The Big Question

Originally written for ramp.ie as part of the Emigration Diary series

 Everything is bigger here. The cars, the shopping malls, the cooker, the fridge, even the milk cartons all seem enormous. The boxes of toys and clothes I posted over that seemed overwhelmingly huge when they filled my front room in Ireland barely even got in the way in the hall here. Everything is bigger, but is it better?
We went to a sprinkler park this week. The kids got to wear their swim suits and a generous helping of factor 30 and play in a playground made up entirely of water hoses and sprinklers triggered randomly by giant red buttons. There was the usual playground equipment too but it was so scalding hot from the sun that it was practially redundant. Initially, my kids were hesitant to join in this strange game with these strange children but fate had gifted me with a ping pong ball in my handbag and the quest of balancing a ball on a water shoot was just enough to break down shyness and integrate them fully with their peers. Loads of squealing, watery fun was had. It’s a fabulous amenity that my seven year old commented would be practically useless in Ireland.

 Other than the weather, my day-to-day life hasn’t changed a huge amount yet. I’m still loading and unloading the dishwasher daily and churning out lunches and dinners to a constant chorus of ‘I’m hungry!’ I’ve been applying for jobs but haven’t found anything suitable yet. In fact, it’s been three weeks and I haven’t even left Long Island. I still have a lot to organize. We both have to sit driving tests and I’ve yet to find suitable health insurance and childcare. I’ve enrolled the kids in the local school from September and there is much excitement that they’ll be collected from outside the house in a big yellow school bus, just like in the movies.

 We joined the local library the other day. In addition to stocking our bookshelves, we signed up for some free family workshops during the month. I figured it might be a good way for the kids to meet other children in the area. I might even work up the guts to go to a mommy coffee morning soon and maybe make some new friends myself. It’s funny how I expect my children just to join in with strangers and integrate when I find the prospect of doing something similar so daunting.

We see a lot less of George now. He’s commuting an hour each way to the city so he’s gone early and gets home late, barely in time to say goodnight to the kids. He does seem to be enjoying the work though and I can’t help feeling a little jealous when I see his photos of city skyscrapers while I’m still stuck in suburbia. True, it is a hotter, sunnier suburbia with a beautiful swimming pool in the garden so I can’t really complain. It’s also really nice to have my family around. It’s good to not have to load the kids into the car every time I need something from the grocery store. I guess I just thought things would change more dramatically for me. Patience is not my strong point.

George does get weekends off, thankfully, and we spent last Sunday in the garden. It was 35°C. He repaired some of the decking that hadn’t survived the winter and cut back some of the trees. My mother cleaned and oiled the patio furniture and I took the giant pressure washer and cleaned some of the paving around the pool. The kids built themselves a camp out of the off cut branches. Afterwards, we all went for a refreshing swim and then had a delicious barbecue. It was a really pleasant day and we didn’t have to go anywhere. I got to thinking; everything is bigger here because there’s so much more space to fill. And if there’s one thing my kids and I appreciate it is space. Here they have the space to run around, I have the space to think and most importantly, we all have so much more space to grow. So, with my fingers crossed that I don’t expand so much as to fill the capacious driver’s seat, we’ll continue our journey onwards. Because, despite all the adjustments and upheaval and the anti-climaxes, I still believe, in the long run, for us, it is better.

Emigration Diary: First Steps

Originally written for ramp.ie as part of the Emigration Diary series

Well, we got here. After an uneventful flight, we hung around in US immigration for a couple of hours, signed here, fingerprinted there and with a ‘Welcome to the United States’ we were sent out into the heat with two overtired, overexcited children and minus one suitcase.
The first weekend was passed catching up with family, splashing around in the pool, unpacking, organising and figuring out what we have to do to get social security numbers, enrol the kids in school, get phones, driving licenses and set up bank accounts. On Monday morning, I gathered the necessary documents and we found our way to our local social security office just to be told that we would have to be in the country for ten days before we could apply for our numbers which we need to do all of the other things. Oh bureaucracy, must you follow me everywhere?
I came home a little bit discombobulated and automatically picked up the phone when it rang. It took me a while to figure out that the earnest young man on the line talking about preplanning was desperately trying to convince me to buy cemetery plots for myself and my husband. We only just got here! I told him it really wasn’t a good time for me to plan my funeral that morning. He didn’t even let it go there. I think he’s going to call me back after Labour Day. Note to self: screen all calls.

So enforced vacation it is for a little while. The weather has been a bit changeable but the kids are in the pool most days regardless. We even got to the beach one day. George found a list of house maintenance tasks to be getting on with before he starts works next week. I’ve been trying to establish some kind of routine and collecting loyalty store cards. I have four already!

On Tuesday, I took the kids grocery shopping and let them pick out some store cupboard snacks from the unfamiliar brands. This involved driving the giant automatic car on the wrong side of the road and finding my way to the grocery store. Out of force of habit, I took shopping bags with me. I didn’t know it at the time but each bag you reuse gets you a 5c discount on your bill here. Even so, still not many people recycle them and plastic bags are peeled off the roll by the dozen. I felt quite smug as the cashier counted my bags to ring up my discount but pride soon turned to shame when I realised all of the bags my kids were stuffing with non-nutritious food were emblazoned with the label Bottle Bargains and had come from the local liquor store. There goes my good mom image right out the window, and we’re not even here a week.

Applying for jobs here is interesting. It’s not as simple as just emailing off a resume. Each position requires a carefully tailored cover letter and often a lengthy application form as well as a resume. It takes hours. I am delighted that there are so many interesting things to apply for though. Luckily George is set up with something already. He starts this week, while I get on with enrolling the kids in school and finding my way about.

It’s still very early days here and feels more like another holiday in my mom’s house than the beginning of a new life but we’re settling in slowly but surely and as I empty and put away the suitcases it’s starting to become real that this time we’re not going back.