Adventure Mom

Let’s Write a Book A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step –Lao-tzu, Chinese philosopher I’m asking you to hold me accountable for a thousand-mile journey. It’s a big ask, I know. But I work better when others are watching, especially when I’ve clued them in on the goal. Maybe it’s the old TV reporter in me. Maybe it’s the human in me. We’re more likely to complete a task when other people - our co-workers, clients, friends or neighbors, are aware, or better yet, reliant, on the fact we’ll do our job. My job in New Zealand, besides shuttling the kids to and from school, organizing extracurricular activities, food shopping, cooking, cleaning, washing (the household stuff), making and keeping friends, attending church, running, occasional volunteer work (creating community stuff), is to write something Fiona and Finley (when they’re older) and maybe you or a friend can read to understand what our family experienced during Sean’s four-a-and-half month illness, and the pa...

Stick a Fork in Me, I’m Done 49 Flavors in Auckland Stick a fork in me, I’m done. Stuffed (American “stuffed,” meaning full, rather than Kiwi “stuffed,” meaning screwed). I came, I saw, but did not quite conquer The Food Show in Auckland. I attended with my friend, Emily, an American living with her Kiwi husband and 3 small children in Auckland, and Alex, a Russian living with his 9-year-old son in Emily’s apartment on the first floor of their new home. We paid $22.50 each to jockey for position with thousands of other wanna-be foodies at the ASB Showgrounds in the Greenlane neighborhood (it’s near One Tree Hill, namesake of a U2 album, which no longer possesses its one tree). Imagine shopping and sampling at Costco (giant American food-and- everything-else warehouse, for the uninitiated) on a Saturday during lunch, then multiply by 56. The gourmet learning experience, the “cooking with gas” version of the food show is this: Buy your ticket, attend cooking demonstrations of New Zeala...

St. Anywhere The kids and I attended services today at the closest thing I’ve experienced to our home parish since visiting The American Cathedral in Paris last September. I felt more than a touch of melancholy at the familiar-feeling surrounds of St. Matthew’s Anglican Church  in Hastings, New Zealand http://www.stmatthewshastings.org.nz/ . Stained glass, stone pillars, pipe organ – all there. It’s a world apart from the more modern churches we normally attend in the Bay of Plenty. Fiona in St. Matthew's, Hastings, NZ But it wasn’t just the aesthetics of St. Matthew that created  a lump in my throat. It was the service, and the fact today was the first time in a long time I’ve held a Book of Common Prayer (New Zealand version) in my hands. No words projected on a screen, just a priest or lay reader and 45 or so mostly white-haired congregants, reciting, singing, praying, calling, responding. It’s old-school. Outdated, right? No one under 60-years-old wants that kind of ...

Spok-AN-trum Stand back. I’m about to throw a Spok-AN-trum. A full-on, “I miss Spokane-my-friends-my-home-my-central-heating-and-my-clothes-dryer” tantrum. This could get messy. Are you sure you want to keep reading? Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Sucker. There are several reasons for my American hissie fit. #1: I was meant to (i.e., “supposed to,” in American English) leave New Zealand this week.  I have an electronic itinerary stating the kids and I fly from Auckland to Nadi, Fiji, July 20 th . We’re not flying to Fiji quite yet. I’ve already asked the travel agent to hold our tickets and re-book us for March, though I haven’t picked a date. You’d fear commitment, too, if you knew it cost more than $1,000 every time you changed your mind. And if you’d entangled yourself in a new relationship while diving, feet-first (brains last), into a new country. As the time of our initial departure date evaporated, I admitted I missed my family and friends, my 5 bedroom, 3.5 bathroom home,...

That's Progress While American small fries enjoy their summer vacations, Kiwi kids are still hitting the books (actually, they're "mucking around," watching movies between lessons because a 2-week school holiday starts after today and the kids are hopping around like fleas). I can't resist sharing the kids' mid-year progress reports for a few reasons: 1) What mom/mum doesn't like to brag about her kids? 2) The reports won't always be this positive. 3) If I've done anything right on this trip, it was to enroll Fiona and Finley in a good school. Admittedly, even that was a fluke, thanks to a Google search. I'm still claiming it. En Zed has a literacy model teachers from other countries study, so educators here must be doing something worth copying. Finley Stanelun, Year One Reading, Listening and Viewing: -Finley enjoys reading time and likes to discuss books he has read with the group. -He is now confident to attempt unknown words i...

Uncommitted un·com·mit·ted   adj. Not pledged to a specific cause or course of action. (from thefreedictionary.com) “You should write a blog about your inability to commit,” said my flat mate, Amy, from across the kitchen bench (counter). I had just re-capped my conversation with the travel agent who told me even though my airline tickets state the kids and I are leaving New Zealand July 20 th , I can continue to postpone booking our return flights to the States indefinitely. There are several problems with this method, however: 1) Airfares could rise, and I’d be hit with change fees and penalties beyond the $1,300 I already face; 2) I may forget we’re not ticketed and show up at the airport on a date I have in my head, only to learn we’re not ticketed (unlikely – instead, I’ll obsess over the matter); 3) At some stage, I need to make a decision about returning to the States and stick with it. The $1,300 money-for-nothing already sits on my shoulder like a Mocking Bird: “You jum...

Independence Daze Me and The Boyfriend, Pete.  Monday was the 4 th  of July in New Zealand. The 4th, of course, is American Independence Day. In NZ, it's just another Monday. And Monday here is Sunday in the States, thanks to the massive time difference.  Summer in Spokane. Winter Down Under. If it feels like life is upside-down and opposite – it is. The kids and I are still out of step with the people, places and seasons of our old lives, not only because we're far from home, but also because our old lives vanished like mystery socks when Sean died. You know those socks – you once had a matching pair, but now, you’re left with a solitary sock, which you keep, in  hopes its mate will mysteriously reappear. Holidays often leave me vaguely unsettled. Like I’ve forgotten something just after leaving the house: Keys? Yes. Wallet? Yes. Kids? Got ‘em – stuffed in the hatch (that’s a joke, although they’d probably love to ride in the tiny “boot” of my car). ...