Settling In?

I got a lovely comment on my last blog post yesterday from another blogger (not someone I know in real life - amazing!) whose blog I've been avidly following and reading for quite a while - in fact the only blog I follow written by someone I've never met! AliBlahBlah, thanks very much - you provided me with the inspiration to start this weird transatlantic/kinda motherhood/waffle-a-lot blog and now the kick up the arse I needed to write something for the first time since April - APRIL!!! It's nearly sodding June!!

One excuse I have is beavering away creating the programme for my theatre company's latest show - Henry V...

On the assumption that the lovely AliBlahBlah is my only non-real life follower, I won't bore you with the details of Theatre Delicatessen - if you're a friend of mine on facebook you're probably doing the usual eye rolling at the number of status updates begging you to spread the viral marketing campaign word and buy tickets to the show. I've been spending the limited computer hours I get (inbetween the sleep training of a certain Little Loy who has decided every bedtime and naptime shall start with an hour or more of screaming tears) doing one of the few jobs that can be achieved from the other side of the world. The programme is done and looks beautiful, even if I do say so myself - but has left me feeling even further away as opposed to closer to the show, the company and my professional (often personal) family. But do buy tickets if you're in London - it's directed by Roland who is one of the most exquisite directors of my all contemporaries, and stars some Theatre Delicatessen stalwarts who are incredible actors it has been my greatest fortune to work with.

Theatre Delicatessen

The other reason for absence has been the visit of the parents to the new house - and bearing in mind my mum is probably the biggest reader of my blog, it seemed a bit counter productive to write about what we've been up to when she's been seeing it for herself.

We moved and welcomed the arrival of our stuff off the boat a few days before Mum and Dad got here, and in a way that was perfect - they were present right at the start of us really beginning our lives in LA (you can't help but feel in limbo land when living in a glorified hotel room wih only a few clothes and photos to resemble home), so they now feel very much a part of it.

We managed a glorious mix of running round seeing sights and sounds of LA - was amazing to get out of Santa Monica for a bit, I REALLY need to learn to drive - and just chilling out and living our lives here. It does feel more like we're living a life here - I'm still thinking ahead to when we go home but it helps that Paul and the Little Loys seem really settled. But a part of me doesn't want to feel utterly settled, I want to go home - maybe not right now but eventually. My first impressions have improved since that particular post but I still can't see me falling in love with city - this weird mixture of chillaxation, yoga and granola eating with the frenetic and frantic need to be doing everything all the time, rushing around in cars that fill up massive roads, everyone living in their fast paced little bubble.

So I continue to feel like there is one foot still planted in the UK, spiritually by the side of my colleagues and friends as they open the first show in our most ambitious space yet, but feeling like I no longer have the right to say "our" company, "our" space because I left everything that is mine. The foot in California is gratefully padded however by a growing close network of people we can now start to call friends. So maybe a balance is starting to be achieved. We plod along, just the same.

Mother of Two

The radio silence has in all honesty been to avoid depressing posts like "it is the same temperature here as it is in England" and "Be Careful What You Wish For (our new apartment sucks)" but also because I am frankly bloody knackered being a mum of two. Oh for those first few months when I told everyone how much easier it was having Maggie than when I had Ethan - because I've been through the worst which is feeling like a bomb has gone off in your life and realising that actually you have NO life, added with hormones, parenting manuals etc etc etc etc etc. Yes, it logistically more challenging but I "am really enjoying having a baby".

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Of course this was when Paul was working from home, so always available if I needed him and Ethan was in nursery 3 mornings a week - 3 blissful mornings when I would lie around having skin to skin with my daughter, who didn't rise before 9:30am. Where I had my mum-friends round the corner, other friends over regularly, the occasional weekend at my mum's. Now we are far from home and it's only just kicking in for one small member of the Loy household, so I'm contending with not just the 4month sleep regression and accompanying growth spurt, being in essentially a foreign land, spending on average 8-10 hours a day on my own with two small children and the corresponding feelings of inadequacy and loss of my personality, but also a three year old who has had a bomb thrown into his life and finally realising he has no life.

He has left behind everyone and everything, parks that he knew, coffee shops where the owners knew his name and favourite cake, nursery which while could have been improved from our perspective and took him ages to settle into was still somewhere familiar, with friends he learnt songs and numbers with. It's probably compounded by us moving apartments to be closer to Paul's work while we find our own place to live, on top of 4 seperate immunisations to get him ready for pre-school, but Ethan's struggled somewhat this week. When asked by a friend today what he liked most in the park, his response was "People!" Clearly the sole socialisation with Mummy, Daddy and Baby Maggie is starting to bore him.

So, we're on operation "let's all be nice and gentle with each other"...no more naughty steps, instead we're getting a jar and some marbles and whenever he is good he gets a marble, when the jar is filled up he gets a present. I'm learning how to give him longer to respond to me and he is learning to (bloody well) respond. We're getting more cuddles and kisses than ever and working out which parks are the friendliest and give the best chance of a run around with nice children. It is exhausting! Who knew it would be so tiring to be nice to your own children?!

There is light at the end of the tunnel, but it won't be more than a mere shimmer until we have our own place, Ethan has a nursery to go to and there is some sort of idea of normality in our lives again. In the meantime we learn to be patient, and no matter how much baby weight I want to lose I will not be giving up alcohol anytime soon.

At least in the middle of it all are a boy and girl who make each other giggle like nothing else, he is gentle with her and she saves her best smiles for him, who entertain each other for long enough for me to grab a cup of tea and a shower, he gives her his tightest cuddles and she endures his rough handling with a grin. THIS is why I had two children.

Even if it does mean they are so in love with each other that I invariably have them both screaming blue murder at the same time. Oh the joys of being a mother of two...

The bonds of Motherhood

Its 10:42pm and the baby is snoring beside me, the toddler is finally asleep next door where his grandparents are babysitting while we spend our last few days in the UK before flying to the land of the free. I should be sleeping too, god knows how many times aforementioned baby will have me up in the night feeding, whining, grunting or copying her dad's snoring. Who's not here, so she'll be copying them from memory, but at least I won't have the usual surround sound effect. Yes, i should definately be sleeping.

Not looking through old photos of Ethan and the friends he's known from birth, not searching for big old farmhouses that can accommodate 4 rugby loving dads, 5 raucous children, 4 babies of various shapes, ages and sizes but all with impressive lung capacity, and 4 women who while they know each other thanks to the sheer coincidence of having unprotected sex around the same time, are more than the mum of their parts.

We are reaching the end of an era, us Streatham mums. Via a resurrected thread on mumsnet almost four years ago, I made friend with a group of women all due their babies over the same six months or so as me. Seven of us remain close and four of us have particularly shared in our triumphs, trials and tribulations, tears and tantrums - and those of our families. These women have seen me desperately sad, desperately struggling but utterly happy, utterly triumphant and also very drunk (let's not mention the chucking up all over the RML house, or at least pretend it's adorable because I'm the youngest!).

I've struggled with this weird thing called motherhood, this label put upon me that now defines me in a way that nothing else does, but through it all these women have been there to share in that to. To me they just happen to be mums, who have plied me with bacon and alcohol, birthed my son's best friends and my daughter's first friends, who have become my friends, my lifeline. Here's to you, my Streatham mums, and to the next part of our lives scattered across the globe.