Waves

It’s been almost a year since my last blog post. It’s amazing how quickly time can go, how much of a blur it can be. This time last year, I was still knee deep in the repatriating weeds.

Recently, one of my dearest friends in the world told me that the way she describes me is the kind of person who can create a warm, loving home and a life for her family no matter where she goes. I would say that’s a pretty astute assessment- but, I will also say, this move was the most challenging of our previous moves.

When you move to a foreign country, most people sympathize with the fact that you’re a fish out of water. They can respect the challenges of learning a new language and culture. More than anything though, it’s exciting! Most people don’t get to have those experiences, and want to live vicariously through those that do.

The problem is, most people don’t understand the growing pains of trying to adjust to your home culture. There are tons of books about acclimating kids, but not a lot for adults. I wonder if it’s partly because there’s this common misconception that all expats stick together and don’t get knee deep in the culture. (I can feel my Italian girlfriends laughing because they know just how native we went during that expat experience!)

The return back was bumpier than when we moved back from Italy, probably in part to the fact that I wasn’t moving and having a baby right away. Babies are an amazing distraction to pour yourself into when you’e in a new place. I know this better than most. I’ve moved mid pregnancy during all 3 pregnancies, and had babies in different states and countries than where I started the pregnancy. Babies are an ice breaker, a door opener, and a community creator.

This time, we moved back with one kid who didn’t know this country at all, one who barely remembered it, and one who was old enough to really appreciate her wonderful life in Zurich- and no one wanted to come back. I didn’t want to come back. I felt that I’d finally found my stride in what I want to do (interiors, traveling, and interviewing exceptional people), so leaving Europe, where I’d begun to feel established, was extremely challenging. We lived in Zurich longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere.

Once we got here, I threw myself into creating a life for the girls. Once February hit, I began to feel like there was space to focus on my business and the things that were for me. What I didn’t anticipate were the waves.

At least once a month, someone would want to go “home”. Hell, sometimes that someone was me. Then we hit the summer, and realized that we’re staying put in Atlanta, and the waves became less. Zurich will always be a home, but finally, we’ve all hit a point where Atlanta is becoming home.

The long and the short of it is, 2020 is going to be a big year for Bow and Branch. The website is going to go through a big refresh, more tips and tricks on decorating your home, and more of “the good stuff”, because frankly, we need more of it. Even more exciting, I’m currently planning my first pop up shoppe.

In the meantime, since I’m recovering from our massive holiday party, and the crazed holiday season, I’ll be checking out until the new year. See you in 2020!

Roller Coaster

Lake Zurich- Even on the cloudiest days, still one of my happy places.

I’ve been in a difficult space the last few weeks.  Moving back to the US has been like a rollercoaster of highs and lows.  Yes, I read all the articles and books that told me I’d feel this way, and that it would be difficult, but it’s like explaining sex to a virgin.  You can explain the science, but the feelings don’t make sense until it happens.

I’ve been carrying the weight of our simultaneously happy and sad girls.  The holidays are coming and everyday someone is sad that they aren’t “home”.  It’s left me a little fried, and frankly, with little room for me to write to process how I’m feeling.

I feel like there’s guilt that comes with taking time for yourself.  Yes, we see things advertising self-care all over the place, and that we need to give ourselves grace.  But, as much as I love my eye cream, it doesn’t feel the same as when I give myself the grace to take a moment to myself or accept failure.  I’m a perfectionist.  Failure is hard for me.  I overthink and pick myself apart when I’m not careful.  I think a lot of people do this and feel like it’s just something that we do- and it is, but I think it’s something to catch yourself on. 

Sometimes we all need a healthy look in the mirror to recognize that we are okay.  Being tired when life is tiring is okay.  Feeling fried when you’re caring for little people, or old people, or a sick or emotionally draining partner is okay.  Being human is okay.  I’m too tired right now to pretend that everything is perfect.  It’s not!  But our kids are happy when they aren’t crying for “their Switzerland”.  They’re thrilled to have their awesome schools, sweet friends, and American candy, bbq and soul food.  And lord, they are thankful for good old American burgers.

Meanwhile, for myself, I’m looking forward to getting back in the groove of sharing regularly.  This Sunday, I will FINALLY be sharing an amazing interview with my lovely, supportive friend, Susan Bradfield.  She’s an Aussie photographer that I met in Zurich.  She’s a wonderful photography teacher, landscape and travel photographer, and does beautiful family photos.  I look forward to sharing her journey into photography, as well as some fabulous photography advice.

I have a lot of fun things in the works- styling your home and hearth for the holidays, yummy recipes, and interviews with some of my fabulous friends.  Thanks for your patience during this crazy transition.  I’m really excited for what’s to come.

Our 4 year-old took this when we were taking photos in Provence. It popped up on my phone today and was a gentle reminder to let things be.

Treading Water

We bow, we don’t break, we branch out.  Women have this ability to see the entirety of things, the ability to find the good stuff, the ability to connect people- that’s the sisterhood showing its best self.

Eight years ago, I looked at my husband and told him that I had a feeling his career would take off in a way that would cause us to move around.  He, being the most humble person I have ever met, laughed at me and kind of brushed me off.  A year later, we were told that we’d be moving every year or so for a program that would accelerate his career.  Here we were in our mid-twenties, about to go on the ride of our life, with our beautiful one-year old baby in tow.

Fast-forward almost a decade, and we’ve got three little girls, have lived in 8 homes, 3 countries, and 5 cities.  Our kids are the most chilled out travelers you’d ever meet.  They’ve eaten food you’ve only seen on “No Reservations” or read about in “National Geographic”.  They don’t care what language you speak, or what you look like.  They care if you’re kind, fair, and are willing to play hard on the playground.

My husband and I have learned to get by in different languages and to quickly immerse ourselves in other cultures.  It’s changed the way we parent, the way we view family, and in some ways, it has helped us learn to appreciate just how valuable family time is.

You might be thinking to yourself, this woman is bonkers.  Cultures aren’t that different, Western Europe is all the same, people are people no matter how you shake them, and I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong, but also that you’re right.  People are people. True.  But, the way you’re raised, the idea of what is and is not safe, what’s moral and immoral, that’s cultural, my friends.

Who are you at your cultural core?  As an American, I’ve learned that other countries don’t lean on the cultures of their ancestors the way we do (to be fair, the vast majority of those counties are older than ours).  How has it impacted your choices, who you are, your beliefs, and what you like to do?

For me, the last four and a half weeks have consisted of my family and I trying to navigate our feelings about being back in the US.  It feels differently than it did from when we moved back from Italy.  Very differently.  We all feel like cultural melting pots, and we can’t figure out where we fit.

You know how we turn into our spouse and our friends the more we’re around them?  You don’t mean to, but you do.  That’s how living in a different culture for an extended period of time is.  You gradually start to absorb certain aspects of that culture, whether you want or mean to.  So, leaving that culture, in the same way that starting with a new set of friends, or a new spouse, is difficult.  The thing is, when you’re returning to your own culture, everyone assumes you’ll be fine, but the reality is, you’re trying to wear jeans that used to fit, but they just don’t. 

I’m in a fortunate situation where even though I left a place that my family and I really loved and felt at home in, we have moved to a place where there are so many people that we love so much.  I have such amazing friends here in Atlanta, the kind of deep friendships that some women just don’t seem to think really exist.  I’m here to tell you, sisters- your people are out there.  Just be open, be kind, and give it time.

I know that I’ll see my Zurich and Florence sistahs sooner than not, and that I’m so lucky to have my Atlanta sisters to welcome my family and I home, and help us adjust.  I know that in a year, I’ll have a different perspective, but right now, right now I’m trying to tread water to stay afloat.  I’ll swim to shore soon.  Just not yet.

"The Good Stuff"

A month or so ago, we moved back to America.  Since then, I’ve been very busy trying to build a home for our children, help them navigate American culture (we have one daughter that was born in Switzerland, one that lived there since she was 2, and one daughter who has spent half her life in Europe- America feels foreign to them).  During my down time, I’ve been trying to organize my thoughts.  I’ve been flipping through my travel notebooks, and I had a short story that reminded me about my drive to spread what I have lovingly referred to since the beginning of my blog, as “the good stuff”.

When I was last in Florence, I was walking through the Ognissanti from Santa Maria Novella.  A man was walking behind me, whistling.  For whatever reason, he startled me.  I stepped to the side of the sidewalk, as I often do when I get nervous, or a feel someone too close to me.  As I did this, the man apologized for frightening me.  It’s a moment I’ll never forget.

I feel like we live in a time where we highlight every awful thing.  We fail to recognize the positive moments.  We don’t publicize shows of respect or acts of kindness.  How is this to change if we don’t share our positive stories - both big and seemingly small?  How will people learn that the way they behave matters?  If the only ones getting press are people that hurt or emotionally wound others, how will good ever truly prevail?

Sure, having information about the scary things in the world arms us to protect ourselves, but at what point is it too much?  At what point will we recognize if we focus more on the positive, if we share more of “the good stuff”, that positive influence will spread, and I truly believe, create change.

This is a call to action for all of you out there.  If you see something positive, please share it.  If you want to share it on my blog, reach out!  I want to share the amazing things people are doing- big, small, and creative.  I have personally experienced more than once how an act of compassion or kindness that feels small to you, often has a big impact on others, and those around them.  Share your stories! #thegoodstuff

Moving.

We’re moving back to America in a few weeks, and I’ve been going through the motions.  My friends have all been loving and supportive, but sometimes explaining expat life is like explaining having a baby to someone who hasn't had a baby.  It's not challenging to understand the semantics, but truly understanding the experience isn't easy. Parts of me are fundamentally different than the person I was before I left.  Our children have had experiences that most kids never have.  We’re all feeling a little culturally out of place, and as if we’re straddling two lives while we say farewell to one, and hello to another.

We’ve repatriated before (hey, I’m not pregnant this time!), but this time feels different.  I had a baby here, our almost five-year-old defines herself as Swiss, and our eldest understands that she’s American, but doesn’t define herself as one.  Here’s the deal.  I researched expat life and repatriation the last time we did this, and I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on these last few weeks, and here’s the reality.  No one knows anything.

Moving to different countries makes you different in an undefinable way.  The best way that I can attempt to explain it, is this.  Imagine you are living in a house full of windows.  Now imagine that the shades are drawn.  That’s what I define life in the “comfort zone”, or your home country.  There’s nothing wrong with that kind of life. It’s a good life.

Now imagine that all of the shades come up, and then the glass is gone.  Totally raw exposure.  That’s what expat life has felt like for me.  I was raised with a very open world view, and then moving abroad twice has caused me to feel more open than I ever thought possible.  More curious than I ever knew I could be.  I want to know more.  See more.  Experience more.  I want to KNOW what it’s like to visit exotic places and live in places that are different than where I grew up. 

By nature, I’ve never been happy with inauthentic relationships.  I’m not a halfway person.  I believe that the people you surround yourself with are who you will become, so choose wisely and be aware of what you want in your life.  Being an expat has enabled me to learn things about myself and our family that I don’t think we would have learned, had we not had these experiences. 

I’m nervous to move back to the US for a variety of reasons- are our kids safe? (Switzerland has provided our girls with a very safe space to learn to be independent and self-sufficient), how will I fare without my best friend that I see almost every day, co-parents with me, and just understands me?, how will living in the States feel since we’ve been gone so long, and life has just kept going in the same direction (for the most part) for our friends at home?, how will our girls adjust to American schooling (our 8 year-old has never had homework, and gets a lot more time on the playground that the US allotted 24 minute recess.)?  It’s the spinning web of worry and questioning that I rely on my expat super-mamas for, because no matter how well intentioned, relatively few, if any of my friends who have never had this life experience, will ever understand just how difficult this all feels.

At the end of the day, I know that everything will fall into place.  I have a girlfriend going through a very similar experience, and I keep reminding her to give herself the same amount of grace that she gives everyone else.  It’s SO hard to practice grace and patience without myself.  So hard.  I’m a perfectionist and I want everything to be the way I want it to be.  I want Switzerland, Italy, and America to be an hour flight away.  I want my best friends to live next door.  I want our girls to grow up with all of the people that love them close by- but that’s not the life we chose, so I just have to be happy with frequent trips to rub pregnant bellies, hold babies, hang out with friends, explore, and show love as much as possible.  I have to keep reminding our girls, as we always have, that the ability to show up is the best gift you can give someone.  And we do.  We always show up.  We make time.  Locations may change, but the love, the love stays the same.

Our Swiss Miss and I a few weeks after we got home from the hospital, when my eyeballs still felt like they were going to fall out of my head.