Abbey Row

Kate’s absorbed the British culture the most; mum, rubbish, holiday, where’s the toilet? love, dear, brilliant, presume, reception, wellies, bazooka, fizzy, happy snack.

Wine served at school and the library, Car park, Diesel is common, majority of cars, it’s used for mine, Old school way of pumping gas, pay after you pump, and pumps have the number dials that move at a slow pace, Smart casual is fancy, Net ball-no backboard and no dribbling, Futball (soccer), no football, no Lions 😦

Many locals (everyone I’ve inquired with) have not heard of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  They serve tea sandwiches; which Caroline and I have both grown to love.  Soft butter, slice of thin turkey and cucumbers.  My great grandmother made me butter and ham sandwiches as a child.  I was not very fond.  But, when Grandma Arunski asked if I was hungry, that’s exactly what I was plated.  Every time.  I ate it, with absolutely no complaints.  My complaints whispered silently in my head.  The butter- thick and cold.  It would have to be pre-made, the British sandwich, even though my grandmother was Polish, and stored over night in the fridge.  Absolutely impossible to spread thick, hard butter on soft bread.  It pierced down my throat. Taste buds choked.  And yet, at the same time, every day my great grandma asked if I wanted an ice cream cone.  YES!  Soft serve, on the corner.  She always gave me $20 and I always got to keep the change.  A pot of gold!

Bingo is different.  Here: small ticket with three rows, about five numbers in each row.  When you fill a line, you say line.  And sometimes you play for the house covering the whole ticket.  We were so confused playing at school last night.  And I might still be a little confused.  We had 15 tickets scattered.  Caroline, I’m out of tickets.  Just grab another and play.  Two numbers were already ticked off that card.  She ticked off three more, she yelled, or I yelled line.  Went to stage and not quite.  I explained our BINGO to an unsolicited group, ghost face.

Everybody, everybody walks!  To work, everywhere.  And majority of walkers I see are smoking.  Bikers.  Every person you can imagine.  There is no stereo type for a smoker (or anything, right?).  The other day, stressed perhaps, encircling smoke rings as we walked, I had to flick that cigarette out of Kate’s hand;) Forgot?  Look up top.

Did you know there is another American mum here (Y1)?  No.  She’s been here about 18 years.  Oh wow, does she have an accent?  Yes, but not nearly as strong as yours (oh you meant American, I was thinking….).  Many comment how strong our accents are here.

Asked the same mum who told me about the USA (Y1) mum if she wanted a ride home.  No, no. I’m really becoming an okay driver.  I get more walking miles than car.  And I would have never had offered a ride with kids involved;)  I’m hoping to take driver’s ed in November in hopes that life is slowing down.

Halloween is not big here.  Christmas is!  They start celebrating in November with parties, and I heard City Centre is beautifully decorated.   It was meant to be.  I love Christmas.  Magic!  A newborn baby!  We were invited to a family’s house for dinner.  They shared this family Christmas camp found all over the area.  It sounds amazing.  Sign us up!  I’m determined to have a Christmas party.  I love to entertain.  It might be a “Winn-Dixie” gathering.  I’ll serve tea sandwiches, sweet biscuits, fig pizza and wine.  I might even hang the bottles from a tree.  Okay, I will host the library staff party, with my family.  Okay, we’ll go to the library in our Holiday threads.  We will order off their Christmas menu.  I’m still bringing fig pizza, and the shoe repair crew are welcome too.

When we were furnishing our house with necessities.  I could not find in the department store a box of drinking glasses.  They were all sold separately.  Finally, I found a box of six glasses.  Later to find out, they were tall whiskey tumblers.  But they’re crystal!  The girls drink out of them daily.  Wine glasses to tumblers.

School is different.  I like the uniforms.  Our joke, that is running out, hey you wore that yesterday.  It’s even used on me.  I do not wear a uniform, except my mom form.  In writing “s” is used for “z,” “our” is used for “or.”  Proper spelling is important, even for Kate. Proper spelling is expected and scored in every subject.  Socks.  Still mismatched.  Many mornings, big girls, Mom I have one of Kate’s socks!  Yes, you do!  Mom, I have dad’s socks on (black)!  Yes, you do!  Or, another scenario, one of dad’s socks and one of the girls.  Working on it.  Hoping if I mess up laundry enough I’ll be fired.  Ticks mean you got the answer correct.  Its a check mark and you want to see them cover your page.

Caroline lost her gym bag.  The school dismissed.  We went back into the empty building.  A teacher opened the door for us because the code expires after a certain time.  Do you have a lost and found?  I lost my PE bag?  You mean lost properties?  Yes! Boasted Caroline.  Do you know where it is?  No! Defeated Caroline.  You must be a Year 7.  And she quickly wrapped that statement around with, yes and I’m an American!  I told Steve.  I wonder who she heard that from?

There are many delicious restaurants walking distance from our house.  Steve witnessed while at a work dinner, the Opera House, and it has calamari, like, The Rock in Birmingham.  Slurp!  We still need to try some more pubs.  Last visit or first visit was in August.

Ice cream nights.  I do not know what it is, but I despise scooping ice cream.  I am so worn out from doing a lot, everything in my head.  Ice cream is hard and takes such muscle.  If I must do, I always microwave for 15 seconds.  Girls ask. I respond, Steve can you scoop ice cream?  I hate it.  It’s my least favorite thing to do.  Doubtful, really more than IKEA?  I’ll scoop ice cream this weekend.  I am still dealing with IKEA (19.10.17)

In the UK they write their date dd/mm/yyyy, it makes sense to me.

You pay and pack your own bags at the grocer.  It makes sense to me.  Need a shopping cart?  Put in a 1 lb coin (which was a mountain initially).  You get your coin back upon return.  If you are smart you’ll return that cart.  Makes sense!

I love the way Helen’s year does math.  The Queens had a workshop for parents so they could help their kids.  New methods mixed with how I was taught.  And the “new” methods are not necessarily, but they teach it in such a visual and understandable method.  Along with strong computation, they still do a lot with critical thinking, explanations.

Washer and dryers are considerably smaller here. It takes me all day, every day to do laundry.    I am lucky to have a separate washer and dryer, most are combos.  I am lucky to have a laundry room.  Most laundry machines are in kitchens.  We looked at many houses with this set-up.  My talent—I can turn the washer dial to the correct setting without looking.  And according to Kate, I shrink clothes.  But according to Helen, it’s the dryer’s fault, thank you dear!  My talent-I can also turn the dryer dial to the correct setting with eyes closed.  I must drain water from the dryer after two loads, and once after a towel load.

I see why England has shoe repair shops.  I bought a pair that I love.  They’re “Fly.”  Honestly, that’s the company’s name and I see why.

I know when to speed or walk on my jogs.  The course becomes bumpy. I could twist an ankle (again).  When it’s raining on a jog, I know where I’ll slip.  I know when to walk.  I know when I can speed up.  The terrain mixes; cobble stone, bricks (one row up,  one down), slabs of stone, stones and asphalt.

Is giving the birdie universal?  Not that I was the giver or recipient, but my strong guess is yes.

Motorcycles drive in the middle, between two cars, on two lane traffic.  I’ve only experienced this on one-ways.  But sure does make me uneasy.

I know how to fix a British toilet.  The plumbing is different than the USA.  I’ve done it more than 3x’s, once with my eyes closed.  3x’s in one day.  I’ve quite honestly learned how to do it and can teach others-specifically, my family.  I might be the only one in the house that knows where extra toilet paper is stored.  Three rolls are stored on the toilet stand.  I think I’m also the only one that knows what to do when the roll runs out.  What do you do?  I’ve told you more than 3x’s.  You should know and be able to teach others. 

Everyone, everyone greets you with, are you alright?  I’ve heard it several times.  Not noticing, I answer respectfully and superficially, until one time when I was not alright.  Ghost face when I told them what happened, my feelings. I needed to be three places at once, and a whole lot more.  No support from my typical village.  You asked, now you know.  I think it’s the same in the states, how are you?  There really isn’t time to tell it to you straight and honestly.

I have met some very, very nice moms!  They have extended a warm hand and heart to our family.  I think this is a wonderfully polite country.  I also think the drivers and walkers are aggressive.

I already wrote a new blog post for tomorrow….

Setting:  England

Primary character:  You decide!

Enter stage right or left, I’m not sure, this is new

Cathedral Chaos Part I

We have a stone patio for our outdoor space.  Neighbouring us, is a vast green field maintained by the Cathedral.  There are many field trips attended by younger years at the Cathedral.  The children regularly play in the field.  Our girls often, daily, play in the green area at the Cathedral.  An appreciable setting to get their energy out.  A typical light rain, the girls were playing.  Raincoats and bogs.  Mum, working around the clock, Kate enters, grabs a snack.  We chat an adventure away.  She spins off into her room.

Moments and moments passed.  Mum continues with her bustling house details.  Caroline comes flying in, cheeks red, and eyes swelled.  Mom have you seen Kate?  Yes, she’s playing in her bedroom.  Finger fiercely pointed, you need to talk with her right now!  She needs to get into trouble.  You better give her a time out!  We were playing outside and then Helen and I could not find Kate.  We screamed her name.  Then we ran around the Cathedral 3-4 times looking and screaming her name.  We thought we lost Kate in England!  Caroline was adamant!  And then sweet Caroline teared up from her bubbled frustration.  We thought she was lost in England.  That line hit me, hit me hard with a chuckle.  At home would she say, we thought Kate was lost in Michigan or the USA.

Of course, Kate needs to tell her older sisters where she is going.  We did have a talk.  I’m sorry mommy.  No time out.  We do not do those.

Disclaimer:  The size of the Cathedral and its grounds is a very good city block if not more.  The girls received good steps that day.

Sisters

A rare moment I overheard, Caroline, I know you love yourself so much, but do you love me?  Yes, Helen!  Of course, I love you very much.  The three girls walk often down the streets holding hands.  How many combinations of holding hands with another person can you make using five people?  That’s our puzzle.  It’s a fun one.

My Love Pounds for You!

Before bed, Steve went into a story, I killed a spider by you the other night.  It was huge– I mean it was huge.  You know Lawrence’s tarantula….okay, it wasn’t a tarantula, but I think as big.  Okay, it was a tarantula.  A UK tarantula, a domestic tarantula.  He showed me with his hand, he had to use both hands to show me the size of the spider with legs.  Wow that is a big fish story!  It crawled into my work shirt pile (right by my side of our bed in our tiny-tiny room).  I had to dig thru all those clothes to find him.  He tried to crawl away and I got him!

That is Steve’s “bear in the woods” story for me.  That he would sacrifice his life for me.  He DID sacrifice for me.  Moments like that are how he shows, how he tells me he loves me.  He might not always be great with words, or PDA, but I sure know we have something special.

Van to Volvo

Before Steve and I got married, I always wanted a Volvo station wagon.  Chocolate brown.  I wanted four kids.  Two boys, two girls.  You never know what you will get, right Forest Gump?  Life has taken me to places, to depths that I never wanted to be, and then has brought me back to exactly where I long to be.  Life is unexpected and life is full circle.  The Volvo, maybe full circle—likely not, but a big smile for me.  I’m still trying to teach Steve to drive a manual (stick).  I am getting better at turn arounds.  If I take the first exit, I’m in the first lane, if I take the 2nd, 3^rd or 4^th exit, I’m in the middle or 3^rd turn-around lane, because it is just rude to be in the first.  I can get to my daughter’s school without navigation.  And I am listening to music while driving.

Discipline Strategy

I run the dishwasher twice for good measure.  Once with the pod of soap dispensed and once without, to give them a strong rinse.  Stressed?  I can run a great distance again.  Or  eat a spoonful–or five of Nutella—and it is just as tasteful here as it is in America (side note: when I lived in Royal Oak and was pregnant with Caroline I asked the manager at Oakridge Market if he could stock shelves with Nutella—love it!).  On this particular day, I went for the Nutella jar.  Geez!  What a disappointment!  A huge taste of soap.  It was drinking Sprite when it’s really water.  Defeated?  Absolutely not!  Grabbed another spoon, rinsed and repeated under the faucet.  Round two was a success.  And from that day on I run the dishwasher twice.  Soap in the mouth, is soap in the mouth, with or without chocolate.  Nutella and soap, try it.  Your child will never swear again.

Cathedral Chaos Part II

Our first viewing of our house, the realtor highlighted the entrance of the house and the stone used from the Cathedral.  Our front sidewalk has nice slabs of stone.  We have a cobble-stone street.  It is lovely!  Across the street from us, in a long row of houses dwells the faculty and bishops for the Cathedral.  The main bishop’s quarters (diagonal from us) is magnificent.

We are still puzzling together the trash/recycling schedule.  And here it is, I have it, trash is every other week, recycling and food waste is every week.  We saw a few black garbage bags out on recycling day.  Steve’s leaving for work.  The girls are sleeping.  Don’t worry, I’ll get the trash out.

We finished decorating/organising one room in our house.  A lot of work.  I painted it.  I sealed the empty can of paint.  I threw it in the trash.  The paint can sat in the trash bag on our patio.  The top of the bag had an opening.  It sat through many rains.  Do you see where this is leading?  It was the last bag I dragged to our sidewalk.  I did not remember the paint can in the bag.  Surely, there was a hole in the bottom and a visible wet paint trail.  It led from my back alley to my front stoop.

Recycling truck shows up.  Love, garbage day is every other week.  Today we just pick up recycling.  I was frustrated as I saw a big paint puddle.  I know, but we saw garbage bags out, so we just thought…..”  No worries, love.  He took it, he picks up the Cathedral’s trash every week.  A few minutes behind was the real recycling truck.  Now what to do about this paint puddle?  I grabbed a pitcher and a small paint bucket (CLEAN!) and a scrub brush.  I poured water on the puddle.  Scrubbed.  It spread and became worse.  It was paint, not a paint puddle.  I continued to run in the house and pour water over it.  Now, this is seriously sac-religious.  After some grit, it looked decent.  In the midst, hey love, as you’re trying to conceal the evidence, there is a long trail over here too.  Yes!  I know, but that’s just on the gravel.  Adds character. 

Slightly anxious that the Cathedral staff may notice and per say be, disappointed.  Windows are thin.  Peter, Paul, John and Jeremy were outside my window talking.  Not far from the crime scene.  They were talking about a fundraiser for church.  Likely, to cover the cost of the walk, or our rent when we get evicted.  If approached my response, I prayed to Jesus, I asked for forgiveness and I said AMEN!  I heard the cherub, Halleluiah! 

It was fine.  I understand.  Anyone would be upset.

Everyone calls everyone “love” here.  The women to me, everyone.  It’s a special feeling.

Last One

I’ve made a few mum friends, it’s not facebook official, but they’re in my contacts and we have shared texts.  I know a great friendship is budding.  A mum came to my untidy house and we shared a capri-sun.  The next day I went to her house in a similar situation.

And if I can count the entire library staff as my friend, then add them to my contact list.  They know my name.  How are you settling in Mrs. Sexton?  Are these computers working yet?  Yes, Mrs. Sexton, I’m turning them on right now.  And Dave from the “key shop, shoe repair, dry cleaning.”  I get free keys, because I am such a loyal customer.  That was after four dry-cleaning drop-offs.  Becoming local!

Xx

Unique.  Not to England, uniqueness, kindness, humanitarian is global.  Not much to draw about this story.  I’ll get down to the grit.

Before school started, my dad was staying with us, we perused the city centre daily.  Not a big city, but big enough, there were a handful of street performers.  The girls were enthralled with the young gentleman blowing the largest, the most oblong, the most full-proof bubbles that fascinated any imagination.  Kate-running, chasing, popping, repeat.  A few body bumps.  Caroline and Helen loved it too.

The young gentleman had several buckets and showed the girls how to do it.  He showed, he never told.  He had two wooden sticks and a blue string that tied them together.  I could not, but the girls solved the puzzle.  They were blowing beautiful bubbles.  Kate kept bursting them.  The girls stayed and played.  Stayed and played.  Perhaps an overstayed welcome, but this gentleman was so kind and the girls were happy.  In a dream.  In a child’s heaven.  He had a black hat for donations, coins speckled the bottom. Thinking we needed to move along I went up to him and handed him some bills.  My heart told me he needed it.  

We walked and walked.  We enjoyed the scenery, the unique stores.  A tap.  A rapid breath.  This unique gentleman handed me a folded paper–very wrinkled, with the recipe for bubbles.  Thank you!  We will make this.  The girls will love it.  Unique, kind eyes, thanked me.  Seconds later, he handed me the bubble sticks with the blue string.  I thanked God that I was wearing sunglasses at that moment, but it wouldn’t have mattered.  I do not know how to thank you.  You ran a very long way, and very fast to give this to us.  We thank you!  So very kind of you.  My girls loved the bubbles.  Repeat of a unique and kind thank you with his eyes doubled with a smile.  My sunglasses shielded tears swelling.  And as I said, sunglasses did not matter, tears rolled down my cheeks. That is my front page story.  I read that.  It is the news I want to hear.   That unique gentleman ran a good distance, quickly through crowded streets to thank us.  I will forever thank him.

Other notes that could be posts alone: * We walk to Caroline’s Senior School every morning, it’s two blocks from our house, and then Kate and Helen take a mini bus to the lower school, one mile away.  Before school started I felt discombobulated.  I was in administration’s office everyday.    The girls have attended school for seven days, and I have been in faculty offices at senior school Every. Single. Morning.  I met with the head of the Tech department for the last three days.  This morning I sat in reception (the lobby) and waited for him.  No appointment.  I felt like, “What about Bob?” Is Dr. Leo Martin here yet?  No, Mrs. Sexton, he has not come in yet.  When he walked through the double doors, I quickly received him and asked, could I bother you again?  Of course, Mrs. Sexton.  Let’s go to my office.

He was very helpful with IT problems Caroline was having on her iPad, completely for school use.  We talked off subject every morning.  I left (or perhaps was escorted), this probably is not normal for a senior parent to be in faculties’ office every morning since the start of school.  Well no, but we very much understand, Mrs. Sexton.  

To balance myself, I made a point to pick-up Kate and Helen today at school.  Every Thursday after lower school, they have drop-in parent/teacher “talks.”  I want the teachers to know me there too;)

School.  It will be a  new post.  Almost eight days, and I have pages to write about the school experience through my eyes.  As it becomes more routine, I’m sure my impressions will drain.

Baby steps.  That’s all you need.  So if I baby step through England, I can do anything.  I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful.  Someday I will go sailing.  

 

We ventured on a high speed train on Monday, with my dad, to London.  It was a lot like any metropolitan city; busy, diverse and unique.  We saw all the must-sees; Big Ben, The Parliament, Buckingham Palace, the guards, the black taxi cabs (we rode twice) and the famous red telephone booths.

My favourite was the art museum and more-so, the street artist outside.  The art work was thoroughly impressive.  One gentleman drew all the world flags in chalk, it was stunning to say the least!  We amazed phenomenal chalk art, floating yodas, and musicians.  There is a large arrangement of talent in the arts circling our world that goes unnoticed. I wonder how certain talents break big.  The creative gene is astonishing, but try telling that to a bill collector.

We ran through London quickly and just as quick the girls were exhausted. Sexton parents, what do you want to do?  The girls all wanted to do the big Ferris wheel.  The line ridiculous.   Steve to me, what do you want to do?  My brisk response, I’ve always wanted to go to Notting Hill.  Impulsively. we flagged a taxi.  As soon as we popped in, taxi driver, where do you want to go? Unison, Notting Hill.  Really?  There’s a carnival there today.  Happy turn to the girls, see you can ride a ferris wheel and get cotton candy.  That is so neat.  That is so fun.  Taxi driver, you know there is about a million people there today?  My heart and stomach did sink a little and I can imagine my fellow’s frustration.

It was quite busy getting there.  A lot of people tickled the streets thickly. It was a clogged drain pipe.  Steve, you can just park here and we’ll walk the rest of the way.  We walked through a mountain of diversity.  I loved the mix of culture and the mix of fashion.  Big and small everyone was rocking their apparel.  BUT!  We were walking down the street in the opposite direction of the cool crown looking for the carnival.  Little did we know we were in the centre of the carnival.  A carnival in England is quite different than my experience in the USA.  It’s a large street party filled with liquid diets. A big drunk fest.
We walked through the crowd, honestly it was the MOST claustrophobic feeling I have ever had.  A coffin.  The worst MRI.  I could not breath.  I was worried about Kate holding my hand and losing her.  She’s my little buddy.

Finally we broke through the crowd and stepped to a side street so we could literally catch our breath.  Steve was I think politely–aggravated.  He spoke, so where do you want to go?  Thought bubble:  I don’t know I’m impulsive.  And what I spun and heard from him, what exactly did you want to happen?  Thought bubble:  I want to find an old world book store and meet Hugh Grant.  As I’m thumbing through travel guides, I  want Julia Roberts to bust in and say, I’m just a girl standing in front of a guy asking him to love her.  

Reality–I simply spoke, oh you know I just want to see the lovely row houses and neighbourhoods here. Oh  look, this street does look lovely.  Let’s take a good look.  As I walked down the cobble stone streets with an Oscar in my hand for best lead actress, I could not comment enough how unbelievable this experience surmounted.  For the full effect I kept taking pictures of the houses on this particular street.  I photoed doors, the girls in front of houses and alleys. I smiled. I was delighted, despite, not caring one bit. I put on a front that my heart desired nothing more.  What I wanted is the movie, Notting Hill, one of my favorites.  What I got was Notting Not.

We stopped at Notting Hill per my request for the same reason we stopped at Laguana Beach in California per my request;)

If I received $0.10 for every time I heard, you should go on the show, House Hunters International, I would collect $1.20.  And if I could pocket $0.10 for every time I thought about appearing on the show, I would be able to purchase two items from the dollar store.

Steve and I were out of the ecstatic box at the opportunity to house hunt in England.  We have been thoroughly fancied by our domestic experience house hunting in Royal Oak and Beverly Hills.   This!  This though, was new and added excitement.  It took the first property for me and I was sold!  Cautious Steve wanted to see all the options.  He preferred a furnished property and of course a worthy deal.  The further we landed from the city centre the less enthused I became.

It was a picnic in the park to see all the properties. We noticed small appliances at all homes, clothes lines (the laundry does not dry in the compact dryers compared to the USA), small green areas outside if any, small rooms without closets, and old world and unique styles.

The following side story may only humour Steve and myself.  At our second to last property viewing, that both of us very much appreciated, I misspoke to the realtor.  Our current rental, a B&B is a quaint apartment with a decent location.  Across the street and around the corner is a lovely park, Governor Park.  Steve mentioned this to us as we played follow the leader to Governor Park.  It had a playground, a nice walking/jogging path, along with more unique features such as, a Roman Amphitheatre.  I was talking with the realtor (everyone we have encountered in the UK has been above kind to us–wanting to know our story and views on the USA).

The young gentle realtor told me Grosner Park was walking distance.  Oh really, I mentioned, we just went to Governor Park yesterday.  There are two parks in the city.  A kind reply, it’s just Grosner.  My reply, but we went to Governor, by Steam Mill Street.  We exchanged the words Governor and Grosner to each other a handful times two.  He said, Grosner and I would repeat, you mean Governor.  Steve finally did a swift interception, Sarah, he’s being very polite and correcting you.  Apologetic, oh okay, I do not know why I  thought it was Governor.  Pink, warm cheeks.

After a memorable day of our international house hunting, and with an extremely short deadline, we mulled over our decision that evening.  My mind was clear from the beginning the first house held my sold sign.  Back and forth, back and forth we weighed pro’s and con’s.  For every con (and there were definitely a few or more) for my first choice, I rebutted with a pro and a pro and a pro!  Decision time and we went with my first desire, that Steve eventually is equally breathless about, a row house on Abbey Street.

The house is wonderfully unique.  A structure I have never experienced.  It is three stories. The main floor has a living area with a fireplace, a large kitchen (for UK standards) a half bath, and a laundry room!  The laundry is typically in the kitchen, AND it has a separate washer and dryer–big bonus.  On the second floor is a master bedroom with an en-suite.  Also on the second floor is a second living area with a fire place.  We are turning it into Caroline’s room so we can have a four bedroom house.  On the top floor is Helen (also has a fireplace) and Kate’s bedroom with a large bathroom for all the girls to share.  The bedrooms are not tiny, they can all fit a double bed with a wardrobe and some other pieces of furniture.  It has a cellar for storage.

The house is foot steps away from the bustling city centre.  It is right behind the Cathedral.  We can touch the Cathedral’s wall from our patio.  We drive through the Cathedral’s arches to enter our property.  There is green space behind the parking lot and a playground across the street.  Down the street and to the left is a falcon park.  We can buy a year long membership.  Children release falcons into flight (they return hopefully) and there is a reptile house there too.

I love it!  The girls love it!  Our family loves it!  I love Steve for ultimately letting me get my way.  Our first USA house hunting experience I had my way too,  but Steve chose our forever home in Beverly Hills.  Although this experience reads You never know what the future holds.

Welcome home, Sextons to your new row house on Abbey Street, greetings from Chester. Home sweet home.  And truthfully I would be happy anywhere as long as I am with my tribe.  But this sure does add a colourful adventure.

My drivers ed. experience at 15 was considerably easier than navigating the streets of Chester by way of automobile. If we moved here 10 years ago before navigation systems and google maps, a fountain of tears would wash away our driving experience. My right side of thinking switched to left. I concentrate intensely while driving. The first rule is:  no talking in the car, except me and it’s usually swear words. I’ve been diligent all these years to not curse in front of my girls. It’s amazing all the new words they are learning in less than a week. I am throwing out all types of truck driving slurs. Let’s hope these nuances of language is not carried over into their repertoire. I’d rather have them pick up delight, proper British words. Rule number 2:  no radio while I’m driving. I love listening to a variety of music while I drive. It relaxes me. I await my return to enjoying car rides while blazing my techno, rap, pop, r & b and Dolly Parton.

Steve navigated the roads first. We had a deluxe rental car with special features. Navigation system with voice control. Back-up camera. Side-view detection. Front detection. I delight in our navigation system’s British accent. On top of all these safety features, likely required for any American driver, we also used google maps.

Now if Steve wrote this blog, it would read quite different. While we were in the car together experiencing equivalent actions, but still with two different views and realms. We tell the stories two different ways. A truism in life; he said, she said. The short is, Steve likes (or maybe requires for helpful purposes) that I also tell and give him directions. State side and abroad. I’m directionally impaired, even with google maps.

We simply could not have duplicated any better Clark W. Griswold’s experience on the turn around in London. “Hey kids, there’s Big Ben-the Parliment.” Drive. Turn around. Lost. Frustrated. Repeat. This! This was us, but on a much smaller scale in Chester. It is an arduous city to drive and navigate. We have heard from locals that if you can drive in Chester you can drive anywhere. London? Locals–“No we would never drive in London.”

Rewind to Steve driving and me reiterating what google maps is saying. Steve has three chicks communicating directions and we are lost in say the woods, but really a compact city. We drove in circles and circles around Chester for over two hours looking for the local grocery store, Tesco. Steve was aggravated when he missed a turn and would say, you have to let me know when to turn, and on and on. Now here is our skewed views, Steve played the blame game on me for our lost ways. I thought, blame the broad on navigation. I have nothing to do with this equation. We started bickering back and forth, which in general is never productive and certainly did not benefit our driving task.

As we drove around persevering and me becoming emotional. Breaking down slowly, but strongly. We pointed out all the landmarks we passed a few dozen, a few hundred times. By the end of this experience we just went back to our apartment food-less. I was tense, in tears, knowing this was leading to a surmountable calloused adventure that I hadn’t dreamed. At that point, the only thing we had In our favour is we could understand English (and not even all the time).

My quick blurb about my driving experience. Steve sat shut gun as I took the wheel for the first time on the right side of the car and turned on the main street, driving down the left side of the road. I asked Steve if he could let me know when to turn. He said, you have to pay attention to the navigation systems. What?!? You made me give you directions. Round abouts were difficult at best. Driving down a narrow-narrow two way street was difficult at best. I literally held my breath as I passed a car, often hitting a curb, thankfully no cars or pedestrians. When traffic was busier, I nearly passed out from holding my breath so often. And a release with, Thank you, Jesus.

Every day we have improved and improved. It has built my confidence, reaffirming I can do more than I think. All things are possible. It’s empowering to tackle an obstacle, small or big. And when conquered, they all feel big. I want to wear a badge of honour. Look, look!  Do you see what I can do?!

As Steve and I connect on a whole new level in our relationship that I have treasured for over 25 years, we laughed until my gut hurt and tears flowed down my cheeks, with nothing but a humorous replay of this experience. And every time we drive now, “oh yup, saw that before.” I need to stop using, yup.

We have faced many challenges and again, they may seem small. We get frustrated, but it’s refreshing and saves my sanity to laugh and laugh with Steve. It brings new life to this experience with him, with our girls–there is not a person in the world that I’d rather combat this with. Steve. My girls. They are, they are my everything.

And not to brag, or perhaps I do receive bragging rights, but we just bought my car and it’s a stick shift (manual). Imagine driving on the left side, turn arounds while adding a shift gear to the multi-tasking equation. Steve is determined to learn, it might be competitive. I’m teaching him next weekend in a parking lot. Hey, he needs to learn how to drive like a girl. Empowerment!

Driving ourselves crazy at times and my driving force is my love for my family!