The Hostess with the Most-ess?

A friend came with her husband and son for a visit at the house yesterday. It was nice to have friends of my own here at our home here in Japan, but hard too. It doesn’t feel like “my” space despite my husband's assertions that I should think of it as such. It feels like I have to displace his parents and that feels very uncomfortable. And it was weird when my father-in-law showed up at the house briefly, basically ignored my friends, sort of grunted at my husband (this is typical - he's a man of few words and a grumpy disposition outwardly), then excused himself and my husband, they talked for a couple of minutes and then my father-in-law left the house as quickly as he arrived. My friend wanted to introduce herself and observe the usual niceties (typical in both American and perhaps even more so in Japanese culture), but I had no idea what to say or do given my father-in-law's usual demeanor, and the whole thing felt incredibly awkward to me.

I miss having my own house and space. My mother-in-law had very kindly purchased a few things at the store that we could serve at lunch. I hate feeling conflicted but honestly, on the one hand I was frustrated because I felt as though she was trying to do my job as hostess, but on the other hand, I appreciate that she truly wants to help. I think she understands that my hesitancy to use "her" kitchen makes living here (and hosting friends) a significant challenge for me. And that sense of an obstacle in my way makes me lonely. We host a lot of friends at our house in Seattle and when we're here in Japan, it's generally just family and one close friend of my husband's.

I miss being closer to friends so that it’s not always such a production to have a visit. I miss having my own kitchen to cook in. I hate that I feel as though I'm whining about this all the time and I just don't have a good solution for any of it.

Split Personality

Sometimes I feel like that's how I have to live - with two different personalities. In order to essentially live in two places at once, I must only be half-involved in each place. The other day was Peanut's nyuenshiki or "entry ceremony" for her preschool here in Japan. I love that she gets to create this memory for herself - something so quintessentially Japanese. But as I sat through the PTA meeting following the ceremony, I became sad. As I watched the other mothers preparing for a new school year filled with playdates, field trips and the like, I was a little relieved that I wouldn't be pressured to be in charge of some distasteful task for the PTA, but I was sad that I won't have the chance to be really involved either. It's not so much that I want to be in charge of all things PTA, it's more that this signifies an opportunity to get to know people in a more lasting and meaningful way. And given our current lifestyle, I have to repeatedly suspend friendships and relationships with people while we travel to the other side of the globe.

Yay for world travel and bringing up our kids multiculturally and bilingually! Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to be this fortunate. But I keep wondering, "How do you know when you've sacrificed too much?" I think this is a particularly thorny issue when kids are involved. I want to offer my girls the world (literally) at times, but I don't want to sublimate my own needs to the point that I end up regretting my/our decision years later.

I'm happy to think that we head back to Seattle in just a couple of months where I can renew some friendships, but we're already thinking about preschool for Peanut and that means contemplating how long she could reasonably be enrolled before we leave again. And this raises all these questions again, and again and again. How long can we keep this up? Can we really be this nomadic and still satisfy the needs of the girls? And what about my needs? Gboy is very adaptable and doesn't really mind either way. Having lived half his life in Japan and half his life in the U.S. I think he feels we've pretty much achieved the perfect balance by living in both places half-time. I wish I could feel the same, but it's not that easy for me. I need people. I need friendships. I need community. I need to be involved in my community.

I'm just not sure how to unify the two halves of my personality and existence in two places.

Promise of Spring

We're back in Osaka after an incredibly relaxing and restful vacation in Hawaii. The circumstances under which we left were not ideal, but I'm very glad that we went. Having some physical and psychological distance from all the trauma and disaster here has been beneficial. While Gboy continued to read all the news from Japan religiously while we were on vacation, I read almost no news about Japan's many disasters. It's nice not to feel an almost strangling sense of fear and anxiety. It was truly the break that I needed to gain some perspective. I confess I felt guilty about being there and enjoying life immensely, but it was also one of the best birthdays I can remember celebrating.

Now that we're back, and the cherry blossoms as always, are blossoming at this time of year, it feels like spring is truly on its way. And it's almost harder, in light of the promise of spring and all the rebirth that comes with it, to imagine that part of this country continues to languish without sufficient supplies, housing and even electricity. That feels like such a different experience from what we have here in Osaka. Here there are no shortages. Here the weather is lovely. Here, there is no sign of radiation. It's almost incomprehensible.

And as I watch Sweet Pea starting to really cruise and use a push toy to walk all over the house, I see that life goes on and moments of innocence still abound.

Change of Scenery

I'm not even sure how to describe the last week. First we heard about the earthquake. An 8.9?! Then the tsunami. Then the news about the damaged nuclear reactors began to reach us. Little by little a bad situation became worse and then it got about as bad as it could get. Nuclear meltdown? Here? Really?

Okay -not here. We're down near Osaka which is still very far away from Tokyo and even farther away from the Fukushima power plant. The likelihood of our experiencing any nuclear radiation here is pretty slim. But. It's there and in light of the incredibly vague information provided by the power company and government in the early days of this crisis, combined with the sensationalized media in the U.S., my family and friend and I were worried. Gboy is admitting now that he was worried, but for the past week and half has been "stoically" Japanese reassuring me that nothing bad would happen and that we could safely stay.

Still, by Thursday night I'd had enough of sitting around waiting for Fukushima Dai-ichi to get a handle on the situation with the reactors - no power to them, no way to cool them successfully - after nearly a week it felt ridiculous to sit around and hope that things would suddenly resolve. Furthermore, by that point, the U.S. State Department had officially stated that their position would be to "encourage Americans to consider leaving Japan" - not Tokyo, but JAPAN.

Gboy finally agreed that perhaps a vacation somewhere else might not be a bad idea at least for a couple of weeks. It's spring break for Peanut now. "Why not go to Hawaii?" he said. We've talked about it for years. Even came close to going once upon a time almost 5 years ago (ahem - that would have been our honeymoon). But for a variety of reasons we never made it there. I'm trying to envision this as the honeymoon we never had, albeit with a preschooler and infant in tow this time. And naturally the price isn't what we would have liked. Going last minute is never ideal. But I figure you can't put a price on your health - not really. We'll be free from the threat of radiation from Dai-ichi for a couple of weeks and already my family is breathing easier.

In an interesting contrast, my mother-in-law is embarrassed to tell anyone that we're leaving. It's bad form to flee this crisis apparently. Also, the American government (and me by extension I suppose) is over-reacting by Japanese standards.

But I can't stay here right now. *I* need some room to breathe. All of this "suck it up" and "gaman" (perseverance basically) is wonderful on the one hand. On the other, it's downright silly if you ask me. Why more people aren't asking questions "Why did it take so long for the nuclear plant to hook up the electricity to the cooling pumps last week?" "Why is the government unable to provide food, blankets and aid to survivors of the quake/tsunami?" These kinds of questions seem like no-brainers to me. But I know that questioning authority is not how the Japanese do things. My husband describes his experience of school here and how frustrated he was when he didn't understand a concept. He'd ask the teacher the questions that would gain him understanding while every other student in the class sat there mutely; many of them would thank him after the fact because his questioning had enabled them to learn as well. *sigh* I'm not saying that the American way of schooling and questioning authority is better. It's just different and in these kinds of situations it seems that some questions need to be asked.

Anyway, I'm hoping that getting a little distance while give us the fresh start that we need. Right now our plan is to return here in early April, in time for Peanut to start yochien again. I'm really looking forward to a fresh start.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place? Or the Best of Both Worlds?

Living in two places offers the best of both worlds, but I've said it before - it also makes me wish to be in exactly the place that I am NOT. As news broke yesterday about the huge earthquake and tsunamis in Japan, I kept wishing that we weren't here right now. I was wishing that we were in Seattle. Of course Seattle has had it's own share of quakes. But the grass is always greener elsewhere.

Lately this has been the metaphor for my life. I love my kids. I do. But I can't stop thinking about the time before they were in my life. The time before we spent 14 months trying to get pregnant. The time when I could go out and do errands without having to take a diaper bag along. The time when I could have a glass of wine and watch a movie before falling asleep at night rather than passing out each evening as soon as both kids are finally asleep (at least for the 1st time of the night - nevermind the multiple wake-ups all night long).

And yet. I don't want to trade any of my experiences. I don't truly want to go back to a time before the girls. How sad that would be. As the littlest one peeks out at me and plays peek-a-boo right this moment I can't imagine a sweeter smile.

Not living in Japan for at least some of the time, would mean a totally different lifestyle for us as well. I am amazed at how quickly Peanut has fallen into using Japanese again - with flair. Just a few weeks in preschool here and she has gained a confidence and fluency both with the language and socially as well. Feeling more comfortable with the language and her new friends at the school, she is starting to shine.

Do I hope and pray that we won't have more earthquakes here right now? Of course. But I can't really imagine not being here either.

Sleeping? Eating? Does it Matter?

I'm just saying...if you need a word - make it up!
Nurp

My children have both been nurpers. I've spent 3+ years using a lengthy paragraph to describe the process and trying to define whether or not the baby was sleeping and/or eating. Here's the perfect word to fit the bill.

Friends of Gold

A very dear friend of mine was just here for a 10 day visit. I am incredibly lucky. I am fortunate to have a friend whom I have known since childhood (any by childhood I mean birth since our parents lived on the same block). 36 years is a long friendship - more than many people ever have the pleasure of experiencing.

Some things I discovered while she was here:

• We truly do have the kind of friendship that allows us to pick up as though no time has passed despite the fact that in the past 18 years we have rarely spent more than 2 hours together at any one time and often we were only able to manage that every couple of years.
• She and I have very similar values despite the fact that our lifestyles are vastly different.
• I learned about how to make maple syrup. (She helps tap trees for the sap and has actually boiled it all down into the tasty syrup final product. How cool is that?)
• Having a friend who isn't a mom is incredibly refreshing. I love having mom friends. I *need* to have mom friends with whom I can share a lot of the challenges and joys of parenting, but I also need someone outside of all that. I need someone else in my life who has the free time to pursue other interests. Someone who can tell me all about the intricacies of jump roping as a sport for example!
• It was fascinating to do some reminiscing . It's pretty amazing how much of what I remember doesn't entirely correspond to what she remembers about our time in high school. It's also a little scary when I think of all the things that I've already forgotten. She remembers her project for our government class. I remember a few projects from that class but haven't the slightest idea what it is that I worked on; I have the sense that it was incredibly boring. How sad!
• I loved reconnecting with her on a totally new level and in a different context too. We both love to read and while we have some different interests, we do have overlapping interests as well. But our reading tastes vary enough that we find we can recommend interesting and new books to one another. Awesome! Also, she spent some time in Central America a few years ago. She primarily lived in Costa Rica but she traveled quite a bit to neighboring countries while she was trying to learn Spanish. It was fascinating to finally have the time to talk to her about her experience there. Especially in light of my time living in Japan now. Of all my friends from high school, she is the one best able to understand what it's like for me to live overseas and in another culture.

I truly loved having her visit and was unbelievably sad when she left. She had made it very clear that she was here to reconnect with me and to spend time with my family, not because she had any particular desire to visit Japan. I'm very lucky that she went out of her way to visit me. And I'm trying to appreciate her visit for the uniqueness of having her here, but I can't separate the fact that I'm generally lonely too. Her stay here just reinforced for me how important it is that I find more ways to connect with other women here - whether they are yochien moms or expatriate friends of mine.