My initial concern was that I wouldn't remember how to get to my blog, and even if I did - would I know how to log in and where to go once I was? I managed this after a couple of tries, then realized the larger problem would be whether I remember how to write. I'm concerned that until I get back into the swing of things (assuming I can manage to blog more than once every 6 months), I'll write in the self-conscious style that plagued my early posts. Reading my old posts you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd stumbled onto a 13 year old's diary, not the blog of someone in their late 20s talking about infertility. Late 20s...oh, those were the days.
So yes, I'm "back", though I never really left. I shifted my whole life and family back to the fair shores of the US and got lazy. Creating a new life for three is hard, let me tell you. I could pretend that I have no time, but I do. My kid (nearly 4 1/2 - SHIT) goes to bed at 7.30pm, I go to bed around 11pm every night. That is 3 1/2 hours of nothingness. Said nothingness is largely spent watching TV or DVDs with The Dude, catching up on what we have missed all these years away. Let me tell you - you people have got this reality TV thing down. Yes, it is "you people", because though I have lived in the US for three months and uh, I am American, I'm having some outsider issues which I hope will lessen soon.
My job is frustrating; it seems the notion of "training" is not important to the new place, yet haranguing me for not doing something I did not even know existed is acceptable. I am very independent and thorough, so this is not my chosen method in which to work. Professionally, I wouldn't want to do anything else, but I'm not sure if this is the institution for me. I am trying to be open-minded about it because I know it can take awhile to adjust, particularly when you come from a familiar, comfortable environment. I've been increasingly homesick for a country I am not even from, and on most days I debate whether I've done the right thing.
So here we are, dropped in an unfamiliar place, slowly getting our bearings. The Dude vacillates between thinking that the life we'll have here will be great once we sell our place in the UK and he finds a job, and OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE WE DONE? He has started doing some part-time coaching which has alleviated some of the overall pervasive misery, but neither one of us can help thinking about the two fairly good-paying jobs and property that we owned (god, I hate renting) and left behind.
P is just peachy regardless. She's happy here, she's happy there, she'd be happy in Eritrea. She is a jolly little bean, if not a jolly little dictating bean. See, I suppose not everything changes. We question our decision on her behalf as well, because even though she's well-adjusted, things could always be better. I wonder if anyone ever feels confident that their child(ren)have the very best life that they can provide. I didn't feel as if I was doing that in England, which was part of the reason for the move. Yet, I certainly don't feel as if I'm doing that here either. I don't know if that ideal space exists.
So yes, I am here. Disjointed, confused, stumbling blindly through life both real and cyber. My goal for this week is to read blogs, so watch yourselves. That is, if I can remember how to sign in and comment on them. Oh yeah, or if I'm not distracted by all of the quality reality television - damn you Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and Millionaire Matchmaker!