I hesitate to open with the line, “this is the most picturesque place I have ever blogged” as, at the moment, I am incapable of uploading pictures (A left-over from the Great Server Disaster) but I cannot fail to note that I am currently occupying a lovely spot on my parent’s deck in the late, warm evening and listening to the two ponds and one very noisy frog jiving in the backyard. With a glass of wine.

Jealous? You should be.

I’d forgotten that weather can sometimes have a palpable softness to it. The evenings here sit quietly on you with no rough edges, not wanting to ruffle you in the slightest. There’s not even the slightest breeze stirring tonight and yet it is neither humid nor stifling. Summer is definitely the best time to relocate.

However, I would like to recommend to anyone that it is best done with a partner. Especially if two children are involved.

I was prepared for Monday, the day we flew, to possibly be the worst day of my life thus far. Not only because I would be forced to say goodbye to my husband for the best part of a month and a half, but because it suddenly became clear that I was able to become a single parent of two for the same length of time.

Of course, I was also worried about the flight. Although the Prawn is prone to misbehavior in public, she has always been an oddly compliant air traveler, never showing any compulsion to run up and down the aisles, leaving a trail of strewn pillows, headphones and small bottles of bad wine in her wake. The Squid, however, was a totally unknown quantity. She is nowhere NEAR the placid baby that the Prawn was, so I could not help but approach an 8 hour stretch of time in which I had to hold her on my lap with some trepidation. (But not nearly, I think, the trepidation of my seat mate when she saw me plop the Squid’s bucket down on the seat next to her.)

The day started with seemingly ill omens of things to come. The first was the rather disastrous forgetting of the buggy, which I was counting on not only to transport the Squid, but mine AND the Squid’s AND the Prawn’s carry on bags. As it transpired, I ended up carrying two of the bags plus the Squid in her bucket through two separate airports, which was less than desirable. Secondly, the reservation for the Squid failed to go through and we ended up paying another 127 pounds that we weren’t counting on. However, the universe threw us a small scrap in the form of a minor upgrade to Economy Plus, which boasted slightly more legroom.

To make a long story short, a miracle occurred and neither child created any bother whatsoever aside from the Squid cutting off blood circulation to my left hand. She DID become vocally dismayed in the US customs line, but probably no more than anyone else stuck in the seemingly endless queue to be processed by approximately 3 officers.

This week has been an exercise in sleep deprivation and patience. Some notable nighttime shenanigans:

-The first night, the Squid had a 2 am wake up call and the Prawn woke up at 4. BOTH of them had had more sleep than me.

-The chances of the Squid waking up in the middle of the night to be fed at the exact same moment as the Prawn falling out of her brand new and much higher bed? Better than you’d think.

-The Prawn, after waking at 6 and then bothering me endlessly for juice, finally got what she wanted, gulped the whole lot down in one go and then promptly hurled on my bed. That was this morning and I felt rather like putting my head in the oven.

My mother has been a saintly presence, despite the lurghy she picked up in her four days with us prior to the move. The Prawn is her shadow from the moment she wakes up, accompanying her on her morning rounds of the garden, feeding the birds and the fish and begging constantly for more games, more books and more fun. This has taken a great deal of strain off of me while I deal with The Squid, who chose yesterday to cut her first tooth, which, as you might imagine, has caused her not to be the most pleasant little pink bundle in creation to be around. (Her cousin, Wubba, is also in the process of cutting teeth, so I can commiserate with Trumpet and BoyRacer transatlantically)

Although I feel as though I am about to collapse, I feet my outdoor sanity break, now that both girls are asleep, has done me some good. But for now, to bed, to await the trials of tomorrow.

It’s hard to believe that I’m actually here.