Here I am, living in Europe. I’ve packed up my family, my dog and everything I own and moved 1/4 of the way around the world. I’m living in a country where I don’t speak the language. Dan has a new job and we have a new apartment. We are very, very far away from our families and our friends.
And yet, very little is actually different in my day. I get up, I change diapers, I feed children, I kiss boo boos, I try to straighten the house a little, I try to make some progress on the endless list of things that must be done to make a household run, I put kids down for naps (with varying degrees of success), I give baths, I read stories, I get up in the middle of the night (most nights) to feed a hungry baby, I try to get a shower regularly, I try to eat healthily (and usually don’t). Every so often, we have somewhere we need to go. Sometimes, we just try to get out for some fresh air. Many days (yesterday was one of them) we start trying to get out of the house around 9:00 in the morning and succeed around 5:00 in the evening. It’s still a 24/7 job with no real breaks, requiring endless patience and a pervasive sense of humor (and some days I struggle to find either). Those things are as true here as they were in Virginia.
Instead of packing everyone into the car to run errands, I’m making sure the stroller is packed up so we can walk or ride the train to our destination. The scenery is different, to be sure, and some of the itinerary is a little more interesting: instead of the grocery store or the mall, I’m likely to be going out to get lunch for us, or to go for a stroll by some Austrian landmark. But, when I stop to think about it, things are very much the same. My job travels well, and it doesn’t change much due to location. All in all, life is pretty much the same here as it was at home. It’s a life that I love, so that’s a great thing.