Crying over Boxed Milk

I knew it would be different here. I knew we wouldn’t get some of the same foods we get back home. I knew the living situation wouldn’t be exactly the same. Once we got off the plane, I knew the ease of shopping would be long gone (at least for a while). I knew the language would be different. Obviously.

I knew all of these things. Prepared myself for them. Anticipated it.

What I didn’t expect was it to affect me the way it did. Our first trip to the grocery store was the first of many moments that affected me in a strange way.

Now, I’m not typically a person that cries at the drop of a hat. In fact, I rarely cry in front of people. So when tears started welling up in my eyes at the grocery store, I felt so silly.

The reason I almost started crying: boxed milk. Yes, that’s correct. I cried over boxed milk. Now, I knew that milk came in boxes. I’ve been to countries where milk came in boxes. Drank that milk. Put that milk in my coffee. It was never an issue before.

But suddenly it wasn’t at all what I wanted. Suddenly my comfort zone felt like it was being pushed to the limits. Boxed milk doesn’t need to be refrigerated. It can sit out. Once opened, it can still sit out. Now I don’t know about you, but the thought of leaving milk sitting out, the thought of drinking warm milk or giving this milk to my kids…that just pushed me over the edge.

And Phil wasn’t very helpful. Poor guy. He didn’t realize the craziness that was going on inside of me. He was trying to be practical. You see, there was regular milk there too. It was smaller and more expensive. But it was there.

But my poor unsuspecting husband made us get the least expensive warm boxed milk. It wasn’t until we had gotten home, away from the people, away from our new friend that drove us to the store and showed us how to shop in France, that I finally couldn’t hold it in any longer.

The tears came. The sobs. I couldn’t stop. It was like the airport incident all over again. Phil was speechless. Eventually I told him I was crying about the boxed milk.

He laughed.

And then I laughed. You know, it IS funny. It’s funny and it’s ridiculous. They were sincere tears over something that was so different, something that didn’t matter to me back home because I didn’t know any different, but something that obviously struck a chord inside of me here. But in that moment I realized that it was more than just the milk. It was me adjusting to this newness. This differentness. It was me missing home and what I’m accustomed to.

But it was pretty funny. Crying over boxed milk.

(The detestable boxed milk...that you can leave out. But I refuse to do that!)

(The very next day we went to the store and Phil said I could get some regular milk!)

Since moving here only days ago, I’ve realized that we are just going to have to do things a little bit differently. And slowly I’m adjusting. I’m certain there will be more tears over important and even silly things. And I’m sure that there will be more laughter about that as well. It’s the nature of where we are and what we’re doing.

And with that….here are some more things that we are doing just a little bit differently:

Bath time…er…I mean, shower time?

There are no tubs in this apartment. 3 bathrooms, 0 bath tubs. Now…I have 2 small kids that absolutely LOVE bath time. Not only do they love baths, they despise showers! So this is quite the adjustment. I’ve tried numerous things- moving the shower head lower, so they can take little toddler showers. No go.

Putting a wash cloth over the drain, so they can take mini baths. No go! The water still drains and they really don’t like sitting in 2 inch deep water. I guess it’s not the same!

We’re working on getting something that goes into the shower that they can bathe in. If you have any great suggestion- let me know!!

Along with the bath time for the toddlers is bath time for the new baby. Obviously the new baby isn’t here yet, but I like to look towards the future. Our sink is about the size of two bowls. Not even a newborn could fit in there. So without a bathtub and a sink that is too small….I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do when this new little one shows up (probably cry about it).

Tiny sink! I don't think this picture does it justice, but it really is just SO small. No room for a baby in there!

Meal time!

We have no highchair for the little guy. I tried putting his food on a blanket on the floor, hoping he’d sit there nicely and eat. I was wrong. He doesn’t sit. And then Jaelyn felt like he was getting a privilege she ought to have- so she insisted she eat on the floor as well. That turned into a fiasco when I heard my husband say “Jaelyn, don’t let your brother step in your bowl. Pax, get your foot out of your sisters bowl”.

My solution: tying him to the chair with a bandana and letting him sit on a stool!

Handsome guy eating dinner...all tied down!

Along with mealtime is portion sizes! My goodness are things tiny around here! We have gone through 4 of those boxed milk cartons since we've been here. And we've been here a total of 3 days. This bottle of juice...not a single serving like you would find in the States! 1 liter is not big enough for a family of 4!

I’m sure there will be many many more things that we just do differently here. But these are the things I’ve come across in this first week.

Bon Voyage!

Well we did it. After years of dreaming and learning, and months of planning and anticipation, we are finally in France. This is just the beginning of our journey, but it’s as exciting as ever.

I woke up this morning and looked out Jaelyn’s bedroom window. Mountains! And this is our home for right now. We are indeed blessed.

But…let’s back up a few. I need to share about our journey here.

Our first flight was the long one. I anticipated a smooth trip to London because we were flying at night, and I figured the kids would probably sleep a good portion of it. We had great seats, with plenty of leg room (no one in front of us), and Pax even had his own infant seat that pulled down from the wall. Again, I thought he’d do great because he could sleep in that.

I must have forgotten how much my kids hate the car and being strapped in their carseats. Seriously, after our last trip back from Texas my kids would begin whining and melting down after just 10 minutes in the van. Poor things were traumatized!

Pax ended up falling asleep about 2 hours into the flight. But continued to wake up constantly. Probably mostly due to the fact that he is a tummy sleeper (with his little tush up in the air), and was unable to turn around in his seat.

Jaelyn was wide awake and didn’t want anything to do with sleep, even after they finally turned off all the lights on the plane- about 4 hours into the flight. Eventually she did fall asleep, and slept until we landed.

Neither Phil or I got any sleep. So…that’s always a great start to a new day.

We arrived in London and after waiting 30 minutes for our stroller, we were informed that it had gone to our next flight. Great…two kids, 3 carry-ons, running late to the next flight and NO stroller.

We had to go through security again and this time it didn’t go well at all. They insisted on taking EVERYTHING out of the diaper bag and small cooler I had for the kids’ drinks. It was 8:45 a.m. and the gate to our next flight closed at 9:00 a.m.

I asked the man attending to our things how far the gate was, and he informed me that he’d tried to hurry so I didn’t miss the flight. Well hurry he did NOT! At 8:50 I sent Phil and Pax to the gate so they could try to get them to wait for us.

I grew increasingly impatient with the man that insisted on taking his sweet time, knowing that I had minutes to get to my flight….which happened to be on the other side of the airport.

By 9:05 he was finally done. He took the small ice pack I had to keep their milk/drinks cold, saying that it was a liquid and I wasn’t allowed to have it on the plane. Even though I had clearly had it on the last plane.

I wondered out loud how I was supposed to keep the kids’ milk cold, but was more frustrated by the fact that he had made me late to my next flight.

I grabbed the bags, picked up Jaelyn and tried to get to the other side of the airport as fast as I could. It was then that my body decided to have an emotional breakdown. I couldn’t stop the tears. I must have looked so ridiculous! A pregnant lady carrying several bags, a toddler, half-running through the airport and now sobbing! What a sight!

I made it to our gate and found Phil and Pax waiting by the desk. The lady had graciously waited for us!

We boarded our flight to Switzerland with everyone gawking at us. But we made it! So I didn’t really care.

And when I sat down I couldn’t keep the tears from coming. I had bottled up all of the emotions of saying goodbye and actually leaving, waiting to have a quiet moment to cry by myself. But now, I was sobbing on an airplane packed with complete strangers…and my family sitting right next to me.

The flight to Switzerland was just over an hour. Pax, however was completely overtired and wouldn’t wait an hour to have his meltdown. I apologized profusely to the lady seating in front of us- the seat that he kicked in frustration and anger through the whole flight He FINALLY fell asleep as we were landing. And he slept hard! I had to carry him through the airport to baggage claim (because we still didn’t have our stroller). He didn’t wake up at all!

We finally found our stroller, just hanging out several feet from the baggage area. I was so thankful to finally be able to strap the kids in and not worry about having to carry them around.

We managed to get 9 of our 10 suitcases. But then there was the task of getting 2 carts to push them on and figuring out how to get the bag that was missing. In another country. Where we don’t speak the language. And we don’t have their money.

That took us about an hour to accomplish. Which was unfortunate because the taxi bus to pick us up arrived at 12 p.m. By the time we were heading out of the airport, it was just after 1 p.m. I was certain we were going to be stranded in Geneva- still 2 hours from our final resting place.

But by the grace of God, our driver was STILL there! He was a sight for sore eyes. And once again, the tears came unsuspectingly. And once again, I’m certain I looked ridiculous. This time pushing a cart full of suitcases AND pushing a double stroller. How I managed that, I’m still not sure.

With both kids fast asleep, we loaded up into the van (which I guess is a taxi bus!) and headed to the school. It was a beautiful drive! And I wish I could have stayed awake to see it!

The kids and I slept nearly the whole way there! And we arrived at the school in Albertville around 3 p.m. Tuesday afternoon.

I wish I had some pictures to show of our trip, but…I unfortunately forgot to put a memory card in the camera. Go figure!

We are so blessed to be here. And we are even more blessed by the place that we live in. It's quite amazing!

More on our home in a later post  though (with pictures this time!!).

Oops, we did it again!

Our 3^rd little bun is currently cooking in my oven. I can’t say that it was a complete shock, because for some reason I just sort of knew. When I was finally able to take a test, I already knew what it would say. In an instant it read “pregnant”.

I was elated. Scared beyond reason, but absolutely thrilled. It’s weird how you can experience two almost contradictory emotions at the same time, about the same thing.

I am so excited to have another baby. I love kids. I love having my own kids. I adore being a mother and I’ve always wanted to have a big family. Having three kids is going to be so much fun!

But I’m also terrified for a number of reasons. First, having 3 kids is going to be a lot of fun, but having 3 kids under the age of 3 is going to be ridiculously hard! Secondly, we will be living in a foreign country without family or friends to lean on for support. I’m not thrilled about having my baby in France, mostly because I’m unfamiliar with how they do things there. And it’s scary to think of moving to Africa with 2 toddlers and an infant.

I can only imagine the difficulties of raising a small family in a country I’ve never been, in a culture I’m unfamiliar with, and a language I’m just really beginning to learn. Not to mention that we won’t know anyone when we get there. What.were.we.thinking?!

But nevertheless, this is happening. It’s real. There is a tiny person growing inside of me, squirming around and pushing against my abdomen. It’s amazing. It’s a miracle. And I’m beyond blessed.

And I’m pretty certain I’ll never run out of things to write about for my blog! Of course, I may not have the time or the energy, but I’ll surely have stories!

Baby Kemp #3 is due to arrive on January 21^st, 2015!