Saying what I need to say ...

Oh, my dear John Mayer, if only it were that easy.

If only I could take all my blogless weeks and my 900+ photos from my camera's SD card (the one that the thoughtful girl at Wal-Mart gently suggested I back up elsewhere ...) and say absolutely everything that comes to mind, or has come to mind over the course of my maiden six-week home leave.

I can say this ....

living six weeks out of a suitcase grows old, Wal-Mart makes me twitch, Target makes me happy (but not in a way that benefits my knocked-off Chinese pocket book), I can't believe how hard renting can be on a home or how much sweat equity we've poured back into a residence we won't reside in ... I'm not cut out for single parenting, or having the mantle of the marriage yoke stretch across continents and time zones, (of course I rewarded my jet-lagged husband, who could only afford two weeks holiday with a day or so of grief when he arrived-- which is so classically text book {can I get a witness from another expat tai tai?} that I was more frustrated with myself than with my groggy, unshaven spouse)...

I have slept ...

With my five-year-old who I've renamed 'Elbows' (which is what her whole body seems to morph into during sleeping hours, who promptly, regardless of the size of the bed, climbs into a pocket of my scapula the minute I roll away...)

with my tweenager, who is a known bed hog

with my husband, in the bed in which he was conceived

with my husband and Elbows, in which equation, she trades scapula slumber for the formation of a human H

in the solitude of a trundle bed along side my eight-year old, whom, when asked about sleeping arrangements stated she prefers to sleep alone. (Wise girl!)

The Three have been...

poked and prodded, had blood draws to check for lead poisoning, and TB tests to rule out that chronic respiratory illness (both done for precautionary measures because our high risk living environment, not because of displayed symptoms), MGJ pulled through her oral surgery beautifully, but not without some tweenage angst, We've been on hand for the county fair, revisited the idea of where meat comes from after watching the livestock show, and cheered as the girlies' cousin's steer and heifer entered the show ring. The Three have caught up with friends, loved being with aunties and uncles, playing with cousins, and spent time swimming, splashing and loving on their dog -- Bei Bei professed that she 'liked Guinnea Pal with all her love' (*** Breaking news, Miss Guinness, our black and tan 10-year-old collie arrived safely and uneventfully in QD with Mr Johnson after 22 consecutive hours in her airline approved kennel) ...

I have ...

thoroughly enjoyed working in our own yard again (even as that aforementioned sweat equity literally rolled off the end of my nose and gathered in moist spots on my freebie Quantas airlines tee), I marveled at the growth of the lilacs we planted six or eight years ago, and fullness of my shade loving hostas, the random beauty of the six naked lady bulbs that sprung to life after being freed from the decaying foliage above them ...

I have at turns wondered what I signed up for in coming home alone with three kids for six weeks, then wondered, in a moment of weakness, if it would hurt to stay and linger in the Midwest six months more (The Bungalow, our sweet little three bedroom, symmetric brick home is presently without renters, and I thought how seamlessly the girls and I could sidle in for a semester), I walked through the empty and echoey chambers of our home and, despite the dust and dirt recalled exactly how and why we fell in love with this octogenarian of a home (Don't worry, my sweet Mr Johnson, we are coming home to you and the old pup in China). . .

It has become a bit of a running joke, or maybe not a joke, a theme at least, and a new one for me. Each time we've headed back to our host country I've been ready, knowing that our time there is not yet complete, there is more reason for us to stay. This time, for the first time, I've felt more reluctant. In fact, when the doctor's office called to report the girlies blood scans where clear, I turned to Mr. Johnson and said in mock disappointment. 'No lead... I guess we have to go back to China''

Of course I blame it all on my sister's wall paper at Retro House, and the fact that The Bungalow is empty. I want to live somewhere where I can pick the color and paint my house. Somewhere within driving distance to Target's iconic bull's eye. Somewhere near a deli that stocks hummus and kalamata olives.

I have felt the love of friends and family....

Living for extended periods of time with extended generations of family... sharing the same roof and washing machine and bathrooms has its challenges, most of which are completely outweighed by extra bedtime snuggles and lazy breakfasts together in PJs.

Our girls too have been blessed by family. With a grandmother who stocks the pantry with three girlies in mind, and the bathroom vanity with Barbie toothbrushes. With a grandpa who will let them do figure eights with the lawn tractor in an otherwise pristine, park like front yard, where the lawn lines contrast perfectly with each pass of the mower. With uncles and aunties who love them when they are cute... and when they're snotty (literally snotty... thanks Ry for feeding quarters into the claw machine with a tearful Bei Bei, and allowing her to use your a corner of your shoulder as a tissue!)

My sister and her friend who is a boy (but whom my girls, with a Freudian slip of the tongue called uncle) flew down to see us for 48 hours this weekend. Thanks for sharing your time with us. We love you. (and promise to stop pressuring you... just kidding... still going to apply pressure.)

We were encouraged by visits with some of our 'China friends' who understood exactly what our experience has been. Our moments with these friends flew by, but the times we shared help mutually validate what each one of our families experienced living abroad.

Other people have also shown such a genuine interest in where we live and what life in China is like, at a point when I had nearly come to believe that no one would understand where we were coming from, and my heart was touched.

I had...

a wonderful afternoon with girlfriends from high school (and our combined offspring which numbered 19 ... a nod to good old fashioned Midwestern fertility), a great lunch with a former high school teacher who affirmed our expat life and travels, and countless coffees and chats with thoughtful girlfriends and old family friends.

I have said what I need to say... but don't think for a second this is the last random thoughts blog on home leave. Oh, know dear readers, far from it.

You better know that in the end

It's better to say too much

Than to never say what you need to say again.

John Mayer

SAY