Good News on the Ashley Front...

We have been having an ongoing, frustrating encounter with the headmaster of the school I want Ashley to attend.

He is SO SLOW about returning email. So I feel like I'm nagging him when I repeatedly send emails over and over asking for confirmation that he received the previous email.

Me: Here's the email!

Him: ...

Me: Did you get it?

Him: ...

Me: Did you get it?

Him: ...

Me: DID YOU GET IT?

Him: ...

Me: *mutter mutter mutter*

Him: ... ... ... (and finally...)

Dear Amy,

Thank you for the transcripts safely received. Ashley is obviously achieving well, which is very encouraging for a smooth transition at this tricky point. We would be very pleased to offer you a place for her starting in September.

Her precise programme will need a bit of careful planning, and I would rather do this with you and Ashley 'face to face'. When will you be arriving in the UK? In the meantime, I can mail you some further information and details if you give me your address in the US (depending on when you'll be here, of course).

With best wishes, and looking forward to meeting Ashley,

Headmaster


Yay Ashley! Her most groovey excellent grades got her into my FIRST CHOICE for her school! Yay her! She is awesome.

And that is a sigh of relief for one more thing taken care of, and one less thing to worry about.

In Which Amy Says Something Scarey... (Myspace Blog)

There is some pretty big news that I have avoided sharing with you all. I'm not entirely sure why: partly because I wanted to wait until it was absolutely not going to change, and partly because, while I'm excited, I'm also scared.

I'm moving.

Yes, moving in and of itself is a scarey thing. Moving across town is daunting and hard work and exhausting. But this... this is more than that. I am not just moving across town. I am moving across the world.

In very late April I applied to attend a school in the United Kingdom to finish my degree. In May, very late in May, I was accepted. Now, this late in June, things are set enough that I can say that I am moving to England.

I leave at the end of August. I will be homeless at the end of July, crashing on a friends couch because I still have class until mid-August.

There are emotional ups and downs associated with this move. Hija is coming with me. That fact has caused problems with her father, and with her step-mom. And I understand where they are coming from. Hijo is /not/ coming with me... and this breaks my heart. I have moments of wondering if I will be able to function without having him with me. It is going to be equally hard on him, too.

We are moving in with Mi Amor. This is a bit frightening too. He is incredibly gentle, but there are many times when I look at my past and see myself as someone very difficult to love. Is he the one? Is it ever entirely, 100% possible to tell?

It's a different culture, a different community, a different language (even thought it is still English), a different world. We will have to bend and adapt and change. Change is scarey.

The funniest thing to me is that I asked for change. My tattoo is a specific request put forth to learn how to be ok with large change. To become more comfortable at making the tough decisions based on what is best rather than what is safest. Time to put my money where my mouth is.

So... my friends, the clock is ticking. Let's do and be and live and love until we can't anymore. There will be parties announced. There is a family blog... you want the address, message me. Questions? Ask. I am not afraid.

Ok, maybe I am afraid. A little. But that will pass. I spent too much time thinking about this and deciding if I was doing what was best for myself and my kids. I am. I /know/ I am. But that doesn't seem to help the fear. I'm still learning how to deal with that part.

De Plane, Boss... De Plane!

As of this afternoon, it is official. The plane tickets are bought. Here is the itinerary.

15 August, 10:30 am: Stephen boards a plane in London to come here. (yes... HERE!!! Yay!)
15 August, 10:20 pm: Amy meets Stephen at the airport.

15 August - 30 August: Stephen and Amy and sometimes Ashley and Tristan do lots of stuff, involving loads of travel, meeting family, at least 1 party, and dinners out.

30 August: 2:40 pm: Amy, Stephen, and Ashley board plane to Houston.
30 August: 3:45 pm: Arrive in Houston, spend the night with Jim and Erin.
31 August: 3:45 pm: Ashley, Stephen, and Amy board plane to London.
1 September: 6:55 am: Arrive in London, 2 hour train home.

Long amounts of travel=tired family.

The Mood-Coaster (LiveJournal Post)

It was a truly busy day, what with a big test in calculus and tons of errands to run. And something about moving at such a tremendously frantic pace set the tone for the day. I couldn't hold still. I shook and jiggled and doodled and nibbled and anything else I could do to keep from holding still. I was just... antsy. Finally, after jiggling, wriggling, and doodling as much as I could bear, I begged Christine to go grocery shopping with me.

Did I need to go grocery shopping? Well.... yes and no. Yes, I was short on healthy food, out of fresh veggies entirely, no milk to be had. But no. This is my week of no kids... I could have made do. I prolly /should/ have made do, to be honest. But the draw of getting out and moving while doing something semi productive was worth it.

So we went to the store. Something about the store sucked my brain, had to go back to the produce department 4 times... 4 times! because I kept forgetting things. By the time we were done, I was done too. Stick a fork in me done. Exhausted like I had run a marathon done. Almost unable to talk coherently done. And now, less than an hour later, I have finally dragged ass to put the $55 worth of groceries away. I am so tired I want to just curl up in a a little ball and sleep. Make moan-y sounds at anyone who tries to wake me.

I feel like the graph of a sine wave. Up and down, up and down, check me and I repeat every 2π.

*sigh* I'm not even sure that actually made sense at all...

09:19 pm - The Mood-Coaster - livejournal post

It was a truly busy day, what with a big test in calculus and tons of errands to run. And something about moving at such a tremendously frantic pace set the tone for the day. I couldn't hold still. I shook and jiggled and doodled and nibbled and anything else I could do to keep from holding still. I was just... antsy. Finally, after jiggling, wriggling, and doodling as much as I could bear, I begged Christine to go grocery shopping with me.

Did I need to go grocery shopping? Well.... yes and no. Yes, I was short on healthy food, out of fresh veggies entirely, no milk to be had. But no. This is my week of no kids... I could have made do. I prolly /should/ have made do, to be honest. But the draw of getting out and moving while doing something semi productive was worth it.

So we went to the store. Something about the store sucked my brain, had to go back to the produce department 4 times... 4 times! because I kept forgetting things. By the time we were done, I was done too. Stick a fork in me done. Exhausted like I had run a marathon done. Almost unable to talk coherently done. And now, less than an hour later, I have finally dragged ass to put the $55 worth of groceries away. I am so tired I want to just curl up in a a little ball and sleep. Make moan-y sounds at anyone who tries to wake me.

I feel like the graph of a sine wave. Up and down, up and down, check me and I repeat every 2π.

*sigh* I'm not even sure that actually made sense at all...

Current Mood: tired

House Update...

Stephen is viewing two today, one on Station Road West (very conveniently located) and the other on Watling Street (a posh area, from what I understand.) Here are the links....

Watling Street (no pics)

Station Road West

In the even more current front, there was only one likely candidate for us to even try to look at this week. House hunting sucks.

Love you all... and more later, as I learn it!


LATER:

oh kitty cat horror. Oh abject kitty cat horror. There are no places for rent in the entirety of the UK that allow lovely little fuzzy kitty cats, except this one farmhouse that is 40 km away from everywhere. And they only take 1. *groans* Ashley is going to be so upset... and I have no idea what to do with Muriel. Damn pet hating English realtor's! ;)


EVEN LATER:

They stood Stephen up at the Watling house, left him waiting for them in the rain. Bad them! Bad! So that leaves the Station Road house. Nice inside. Spacious. Lots of appliances. No garden, it is an apartment on the third floor, but eh. So now we wait to see what happens. And keep looking in the meantime.

A Love Song...

The first time I heard this song it was on a CD that Stephen made for me. Perhaps not meant to be a love song specifically to me at the time (this was before that...) but a song that represented what he thought love could be.

It has become my love song to him. I'm not sure that he knows that. It is sad and melancholy and full of ache at the same time as being so much about loving and sharing a life with someone. It is the real of a love. The good and the bad. Love that is too much and not enough. Love that fills you up to the point that it hurts. And today I am feeling just sappy enough that I want to share it with all of you.

08:28 am - Rough Night last night... livejournal post

Climbed into bed, sleepy and ready to snooze... and my brain starts going. A very vivid picture. I can't say I was entirely asleep, because I wasn't, so it wasn't a dream really... but maybe it was a little bit.

We were at the airport and I was having to say goodbye to Boo. I was having to leave him behind... and I started to cry. And I didn't stop. Crying became sobbing, became braying and howling with tears and snot dripping from my nose, wet face wet pillow wet neck. I went and held Boo in his bed until he muttered and moaned and pushed me away in his sleep. It wasn't enough. I cried and cried and cried... and I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember stopping crying.

I think this is so sad because I know it is true. I know it is coming, that it will happen. And I know I'm doing the right thing for him and Ash and me... but I wonder if I am my mother, who left when I was 5 and never came back until I was a teen, who left me to be abused and battered and ruined as a kid.

I know I'm different. I know that I won't give up involvement in Boo's life. I know that I will talk to him and see him as often as I can and that he will NEVER stop being my son. I know that, in my perfect world, there would be no way I would leave him if I had ANY other option - and that fact, right there, makes me different than my mother. She COULD have taken us, but chose not to. I don't have a choice. He is not really mine.

In the end it will be better for him and me to take away the power of holding that fact over my head. If it is not something that can be used as a weapon, then he can't be caught in the middle. If I'm not so close to K, then we can't fight where he gets caught in the middle. He won't be so torn for us being too close and caught in this epic battle of who controls whom. And I need to cut the ties to being controlled by her and B more than almost anything else in my life. I need to stop letting them have that kind of power over me.

Maybe I am just seeking reassurance that I am doing the right thing. Maybe I just need to hear that I am not a horrible mom and that I am doing the right thing. And to have my hand held while I have to walk away from him at the airport. That will be the hardest day of my life, I think.

Sometimes it hurts how much I love my kids.

Current Mood: depressed

Rough Night Last Night (LiveJournal Post)

Climbed into bed, sleepy and ready to snooze... and my brain starts going. A very vivid picture. I can't say I was entirely asleep, because I wasn't, so it wasn't a dream really... but maybe it was a little bit.

We were at the airport and I was having to say goodbye to Tristan. I was having to leave him behind... and I started to cry. And I didn't stop. Crying became sobbing, became braying and howling with tears and snot dripping from my nose, wet face wet pillow wet neck. I went and held Tristan in his bed until he muttered and moaned and pushed me away in his sleep. It wasn't enough. I cried and cried and cried... and I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember stopping crying.

I think this is so sad because I know it is true. I know it is coming, that it will happen. And I know I'm doing the right thing for him and Ash and me... but I wonder if I am my mother, who left when I was 5 and never came back until I was a teen, who left me to be abused and battered and ruined as a kid.

I know I'm different. I know that I won't give up involvement in Tristan's life. I know that I will talk to him and see him as often as I can and that he will NEVER stop being my son. I know that, in my perfect world, there would be no way I would leave him if I had ANY other option - and that fact, right there, makes me different than my mother. She COULD have taken us, but chose not to. I don't have a choice. He is not really mine.

In the end it will be better for him and me to take away the power of holding that fact over my head. If it is not something that can be used as a weapon, then he can't be caught in the middle. If I'm not so close to Kim, then we can't fight where he gets caught in the middle. He won't be so torn for us being too close and caught in this epic battle of who controls whom. And I need to cut the ties to being controlled by her and Brian more than almost anything else in my life. I need to stop letting them have that kind of power over me.

Maybe I am just seeking reassurance that I am doing the right thing. Maybe I just need to hear that I am not a horrible mom and that I am doing the right thing. And to have my hand held while I have to walk away from him at the airport. That will be the hardest day of my life, I think.

Sometimes it hurts how much I love my kids.

Yes, but who IS he?

I know what you are asking...



This is Stephen when he was younger.




This was Stephen in the Summer of 2006.

Anything else you want to know you will have to ask.

The Next Step

The loan is done. Now the super-fun part... moving.

Stephen and I have been busy working on an inventory of all the housewares we are moving, and the grand total so far is in excess of $17,000. Granted, this is replacement cost in the UK... but daunting nonetheless. We are trying to get our moving space as low as possible while not leaving necessary items behind. Our estimate is 640 cuft... and the cost will be about $7,000. Every foot we save is a good thing. But the more we cut, the harder it is to cut more.

We have both come to the conclusion that it would be so much easier to just leave everything behind. What a shame it is all things we need.

And I'm sad sad sad to announce that /none/ of my appliances will work. So I'm leaving them all. I am really really sad about this. Did I mention that I am sad?

In addition, we have come to the conclusion that there is a lot of things that we just /have/ to have appraised. The insurance wants exact replacement costs, and wont cover any antique/art object over $1000 an item without an appraisal. Which leaves questions about the Dragonware in particular. I have been told its value is between $5,000 and $8,000... and without an appraisal it wont be covered at this cost. So do we spend the money on an appraisal (no idea how much this would be, or even where we would have it done...) or do we list parts of the Dragonware separately? And would they even let that fly? And then there is the juice set, and the Currier and Ives set, and the Scottiedog lamp...

So welcome to our world of alternating panic, overwhelmedness, and exhaustion. There is so much to DO.

And no luck on the house front yet, which just adds to the stress.

Love you all!

It Came!

Finally!

The offer letter from CCCU came. Next step is the loan, then the visas, then the move. Things are ticking!

09:10 am - house update - livejournal post

It's too small, namely in the aspect of the bedroom that would be Ashley's. There are no bathTUBS in the house, only showers. Plus corners are rounded, the roof on the top floor slopes low onto the wall, and there is a tight spiral staircase to the upper levels. Stephen thinks it would be a problem getting furniture into it. It almost seems like they /tried/ to make as much space as possible unusable.

He said that there were no restrictions on children, but that the realtor guy said, "Are you sure the bedroom is large enough for a child's room?" He said that in and of itself was enough to raise flags. Obviously this place was not meant to be a family home, but that of a couple, sans children.

It's really really a shame, it was in the /perfect/ location, close enough to everything we could have wanted it to be close to.

Want pictures?

The small bedroom that would have been Ashley's. This is almost the entirety of the bedroom. small...



The kitchen, part of the living room, which is L shaped. The kitchen is just a bit bigger, but the white thing next to the black thing is the refrigerator. I am going to have some adjusting to do, as Stephen says this is the standard size of fridge that comes with homes there. We could put a bigger fridge in the corner behind the dinette there, but it isn't a corner, but is angled across.



See what I mean about strange space? This is the main bedroom on the top of 3 floors. And it is actually quite small also.

06:58 am - LAWYER (lawyerlawyerlawyer)...livejournal post

So my visit to the lawyer was yesterday.

You know how some people just like to talk and talk and talk and you can't even get a word in edgewise, until you are having to fight to keep your eyes in the general direction of their face just so they think you are still listening to them? You don't even have to make mm-hm noises because they are really to busy talking to hear you even if you did? That was this lawyer. Something that might have only taken 10 minutes (my questions were not hard) took 40, until I extracted myself from the situation and left him there still talking to me as I walked out the door and down the hallway. You can't say he wasn't very very very very /very/ friendly.

I don't remember if all of you know /why/ I went to see the lawyer, so a quick backtrack to catch everyone up. When I told B about my moving to England and taking Ash with me, he told me that he would not fight me only if I dropped the $50,000 he owes in back child support, and the $15,000 he owes in interest and penalties for not paying child support for 11 years. Ha! Not about Ash at all, only about the money.

So he has threatened to hire a lawyer to prevent my going an taking her. Now, I have sole custody of her, and my divorce decree states that I have the right to determine her legal domicile, but I really just want to be sure. I don't want any last minute obstacles. You know?

So I go to the lawyer at the University. He is free to students, of which I am one, and it seems like a pretty good deal. Here is what he spends 40 minutes telling me, over and over, while throwing in commentary and case law and past scenarios, some of which resemble mine and some of which I really have no clue where they came from at all.

*He cannot tell me anything for sure because he is a New Mexico lawyer, and this is a Texas matter.

*In New Mexico the judge would laugh at B.

*In New Mexico, it is not even an option to drop back child support, and I would be stupid to do so.

*He suspects I have nothing to worry about, but I might want to look into putting a Texas lawyer on retainer, so that if I go and B /does/ cause problems, then I already have a lawyer who knows the case and can interact with me via phone, to the point of my appearing in court via phone.

*All I have to do is be very careful to follow the /letter of the law/ as far as the divorce decree goes, and bring up to anyone who will listen that this matter is NOT about him wanting Ashley or about visitation, it is about MONEY.

It didn't even take me 40 minutes to write down what he said. ;)

So I'll be putting a Texas attorney on retainer, as soon as possible. And sending my change of address pursuant to section blah paragraph blah of my divorce decree to B and the court, certified mail, return receipt requested. And then I WILL NOT WORRY about it any more. I SWEAR.

Now onto more current topics...

Stephen is currently, right this minute, nownownow looking at a house for us. He said that he likes this one. I am so excited, he is supposed to be taking pictures and writing things down to share with me as soon as he gets home, but if he likes it enough, he is just going to sign for it. Housing is hard to come by, apparently, and sometimes decisions have to be made in a snap. There is no garden (UK for a yard) but that's ok. Wanna see it??? Here is a link: The House:

So I'm up much earlier than normal because of being too bloody excited to sleep. I can't wait to see it, hear what he has to say. Argh!

So much more I could talk about, but that's enough for now.

Current Mood: excited

Househunting

Stephen is out house hunting today. Actually, he is viewing a house that we both like a bit. No garden, but 2 bedrooms and 2 baths, one for each bedroom.

Here is a link for looking: House 1

More when we know it!

Later:

Too too small in the second bedroom. Ashley's big toe wouldn't fit comfortable. Oh well, keep looking. The /perfect/ house is just waiting to be found.

House Update (LiveJournal Post)

It's too small, namely in the aspect of the bedroom that would be Ashley's. There are no bathTUBS in the house, only showers. Plus corners are rounded, the roof on the top floor slopes low onto the wall, and there is a tight spiral staircase to the upper levels. Stephen thinks it would be a problem getting furniture into it. It almost seems like they /tried/ to make as much space as possible unusable.

He said that there were no restrictions on children, but that the realtor guy said, "Are you sure the bedroom is large enough for a child's room?" He said that in and of itself was enough to raise flags. Obviously this place was not meant to be a family home, but that of a couple, sans children.

It's really really a shame, it was in the /perfect/ location, close enough to everything we could have wanted it to be close to.

Want pictures?

The small bedroom that would have been Ashley's. This is almost the entirety of the bedroom. small...



The kitchen, part of the living room, which is L shaped. The kitchen is just a bit bigger, but the white thing next to the black thing is the refrigerator. I am going to have some adjusting to do, as Stephen says this is the standard size of fridge that comes with homes there. We could put a bigger fridge in the corner behind the dinette there, but it isn't a corner, but is angled across



See what I mean about strange space? This is the main bedroom on the top of 3 floors. And it is actually quite small also.

A New Beginning, A New Blog

We have decided to create a place where all of you, our family and friends, can see what is going on in our lives. We will post pictures, give news, and keep you all updated.

Timeline thus far...

Summer 1996 - Amy and Stephen meet at Clan.
November 2006 - Stephen and Amy give it a go.
March 2007 - Amy visits England, and Stephen.
End April 2007 - Amy applies to Canterbury Christchurch University.
End May 2007 - Amy offered a second year entry,
Stephen and Amy decide to live together.
June 2007 - News starts to spread.

08:12 am - what today looks like... livejournal post

B is a putz.

He has decided to be difficult. When I told him Ash and I were moving to England, he told me that he would only not fight me if I dropped the fees, penalties, and back child support that he owes. Telling me that it is not about wanting to keep Ashley here at all, but simply about the money.

I said no. He has controlled me in so many ways for so long, and I am actively working to get out of being controlled by him and K. And if I give into him on ANY LITTLE THING, anything at all, he wins. And I can't do that. Besides, is it my fault that he chose not to take care of his responsibility for 11 years and ended up $50000 in debt to the attorney generals office? No.

So he is talking to an attorney, apparently. Honestly, there is nothing he can do. She is 15, old enough to choose, and she wants to go. Add to that the fact that I have sole custody, and my divorce decree says that I get to choose where she lives...

I'm off to an attorney today, just to be safe.

It makes me really quite angry that he is pulling this, not because of the fact that he is causing problems, that seems to be one of his goals lately: to cause me problems. He is really angry and full of hating me. What makes me so angry is the fact that this is not about Ashley at all. He obviously doesn't care that I am taking her, being so willing to let her go if it hit his pocketbook right. So all of this subjecting her to being placed in the middle isn't in her best interests at all.

When I told Kim, I explained that I had looked at this from the sides of both kids, and told her I thought it was best. She turned to Ash and told her that /she/ would always do what Ashley /wanted/. As a parent, you can't afford to do that. There are times when what is best is not what is wanted, and you do it anyway. It is about what is in your kids' best interest.

As hard as it is to walk away from Boo, as much as I am not doing what he wants... it is in his best interest.

I guess the point is that I have two ex's, with whom I have children, who don't get the concept of what is best for the kids. Its all about what makes them look best in the kids eyes or what is best for the pocketbook.

I think I have done better this time.

Current Mood: determined

07:12 am - what love /really/ is - livejournal post

07:12 am - what love /really/ is

I say 'I love you' a lot. To a lot of people. And I mean it. I say it to Stephen all the time, and he does not say it back as often. He tells me, but it doesn't flow out of his mouth like breath like mine do. And that's ok, I never mind. It's not really even anything I've thought about before. I have always been 'more loving' than others, from the time I was born.

But today I was floored and humbled by the awakening that I had with Stephen. (You all are going to get tired of hearing me talk about him, I think... Sorry.) It started from IM, as it usually does since that is how we talk in the mornings while he is at work.

Amy: is there even an amtmux anymore?
Stephen: sometimes...
Stephen: but with no-one on
Amy: the last time i tried to log on it wasnt there.
Stephen: i just tried.. and it's not
Amy: It makes me a little sad, with all of esthers things there.
Stephen: :(
Stephen: if you're that concerned.. you can ask ivar for a flatfile of the game.. and I could run it somewhere

I almost wanted to cry. 'I love you's' dont mean squat to this. I was instantly aware of what he was /really/ saying... he was saying that he loves me enough to host a silly game because it means something to me because of a dead friend. Not even because of all of the memories that he and I share there... just because of Esther.

Amy: you know, baby - that was really sweet of you.
Stephen: what is?
Amy: to offer to take the amtmux and run it just for my sentimental reasons.
Stephen: *smiles*
Amy: It made me feel very loved. and I wanted to tell you.
Amy: thank you
Stephen: you're welcome

From my journal to him: "Sometimes love is not how often 'I love you's' are said. Sometimes love is not the sex and control and passion. This is an even bigger love. And some people gloss over things like this, little things that mean I love you. I don't want to be a person who glosses over them. This type of I love you means more, because it is not blatant, it is easy to pass over and miss."

I can't believe this hit me so hard. I'm crying, being sappy and sentimental and crying for feeling so overwhelmed by emotion. Silly girl, silly girl Amy.

Amy: you know what else makes me all sappy sentimental about the amtmux?
Stephen: what?
Amy: lemonland
Stephen: lol
Amy: you used to sneak me away and hide me from everyone else.
Amy: greedy.
Stephen: Yup
Amy: does that mean you could be considered ultimately greedy, since you have now snatched me away from the rest of the real world too?
Stephen: yup
Amy: are you happy being so very greedy, lovely?
Stephen: yup
Amy: *kisses and giggles* wanna know a secret?
Stephen: yup
Amy: *whispers in your ear* I'm happy you are so very greedy too.

Current Mood: loved

What Love /Really/ Is (LiveJournal Post)

I say 'I love you' a lot. To a lot of people. And I mean it. I say it to Stephen all the time, and he does not say it back as often. He tells me, but it doesn't flow out of his mouth like breath like mine do. And that's ok, I never mind. It's not really even anything I've thought about before. I have always been 'more loving' than others, from the time I was born.

But today I was floored and humbled by the awakening that I had with Stephen. (You all are going to get tired of hearing me talk about him, I think... Sorry.) It started from IM, as it usually does since that is how we talk in the mornings while he is at work.

Amy: is there even an amtmux anymore?
Stephen: sometimes...
Stephen: but with no-one on
Amy: the last time i tried to log on it wasnt there.
Stephen: i just tried.. and it's not
Amy: It makes me a little sad, with all of esther's things there.
Stephen: :(
Stephen: if you're that concerned.. you can ask ivar for a flatfile of the game.. and I could run it somewhere

I almost wanted to cry. 'I love you's' dont mean squat to this. I was instantly aware of what he was /really/ saying... he was saying that he loves me enough to host a silly game because it means something to me because of a dead friend. Not even because of all of the memories that he and I share there... just because of Esther.

Amy: you know, baby - that was really sweet of you.
Stephen: what is?
Amy: to offer to take the amtmux and run it just for my sentimental reasons.
Stephen: *smiles*
Amy: It made me feel very loved. and I wanted to tell you.
Amy: thank you
Stephen: you're welcome

From my journal to him: "Sometimes love is not how often 'I love you's' are said. Sometimes love is not the sex and control and passion. This is an even bigger love. And some people gloss over things like this, little things that mean I love you. I don't want to be a person who glosses over them. This type of I love you means more, because it is not blatant, it is easy to pass over and miss."

I can't believe this hit me so hard. I'm crying, being sappy and sentimental and crying for feeling so overwhelmed by emotion. Silly girl, silly girl Amy.

Amy: you know what else makes me all sappy sentimental about the amtmux?
Stephen: what?
Amy: lemonland
Stephen: lol
Amy: you used to sneak me away and hide me from everyone else.
Amy: greedy.
Stephen: Yup
Amy: does that mean you could be considered ultimately greedy, since you have now snatched me away from the rest of the real world too?
Stephen: yup
Amy: are you happy being so very greedy, lovely?
Stephen: yup
Amy: *kisses and giggles* wanna know a secret?
Stephen: yup
Amy: *whispers in your ear* I'm happy you are so very greedy too.

01:03 pm - the update...livejournal post

I know all million of you who read this are dying to know what happened next. Nosey bastards. ;)

The guy, whose name is Graham, with whom I had the interview (major accent - it took me a moment to snap into 'English accent deciphering mode) called me about 5 minutes before I was expecting him to. Which means I jumped out of my skin when the phone rang. I was already a bundle of nerves, but suddenly my breathing was laboured and I was sweaty. My heart was pounding in my chest. I thought it might explode for a moment. I really was terrified.

He was very friendly, introduced himself, then passed the phone to a lady named Claire, who was the Department Head for the Third Year. I had an additional moment of panic when I wondered if it was the same Claire that works with Stephen. Obviously not thinking right, because he doesn't even work at this university. It wouldn't have mattered if she was the same Claire anyway, she wouldn't have known who I am at all. It was just panic, plain and simple.

So he asks me questions. Not many, and simple ones like "Why do you want to come to school here" (blahblahblah its the best university ever..) "What make you want to be a teacher" (I actually told the truth on this one, though I later thought up a better answer. I said that I didn't at first, but that as time came on and I got sucked into it, I realised that I really liked it and that I was good at it.) He asked me why I wanted to teach in England, and I got to throw in my global perspective commentary and managed to avoid stating something like I want the hell out of the US. He asked about my teaching philosophy and about my experience.

I think it safe to say that I blew him away. After each answer I would give he would say something like "Oh, excellent answer, my my,yes, most excellent". He was stunned silent a time or two, and made comments about my seriously hefty amount of experience. I got to talk about critical pedagogy, and mentioned all of the work I have done with inclusion and early childhood.

He told me when it was my turn to ask questions that the only reason that I wasn't in the third year was because they could not give me a degree without my going through the second year. That he thinks some of my classes will still transfer, and that the second year should be pretty easy for me. He said that he was excited to have me, that he looked forward to meeting with me as soon as I could get there.

Here was Stephen's response...

Amy (6/11/2007 7:18:31 AM): He said they are excited about having me.
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:18:58 AM): that's good
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:03 AM): and that it was a shame that he can't put me in the third year.
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:19:06 AM): i knew they'd love you
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:16 AM): you /knew/?
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:21 AM): how did you know that?
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:19:25 AM): well you're amazing

Aww! how sweet!

Anyway, it went very well and I feel emotionally better. I can physically still feel the effects of the nervousness... my back aches. I think I might curl up in bed and rest, work on my study guide for the math test tomorrow, and spend time with me. And maybe Stephen. Or whoever else I happen to talk to.

Current Mood: cheerful

06:01 am - this morning... livejournal post

Once again I am up early. Actually, though, that is deceptive. 'Early' is a subjective term. I was actually supposed to be up at 4, but didn't actually manage to GET up until 5. I'm tired. I am a little concerned with how tired I have been lately. It seems harder and harder to get up in the mornings, and forget any sort of conversation between Stephen and I that doesn't involve my begging him for more time to sleep. Lucky for me he is busy at work lately, so he doesn't seem to mind.

This morning, however, I fought myself to get up early. I have an interview at 7 am. With the Department Head of the Second Year Programme at Canterbury Christchurch University. See, and this is still partially hush hush, as I haven't posted the 'big announcement', I was accepted. But not into the Third Year like I had hoped, but the Second Year. I was told last week. Then they threw this interview at me. With the Department Head. And told me, "It's ok, Dearie (yes, dearie... that was what she said...) it will be fine." And now I am a bit in a panic. Does it mean that there is still a chance they won't accept me? But I've already told both K and B and the shit has already hit the fan. I can't go backwards... and I don't want to.

Anyway, I'm terribly nervous. A little over an hour until the interview and I feel like I have 2 options - bomb it and screw my future on a few levels, or ace it. In my imagination it gets me into the Third Year. And yet I am even mixed up about that. I am not eligible for a spousal visa until I have lived with Stephen for 2 years. If I /do/ get into the third year, and I don't find a job very quickly after graduation, then I can't stay. If I stay in the second year, it costs significantly more in tuition, but I will be there 2 years, and eligible for that spousal visa afterwards, taking some of the pressure off of me finding a job that will support a work visa that quickly. But I'd like to finish this degree already. I'm tired of /still/ working on a stupid bachelors degree. I want to move onto something that seems more productive. A Masters degree, maybe. Or *gasp* actually teaching.

Stephen says that this interview is just a formality. I can't really comprehend that an interview with a DEPARTMENT HEAD is a formality. He may be right, but he also said that /he/ would be terrified if he were in my shoes. And that just makes me feel all the more comfortable. Yeah right.

I just have to hold onto the thought that the world is perfect and things happen as they should. This won't stop my moving (yay positive knowing!).

Leading onto a brief other note... apparently B is set to speak to a lawyer today. To keep me from taking Ashley overseas. All because I won't drop the back child support. He actually told me that, if I did drop the child support, he would let me take her without a fight. Honestly, I don't think there is anything that he can do. She is 15, old enough to choose for herself. And I have sole custody of her. In the divorce decree it says that I choose where she lives. I just might be safe and take my divorce decree to the University lawyer and have them check it out and tell me what his chances are of stopping me. Sister, other sister, and Stephen have all said that I should not drop a penny of the back support or fees, and I tend to agree with them. It is not my fault that he didn't pay anything at all for 11 years, and I have a hard time feeling sorry for him now. Ashley, on the other hand, thinks that I should. I am not sure that I can express to her that, if I were to give in to him on this even a little bit, he wins more than just the money. He wins, because I will have let him intimidate me into doing what he wants, again. And that cycle must break. He does not own me, and I don't want him or I acting like it anymore. I have bent over backwards since I left to make sure that he had her as often and for as long as he wanted. His lack of participation is his fault, not mine. I am not responsible for his irresponsibility.

*sighs* 1 hour to go until that interview. Nervous....

Current Mood: nervous

The Update (LiveJournal Post)

I know all million of you who read this are dying to know what happened next. Nosey bastards. ;)

The guy, whose name is Graham, with whom I had the interview (major accent - it took me a moment to snap into 'English accent deciphering mode) called me about 5 minutes before I was expecting him to. Which means I jumped out of my skin when the phone rang. I was already a bundle of nerves, but suddenly my breathing was laboured and I was sweaty. My heart was pounding in my chest. I thought it might explode for a moment. I really was terrified.

He was very friendly, introduced himself, then passed the phone to a lady named Claire, who was the Department Head for the Third Year. I had an additional moment of panic when I wondered if it was the same Claire that works with Stephen. Obviously not thinking right, because he doesn't even work at this university. It wouldn't have mattered if she was the same Claire anyway, she wouldn't have known who I am at all. It was just panic, plain and simple.

So he asks me questions. Not many, and simple ones like "Why do you want to come to school here" (blahblahblah its the best university ever..) "What make you want to be a teacher" (I actually told the truth on this one, though I later thought up a better answer. I said that I didn't at first, but that as time came on and I got sucked into it, I realised that I really liked it and that I was good at it.) He asked me why I wanted to teach in England, and I got to throw in my global perspective commentary and managed to avoid stating something like I want the hell out of the US. He asked about my teaching philosophy and about my experience.

I think it safe to say that I blew him away. After each answer I would give he would say something like "Oh, excellent answer, my my,yes, most excellent". He was stunned silent a time or two, and made comments about my seriously hefty amount of experience. I got to talk about critical pedagogy, and mentioned all of the work I have done with inclusion and early childhood.

He told me when it was my turn to ask questions that the only reason that I wasn't in the third year was because they could not give me a degree without my going through the second year. That he thinks some of my classes will still transfer, and that the second year should be pretty easy for me. He said that he was excited to have me, that he looked forward to meeting with me as soon as I could get there.

Here was Stephen's response...

Amy (6/11/2007 7:18:31 AM): He said they are excited about having me.
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:18:58 AM): that's good
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:03 AM): and that it was a shame that he can't put me in the third year.
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:19:06 AM): i knew they'd love you
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:16 AM): you /knew/?
Amy (6/11/2007 7:19:21 AM): how did you know that?
Stephen (6/11/2007 7:19:25 AM): well you're amazing

Aww! how sweet!

Anyway, it went very well and I feel emotionally better. I can physically still feel the effects of the nervousness... my back aches. I think I might curl up in bed and rest, work on my study guide for the math test tomorrow, and spend time with me. And maybe Stephen. Or whoever else I happen to talk to.

This Morning (LiveJournal Post)

Once again I am up early. Actually, though, that is deceptive. 'Early' is a subjective term. I was actually supposed to be up at 4, but didn't actually manage to GET up until 5. I'm tired. I am a little concerned with how tired I have been lately. It seems harder and harder to get up in the mornings, and forget any sort of conversation between Stephen and I that doesn't involve my begging him for more time to sleep. Lucky for me he is busy at work lately, so he doesn't seem to mind.

This morning, however, I fought myself to get up early. I have an interview at 7 am. With the Department Head of the Second Year Programme at Canterbury Christchurch University. See, and this is still partially hush hush, as I haven't posted the 'big announcement', I was accepted. But not into the Third Year like I had hoped, but the Second Year. I was told last week. Then they threw this interview at me. With the Department Head. And told me, "It's ok, Dearie (yes, dearie... that was what she said...) it will be fine." And now I am a bit in a panic. Does it mean that there is still a chance they won't accept me? But I've already told both Kim and Brian and the shit has already hit the fan. I can't go backwards... and I don't want to.

Anyway, I'm terribly nervous. A little over an hour until the interview and I feel like I have 2 options - bomb it and screw my future on a few levels, or ace it. In my imagination it gets me into the Third Year. And yet I am even mixed up about that. I am not eligible for a spousal visa until I have lived with Stephen for 2 years. If I /do/ get into the third year, and I don't find a job very quickly after graduation, then I can't stay. If I stay in the second year, it costs significantly more in tuition, but I will be there 2 years, and eligible for that spousal visa afterwards, taking some of the pressure off of me finding a job that will support a work visa that quickly. But I'd like to finish this degree already. I'm tired of /still/ working on a stupid bachelors degree. I want to move onto something that seems more productive. A Masters degree, maybe. Or *gasp* actually teaching.

Stephen says that this interview is just a formality. I can't really comprehend that an interview with a DEPARTMENT HEAD is a formality. He may be right, but he also said that /he/ would be terrified if he were in my shoes. And that just makes me feel all the more comfortable. Yeah right.

I just have to hold onto the thought that the world is perfect and things happen as they should. This won't stop my moving (yay positive knowing!).


*sighs* 1 hour to go until that interview. Nervous....

05:53 am - nightmare... livejournal post

I am a vivid dreamer. This is the biggest reason that I don't like living by myself. There is no one there when the nightmares come. And they do come, a lot. I have nightmares a lot. The worst ones are the ones that I can't get out of, the ones where I finally wake myself up by screaming in my sleep. Those are bad. But the painful ones, the /really/ painful ones that I can never seem to forget, are the ones that are so sad that I cry in my sleep. Sometimes even cry myself awake.

Just now I woke up crying from a nightmare. A bad, painful one.

My grandmother, whom I love very much, is dying of Alzheimer's. In my dream, I went to the nursing home to have lunch with her. She didn't recognize me. I had Boo with me and he was scared by the situation, and it got bad enough that I had to leave before I planned to in order to take him home. So I kissed grandma goodbye and I walked with her back to her bed. There were really long green cords attached to her, and she had to drag them along with her. They must have been heavy, just for the sheer length of them. They trailed out of sight behind her in the corridor. When I got grandma back to her her I bent down and gave her a kiss and told her that I loved her, and she grabbed onto me and started screaming. She couldn't speak well, it was mostly few words, but it was screaming in my ear, and at first I couldn't understand her... but then it was her begging me to take her home, to get her out of there, please please don't leave, Mamy... and she shocked me when she called me Mamy, grandma doesn't call me Mamy so I looked down at her and it wasn't grandma, it was older niece, and she was screaming at me and she was her baby size but she was so old and wizened and they were grabbing her arms to rip her away from me and strapping her down onto her bed and she was screaming... so I wrapped her in my arms and held her so tight and I started to cry in my dream. She held onto me and looked in my eyes and said "bow... Mamy.... bow...." and I asked her if she wanted a bow and a ribbon for her hair and she started to cry these great big huge tears from her huge eyes staring at me and nodded and I was sobbing now in my dream so hard and they wouldn't let me take her home and I had to go, Boo was screaming in terror in the background, and I told her I loved her and I had to let her go and walk away as older niece/grandma screamed "Mamy! Mamy!" in the distance and I woke up just sobbing, my face already soggy from how much I had been crying.

Every time I have a crying dream in the last few months it is about grandma. I know I'm sad about it, I feel guilty that I can't/don't get up there to see her more. But I woke up convinced that she is in my head on purpose. Not to hurt me or scare me, but just because she misses me. I want to go and see her, but I'm scared to. I can't ask her if she is coming into my dreams on purpose. I really needed someone to talk to about it, but Stephen must be busy because he didn't answer when I texted his phone, and sister didn't answer hers. I hate waking someone just for a nightmare. But what I need, what I really need, is to be able to wrap myself in someone's arms and sob it out when I wake from a dream like this. I am going to have to do some work to keep this from clinging to me all day long.

God, my heart aches. Sometimes I hate dreams. I want to stop crying now...

Current Mood: scared and sad

Nightmare... (LiveJournal Post)

I am a vivid dreamer. This is the biggest reason that I don't like living by myself. There is no one there when the nightmares come. And they do come, a lot. I have nightmares a lot. The worst ones are the ones that I can't get out of, the ones where I finally wake myself up by screaming in my sleep. Those are bad. But the painful ones, the /really/ painful ones that I can never seem to forget, are the ones that are so sad that I cry in my sleep. Sometimes even cry myself awake.

Just now I woke up crying from a nightmare. A bad, painful one.

My grandmother, whom I love very much, is dying of Alzheimer's. In my dream, I went to the nursing home to have lunch with her. She didn't recognize me. I had Boo with me and he was scared by the situation, and it got bad enough that I had to leave before I planned to in order to take him home. So I kissed grandma goodbye and I walked with her back to her bed. There were really long green cords attached to her, and she had to drag them along with her. They must have been heavy, just for the sheer length of them. They trailed out of sight behind her in the corridor. When I got grandma back to her her I bent down and gave her a kiss and told her that I loved her, and she grabbed onto me and started screaming. She couldn't speak well, it was mostly few words, but it was screaming in my ear, and at first I couldn't understand her... but then it was her begging me to take her home, to get her out of there, please please don't leave, Mamy... and she shocked me when she called me Mamy, grandma doesn't call me Mamy so I looked down at her and it wasn't grandma, it was Katie, and she was screaming at me and she was her baby size but she was so old and wizened and they were grabbing her arms to rip her away from me and strapping her down onto her bed and she was screaming... so I wrapped her in my arms and held her so tight and I started to cry in my dream. She held onto me and looked in my eyes and said "bow... Mamy.... bow...." and I asked her if she wanted a bow and a ribbon for her hair and she started to cry these great big huge tears from her huge eyes staring at me and nodded and I was sobbing now in my dream so hard and they wouldn't let me take her home and I had to go, Boo was screaming in terror in the background, and I told her I loved her and I had to let her go and walk away as katie/grandma screamed "Mamy! Mamy!" in the distance and I woke up just sobbing, my face already soggy from how much I had been crying.

Every time I have a crying dream in the last few months it is about grandma. I know I'm sad about it, I feel guilty that I can't/don't get up there to see her more. But I woke up convinced that she is in my head on purpose. Not to hurt me or scare me, but just because she misses me. I want to go and see her, but I'm scared to. I can't ask her if she is coming into my dreams on purpose. I really needed someone to talk to about it, but Stephen must be busy because he didn't answer when I texted his phone, and Kelli didn't answer hers. I hate waking someone just for a nightmare. But what I need, what I really need, is to be able to wrap myself in someone's arms and sob it out when I wake from a dream like this. I am going to have to do some work to keep this from clinging to me all day long.

God, my heart aches. Sometimes I hate dreams. I want to stop crying now...