I received an email the other day from an old friend asking how we managed the transitions from one move to another. She has a friend who has had to make an international move and her children are not adapting well. My heart goes out to this woman. It is hard enough to organize a life in a new place, but to see your children suffer sadness makes the whole experience miserable. I know. I have been there.

Our first move to Australia was particularly hard on my daughter. We had just dragged her away from her little school that she had attended since she was 3. And what was worse, we took her away from her cherished aunties who doted and spoiled her. My husband and I love our kids, but the love my children received from my family was super special and something we could not duplicate. Couple that with the fact that I was bitter about the move, you can imagine my first month in Australia was not the most fun I had ever had.

So, what did I do? I faked it. Yup, I never let them see me cry. Well, there was that one time that Lana and I both broke down sobbing hysterically in a children’s art class at the local art gallery, but other than that spectacle I never let them see me cry. I was honest that I missed home. Honest that this was an adventure dad wanted to have. Honesty is very important, but I needed to put on a brave face and be positive if I wanted them to try to make it work. I also never blamed their father. He was the reason we left the States and he was very excited about this adventure, but it was pointless to focus on that. I needed to make this an adventure.

So here is what I recommend:

1. Keep busy: I might be a bit crazy, but I think if you are busy you are less likely to be sad. So I try to make sure that we have things to do. This is true for adults as well as for kids. It is also a way to sell yourself on where you are. Finding things to do in Sydney was easy. But really there is no excuse, anywhere. Even in our small village in Portugal there are many options that are not too far. Make your weekends fun. Show the kids that this new place is great. If you are working, than being busy is easy. If you are not working than volunteer. If the kids are in school then take the time to enjoy at least part of the weekend with them.

2. Set up playdates: People, I can not emphasize how important this is. Life is crazy. Weekdays can be insane, but these are kids and they deserve their time to play. This is a challenge here in Portugal as school hours are crazy and activities run very late, but even if it’s only on Fridays and the weekend it is really important for kids to have a relaxed time outside of school to play. When I was in Sydney and in Auckland I would set one day during the school week for each child that they could invite a friend over to play. Reflecting on that I realize that often that drop-off/pick-up time was also a time for me to chat with the parents. It’s how I became friends with some of the people that I now most adore in this world.

3. Get involved: Now I will admit I have been very lucky. On each of these three moves I have not had to work so I have been lucky to volunteer at each of the schools where my children attended. But there are ways to volunteer even if you do work. Even if it’s bringing things to school. Ask the teacher if she needs things cut for the kindergarten class that you can do on the weekends. Bake for the bake sales…anything! Your kids will love it. I have met the best people by volunteering in my kids schools. Even this last one which I thought would be a snob haven I have met just the most gorgeous people. Do it, you will not regret it.

4. Be yourself: When we enrolled our kids at a certain ‘fancy’ school someone in our family suggested we would need to get a new car for school drop off. I had the smallest car with a few dents. My opinion was that I was sending my kids there for an education, not to impress anyone. I am a firm believer that character counts. Of course a flashy car and fancy clothes impress, but if we can not be ourselves than what are we teaching our children to be. This also applies when my daughter tells me that ‘this one can..” or ‘this one has…’ My response is that our family does it this way. I am defining what is right for me and the standards I live by. I want my children to know that defining who they are is their choice, not anyone else’s.

5. Make it an adventure…no one knows where the road will lead you, so enjoy the ride: Do you think I ever thought I would be living in Portugal and happily sending my kids to school here? Never in my wildest dreams, but here I am. And tomorrow. I am not too sure. So we talk, we address issues, we look for possible solutions and we keep sight of that fact that if things are really ever that horrible we will look for a change. Now that is not a perfect solution. At age 7 when we were flying to visit friends I was discussing where we would pick to live that would be fair to everyone and my daughter’s response was, “Can’t you see there is no fair. That there is no way we can all be happy when each of us wants to be in a a different place and sometimes 2 places at once.” Okay, that one got me. But even though our hearts are pulled in different directions, I try to remember how lucky we are to have seen new and different things and to have met people that we can now not imagine not being a part of our lives. It’s hard. But it’s blessed.

6. Don’t lose hope that it can get better: When we arrived in Australia it was the worst time of my life. I was dealing with the residuals of facial paralysis. I felt horrible and ugly and I was in a strange new place with a lot beautiful people. I never, never thought I could make that place home. Two years later I had a wonderful group of friends and my children were a part of a beautiful community. When we left both my children and I did not want to move on. Never had I thought I would feel that way. But I did.

7. Give them heaps of love. Sometimes I am bad at this. I get angry. Lose my patience. Yell. But they are our babies. Love them. And know that they love you. You are family and so long as you are together you will all be alright. And sometimes, when it is really bad, I climb into bed with them and cuddle them. It sometimes is all I want.

Good luck:)

Keep busy

In Portugal, in an attempt to boost sales I am sure, magazines and newspapers have campaigns whereby if you purchase the magazine or newspaper you get something free or you can purchase an item for a much reduced price. I usually pass on the ‘bag’ campaigns, but I admit I am a sucker for educational materials. In the past I have purchased the additional books, usually for my father. Just last week I bought the Biography of Steve Jobs for 1€! My father read it in a couple of days. One campaign I somehow completely missed out on was for Portuguese English bilingual fairy tale books. Typically I do not like bilingual children’s book, but these are fabulous. They were brought to my attention by a friend who works at a gas station. I bought every copy in the series I could get my hands on. We are keeping a copy of each one and the others are gifts for friends back home.

A few weeks ago a new campaign was started through Expresso Newspaper. It included a free poster and 4 weeks of stickers and information on the Kings of Portugal. Knowing nothing about our royal past I thought this would be great for the kids as well as myself.

Yesterday while having breakfast, Lana looks over at the poster as asks almost in an alarmed tone, “Mom, there are no black kings!” Knowing my country’s history, I think my response was, “Of course not”…or “I know.” Honestly, I am not sure even now that Portugal has it in itself to vote in a black man or a a woman for that matter. It took me a second to process that this child has taken for granted the assumption that a black man can be the leader of a nation. For these past 4 years, her president, yes, she still considers herself very American, is a black man. I don’t know if she remembers any of her other presidents. It was such a truly awesome moment for me. Four years ago, I did not know if America had it in itself to vote a black man into power and here my daughter assumes it’s a natural thing. Think what you may about his politics, but I think it’s an awesome shift in thinking.

Now, I did not mar the moment with delving into Portugal’s ugly history in the slave trade and the story of  it’s colonization of African, Asian and South American lands. In part because I did not want to come down from my high. But also people, we were running late for school!

Coming to Portugal meant that our children could learn Portuguese. It was also important to me that they be exposed to Portuguese culture. I have been blessed by the beautiful people I have met every placed we have lived. I really have. Yet, I knew that the culture and the village lifestyle would be something wonderful to expose my children to. We also desperately wanted for my father to come stay with us. For one, we wanted to see him. Simple as that. But frankly, there is another reason. We also believed Portugal would be good for my father.

Living alone in the United States, it is very easy for someone to isolate themselves. To get anywhere, at least where we are from, you hop in your car. Here you can’t go get your mail without seeing at least one neighbor, sometimes two. There are no secrets in a village to be sure, but there is aways company.

My father was supposed to come ‘visit’ us six months ago. Unfortunately due to a medical issue he had to cancel his flight the day before he was due to leave. This Friday, he finally made it.

On our drive to our apartment in Lisboa, he reminisced about driving through that area over 45 years ago and how much it’s changed. I was amazed at how much that man can remember. After a good nap we went to pick the children up from school. Nuno ran to his vôvô. My son loves his grandfather and has a very special place in his heart for the man.

The ride home was lovely. My father and I chatted the entire way and he seemed happy that the kids were handling some Portuguese. Pretty darn happy.

I will be honest, this past week has been pretty stressful. We had a lot on and we were two days away from a big party for Nuno’s birthday. A party with maybe too many kids that I would have to entertain for a few hours. Can you see where my head was?

Well, upon driving into my village we passed my cousin. He and I had ‘pumpkin business’ to attend to that very night. We stopped on the road and had quick hellos, driving off as a car approached. It was a quick stop, but nonetheless sweet to unexpectedly spot a family member we adore on our drive in. With a car full of stuff and a son needing to go for a wee, we opted to drive straight to the house then go to my godmother’s (my dad’s sister) house after. But to my great surprise we passed her walking back from our house. I quickly pulled into the salão parking lot and my dad and I hopped out. We were also quickly joined by Sr. Antonio, my cousin’s partner. This man is a gem. I will be honest. At first my dad seemed stiff, almost shy, but after a few minutes he was beaming. I tell you, right there I knew that his all nighter to prepare and pack for this trip and his near heart attack as he ran to catch a flight  connecting in Madrid was worth it. That smile on his face was gift not only to him, but to me. Obrigada Madrinha for lighting up my dad’s smile. Muitos Beijos!

So while we are down in Lisboa my cats are treated to homemade soups every day. So it should come as no surprise that after dropping my darling husband back up at the house so that he could get things ready  for Nuno’s birthday Halloween party, that he too got a delivery of fresh homemade fish soup. Both he and I realize that those cats eat better than we do mid week.

Obrigada Ti Evangelina…

Okay, today, at this moment in his life I do not think Nuno will mind this picture being there for the world to see. But one day, he might be too cool. And he might question my motives for posting a picture of him having fallen asleep reading a book about Halloween. But to me, his mother, this captures so much of what I love about him. 1) He, just like every other child is just so damn cute when he’s asleep. 2) He fell asleep reading! Do I need to say more? I mean really isn’t there a moment where you move the book aside? Nope, reading ’til he passes out. Now, that’s hard core. 3) He loves Halloween as much as his mommy. A little gift this child gives me every year, so far at least, is asking that we celebrate his birthday as a  Halloween theme. This year we are celebrating on the day. Two birds, one stone, thank you Nuno.

Halloween does not exist as we know it in Portugal. But, we will do our part to make it fun for us and our friends. We just ordered the book he fell asleep reading, along with a few others to get us all in the mood. I specifically ordered the one on his head to share the ‘basics’ of what Halloween is with the kids’ classes. I am going in to read and talk about Halloween to his and Lana’s classes. I can not assume that the kids know anything about Halloween, so I am starting with the basics. You see, even last year there was some confusion. The kiwis had it in their mind that Halloween was only about scary costumes. So when I showed up at an adult’s Halloween party dresses as a New Jersey Housewife people thought I was mad. What? Really? People questioning MY understanding of Halloween?!?!? Not on my watch will I allow children to grow up with such mis-information. The kids in Lana and Nuno’s class are going to learn the true meaning of Halloween.

I have run for some time now. I love what running does to me. It can be difficult to drag myself out of bed some mornings. Especially now as the mornings are a little bit darker, but it is always worth it. I have been especially lucky in having beautiful spots to run. Sydney was just spectacular. Auckland was lovely. And now Portugal is a treat. There is something about the scenery here that is just good for the soul. Running is a gift I give myself. I love my kids and the time we get to spend together, but I also love the time I get to myself when I run. My music or podcast comes on and I am alone in my thoughts. Well, until friends or family drive by with a smile and a wave. I love that too. Here I will take you on the run I do most often. Enjoy.

To start I have to first leave my house. After three steps the smile appears. I’m off.

After running just a short way down the road I turn right. This allows me to extend my run just a bit.

Below is a picture of a  typical farm. Those couves (cabbages) for human consumption at first, but as they get older and tougher they are fed to pigs as well as chickens. The corn grown here is not the sweet corn variety, so it is fed to the pigs. It would probably be safe to say everyone here has some ‘horta’. That is a garden. People grow all sorts of vegetables as well as fruit  for their consumption, but many times also for their livestock. Feed is expensive and when you are raising a pig and the average/minimum monthly income here 500euros you need to concern yourself with how much it costs to feed your livestock. Growing ones own feed is a great option.

This stretch comes just after I start my first looonnggg hill. But that’s okay. It’s pretty. And if I’m hungry I suppose I could pick an apple. Well, actually you can’t. Living here you learn that the fruit is sprayed and you must always ask before you eat.

Here is a look down back towards our village. Pretty, isn’t it?

 This is a typical older house. I think it is charming on it’s own, but that purple plant adds something spectacular.

 I love this house. I have no idea who owns it. It is in my mother’s village and I must ask my dad when he arrives. Even though it is an older home it is quite obvious the care they take to make it as nice as they can. Out front their garden has a bamboo fence around it. They have not only some vegetables but some flowers growing as well. And the fresh paint. That costs of fortune here and yet there is a nice new coat on the house.

I’ll call this photo ‘Apples so red they pop my eyes open”. Yes, I was able to run by without picking one, but it wasn’t easy.

Back in my village…This run that takes me about 50 minutes has me going through 4 villages. So rounding that last corner let’s me know my workout is almost done and I have arrived because even though I am not yet at our house this village is my home.

If you come and visit me we can run this together:)

Fruit, glorious fruit. We have it in abundance here. And please don’t hate me, but it’s either super cheap or free. It’s so bad, I mean it’s so good that the other day my husband was complaining that we had too many peaches, that people keep bringing us more and more delicious freshly picked peaches. I looked at him and told him that everyone should have such problems. I mean really. Eat them and shut up!

For the past couple of months we have had a friend of Sophia’s staying with us. She is more like family really. Her father is from our village and our families go as far back as anyone can remember. While she was here, she and Lana went with my niece to go picking blackberries. I have fond memories of picking blackberries with my friend Carlos and my cousin João Armando when I was a young girl, so I was thrilled that the girls were having the same experience.

Yesterday the kids and I drove to the edge of the village, yes, we’re lame, but there are no walking paths on the ‘outskirts’ of town so I thought it was best. We parked in our friend’s driveway and off we went.

This work isn’t for wimps. Within a few minutes my poor boy was in tears insisting that his wound would need ‘blood surgery.’ I told him to suck on his cut. No, I am not a doctor I just thought it might be a good distraction. That was not a good idea as it brought more tears. After a few hugs I chose to move on with picking. You might think that I am some cold-hearted mother because I chose to ignore his pain, but people, we are talking about fresh blackberries and it was only a flesh wound.

After a bit, he got right back into it. It wasn’t long before we felt we had enough.

For a child who does not like many fruits the smile on her face indicates how happy she is to feast on these berries.

The berries in this bowl did not last very long at all. If we want more we will be out again to pick the unripe ones we left on the vine. If you want some, you will have to come help us pick them on our next outing.

Telha artwork: Auntie Maria

For the second time since we have been here we have been invited to a matança. A matança is a killing of a pig. Not sure any of you would want to see the body of a dead pig hanging from the ceiling or the served head on a table. If not, you’re in luck because I won’t be posting any. We missed the actual killing of the pig both times, but my kids did see that above mentioned carcass and head. Our involvement in these matanças was more to enjoy some of the freshest meat you could ever consume. That and some great company.

Lana had the ‘opportunity’ to see some turkeys being killed the last time we were in Portugal and although this did not have a significant impact on her, she is no longer interested in seeing any animals being killed. That being said, she also has no problem knowing where her bacon comes from. I think that is very important. Many people would cringe at the sight of a dead animal. If they do, then it is probably because they have a hard time with the concept of eating meat. Funny, but even as a person who strives to eat a vegan diet this is something that has never bothered me. Well, not until this year. Funnily enough it is my son who is making me rethink the ethics of eating meat. Both he and I are on some journey. Where it will lead us, who knows.

Since we arrived in Portugal we have gotten three chickens and two cats. Nuno has also asked for a dog, goat, donkey, and that’s just to name a few. Problem is, if we get them, we are never allowed to kill them. Cute concept, but I can’t go back to New Zealand with a menagerie of animals so looks like my son is out of luck.

Tonight my friend Emilia, was just about to offer Nuno this rabbit, when I interrupted her and informed her that we could not take it. Even with his limited Portuguese, Nuno understood exactly what conversation we were having and begged for us to take it. I stood firm. Yes, it’s cute, but to me a rabbit has no business being a pet. No, rabbit was always this lady’s favorite food. But like I said if it comes to our house a pet it will become. So the answer is não.

As of yesterday besides a number of ducks, chickens, roosters, rabbits, and geese, there was also a pig living in that pen. Yesterday afternoon a man came by and shot it. They used to slit the pigs’ throats, but they believe this is more ethical. Then after draining it’s blood, which can be saved to make blood sausage, the same man butchers the meat. Most of the meat is frozen to be used until one’s next matança, but some is set aside to eat immediately with friends and family. In talking to people this is not the less expensive option. Pigs need a lot of water, and they eat quite a bit. The vegetables they consume are grown for the most part, but the grains must be purchased. Although economically it is not the cheapest route, there is no question which manner renders the most beautiful meat.

Besides our meal, we were also given a tour of their property.

my husband enviously admiring the fields 

white plums, not to rub it in, but they are amazing

watermelons

This last picture is of one of the five varieties of grapes they grow. They have kindly offered to have us come back in the fall and to pick our favorite so that we can grow some ourselves. I have also been offered their assistance with my garden. I have willingly taken all the fruit and vegetables given to us, but the thought of having a nice garden influenced by their green thumb is very exciting.

The kids had a great play with their friend and at one point Nuno said that their house was heaven. When asked why he said because of all the vegetables, fruits and animals. I know at least for him, he was referring to the live ones.