

Complete the Career Choice and the Accompanying Partner Survey

In the meantime, the survey has been featured on several other websites and blogs.  Here are the links if you’re curious to learn more.

ExpatCareers.com

Expatica

I Was An Expat Wife 

Expat Arrivals

The survey will close at the end of the day tomorrow so hurry over there and complete it while you can.  Thanks!

Photo: istockphoto.com

My latest blog post over at Expat Focus is the first of two which addresses transitioning to life as an accompanying partner and talks about acceptance as the first step in the transition.  You can find the article here.

Breast Cancer Awareness campaigns on Facebook asking women to make cryptic comments about bra colours and where you put your handbag have created hype and hyperbole in the press and the blogosphere in previous years.  However,  2012′s campaign has caused minor havoc to erupt in the expat community.  This year, women are asked to post  ”I’m going to ________ for ___________ months”    The number of months is the day of the month on which you were born and the place (a country or city) is assigned based on your month of birth – January is Mexico, February, London etc.

A reader of the announcement “I’m going to New York for 23 months” might raise an eyebrow and perhaps ask a question or two.  But when the writer of the status is a globally mobile expat,  someone (maybe more than one) is going to take it seriously.   Thus, in recent weeks rumours have been spawned  - “Have you heard that the XYZs are moving to New York for 2 years?”; e-mails have been written and phone calls made to find out exactly what is going on –  ”OMG! New York for 2 years!  How amazing!”

I have to confess that I was one of several people who were “sucked in” (as my children say) by the first Breast Cancer Awareness status update I saw this year.  Of course, I should have been tipped off by the precision of the time-frame (23 months) but hey, it was a military family and they are precise.  I was seconds off sending a note to a second friend when I realised that is was the breast cancer thing and she is not in fact “going to London for 11 months”.  (What can I say, I was the kid who pulled out her Oxford English when a classmate asked “Did you know the word gullible isn’t in the dictionary?”!)

What it did make me realise is that when you’ve moved to another country once, your perspective on moving is altered.  You don’t see it as such a scary proposition; after all you’ve done it before.  Your friends and family view your mobility differently too – you’ve already moved to one other country so its easily conceivable that you might move to another.  A serial expat  is born?

I’ve moved countries 6 times already and I’d prefer to avoid the fallout so you won’t be seeing “I’m going to Austria  for 10 months” on my Facebook status this spring.

When I moved from A Mid-Atlantic English to my new blog The American Resident the lovely, clever Melissa over at Smitten By Britain helped save me a considerable amount of stress and did all kinds of magic code and Stuff and none of my readers got left behind. My posts even updated correctly in your blogrolls. Mostly.

But not quite.

The only thing that she couldn’t update was the blog title. So now that I am (finally) out and about again and reading all my favourite blogs I see that I still appear as A Mid-Atlantic English in many of your blogrolls. It’s a small thing. But if you get a spare few minutes one day would you pretty please update my blog name in your blogrolls? I wish I could do it from our Control Room but it’s just not possible.

Consider yourself thanked, very very VERY much!

Love, Michelloui x

Thank you!

Seven things about me.

The virus that is the Stylish Blogger Award has not left me alone. It is actually quite lovely to be thought of by other bloggers, so thank you very much to Mother Hen and I’m So Fancy who thought to send this award in my direction.

There are rules. I am to send a link back to the home page of the person who awarded this to me (done, twice), I am to list seven things about myself the blogging community may not know (don’t worry, I censured them, the list is safe to read) and I am to list 15 recently discovered bloggers, send the award to them and let them know that they too are Stylish.

And so to my seven things:

1. I love warm houses. But I also love opening up all the windows and doors and letting the air gush through the house like a whirling, genius house fairy clearing out all the metaphorical cobwebs.

2. I enjoy hillwalking in the wind and rain. It makes me feel tough. I pretend I’m a Viking setting forth across new lands. I chose to be a Viking because I’m usually hillwalking in places where Vikings once set forth. I don’t wear a funny hat though. Come to think of it, I’ll bet they didn’t either.

3. I love expensive nougat so much that I must never go into an Expensive Nougat Shoppe or I will buy more than I can afford and eat until I am ill for a week. It is better than chocolate, unless it is Rococo Chocolate then it’s a tie.

4. Bad parking is one of my biggest pet peeves. I live in a world of limited parking spaces, so bad parking is selfish in my books.

5. I really really really wish there were 48 hours in a day and that I only had to sleep four of those hours. (I like dreaming so I would like some sleep.) I have so much to do and so much I love doing that in the evenings I’m like a little kid at the end of an especially exciting playdate–exhausted and frustrated. Then I remember I get to sleep in my very comfy bed with my very lovely husband and that’s okay.

6. I really love genealogy, it’s one of my most favourite hobbies (I think it’s the detective work I like best about it; it exercises my mind), but I hate typing the word. I always think there should be an ‘o’ where the ‘a’ is. Always. Even now I’ve just done it again and had to go back and retype it.

7. When I get really irritated I super clean the house. I clean house at other times too, but not with the same thorough, toothbrush-in-the-corners gusto. My husband hasn’t realised it yet, but if he comes home from work to find the bathrooms all shiny and nearly new, or the cupboards completely cleaned/sorted/restocked, or my desk turned from a collection of scraps and pens and school letters and bills and books people have loaned me (‘you must read this!’)  to a study in minimalism… then I have had a major irritation that day. It could be that I am fed up with winter, or that I am sick of sitting in front of my computer all day, or that I’ve had a conversation with my mother. Sometimes I’m irritated with a friend (or child or husband) and when that happens the cleaning helps me to a) work out the aggression before I see them again, and b) think through different conversations until by the time I finish cleaning I have settled on the most fair thing to say or do. And often, I realise it’s actually me who I am irritated with, not the other person.

Now for some blogs newly discovered by me. I am only listing 10 because I have limited time today. They are in no particular order. This list is not just thrown together; I really, really like these blogs and I am recommending them to you for the reasons I say next to each entry. I’m going to go tell them about this post but I’m not going to attach strings. They can post the award or not, it’s up to them, whether or not they follow the rules. Now, go enjoy some new and interesting blogs (PS go check out the two bloggers who first sent this to me, they’re new and fun to read too!):

Little Red Buttons Wow! This is such a beautiful blog that I want to sit and gaze at it all day. Abby has been blogging since 2008 so it’s not a new blog but new to me. Abby is an American living in the UK with her British husband.

Texpats Abroad Sarah from Texas is soon to be another one of us expats and she also has a beautiful blog and engaging writing. And she is moving to the UK in style–on the QEII!

Troutie is a different sort of mummy blogger. This is one of my favourite new discoveries (although not a new blogger). She has a fantastic writing style that has me grinning with school girl delight (she wrote what?!) every time I read a blog post. It’s not shock tactics, it’s just fab, open writing and I love it.

A Daddy Blog Here’s one of the growing numbers of Daddy Bloggers and I think I may have a secret crush on his blog. He writes about interesting, varied topics that are not too different from any parent blogger but I love reading the guy’s perspective. Especially an articulate guy. And it’s a good looking blog.

Sarah Elizabeth Ok, so I’m a sucker for very pretty blogs. And I am naturally drawn to expats. Sarah is a Scottish farmer’s daughter living in Umbria with her Italian husband. And she has a beautiful blog.

Boogers and Blonde Moments is a new blog written by Lisa. I love how she uses dialogue so effectively in many of her blog posts. And her posts are short and sweet yet tell a great story in the brief snapshot. One to watch!

Older Mums are Fun No, not a new blogger, but I’ve only recently ‘discovered’ Diney and her fab writing. Here’s someone I can certainly relate to.

Mama UK Here we go again, another beautiful blog. Just go see for yourself. I wish I could take photographs like this.

Culturally Discombobulated Ok so it’s another expat but this is so much more than just expat writing. This guy is a fantastic writer, I love stopping by and seeing what he has to say about anything. And he’s a fan of the Mighty Boosh* so he must be ok. (*You don’t have to know anything about the Mighty Boosh to appreciate his writing, by the way.)

From Marketing to Milk Henrietta Pretty writes engaging, thought provoking blog posts. Seriously one to watch. She’s good.

Last summer while on holiday in Northumberland I went for a walk along the coast by myself. I found a cove that must be cut off at all but the lowest tides so I lingered. I was alone.

I loved that the stormy clouds were coming closer to shore. And I loved that the tide was coming in, pushing further and further across the rocks that I had climbed over to find this cove. I would soon be trapped. I loved the gusty, sea-musty wind that travelled with the dark clouds.

Like some ancient god that is both male and female, that afternoon Mother Nature was expressing a most masculine power. I was enchanted.

This post is for The Gallery at Sticky Fingers blog.

Cardboard Recycling Sack, favoured by local toms.

Yes, I am going to be really uncool and tell you that I hate cardboard recycling. Don’t remind me of the polar bears.

I do my bit; I unscrew the lids from plastic pots and throw the lids in the bin and the plastic in the container I bought from B&Q just for plastics. I crush cans and put the cans and the bottles in another container I bought from B&Q. I crush cardboard and shove it in the plastic, reusable sacks given to us by the council and kept in our utility room.

Then I furrow my brow and work through the erratic code to see which days the recycling comes. Every other week on a Wednesday morning for plastics, cans and glass. Ok that one is easy enough, but they only take cardboard on every other sunny day at the end of the month unless it’s a month with lots of deer crossing the roads then they will collect it the second to last Wednesday especially if it also falls on a regular recycling day. Oh, and if it’s Christmas, they only collect if you’ve left it out the night before if there is a full moon following a day with lots of crows in the fields.

We had a lot of cardboard after Christmas. I filled two sacks, rather than the usual one. I thought I had the dates worked out; I put the sacks out the night before so I wouldn’t miss it (I didn’t check if it was a full moon or not, to be fair). Then the sacks sat there all day, untouched. I kept asking everyone in the house if they had seen a recycling lorry. I thought I might have had the day wrong or maybe, being Christmas, the recycling lorries were overwhelmed so they had to come the next day.

I thought about asking my neighbour but judging by the amount of times I’ve seen her recycling just sitting by her drive, also untouched I guessed she had the same difficulties as I when trying to decode the cardboard schedule. I left the sacks out a second night. No recycling lorries the next day. There was lots of rain instead. I gave up. Clearly I had missed it.

I carried/dragged the sacks back up to the house and as they were filled with soggy cardboard I left them by the back door to dry during the day, then brought them into the house in the evening in case it rained again and left them just inside the door to dry further.

My Cat Paddy was mortified and he kept circling the sacks, sniffing, huffing and puffing and looking around. It dawned on me that somewhere in the 48 hours the sacks had stayed outside one or several of the local toms had made their mark on them.

My Cat Paddy is a sensitive cat and if he feels emotionally threatened he wees on something useful—duvets, Christmas presents, school bags, school shoes. I’d had enough of the cardboard. I took the bags outside and hosed them off, then carried them round the house to the garage. They now sit there waiting for me to muster up the intelligence to work out when the next mystery cardboard collection lorry will arrive.

This is why I hate cardboard recycling. I still love polar bears though.

Sidebar decoration!

If you’re an expat parent, whether you make that the focus of your blog or not, you may like to have a fun little button from me to you, to decorate your sidebar!

Have a look over on the right, just down a bit. You’ll see it’s my cupcake, but my lovely button designer, Melissa has taken the flag off so it becomes an internationally acceptable button. Hurrah!

Copy the code and place it in your sidebar for a happy connection with other expat parents.

My window, and the drainpipe.

Here is something about me: I love dressing up, getting my hair and nails done, zipping up into a slinky, gorgeous dress and slipping on the heels. I think it’s fun.

Here’s something else about me: I’m also a tomboy.

I love being able to: get dirty in the garden, spend the day hauling plants and compost across to the different beds, snipping, weeding, reshaping, and creating.  Then brushing off the soil, peeling off the gloves, kicking off the wellies, stripping off the dirty clothes and stepping into a steamy shower to emerge squeaky clean and begin to get ready for a night out. I like being able to move between both worlds.

It was in a tomboy moment when I figured out how to escape from a castle.

I was living in the castle as a 20 year old student, and as I had just moved to England I hadn’t yet adjusted to the damp cold that settles in your bones. (Actually I still haven’t but I don’t live in a castle now so it’s easier to cope with.) I had a gas fire on in my room doing my best to heat the 900 year old stone walls. Instead, I heated the massive oak door and it expanded enough to get me stuck in my room. I had class to go to and a strict teacher. I really needed to get to class.

I turned off the gas then peered out the big windows on one side of my room to see the massive drop down to the street. I went to the little window on the other side of the room and leaned out. The drop to the courtyard was just as far but I found what I hoped to: a big, heavy drainpipe near my window.

When I was about seven I was at a summer day camp at my elementary school. I remember watching older boys climbing up and down the school walls using the big drain pipes. They cupped both hands around the pipe, leaned back a bit then walked up the wall, and walked back down again. Once they got bored and left I tried it with my friends watching. I did it! I was hero for the day.

So I knew I could do this—even though 13 years had passed. The window was narrow, but I was too so I used a chair to step up to it, I leaned all the way out and reached around for the pipe, got hold of it then finally left the window and began to walk down the wall using the pipe. At the bottom I looked up at the small window, felt triumphant, and walked off to class.

After class I told the strict teacher about my door. As we walked back to my room for him to inspect the door he asked me how I got out. I told him, pleased with myself. We arrived in the courtyard and he looked at the window. He didn’t say anything. Then we climbed the stairs and walked to the end of the hall to my room. He tried the door. Still stuck.

I lived at the castle in pre-commercialised days; there was no gift shop here, or flashy red banner. It was just a dusty old cobbled courtyard leading to the stables.

‘Why did you leave it closed?’ he asked in a tone he reserved for idiots.

‘Because I couldn’t open it,’ I said in a tone reserved for people I was surprised were not cleverer than I first thought.

‘How did you really get out then?’

I paused. Did he really just ask me that?

‘Well?’

‘I told you! Seriously, I really climbed out the window!’

He shook his head and walked off.

The door eventually shrank as the cold from the stone walls returned to the room later that day. And I was punished. Not in the form of sitting in the corner or writing on the chalkboard, but with disbelief, or lack of faith. I still feel the indignation. I did something cool and he couldn’t even give me credit for it.

So when I visited the castle last summer with my family, 20 years after I made my escape, I made sure to tell them the entire story and I showed them the actual small window and the actual pipe. They were suitably impressed (thank you kind family for seeing how much I needed the validation). And as I stood there I decided to take a photo because I too was impressed.

Always fresh flowers everywhere at The Leela.

Today I am writing a Top 5 post for Kate’s  listography at Kate Takes 5. Kate suggested we make a list of the Top 5 places we’ve visited. In no particular order.

1. The Leela Hotel in Goa

This was an exception to the norm for us–we usually take holidays where we can climb (small) mountains or hike through wilderness or surf the Atlantic. The honeymoon came in the middle of my husband writing a text book, me juggling a full time job and lots of kids and of course planning a wedding. We were exhausted and knew we just needed a place where the biggest decision during the day was Pool or Beach and for the evening it was which of the four restaurants to choose. It was perfectly fabulous. We arrived just after monsoon season so we were one of the few guests and we received wonderfully personal treatment. And yes, we did venture out and saw some amazing sites in Goa, a spice plantation, temples, and old Portuguese mansions. I would go back–for the sites as well as the friendly people.

2. Bemidji, Minnesota

The teenage me would shriek with terror if she knew in 20-some years I would say Bemidji, my hometown, would be one of my top places I’ve visited. I couldn’t wait to get out. But when I took my family there for the first time a few years ago, viewing it with grow up eyes made me see why so many people from all over the US have summer homes in the area.

3. New Mexico

I’m listing a whole state because there’s several places in New Mexico I really really loved. There was a wild beauty that I really connected with, as if (watch out! cornball alert!) I had been there before. And the people were so nice. I also love the variety in the state–desert to rolling foothills of the Rockies. No wonder Georgie O’Keefe chose to paint here. I am planning a big family Road Trip through New Mexico one of these days…

4. Paris

I know. Why couldn’t I be more original? But I really, really like Paris. It seems appropriate that I include it here. Paris is perfect if you have a long weekend and you only live in the South of England. Like me! We like to get up late, walk neighbourhoods, stop for coffee, go to a gallery, browse shops, and find different places to eat each night–tiny little hole in the wall restaurants or fabulously complicated posh restaurants, it’s all good fun.

5. Northumberland

If you’ve never been you are missing the experience of Living in an Artist’s Impression of Wild, Romantic, Passionate England. Wow, the views are incredible. From the purple Cheviots to the elegant beech forests silhouetted across hilltops. The wild coastline with it’s long, wide stretches of beaches that have been rated amongst the most beautiful in the world could hold your attention alone. The fortress castles and the pretty but hardy clutches of stone villages tucked into bends on roads and along hillsides hold pubs with fires and friendly people. It’s one of our favourite family holiday destinations.

Doesn't this look inviting?

Sometimes on a cold Saturday in the late afternoon we start dinner by snacking in front of the fire and chatting, watching the pheasants outside, eventually seeing what’s on TV for later, then the day rolls into evening and we’ve collected more and more things from the cupboards until we’re full, somewhere about 8ish. The January weekend dinner has been one long snack of nice cheeses, pears or apples, some slices chorizo or parma ham, possibly some pickles, lovely crispy biscuits/crackers and beer (or ale) or wine or just water. And sometime just before the movie starts someone puts the kettle on and we all place our orders from the fabulous hot drink cupboard!

What do you love doing to enjoy the cold winter weekends?

Spinning too many plates sometimes means dropping one (or several)

I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt (because I’m hoping you’ve given me the benefit of the doubt) and assuming your feelings aren’t hurt, assuming that you’re a grown up like me and understand that sometimes when spinning plates (plates called: children, rest-of-family, two birthdays during Christmas season, a Christmas Eve party, school events, broken freezer, broken cooker, terrible weather, Christmas Cards, comments on blogs, regular blogging) one—or several, will crash to the floor.

I received a Christmas Card yesterday (post marked the day before) from someone who obviously also dropped that plate but decided later was better than never. I, on the other hand, threw in the towel and just decided I would start writing them in October next year to get them out on time. I may even become organised enough to post some to the States this year.

Only yesterday did I finally get caught up on all (I think all) of my emails—some have been sitting there since mid-December waiting to be answered.  I opened with apologies and signed off with gratitude.

Also only yesterday did I finally get mostly caught up on laundry. Really. And that was with regular loads going through the machine.

And today I aim to get caught up on replying to all the lovely comments on my blog and visiting your sites.

Time Management skills were once my thing, but they’ve got lost under all the lists of jobs.

A good friend of mine said ‘what’s the point trying to hit the ground running in January? I use January as my recover from last year/get organised for this year time.’ She’s right of course, haste makes waste and if I moved more slowly I would probably not drop so many plates.

I went to my very lovely neighbour’s house for a cup of tea the other day and we were chatting for a while before she realised the kettle had stopped boiling ages ago so she jumped up saying ‘I’ll just go make the tea quickly!’ then dashed out of the room. Then she popped her head back round the corner and looked at me saying ‘because I must do it quickly, right?!’ making fun of herself. And it was true, why did she need to make the tea quickly? We are both busy people but we had set aside an hour to have a cup of tea and chat. There was no need to be quick in that time.

I must practice what I preach and go slowly and remember to breathe.  Do any of you also find you hit January in a bit of a panic—‘I must get organised I must get these things done I must make sure I do that, can’t forget this…’?

I know my good friends won’t be hurt if I have poor Time Management skills but I also know I’d like to work on improving that and to do so I am going to go slower this year.

'Optimism'

It’s such an accurate phrase, isn’t it? Stuck in a deep chasm of a path, probably a circular path with familiar landmarks–here’s the circular tour of my rut:

‘Oh look! Here’s the bit where I read lots of inspirational books and websites! And here’s where I always write lots of very promising lists! And here’s where I achieve some of them and see over the edge of the rut long enough to know there’s a whole world out there. And here’s the bit where I set aside the lists and resolutions briefly so I can  get the laundry done. And here’s the spot where I always decide life is easier if I focus a bit more on keeping the house tidier, starting the dinner before husband gets home, doing the laundry more frequently, and getting jobs done like the car serviced and updating the insurance when I should instead of waiting for late reminders. Now I’m at the place where I need to set aside exercise this week if I am ever going to get on top of everything I need to. And here’s the place where I realise I am just getting no where with those resolutions and lists–and where I realise it’s been weeks since I’ve exercised. Oh, and look! Now I recognise this spot: It’s where I carved a phrase in the wall of my canyon Stuck in a rut. I must be back at the beginning again.’

I emailed one of my closest friends this week about how my Christmas holidays went (always busy & fraught, but fun) and she emailed back that I must have amazing Time Management Skills to get all that done. After I got back on my chair (I fell off with laughter) I wanted to email back that I have terrible Time Management Skills, that’s why I have yet to finish any of my major projects. That’s why a blog is so lovely, its is an ongoing project with no deadline in sight.

I accept that when the kids are off school for more than a weekend our routines get messed with and that means we can’t do our usual stuff, so I’ll probably feel more optimistic next week when my daughter is back at school (and I start reading inspirational books and websites again…then making lists…) but something has to change.

I’m writing this at almost 11pm in my PJ’s, the one’s with little rainbows which I bought at Target the last time I was in Minnesota. I bought them because they reminded me of the late 70′s when rainbows started to become fashionable on clothes, on stickers, in posters and I always loved the bold colours. Just thinking back to the ten year old me walking into the local sort-of-boutique shop that started selling beautiful cards (beyond hallmark), candles, shoelaces with little images on them (balloons, stars or rainbows!), stickers of all sorts, and posters (‘art prints’ you know, photos of dolphins with the sun shimmering down through the dark water and inspirational words centred at the bottom). I loved this shop because it was new and different and full of possibilities and the future. You have to remember there were very few shops like this way back then. This was inspired. I pulled my rainbow PJ’s on tonight because I wanted some of that inspiration.

Sweet dreams!

What do you see: Time is Running Out or A Fresh Start?

I know ‘New Years Resolutions’ has two categories of people listed underneath: Those Who Make New Years Resolutions and Those Who Don’t. Okay and there’s subcategories as well, like Those Who Make Resolutions Who Never Keep Them and Those Who Don’t Make Resolutions But Who Make Fun Of Others Who Do, and so on. We’re human, so the combination of subcategories is endless.

There’s plenty of people who will state that Making New Years Resolutions is a Waste of Time (even if they make them), and that you can and should make Resolutions any time of year and not feel under pressure from society to make them at this time.

I agree; Resolutions can be made any time. After all, a Resolution is nothing more than A Decision to Take Action and books, the Internet and Life Coaches are full of ideas on how to help us focus on making the Right Decisions for Us and on how to Stay Motivated to Accomplish those Decisions.

Why then have I chosen to make Resolutions this New Years? Because I like the idea of ritual. Rituals are how humans have learned to manage transitions. They mark the ending of one segment of time or experience and the beginning of another—so for me it would be marking them ending of a years of modest achievement but real lack of focus. A ritual of making resolutions going into a new year would help me feel like I am making a transition from a year of groundwork into a year of accomplishment.

One of my friends sits down with his wife every New Years Eve and over a bottle of wine they talk about what they want to achieve that year—in professional, personal and family categories. They do this because the conversation about the Resolutions helps solidify the goals in their own minds, but it is also great communication: both know what the other wants to do and what they need from their partner in order to achieve the goal. They start the New Year on the same page.

I have another friend who writes a letter to her self. She outlines her hopes and wishes for the coming year and briefly writes about what happened in the past year and why some of her goals didn’t happen. Its like a yearly progress report and plan for the future all in one.

Why do we need a ritual? We like to improve our lot in life. Rituals help us observe our position and look to the future with hope.

Apparently when performing any ritual the most important this is not what’s said but how it’s performed. Just standing at a bar doing vodka shots with mates and reeling off a list of things you want to do in the new year (get out of debt, lose weight, find a boyfriend, blah, blah, blah) is not going to work as well as the conversation my friend has with his wife or the letter my other friend writes to herself. Using a physical action along with stating your intention shifts the idea from your mind to your being and you will feel more invested in achieving the goal. That’s life coach talk I suppose but if it works, I’ll have a go.

So far I’ve emailed friends, I’ve chatted with my husband while we were cooking the other night, and now I’ve written a blog post but perhaps I need a Ritual as well. My list is more than just a To Do list, the jobs list that people scribble on paper and keep rewriting through a day, a week, a year. My To Do List includes things like:

1.     Write a will

2.     Finish the present for my sister (from August)

3.     Paint bathrooms

4.     Repair wheel on upright hoover (we have one of those with the extendable attachment but I don’t like it as much on carpet, I want to fix my old one)

5.     Update passports

6.     Strengthen my two blogs

7.     Finish garden projects (the veggie patch, the pond, the border…)

A list of Resolutions is more about behavioural change, the Big Goals that have a life defining effect on our lives because achieving them means we change as a result, either because of the effort we went through to achieve them or because of the results from the achievement.

My 2011 Resolutions list includes:

1.     Finish a Novel (one of several that I’ve started)

2.     Get Fit

3.     Spend more quality time with my family

4.     See and speak to my American family more

But now all this rattling on about ritual leaves me with the question, what ritual is appropriate for me that will help me feel I have really taken on board these goals? My husband would feel it too contrived if I tried to rope him into sitting down to plan our year, even with a bottle of wine to entice him. He would get antsy, I would get irritated that he didn’t take it seriously enough, and we would end up rehashing old issues with statements like ‘you always–’, or ‘why can’t you just–‘ rather than planning for our future.

A letter to myself is not quite right either.

What do you suggest readers?

Do you bother making resolutions?

Do you have any New Years Rituals?