I’ve been meaning to start blogging for a long time. I have so much to say. But most of the time I think I frustrate others with my thoughts. I like to share what I bake and cook, but I don’t really know whether it’s fair to put out “recipes” that are as imprecise as my own methods. So I’ve been pumping the brakes on the blogging.
And, well, I still don’t have any recipes for you, but things are different. I’m due to have a baby boy in two months. And then the following month, our little family will moving overseas for Chris’ philosophy masters, which will hopefully open up more options for him in seeking a PhD. We’re going to Dubiln, Ireland, a place that I’ve not only never been, but which I don’t even find that culturally inspiring. I know that its patrons are St. Brigid and St. Patrick. I know that my protestant ancestors were kicked out of all the British isles before heading to the new world. I know that it’s beautifully green, and that beer (and I guess whiskey?) are important. An while I am certainly liable to be charmed by what I discover there, I am not the sort of person who responds to the kind of displaced nationalism (or really, much nationalism whatsoever) that seems to hover around Americans who are proud of their Irish heritage. I also don’t really care for hanging around people when they’re plastered (even myself: if I get drunk, I tend to vigorously sleep). I like Flogging Molly and the Cranberries as much as anybody, but they don’t make me feel at home. I’ve kind of been satisfied with my stereotypes.
Truth be told, I would feel much more prepared for an international relocation to Japan or South Korea. Even knowing I could never gain citizenship or pass for a local because of my skin-tone and German frame, I feel like the information available for those of us that are interested in east Asian countries is vast and complete. So maybe in my blogging adventure, I can provide some amusingly naïve cultural comparisons of Ireland/USA.
Oh, and the mom thing. On one hand, I’m excited that I’ll be in this really unique position of basically learning to parent all on my own. I’ll have to start from scratch to build a support system in Ireland. It feels cleansing in a way of which I seem to always have dreamed. And I’ll have my adoring, supportive husband with me, to be my best friend, even if I still have trouble reaching out… But, it’s also overwhelming. For one thing, the financial aid package front is grim, and we’re looking at taking out massive student loans just to live. Then we have to inventory everything we own, and pack it up, and either find somewhere to put it, or find a way to get it to Ireland. My brain craves efficiency: I will make spreadsheets and pick-lists and be involved - even when people say, “No, you can’t lift that!” Because, in my head, nobody else is going to do it.
Even though I don’t think we’re having a shower of any kind, I’ve been fine-tuning our registries (Amazon | Babies R’ Us), for the event that people want to buy us things. And everything will probably be fine. I found a parish for us to attend, and a La Leche League. I found cheap airfare and made a plan for health insurance. I’m gonna get on the plane with my kid and show up in Ireland. My husband will hug me. We’ll pray. We’ll be okay. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m happy.