After several years of living in the States, the husband and I decided it was time for another international adventure. He accepted a job in England in April of 2020, just as the world realized that COVID 19 was going to be sticking around for a while. We spent the rest of the year unsure if we were moving or not. Very few people knew the limbo in which we were living, including our 7th grader. On top of the stress, we were all feeling about the pandemic and the adventures of online school, I was dealing with a game of Yes, you’re moving to a new country – No, you’re not. We all have our own pandemic dramas, so I won’t bore you with mine. Just note that when your child’s psychologist asks how you’re coping with the stress, don’t’ say “Sugar, booze and sarcasm”.
In mid-December, we received a solid yes on our international relocation plan and Dave’s start date was May 1. The previous year had not been wasted; as parents, we had spent the year in what we referred to as “Operation Commonwealth.” Our weekly family movie night had featured new and old movies set in the U.K. We subjected the kid to all the European travel shows we could find. Many conversations were had about the joys of traveling in Europe and how cool it would be to live abroad. Unsure of how successful our subliminal advertising campaign had been, we waited until AFTER Christmas to tell the 13-year-old that we were moving to England. If you are going to ruin someone’s life, you might as well let them enjoy Christmas first!
In all parenting endeavors, I keep my expectations very low. When he was little, our goal was always blood and vomit free days. We used that mindset when telling him about the move. He stayed eerily calm when we were telling him. At the end of our well-rehearsed presentation, he asked to go to his room and think about it. As he disappeared up the steps, my husband whispered, “Are all the sharp knives and incendiary devices accounted for”?
About an hour later, the kid announced, “If we have to do this, I have some demands.” I closed my eyes and released a very deep sigh, Dave swallowed so hard I could hear it. In unison we said, “Okay what are they?” We were expecting demands such as a new bike, Xbox or even another pet. We were blown away him say, “I want a vacation in Greece and a visit to the Acropolis. I want to swim in the Mediterranean off the coast of Spain, and we will need to sleep in a castle at least once.” Dave and I looked at each other both waiting for the bomb to drop. The kid crossed his arms across his chest and made his closing argument “If we can’t do those things, I’m not going.” All I could think was, “I love that kid!” Fast forward 5 months, Dave left on the 4th of May. Packers showed up in the first of June. Everything was packed and the house was empty by the 4th. The kid and I road tripped to Illinois to see my friends and family. We drove back to Denver and were wheels up on June 17th and headed across the pond for our next great adventure.
After the fun of quarantine and rental house shopping in a market that was hotter than a firecracker in mid-July, we ended up in the village of Dacre Banks in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales.
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