Grrrrrrrrrr

A very sweet person told me that the hardest part was over, which was finally landing that job. I wanted to believe him, but I knew it was still coming. I was right.

Preparing a house for sale just points a big magnifying glass on our life. We're out of the house at 6:20 to sit in the car for an hour, work all day, sit in the car for another hour, then come home and hit the ground running to work, work, work even more. There's dishes and laundry and dinner prep and dinner eating and homework and baths and coordinating and organizing and falling into bed, where we are asleep before the girls every single night. That level of GO GO GO is just what's required to get by. We're not doing anything extra. Not going to any school events, not cleaning the house, not even watching TV. The best we can do is a little Facebooking in between tasks, on our phones (because we can hide from the kids with them).

On Friday afternoon, I realized that weekends make me angry. I looked around the house, and it looked like a bomb went off. Crap everywhere. Papers, crayons, magazines, random toys, clothes, shoes, jackets. School papers from the girls on every surface. So the weekend is just about repairing the damage from the week, so we can get the house livable enough to do the whole thing over again-- not even clean, just livable. It's not a life! This is not a life! I must be a failure at working motherhood, because I flat-out cannot keep up with this, and I damn sure am not enjoying any part of it.

A side effect of this is that anyone that tries to make plans with us, or if a holiday pops up (like today, which is Easter), I get frustrated and angry. These are supposed to be the GOOD parts of life. But they get in the way of my survival-level treadmill, and I end up irritated. A lot. And then I get upset because I love the people in my life and I have a great time with them every single time we're together. It is never time wasted. But then I come home and there's still crap everywhere and piles of laundry and and and.

I don't know what my point is. I guess this is exactly why we're doing what we're doing. Today I started packing the one box I'm allowing myself to store of sentimental things-- yearbooks, photos, my high school letter jacket, our wedding programs. It was painstaking, but I'm glad I did it. I can't wait for all of the STUFF to be gone. All of it. We're within a few weeks of the estate sale, maybe a month, and I cannot wait.

What If We Did It?

I can’t even describe the last few weeks. In a nutshell: We were talking to Cairo, a neat little school three miles from the pyramids. We got very close to a job offer, and decided against it. 

We went several long weeks with nothing. No word anywhere, our letters of application ignored all across the globe. I started to plan what I’d put in my garden this summer since it looked like we were sticking around. I didn’t update this blog because I felt too sorry for myself. I was low, low, low. It’s hard to recover when you’ve taken almost two years to plan something this big, get yourself mentally prepared for it, and nothing happens. I gained ten pounds and watched the snow pile up to my eyeballs outside.

Then La Paz, Bolivia called. The guy liked us, we liked him, the school and city were just gorgeous. God, those mountains. We were awaiting his official offer and were planning to accept it when we got the e-mail from Thailand, requesting an interview. An hour after that, we were offered the La Paz job. This was two days ago. 

We stalled the La Paz guy while we talked to Thailand. We had two interviews in quick succession, and we got the e-mail this morning with the job offer. We’re moving to Chiang Rai, northern Thailand, in about four months!

So here is the “what if we did it” part. They don’t have any shipping allowance. This means we either pay to ship our own stuff, or we just don’t ship anything. We’re thinking of the latter. And this means we’ll be moving to the other side of the world with nothing but suitcases. 

I really don’t have much to say beyond that, besides… holy crap. We are going to do it.

Long-overdue update

It’s been forever since I’ve posted, mainly because preparing for the job fair took up so much of my time. So: job fair details!

We settled in on Thursday night, got some dinner, went to the orientation, met a few people. We started feeling very confident due to the presence of idiots at the orientation (one woman yapping to her friend the whole time, lots of people asking really stupid questions). We slept well and got ready for the big day Friday morning.

Picture a large hotel ballroom, with tables all around the perimeter. Each table had 1-3 people behind it, with a large poster-sized paper on the wall behind them. The paper had the school’s name printed on top, then the available jobs written below it in marker. There were so many schools there that they had two separate sessions of this. People would go up to the tables of schools they were interested in, chat with the director for a few minutes, then sign up for interviews. Very speed-dating.

We walked into the first session, and saw… a lot of white space on those posters. We walked around and around the room in disbelief, hoping things would change. There was just nothing available (unless you were an elementary teacher, then it was open season). It wasn’t as disappointing as finding a lot of jobs and having people reject us, but still a bummer. By the end of two job-posting sessions, we ended up with two scheduled interviews. One was with a school in Costa Rica, a place we hadn’t considered, but they had jobs and I felt like we clicked with the director right away. Costa Rica? Why not? The other interview was with Vietnam, which would be our second interview with that school. They had two English and two science jobs there! That doubled our odds. Surely we were in!

We were contacted by a third school in India. The three admins were impressed with our information, and wanted to talk to us. We were apprehensive about the India part, but the school looked beautiful and all three of the administrators were fantastic. We set up an interview time for the next day.

At this point, we had literally nothing to do for the rest of the day. Our interviews were all scheduled for Saturday, and it was only noon on Friday. We went to the hotel gym and tried to watch a movie on Netflix, to no avail due to the hotel’s terrible Wi-Fi. Throughout the day (and Saturday), schools held 30-minute presentations which were sort of like sales pitches for their schools; frustrating and odd to me, since most of them didn’t need selling. But we went to some of them, and it dawned on me that I’m starting to want this as much for the girls’ education as I do for my own career. Some of these schools are incredible. Extracurriculars out the wazoo! Is educational asylum a thing? Not that their education here is bad; they have truly excellent teachers. But I can’t get past Sascha’s 15 minutes of lunch and 15 minutes of recess for the whole school day. It makes me sick. This country has absolutely no regard for the value of downtime, or anything else that can’t be measured by a standardized test (which boils down to reading and math, reading and math, reading and math). It’s not the teachers’ fault. 

There was a reception that night for all 500ish candidates, where we lasted about 20 minutes before tiring of the noise and crowd and futility. We went up to our room to find two e-mails. One was from the India school. The science position had changed, and was now AP Physics, which I’m not qualified to teach, so India was out. The other was from Costa Rica. He only has so many places for teachers’ kids, and earlier that day he had filled his limit. Unless we wanted to shell out a third of our income to pay the girls’ tuition, Costa Rica was out too. That was a bummer. The school looked really fun and relaxed, and we were sure the guy would’ve hired us. 

That left us with one interview: Vietnam. 9 am. 

We got up an hour before our alarms. We got scrubbed up, fed, and back to our room by 8. We spent the next hour drilling each other with possible interview questions, thinking of the best possible answers. We quizzed each other on the school’s mission and philosophies. I put a fresh top coat on my nails. I whitened my teeth. I add all of this detail because it serves to illustrate the pathetic-ness (?) of what happened next. 

At 8:50, we went out to the elevators, quietly singing Ice Cube songs to each other and feeling like we totally had this. We arrived at the room early and paced the hallway slowly and confidently. Five minutes later, the director opened the door. This was it!

“I have some unfortunate news. I just got off the phone, and those positions have now been filled.” 

We were so numb that we smiled and brushed it off like he had just asked us to come back in an hour. “Oh sure, hey, no problem!” But I couldn’t feel my face for the next two hours for as hard as it had been slapped. It’s still painful to think about. But it wasn’t meant to be, and I have to accept that. 

We went to a few more presentations that day, which turned out to be very smart. We introduced ourselves to a few school directors after the presentations, which might end up helping us. The director of one of our top-choice schools sent me an e-mail saying that he was glad we’d introduced ourselves, and he was only sorry that he didn’t have positions to offer us. He and I wrote back a few times, and he asked if he could help (!). I told him that we currently have active applications in four schools, so if he knew any of those directors, just convincing them to take a closer look at us would be tremendously helpful. Anything to make us less anonymous. 

Going to the fair and meeting these people in person was priceless. We went to a presentation for one of the top schools in the world (really), and aside from the two administrators, there was one other guy in the room. They scrapped their presentation and just talked to us. It was fantastic. Inside my head every once in a while I’d squeal that we had the guys from this A-list school all to ourselves. Of course, turnover is so low there that they had no jobs, but I bet they’ll remember us if the stars align and someone retires. 

There were two schools that I really had my heart set on, but I just did not mesh with the directors. One of them has a General Science job listed. I went to talk to him and he said coldly, “yeah, that’s actually Chemistry. Sorry about that, that’s the way it goes sometimes” and he looked past me. I was so put off by him that I almost physically recoiled. He looked fine on paper. Now I know that I will never apply to that school as long as he is there, or anywhere else he goes. The other school’s director was very sweet but seemed sort of harried and distracted. I asked about the General Science job and he seemed confused, his voice trailing off as he walked away. Yeah, not meant to be. (As of this writing, both of those jobs are still open on the recruiting website. I know, I’m shrugging too.)

So at this point, we have three applications in to three different places: Dusseldorf, Albania (just down the road from Montenegro!), and another school in Bangkok. I’ve also written to Montenegro again to remind them that we’re still interested, since they apparently have not filled those spots yet. 

Jobs will still open up, since it’s only February. All of those teachers who found new jobs have to give notice where they work, which will open those positions. That kind of reminds me of when I was having dating trouble in my 20s, and I decided I’d just have to wait until all the good men were getting divorced in their 30s and then I’d get my chance (which didn't happen, fortunately). Whatever gets us in, I guess. 

The crazy emotional up & down has been the hardest part. Worst-case scenario, we’ll just try again next year. And we still love our jobs here, so that’s not a bad consolation!

A Tough Problem to Have

We got a bite.

Let me back up a bit. About a week ago, a new job opening came up. It's a tiny little school in a truly amazing location: Montenegro. I know, Montene-wha? That's exactly right. It's a nine-year old country that was part of the breakup of Yugoslavia after the Balkan War. It's right across the water from Italy. Are you ready for this? Here's what it looks like:


No joke. Mountains, gorgeous clear blue water, small town. What was I harping on recently? How badly I want to get AWAY. This place right here, this is away. The charming quirkiness of Eastern Europe (I have a special place in my heart for Russia in all of its concrete Eastern bloc glory) with the beauty and climate of the Mediterranean. Clean air, great weather, running, hiking, biking, gardening, QUIET. This view right here, as I sip coffee on the terrace, for $700 a month. I could finally hear myself think, and start working on my Giant Stress Belly in the fresh air and sunshine. What could possibly be better?

Hmm. Well... This could.

 

Okay, we wouldn't be living THERE, exactly. But the pictures of Saigon, Vietnam that thrill me aren't the same ones that thrill most people. Like this:

It probably smells bad there, but I'm still like "Yyyyeeeaaahh, bring it!" I am aware that this is the polar opposite of the peace and quiet I just described about Montenegro above. The irony does not escape me. But that's probably why Montenegro is just a hair above Saigon, at least for me (I think Nick is the opposite).

Okay, enough picture time. Here's the story.

I discovered the Montenegro jobs and started doing a little research. The school is just a few years old, so it doesn't have any reputation at all. The money isn't great, but according to the agency, a family of four could live comfortably on one salary, and we'd have two. The pictures of this place are to die for. I am completely smitten. It looks like it is exactly what we need: Quiet, slow, boring, beautiful. And quiet. It looks like the exact antidote to the life we're living now. And we'd still have easy access to the rest of Europe. We got a small bite of interest from the HR person there who said she'd be in touch by the end of the week.

In a moment of desperation inspiration, I made a video resume for us to try to make us more visible:

It's not perfect; when I made it, I was tired (of course), pressed for time (of course), and interrupted every five minutes by a kid or dog or phone call (of course). But whatever, it's good enough.

I decided to send it to a few other schools we hadn't heard from yet. Saigon South is a big, desirable school with a great reputation and lots of competition for jobs. The money and travel opportunities are great (and also? Domestic help). Before I discovered Montenegro, it had risen to first choice in my mind, even though the odds were slim for us. I figured I'd throw it at their wall and see if it would stick.

It stuck.

The principal wrote back to us right away. I think she likes us. She said our letter made her laugh out loud. She had a few more questions before we get to the interview phase, and I think we both wrote back great responses. I think our chances there are really good, just based on our banter with the boss.

Now I'm wondering if I should write back to Montenegro and ask them if they could, you know, light a little fire. Stay tuned, because this is all going to go down in the next week or so! Wheeee!!!

Baby Steps are Scary

We're on Christmas break now. The holiday is over. The house is clean, more or less. The fridge is full of leftovers. There are no looming deadlines. It's taking a while for that to sink in: there is no stress, at least that of the life-treadmill-hurry-hurry variety we normally have.

Naturally, I am sick! Of course. But today I got a wild hair to go to the hardware store for some light bulbs. See, we have an extensive to-do list for the house before we put it on the market. I decided I'd cross one thing off the list and pick up the sixteen (!) fluorescents needed in the basement, and what the hell, the missing ceiling tiles too.

We got to work as soon as I got home. My motivation snowballed a little and I grabbed the primer to paint over the spots where Sophie drew with Sharpie on the walls a few years ago. I got kind of quiet as I painted over her toddler art. I started thinking about how many tiny jobs it's going to take to do this; how many tiny goodbyes I'll make to this house we moved into just six weeks before becoming parents. How hard it will be to see it empty and walk out of it for the last time. This is the longest I've lived in one house, ever, in my 43 years. I love this house and fulfilled almost every one of my HGTV fantasies with it as my blank canvas. It's been my creative outlet. It is truly a dream home.

But it will have to be someone else's dream home in a few months. I have to be okay with that. I've dreamed about moving abroad for about two decades. My favorite word is "expatriate." As safe as I am now, I need to wake up and scare myself. It's fun to be scared, it makes us feel more alive. That's why people like roller coasters and scary movies. It's scary to do this! But even with the baby steps, I check in... and I still want to go through with it.

One month, seven days until the job fair.

Long time no blog

Sorry. I've just been dealing with a lot of swirling thoughts about this move. For several weeks I fell into a pretty deep funk about it. Not having any control over something that is so big, that's going to happen so soon and change everything so dramatically, is frustrating beyond belief. It is this behemoth concrete elephant in the middle of my life right now that will not budge. I still check the job updates every few hours; they do change that often. Google-Earthing any town I'd like to move to. Looking up real estate prices and what the houses or apartments look like. Even looking up weekend trips and flight prices from those towns.

One thing that has helped is that I sent out a few letters of intent. There was one day where Nick stayed home sick from school. I saw new jobs open in Vietnam (South Saigon Int'l) that morning. During my free time, I researched the school and the neighborhood and decided that Vietnam was exactly where I wanted to go-- it looks almost better than Bangkok! I was so excited about applying but waited until I talked to Nick about it first. I got home that afternoon, opened up my phone to show him the job listing, and... it had already been deleted. Arrrrghh!! 

So I decided to send them a letter anyway, saying that I'd seen the science job briefly, that Nick is interested in the English position, and to please keep us in mind if another science job opens up. Then I decided to send a few more "please consider us just in case" letters to other places. And I got a response from the director of Rabat American School in Morocco, one of my very top choices!

Dear Abby and Nick,

Thank you for your interest in a position here at Rabat American School.  

There is no need to apologize for candour — I thoroughly enjoyed the enthusiasm in your note!  As you mention we don’t yet have anything for science and English, but I am forwarding your email to our Secondary Principal, Mr. Paul S------.  We will definitely keep you in consideration, and should something relevant come up we will follow up with you then.  In the interim should you see something of interest please don’t hesitate to write again.

I wish you both the very best of luck in your current job searches.

Best wishes,

(Director of Rabat American School)

I took out the names so they wouldn't show up on a Google search. This letter made me feel uprighted. Boosted. All of the other robo-responses I've received have been like, "Due to the volume of responses we get..." like I'm one of several hundred faceless randoms groveling for admission into an exclusive club that may or may not take me. This one makes me smile every time I read it, and has given me a modicum of patience. I'm still having a hard time getting motivated to get our house & belongings ready to move, but I think that will come once I have any idea at all where we're going, just SOME kind of direction. So far I've written to a few schools in Germany (I'm particularly proud of those letters and the way I worked in my German experience), Barcelona, and Amsterdam. Throwing things at the wall, seeing what sticks.

I have a countdown app on my phone that tells me how long we have until July 1st (6 months 18 days), a date I picked arbitrarily because it will be within days of that date that we actually step on a plane. I created a second countdown on the app for the job fair in February (1 month 24 days), because that is likely when we'll get our jobs. Once I know, the ball can start rolling. Seeing that shorter time is helpful.

I am fiercely, scarily in love with my kids right now. I spend all day missing them, thinking about their soft faces, the smell of their necks, and tiny voices and giggles. No, this is not because I was mother-shamed about complaining in my last post (oh yes I was), and I'm making amends; I was complaining about the constraints of motherhood specifically in this country. But these girls are just magical little creatures to me. I lose sleep watching them at night. I cannot wait to start this new adventure in our little family bubble, watching them learn a new language (I can already hear them giggling over it together, whatever language it is) and go to the same school as us. Helping them when they struggle and cry over all of the adjustments, just like I did growing up. I am so proud of them, and they make me quite proud of myself. Although I might take a little too much credit; Nick does the bulk of the parenting and he is the best person I know in the world. 

I'll try to write the next post sooner than a month from now, although it is just a bunch of More Waiting. Still, I've started to keep a list of Things I Will Miss (about the US) and Things I Won't. That will probably be next.    

America is Exhausting, Part 2

It's Saturday morning. We're trying to decide what to do with our weekend. Neither of us slept well due to Sophie's usual antics (she has never been a good sleeper), so bear with me because this post is coming from a tired, grouchy me.

Sascha wants to go to the movies. So does Nick, although he wants to see something different. I said to him, "If this was 30 years ago, you could take Sascha and her cousin to the movies and let them go to their own show by themselves." Then several thoughts piled on to me at once: We have to be with our kids at all times. Nowadays, CPS is called if we let them do anything on their own. When I was a kid, our parents were not saddled with this responsibility, when crime was actually worse. On top of all that, our mothers didn't work. So after a week of 5 am wakeups, hour-long commutes, and wrangling teenagers (and this week it was also term grade deadlines), I'm supposed to do Pinterest-worthy activities with my kids because it's unsafe for them to do anything on their own, and there are no other kids around because of divorce and weekends-at-Dad's or endless sports, and why would I want them to do anything else anyway because they're supposed to be THE MOST FULFILLING PART OF MY LIFE. I suppose they are, in the abstract. But I need the damn oxygen mask on my own tired mug for a while. My personal gas tank feels like it's always near empty. I always have two bucks for more gas. Just enough to keep going, never enough for the long distances of my week. A run here, a night out with a girlfriend there. Two bucks at a time.

It has actually taken me six hours to write this post due to the constant interruptions.

On another note... A science job opened up at our number one choice of schools! I didn't wait for the English job yet. I went ahead and applied. Nick is calling it the Lottery job, because getting it would be like winning the lottery. I find myself thinking about Thailand constantly. Crossing all fingers and toes and fibers of my being. I am very confident about the letter I wrote them, so here's hoping!