two beers later.

Can we say "Day from hell?" I was up before 6, which is unusual for me. The movers got here at 9 a.m. They were actually here at 8:50, but being the polite Japanese that they are, they waited until exactly 9 a.m. before ringing the bell.

A friend helped me from 9 to 12. She deserves a steak dinner, but that's another story. We finished sorting out all the crap near my desk and putting away the stuff that the movers weren't taking care of.

The biggest shock was that the movers wanted to finish in one day. I really didn't want to shut down my computer and say good-bye to my desk. I felt weepy when I put my iMac into its fashion forward industrial design box. The movers swooped in with 5 folks (6 later) and proceeded to pack our lives into 127 boxes. If this sounds like a lot, remember that 6 of those were chairs, 2 of those were desk and parts, and only a measly 7 were boxes of books.

They finished at 6:15 and left me with homework: 127 box descriptions to assign a yen value to. I promptly drank a beer and then I had another one, since this was a two beer kind of day. I will finish this blog and Grandma will bathe the kids and I will get them to bed. After that, I will ignore the remaining mess in my condo and finish the evil paperwork. And then, I will figure out where the hell I'm sleeping since my boys have bunk beds at Grandma's, but I have nothing.

The opposite of white space...

My word of the year has been white space. Yes, I know that's two words.

I am currently living in the opposite of white space. If I was motivated, I would take a picture of the pit of despair that is my home. The movers come next Monday. This week, I have helped remove from my condo: a washing machine, a bookshelf, an oven, a sofa, bunk beds, a home theater system, boxes of books, dishes, clothes and toys. And yet, strangely, my home still has waaaaaay too much crap in it.

I am plugging away at it, but honestly, I think the packers are going to come on Monday and take a look at my condo and do a lot of teeth sucking. They are going to blink and in that polite, indirect Japanese way ask me if there is someplace that they can work.

The ironic thing in all this is that 3 years ago yesterday, we moved into this place. And shortly thereafter, got our big shipment of stuff out of storage. I feel like someone hit the rewind switch and instead of unpacking, my life is going in reverse and I'm walking backwards and putting the stuff back in the boxes.

Which might also explain the lack of brain cells going on. This week alone, I have managed to forget my child's backpack, leave my purse in the car overnight, and walk off without teaching materials on several occasions. Obviously, my cranial rewind is causing data loss.

White space, black hole. Yin and yang?

Gratitude

I am not feeling grateful these days. No, indeed. My husband moved to the U.S. last week and I am facing an international move with a 4yo and a 7yo.

So in an effort to not turn this into a rambling, hate-my-life blog entry, I offer up the following things I am grateful for:

1) Being invited to the end of year party for the teachers at my son's daycare. I teach English there once a month and when I told them we are moving in February, the head of the school invited me. It was lovely going out, drinking and getting a beautiful frame with photos of me and my boys' time at the daycare.

2) Receiving multiple offers of help from the moms I know. One mom is coming over to help me sort out my kitchen and bedrooms before the international movers get here on 12/20. She even offered to take all my give-aways and trash so I wouldn't have to deal with it.

3) Living next door to my MIL. Today I was sleep deprived and in a foul mood. She offered to take both boys so I could take a nap. She also made dinner tonight. We will be living with her from 12/20 until we get on a plane in February. I am grateful for that.

4) Finding a buyer for our condo. This one I have a harder time with. We lost a lot on the sale of our condo. We are upside down on our mortgage and will have to pay out of pocket on 12/24 when we sell our place. But I am grateful that we have savings in the U.S. and my husband has a new job. It is only money. (Repeat, until I believe.)

5) Having a sister in Seattle. She is letting my husband live in their basement until he gets an apartment figured out sometime this week. She also picked him at the airport. Him, and his enormous duffel and bicycle box.

6) Having a husband with a job. I may have not been ready to leave Japan, but ultimately, my husband needed to move to somewhere with decent IT jobs. He starts his new job on Monday and is excited to be back in the world of software development.

7) Having a husband who has deal with all the relocation crap on that end, even if I'm stuck with the crap on this end. He has been apartment hunting, car hunting and is still jet-lagged.

I have much to be grateful for. I just need someone to keep telling me this. The soundtrack of my brain keeps playing the wrong tune. I need a new anthem.

Zero to Angry in 10 seconds.

This is one of those self-flagellation blog entries. The husband is off to America to look for work. He is eating pizza, shopping at the Apple store and Nordstrom Rack, and going out to lunch with former co-workers. I am happy for, and envious of, him.

Today was the start of a 3 day weekend. I had visions of baking cookies, going to a festival, and doing some beach-combing. Instead, my boys and I went to the video store, the grocery store and Mister Donuts. Sometimes I really dislike being a mom to boys. I tried to get them interested in making cookies, but instead they decided to beat each other up with plastic bats.

I made a conscious effort to let them have some sensory fun. I have an old container of stale coffee beans that I was going to throw out. I let them play with it on the dining room floor, with the only rules being that they contain the beans to the dining room and help clean up the mess afterward. Forty minutes later, I'm yelling at them because they are crushing beans into a fine powder, taking "showers" with the beans and getting them under the couch, in the tatami room, and under the floorcloth in the dining room. Much nagging later, the beans were picked up and the room vacuumed, but I felt like a failure in the "spontaneous fun" mothering contest.

As the day progressed, more whining and fighting ensued. My 4yo is going through some phase where everything ends in tears. We only watched one video, "Wahhhh!" Big brother touched his balloon, "Wahhhhhhhhh." I didn't get milk with dinner, "Wahhhhhhh!" I'm seriously tempted to wear headphones to drown out the constant noise of his disappointment.

By the time the boys went to bed, I had already threatened, yelled, ranted, steamed and pouted at both of them, multiple times. Not an effective style of parenting. I know the stress of my own life is manifesting itself this way, but I can't seem to stop. Hence, zero to angry in 10 seconds.

Now I'm going to watch a mindless movie and ignore the dishes in my sink.

Perfect protest

Brene Brown's blog this week is about protesting perfectionism. I'm posting a photo of myself, something which I hate to do. The photo is of me at 7:47 this morning with a hastily made poster written in crayon-pastels. The image is reversed because I took it with photo booth and I'm too much of an imperfectionist to reverse the image.

Long live imperfectionism. (And if you can't read my poster, it says "Perfect is the enemy of good.")

The sound of silence

This is a quick post because I realized I haven't posted anything in over a month. My life and problems are both tiny and immense. I wish both to splash them across the blogosphere and hide them simultaneously.

The husband quit his job (see profile about "karoshi") and now we are living on our savings. I am shockingly not panicking about this. We've been without his income since July and my income doesn't even come close to paying our monthly expenses. We will be completely broke on this side of the pond by December.

So, DH is off to the U.S. to line up job interviews and a job. Our lives are in limbo. We're talking to a real estate agent about selling our condo, at a big loss, oh well. I'm trying to figure out the timing on all of this. Which is laughable since everything hinges on my husband getting a job.

Shanti, shanti, shanti. Peace, peace, peace. (As my former yoga teacher used to say.)

Nothing in particular.

Yesterday was DS1's 7th birthday. We barbecued some steaks and chicken. I made chicken ramen coleslaw. Dessert was an overpriced ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins (aka "Thirty-One" if you live in Japan.)

It also was the annual day for the Hikari Fireworks display. This year it was a week early. We shoveled down our cake and went out on our 5th floor balcony to watch the show. The birthday boy got bored early and went inside with Daddy to play Wii Party, his birthday present from Grandma and the great aunts. DS2 soon followed. I was left with Grandma and her sisters out on the balcony. We oo'ed and aahed and sweated in the heat and humidity.

Not bad for a Saturday in July.

Almost summer vacation

DS1 came home from school yesterday with his usual randoseru (randsel or school backpack) filled with papers and crap. It was the second-to-last day before summer vacation and so lots of it was regarding the summer break. Here's a laundry list of what I found:

1. An envelope with all of the required assignments during the 5 week break, including:

• Summer 16, a 32 page workbook with Japanese and math exercises.
• Diary sheets for 3 days worth of "what I did on my summer vacation" (hmmm, maybe a boatload of homework?)
• Two 200 character writing sheets for essays about books or science projects he does.
• A "free research" project. During the "long" vacation he has to make something to display.
• Take care of his morning glory plant that we forgot to bring home this week. Oops.
• Do his "normal review" tasks including mandatory reading, writing, addition and subtraction flashcards.

2. A paper titled "Fun Summer Vacation" which lists everything he SHOULDN'T do. It also tells him to get up early, help out around the house and do his homework promptly.

3. Pool schedule for the elementary school. Parent or guardian must watch their child, since no lifeguard is on duty.

4. Contest list. Since you already have to write essays and do projects, why not enter them in one of 8 contests available to elementary school children? My personal favorite is the "internationalization" one. Maybe he should write an essay about how American kids go to camp and goof off all summer.

5. And my personal favorite, the "radio exercise" card. He's supposed to go the community center everyday at 6:30 a.m. to exercise for 15 minutes. He gets a stamp on his card. Bwa ha ha ha! That ain't gonna happen.

Secretly, my geeky side likes all the homework he has to do. I really want him to enter all the contests even if he has to write 4 essays and draw 4 posters. Besides, DS2 is in daycare all day, so he'll have lots of free time to do them. Ooh. Now I think I'm turning Japanese, except for the waking up early and exercising part.

Finland?

An odd title for a blog entry made on a Monday, I admit. Today was the day to take my almost 3 year old car in for its first "shaken" inspection. While it is supposed to ensure that cars are safely maintained, I think it's just another money maker for the auto industry. A new car has 3 years of shaken (pronounced shaw-ken) and then you have to pay for it to be maintained and inspected every 2 years.

My car was relatively cheap. I paid 46,600 yen (about $500) to have it inspected and all the paperwork filed. You can tell I've lived in Japan just a little too long when I think that $500 for a one hour car inspection is cheap. At least they rotated the tires and I got 5 free boxes of tissues when it was done.

So I made a little escapist trip to Book Off in Shuunan after that. Book Off (and its affiliated store Hard Off), sell used books (and other goods). I get a tiny peek into the lives of other foreigners who occasionally sell their stuff. In the foreign books section today, I found an Australian cooking magazine from January and the Lonely Planet guide to Finland. I bought both, of course. I am that desperate to buy things in my own language that I will buy a guide book to a country that in all likelihood I will never visit. It was only 300 yen (about $3.50).

I imagine some backpacking Eikaiwa (English conversation school) teacher finished her trip and offloaded it. Maybe she is Australian. She's probably in her 20s, no kids, no mortgage. This summer she will be drinking in the beach cabanas farther up from where I live. These little beach huts serve overpriced cocktails to summer visitors. I have never gone. Do I sound bitter? Even when I was in my 20s, I probably wouldn't have gone.

I will read all about Finland and I will wonder what happened to the entire selection of British chick lit that was at Book Off the last time I went. None of those books were there today. Did some other foreign woman with a habit for escapist reading buy them all? Maybe it was my imaginary Australian friend? And maybe, it's time that I sell half of the books littering my sons' closet so I can fuel someone else's habit.

Life's a beach

My husband is off on an 110km "fun ride" today. He left at 7:15, leaving me with two wide awake boys and a lingering resentment that he prioritizes fitness over family and I do not. Most of the time, I'm happy that he is fit and healthy and happy. Most of the time I do not begrudge the two hour rides he does every weekend morning.

Today was not one of those days.

Both boys had been monsters on Saturday. Spoiled, angry masses of energy destroying our condo and injuring each other. They were defiant and pushing every button to make their parents furious. The idea of solo parenting them until 4:00 in the afternoon filled me with dread.

I whined in email to a friend. I whined by Skype to my sister. I whined to my mother-in-law. (Thank god she doesn't hold it against me when I complain about her son.) And finally I sucked it up and decided to take them to the beach.

I packed up the sun tent and juice boxes, the sand toys and the small towels. DS1 took bug nets and DS2 rode his tricycle. We walked and triked the five blocks to the beach. And you know what? We had a good time.

I sat sheltered from the sun in my little cabana while they splashed in the shallows. They made sand castles and found sea glass and caught a crab with the nets they brought. I alternated between joining in their activities and being a passive observer. We stayed for almost three hours and they rarely fought or argued. I felt restored.

And now, I have parked them in front of the Disney Channel and I'm taking some time to blog. Life is good. (That, and Daddy should be home in another hour or so.)

Why I was a lousy stay-at-home-mom

Probably that's not the best title I could've used for this post, but I've been reflecting on my life here in Japan and that's what came out. I'm fortunate that preschool/daycare here in my part of Japan is so cheap. Coming from Seattle almost 3 years ago, I was nearly giddy that daycare, including lunch and snack, six days a week, was about $350 a month.

My dirty secret? I hated being a stay-at-home-mom. I felt devalued. I wanted a job and the praise that came from doing a good job. I wanted more than grubby hands and temper tantrums. I didn't want all of whom I was, to be sucked into the vortex that two small children create. I admire women who can take care of their kids and live a well-balanced life, but I just wasn't one of them.

And so, I work. I have three part-time jobs and I work about 15 hours a week. Elementary school and daycare take care of my boys when I work in the daytime. Grandma, and my husband when he's around, take over for the two evenings that I work. I love it.

I feel talented again. I feel appreciated again. And I still have time with my boys in the afternoon and on the weekends. I still do the laundry, grocery shopping, and most of the cooking and homework supervision. I'm the one who gets the boys up and out the door in the morning. I'm still sleep deprived on occasion, but all in all, I'm happier.

Self comfort

I think women have a particularly hard time finding appropriate ways to comfort ourselves. You hear about eating disorders, mommy martyrdom and self-neglect.

Today I took a "me" day. Not a spa day, not a girls' night out. (Which I would gladly do, but the logistics of organizing something like that tire me out.) No, I recognized that I am tired and worn out and I need a little self-love.

I got my boys out the door to school and preschool. I shopped for food and picked up the Tuesday bargains at Jusco. I came home, put groceries away (mostly), and checked my email. I was tired. I got to bed after midnight, DS2 wet his bed at some dark hour and climbed into bed with us, DS1 decided to join the party and my alarm clock went off at 6:30. I was tired.

I decided to take a nap. Not prep my class for tonight, not clean up the kitchen, not fold the laundry. So I closed the curtains and tried to shut down my brain and the lists that kept multiplying in it. It worked, I dozed. The doorbell rang, a delivery for my husband. Curse him.

I gave up on the nap and started reading "How to Talk so Kids Will Listen..." DS1 and I have been in a lot of pissing matches lately. Reading it is a little bit of self kindness so I can stop hating myself after every interaction. The phone which never rings, rang twice. ARGH!

I closed the curtains again. Took a 30 minute nap. Took a shower. Made myself a pastrami and cheese sandwich. (Not impossible to make in Japan, just requires strategic shopping)

And I feel good about myself. I'd still like to stuff my face with chocolate rather than drinking a glass of water. I still have all those mental lists to cross off, but I'm not as tired and they don't seem impossible now.

Sharkey and Punchie

It's the last day of Golden Week here in Japan. We did nothing. Five days off in a row and the best we could manage was to go to the Kasado Island festival for an hour.

I would post pictures, but we took next to none. The big excitement of the festival was the goldfish scoop. For 100 yen each, my boys got a paper net and the opportunity to scoop out goldfish. I'm sure in the U.S. this wouldn't be allowed on humanitarian grounds. Let's face it, small boys terrorizing goldfish is not a pretty sight. The only consolation is that the paper nets tear after about 5 seconds of scooping, so it's pretty hard to catch anything.

My boys actually wanted goldfish, so they handed their little nets to my husband and me. Daddy was busy trying to hold his camera and netted nothing. I, on the other hand, who royally suck at all things carnival, managed to scoop the largest goldfish in the plastic pool. The vendors looked shocked. It was the 5 inch beauty and it's worth a lot more than the average goldfish.

I was also shocked. I quickly told them that I didn't want the big one, and asked if we could swap it for a black one. My logic was, if I'm going to kill a goldfish, I want the smallest fish corpse I can dispose of. DS1 wanted a black fish, but of course, DS2 wanted a pink(?) one. The vendor gave us a plastic baggie with a black fish and a pale white fish. Bagged two fish with one scoop!

So now, Sharkey and Punchie live in a tank on my cluttered counter.

Hair today...

I went to 3 Q cut today. That's pronounced san-kyu or Thank-you! I haven't had my hair cut since last July. I don't particularly like getting my hair cut. Nothing like sitting captive in a chair looking full face at yourself for 15 minutes to make you feel old and unattractive. I always think I should put make-up on before I go for a haircut. Dark circles, deep ridges in my forehead, pale lips; isn't there something I can do to magically transform me? Hmmmm.

San Q is a 1000 yen haircut place. That's about 10 bucks and you don't even tip! My logic is that if someone is going to butcher my hair, I don't want to pay a lot for it. I've joined the "you have to be my race to understand how to cut my hair" club. You know, Asian women want Asian hairstylists, African-American women want African-American hairstylists, and in my case, I want someone who won't take a razor to my superfine hair and leave me looking like Sid Vicious meets L'il Orphan Annie. (See photo of me and DS1 from July 2008)

My haircut today was acceptable. My hair is now shoulder length instead of chest length. I don't look like a cocker spaniel anymore, but the guy took the feathering scissors to my hair. I'm guessing in July, I will have frizzy mop hair. At this point, I just don't care.

Good Morning Poo!

Two weeks ago, my 6 year old and I went to his "one day school" for parents and entering first graders. He went off to learn about school life from the 5th graders, while I was lucky enough to sit in a room of moms and listen to all the things we need to do before April 9th.

The principal greeted us and told us the most important thing to embrace before our kids start school is, "Complete Sleep, Complete Food, Complete Bowel Movement." Yes, once again the Japanese obsession with poo is evident.

I smiled my little WTF smile to myself and listened to a different teacher drone on about common sense things like not letting your child ride his bicycle by himself in 1st grade. It's okay for 3rd graders, just not 1st graders.

I listened as the health teacher told us of all the bags we will need for our child. A bag for info from the school, a bag for his lunch mat and toothbrush, a bag to hold those bags, a bag to hold PE clothes, a bag to hold library books, a bag to put his drinking cup in, a bag for his indoor shoes. Did I mention that most of these are handmade to a specific size? Grrrrrrr....

And then, the health teacher said to get our children accustomed to a "good morning poo." All I could think of was the children's book Goodnight Moon. I'm guessing that I need to write the sequel, Good Morning Poo.

That will be my next blog.

I am worthy now.

I follow the blog Ordinary Courage and this week Brene is blogging about worthiness.

She says, "Worthy NOW! Not when. Not if. We are worthy of love and belonging NOW. Right this minute. As is."

I am worthy, now. I do not need to wait until my house is clutter free. I do not need to wait until my screenplay gets bought.

And actually, I am worthy, now. I've come a long way in accepting myself in the last two years. I am becoming an anti-perfectionist. I've accepted that I can do things imperfectly, incompletely, and insanely and that's okay.

Would I like to write more often? Yes, but I accept that I am writing the amount that I want to write at this point in my life.

Would I like to have a picked up house and no Legos underneath my feet? Yes, but I accept that I'm working on it and I am making progress. I am no less worthy because there is a cabbage rotting in my vegetable drawer. (Though it might be a good idea to dispose of that before it liquefies.)

I will end this imperfect blog here and go to bed, since tomorrow is field trip day and that means bentos made at the crack of dawn.

Setsubun, again.

Setsubun was a total bust last year, but this year it's gotten off to a good start. Both boys are healthy and in school today. They are busy chasing teachers dressed like "oni" (ogres) and throwing beans at them.

I ran to the Max Valu supermarket at lunch and picked up 3 maki sushi rolls. Dinner is taken care of, and all I need to do now is pick up around the house so that the bean throwing won't turn into an obstacle course. DS1 has been excited about this for days. He keeps changing who gets to be the oni and who gets to pelt the oni. Last I heard, younger brother was going to be the oni. Gee, surprise, surprise.

As far as mid-winter festivals go, it's as good as any. And while I might be nostalgic for the fat rodent with shadow phobias, at least this festival allows kids to do what they really want to do: throw things.

Ogres out. Happiness in.

On writing and other random thoughts.

I'm still embracing my word of the year, white space. And with the exception of procrastinating on an editing/translation job, I'm doing a pretty good job.

I've created white space in my blog for 2 days now. I've created white space in my body by exercising every day and logging it. I've created white space around my desk by sorting papers and giving myself a stamp on the calendar every time I do it.

Spiritually, I feel a little white space opening up in my soul. I want to trash the guilt and the insecurities and just create for creation purposes. I want every day to be my January 1st.

I'm also embracing my fear of failure, or rather, my need for success. I'm not writing for the Oscar or the Pulitzer, I'm writing for the white space. And as long as I don't trick myself into thinking that this will magically make any of those things metamorphosize, then I'll be okay.

I have a gift. Wow, that sentence was really painful to write. I am creatively gifted. And even if my gift is only seen by one person, that is enough.

I am my own white space. I am my own blank canvas. I am nothing and everything at once. And if I sit still long enough, I will realize this.

So I will write haikus, and children's stories, and limericks and screenplays and novels and blog entries and I will honor my words by typing them up and putting them out there.

And maybe all this white space will lead to my dream job at Pixar, working with the folks who put story into words and pictures. Who push the white space until there is something for everyone to see and relate to.

Amen.

Daycare Pick-up Haiku

In an effort to honor my word of the year, I'm trying to create more. And I'm also going to throw away some of those creations, just because I can. So here is my imperfect haiku, composed on the way to pick up my boys from daycare yesterday.

rain drops on car glass
dirty streaks streaming downward
no pink elephant

For those of you not familiar with Seattle, the Pink Elephant is a car wash and its neon sign is a landmark.

As a side note, DS1 won one of the top prizes in the all prefectural art competition for his age group. His drawing of an elephant (!) will be on display at the Yamaguchi Prefectural Art Museum from January 26 to the 31st.

White Space

I follow several blogs and instead of resolutions, they suggest a "word of the year." I had a hard time with this. At first, my word was "less." Less stuff, less drama, fewer regrets. But "less" seemed so negative to me. So I brainstormed through lots of words: simplify, act, do, create, focus. I finally came up with "challenge."

But, a week later, and it still wasn't singing to me. I did the worksheet that was sent to me from christinekane.com (Yet another link I had followed.) So today, I sat down, indulged myself and finally came up with White Space. Yes, I realize that that is two words, but I'm okay with that.

White space is what I need in my inner and outer lives. In my inner life, I need a clean canvas to figure out where I'm going to create and to start creating. In my outer life, there is so much visual and audio clutter going on that I can't focus. I remember taking an art class once and the teacher explaining how artists leave white space so that the viewer's eyes have some place to rest. It's the same feeling when reading a novel. The paragraph ends and the white space reassures me that I can keep going to the next paragraph or chapter.

So I'm announcing to world (and the few people who read my blog) that I will white space myself through this year and make the changes I want to make. And that means I will be blogging more to show my progress.