It's Not All Fun and Games...

I would be remiss if I lead anyone to believe that uprooting your family and moving away from everything and everyone you know is a cake walk. It most certainly is not.

First there is your family to contend with. I'm not talking about your nuclear family, but the grandparents, brothers and sisters, cousins and close friends you leave behind. We viewed our move to England as a grand adventure and a once-in-a-lifetime experience to share with the Bean. He, four months later, still wants to know when we are going back to 'the brown house' where his neighborhood BFF's live back in the States. Every time we get in the car he wants to know which grandparents' house we're going to visit. (Hear that sound? That's my heart breaking.) We do Skype and Google+, but it is still not the same as a hug and a kiss.

I stupidly believed the transition would be easier on the Bean than on us. I thought as long as we were with him,  he would roll with the punches and take the move all in stride.  To him, I reasoned, it would be like a vacation! He will have tons of fun! He will make new friends! He seemed pretty happy when we were staying in temporary housing on base. He made new friends and liked playing on the playground. He had some toys and a few of his favorite DVD's. He had a little trouble going to bed, but you try sleeping on a fold out sofa with people slamming metal doors all hours of the night and let me know how refreshed you feel in the morning. Then try that for another 30 days. Um, yea. Not so much.

I didn't realize how much he was affected until we tried to put him in a British school. We threw him into "Reception" in the middle of April. This was approximately half way through the semester. Reception is the Brit form of Kindergarten. He'd been in a wonderful school in the states, and I assumed he would be ready to get back to school and meet new friends. Once again, I put the ass in assume.

You have several choices of where to put your child in school. As a member of the military forces, we had the option to place bean in the DOD school on base. You may also wait until you find housing and then enroll your child(ren) into one of the schools in the 'shire' in which you live. The first thing you will have to do (after you finally receive your house goods and locate which box has your sanity packed in it) is find out what your local 'shire' is and contact that office to make a request to enroll your child in one of the local schools. If you try to complete the form online, as I attempted, make sure you are submitting it during the open enrollment period. Disregard the fact that the form is still online and appears to be functioning no matter what point in the school year you attempt to enroll your child. The council will then contact up to three schools and see which school has a spot for your child. We chose a school which was in walking distance to our house and where he would attend the same school as the neighborhood children.

Here is Bean is his spiffy school uniform:

His entrance into the system went over like a lead balloon. By the time we enrolled Bean, all the other Reception students had processed through all the crying, screaming, snot-slinging, separation anxiety part of going to full-time school. They were perfectly fine, after all, they'd had 10 weeks to fall into routine.

It would probably bear mentioning that just before we moved, the Bean was diagnosed as 'on the spectrum' for Autistic behavior. As if that bomb wasn't enough to deal with, before we could get any kind of support system in place or get any therapy started, the second bomb dropped that we were scheduled to transfer to the UK. Great. Not only will we be moving, we will be moving to a place where I am starting in the basement of ground zero. And five hours ahead of any of my familiar support system. But you just put on your big girl pants and deal. By the way, 'pants' are in fact your 'panties' or 'undies', so don't go around talking about your 'pants' and then act surprised when you get a few raised eyebrows and snickers from the locals. And a 'fanny' is not your bottom. Think a little further north. Yep, refrain from saying 'smack your fanny, sit on your fanny or any other statement that involves the word fanny. But the P word? That's just a cute little kitty. Feel free to talk about your pussy all day long. No one will even flinch. I can hardly type that with out feeling dirty!

But I digress.

I advised the school of the Bean's diagnosis, but they informed me they were reticent to accept this information with out performing their own test first. Great! A second opinion of Bean's condition! Well, it would have been great- if (there is always an 'if' right?) they had at this time (8 weeks later..) to actually perform any screening tests. I've had numerous chats with the school, gone to the village General Practitioner's (or surgeon as they are referred to here), filled out evaluation forms and offered to help in any way I could. Short of throwing a full-on, throw-myself-on-the-floor-and-have-a-screaming-and-kicking-fit, I am beyond frustrated. Which, incidentally, is pretty much how Bean's first week went. After his first day, they told me he was having 'issues' transitioning into school. It took every fiber within my being not to say, "No shit? What part of 'Autism Spectrum' didn't you understand properly?"

As a result, he has only attended partial days since then- which is putting him farther and farther behind his class. The semester ends in four weeks, and there is no way he will be able to move up to first year class next term. I am beyond frustrated. If only they had listened to me back in April when we toured the school, or when we had our first meeting, or after the first time they had to call me in after he'd had a meltdown.

The truth is, everybody is 'on the spectrum' to a certain degree. We all have certain quirks. Know anyone who plays with change or keys in their pocked obsessively? Know anyone who has to check the door three times to make sure they've locked it? Know anyone who bounces their leg constantly? A child that will only wear a certain color of shirt? Someone who refuses to let the different foods touch on their plate? Well, those behaviors all fall 'on the spectrum'. The Bean's difficulty rests in his verbal and social skills. He is highly intelligent, so his brain travels at warp speed, but his ability to communicate his thoughts with words travels at snail pace. So, in order to process the overload of information, he flaps,hops and makes a 'mmmmm' sound. He has difficulty transitioning from one activity to another if he has not completed the task he's working on or hasn't finished playing. This behavior makes it difficult for him to function in a super-structured environment. Tack in a whole new country, whole new accents and different phrases, a completely anal-retentive adherence to routine and you've got a prescription for disaster. Most Autistic kids can't handle even the smallest change in their routine, so we pretty much threw the Bean a underhanded curve ball.

Here is a 'tractor' Bean build all by himself:

I think this is pretty fantastic. He is a pretty creative and smart little dude.

So, do I wish I had done more research before we came? You bet. However, I had no idea where we would find a house to rent. You can look on line all day long, but I've learned my lesson the hard way about renting a house site unseen. I want to look at the other houses in the neighborhood, find out if there are any kids close by, where the nearest playground is, and so on and so forth.

I was, and still am, dealing with more than just a transcontinental move. My husband had three surgeries between August and December of last year beginning with a lovely, seven day, all-inclusive stay in the ICU. Roughly at the same time, my mom fractured vertebra in her back and I was 12 hours away dealing with her condition over the phone. Then came Bean's diagnosis. By this point, I was barely hanging on to sanity and a lot of the time I had to tie a knot at the end of my rope just to avoid slipping into the abyss. Some days, I wished it was a noose.

It has taken us some time to get settled. We have been here since March and in our house since April. I have just now gotten all of our boxes unpacked. I am still organizing and moving stuff around the house. I can tell you if feels like we have been here longer than four months. Do I still think this is a wonderful opportunity to enrich our lives and the lives of our child? Without a doubt. Nothing worth doing is ever easy.

SO, in the midst of all my whining and blabbering, I am still having a grand time. We have the uncanny ability, in spite of our circumstances, to land in exactly the right place. We have moved to an incredibly fantastic neighborhood. I can walk to the shops. I can walk to the butcher. There is a duck pond on the way to the playground. Best of all, I really like my neighbors. I have met three extraordinary women who I can call my friends.

What happens now? I will keep working with the school to get Bean the assistance he needs to succeed. I will keep exploring my village and the surrounding areas (thank you Google Navigation phone app) and continue to :

Now I must jump on my scooter and roll up to the butcher's shop to get a loaf of crunchy bread to go with dinner.Yes, I took the Bean with me and, yes, I do have some mad scooter skills.

Until next time....

Lisa

A beach trip!

OK, so when the weather hits 60 degrees the locals go outside. When in England...do what the English do. So at the beginning of the Bean's term break from school a few weeks ago, when the temps hit the 60's,  we decided to hit the beach. (Depending on which beach you choose...) Our trip was only about a hour and a half from the homestead. We went through a few thousand round-abouts, but getting to see more of the English countryside eased our pain. The Bean has reached the age of the "are we there yet(s)".

Our original idea was to stop on our way to the beach and tour the Castle Rising, near King's Lynn,  but that idea got bagged when we saw the sign for 'Battle Reenactment Today'.  We could tell by the amount of traffic turning into the entrance that the castle would be packed. This prompted the decision to stop on the way back home. Our rationale being the Bean would be worn out from his beach adventure. Hopefully being tired would also mean he would be less surly and more manageable. The mere mention of the word 'beach' sent our child into a froth and I knew if we tried to stop on the way in, we would have a mutiny on our hands.

Our original destination was Hunstanton Beach, but the sheer amount of cars headed in that general direction facilitated an impromptu change of destination. We turned our sites on Heacham Beach instead. Hunstanton has two pavilions, a carousel, and a sea life preserve, but in all honesty I just wanted to go to the beach. Heacham is just south of Hunstanton and looked less touristy.

We packed a picnic lunch and enough toy construction equipment to construct a replica of Parliament. We paid five pounds to park all day. In hindsight that was probably a bit much, but we were twenty feet from the beach entrance and right by the facilities. This allowed us to leave our cooler in the back of the wagon and only drag down what we really needed: chairs and construction toys.

The one thing I grossly underestimated was the incomprehensible amount of clothing changes the Bean would need. He was caked in sand and wet to the bone by the time I walked down to meet him and daddy on the beach.  A sand-coated Bean gave me a great opportunity to try out the baby powder trick and see if it actually works to remove sand from skin. I am happy to report it works wonders. I just liberally sprinkled the Bean and wiped the sand right off. It works by absorbing the excess moisture from the sand. Read more here.

This is my first trip to the English coast, and it is safe to say, it did not resemble any beach I am used to. I am an American East Coast girl, born and raised in North Carolina. I am used to the coastlines of both North and South Carolina. This was not it. I am familiar with low tides, but this was the lowest tide I'd ever seen.

The actual surf begins at the furthest point on the horizon. It is about a half a mile to the water. The beach is mostly pebbles and sharp jagged bits of shells. And it was chilly. I ended up getting sun on my face, a red "V" of sunburn from the opening of my long-sleeved t-shirt, and  more sunburn on the tops of my flip-flop clad feet. The hubs jokingly asked me if I wanted him to go get the quilt from the car so 'grandma' could cover up. I was disappointed when he didn't go get it.

Nevertheless, a chilly day on the beach is better than any sunny day at home.  The Bean played and I looked for shells.

 

We had our picnic lunch and then the Bean scored an ice cream for being a good boy. There was a 'crab shack' in the building adjacent to the parking lot, but since we'd brought a picnic we didn't purchase any grub. However, since it's the coast, they would certainly have had terrific seafood and scrummy fish 'n chips. There were quite a few people who looked like locals eating food from the crab shack, so that's always a good sign.  Hey, there's always next time!

One of my favorite activities, no matter where I go, is to people watch. There was a plethora of pasty, white flesh as far as the eye could see. There were shirtless men, females of all ages wearing inappropriate two piece attire, and children in their undies (which the English call "pants" for some reason). I was glad I had on my sunglasses.  I wish I had blindfolds. These folks are not keen on sun protection. Or modesty.  Or age-appropriate clothing.  As you can see, the Bean is a red-head, all three of us are pale as vampires, and I am ever vigilant with the liberal application of sunscreen for all of us. 

Heacham Beach is dog-friendly, while Hunstanton Beach is not.  Which is a shame because all the dogs we encountered were well behaved and friendly. The biggest rubbish/waste problem came from the giant piles of horse-poop on the beach.  We saw no horses during our visit, so I can only assume they came out at night in order to poop all over the beach.  Bean really enjoyed throwing balls for the doggies to retrieve.  He also enjoyed wallering face-first in the mud, which did not appear to be a recreational activity the British children were aware of.  

Our plans for a castle stop never materialized.  When I told the Bean it was time to go I got zero argument. Five minutes into the drive back home and the backseat got awfully quiet. Someone was all funned out!

*I was chatting with some friends of ours who 'landed' with us at the same time we moved here about our recent jaunt to the beach. Marc told me they also visited the beach , but he and the family did venture further north to Hunstanton Beach.They scored their all day parking for one pound-fifty. (I haven't found a pound sign that will 'translate' properly.) So live and learn, but isn't that what it's all about? We'll check it out the next sunny day. Well, perhaps the next day the temps hit the 60's!  And the wind isn't blowing 20 miles per hour...

Until next adventure!

Lisa

The beginning of an epic adventure.

Greetings! I'm Lisa and my family of three are currently living as 'expats' in England, UK. We were here scarcely three months when the illustrious 'powers that be' decided to furlough my husband's position within his stationed company. Never mind my political ranting or feeling on contractual obligation or why not trim the obvious fat of admin positions - that is not my intention for writing. My intentions are to educate and amuse on the subject of 'how to enjoy England on the cheap'. Believe me, if there is one this this family can do, we can have tons o' fun on little funds. It can be done. There will be many adventures and the information I provide is (sometimes random but) valid or 'spot on' as they say here in merry old England. I cannot and will not make comprehensive lists or plan your vacation/stay/deployment for you, but what I can do is relay my experiences as they unfold. Please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have - especially the 'stupid' ones! They are usually the ones everyone wants to know, but are afraid to ask!!

We'll start with this past weekend. The recently mentioned furlough status dictate we cancel our week long holiday to Scotland. Well, funds (the conservation thereof) and the fact that Aunt Cathie was feeling poorly lead to our decision to postpone our visit until further notice. Yes, my Mother in Law is Scottish, and her sister still resides in a suburb of Glasgow - so we would have had the added bonus of free accommodations. However, since the Brit Rail System follows suit and jacks their ticket prices to crack prices during school half terms, we decided to drive the five to five and a half-ish hours to get there. Taking the train would have been closer to seven hours. Current gas prices (petrol) are exorbitant, too, so in our American car getting a rough 18-19 mpg. We could fill up on base for $4.11/gallon but we would have needed to refuel for the trip home 'on the econnomy'. Petrol is currently 6.11 pounds per gallon. Presently the exchange rate for USD to GBP (Great British Pound) is one British Pound Sterling to $1.52 USD. But the point is our trip was cancelled. So what do we do? Yes, we improvise!

I would like to mention that we do not live in London. That would be mad expensive and quite a way a way from the husband's place of employment. We live in a charming village just east of London. So, Saturday, we jumped in the car and drove to the nearest train station and purchased two cheap day return tickets at 22 pounds each and the Bean rides for free because he's under 5 years old. Oh, and we spent 1.50 on parking (said as 'one pound fifty').

The train ride is roughly 40 minutes through beautiful, farming and industrial countryside. My four year old is enamored with farm machinery and cranes, so BINGO! The cheap day return tickets also allow you to jump on and off any bus or tube for the day at pretty much any stop. This is why you must have a plan. Buy a book, watch some Rick Steves, or buy a map- but plan ahead and be reasonable. The first time we went to London we had no plan and ended up wandering around dolts in the big city. We were also the only people without a GPS/phone for directions. We have since remedied this with a compatible UK phone. It's worth mentioning if you're coming on Holiday to check with your provider to see what your phone will do and what charges will apply.

This Saturday we had a plan. Realizing that a four year old male child has the attention span of a fruit fly, we kept it simple. First we hit the Science Museum. Packed with  lots of big machinery, space, Spaceman Spiff stuff, and most importantly: a water table. There was a bubble show just about to start when we found the water table, but the Bean had zero interest in bubbles when there was a water table vacant and at the ready. The entry fee is a 'suggested' 5 pounds per person, so do with that what you like.

His love of George, from Peppa Pig, with his 'dinosaur - grrrrrrr' lead us to the Natural History Museum which just happens to be on the other side of the block from the Science Museum. The entry is a 'suggested' 5 pounds per person, so, again, do with that what you like. The map will be a pound, honor system, but it makes a great souvenir. My child was happy to see the large Brontosaurus and the Triceratops outside of the main entry to the exhibit and so we did not have to wait in the line to see the 'real' exhibit with the rest of the crowd.

We  probably spent a total of three hours so so visiting both museums, so when we finished exploring  it was time for lunch. I would suggest looking for a small pub or cafe off the beaten path. Less touristy traffic means  cheaper food and pints. Plus, if you're going for an authentic experience this will always be your best best. Word to the wise, stick with the more traditional pub fare: fish and chips, steak and ale pie, chicken gougons (chicken tenders) and meat pasty. Just trust me on this one. we had lunch at the Gloucester Arms.

After lunch we walked to the Diana Memorial Playground and stopped along the way to have a carousel ride.

If your child likes sand, pirate ships, sand, swings, sand, climbing, sand or sand, you will have a fun time! We went on Saturday during a term break, so custodians were monitoring how many families were in in the park at one time. Oh, one good thing to mention, in order for an adult(s) to get into the fenced park,  you must have a child with you. So there are no creepy old men or weirdos allowed near your child. Plus there is only one way in or out and the cameras are always rolling.

We lured our child away from the park with the promise of and ice cream cone. We took the tube to Covent Gardens. In the tube station, we witnessed a group of 'Furries' as they went to their destination. If you are not familiar with the phenomenon of 'furries or plushies' you need to do a little research. I was lucky enough to know about this fetish craze from the book Obsession, Deceit and Really Dark Chocolate - by Kyra Davis. My day was pretty much complete when I heard a few of them 'yip'. Look it up and you'll understand. 

The one item on my 'list of things to do' was to get some rude postcards to send to my family and friends back in the states. If you are paying more than 10 pence per card, you're getting ripped off. The husband haggled with the store owner about receiving the correct amount of change back (they will try you since you're foreign and 'don't know the currency')and she ended up giving us a stack of old postcards for free. They may have been ones left out in the rain, but the postal service isn't going to handle them with kid gloves, so I was ecstatic. The moral of that story is don't be afraid to speak up, but don't be a shitty American. All the hubs wanted was the correct change back- he was not haggling over price, but that may work, too.

When we arrived at Covent Gardens courtyard, along with the furries, we notice there was a street festival going on. We had the Bean pose with a silver painted gladiator who really hammed it up and provided priceless pictures. It was truly awesome. There was a Charlie Chaplin impersonator, Yoda and several others. We mingled through the courtyard and shops until we found a Gelato shop to get the Bean a promised and well deserved ice cream cone. 

Then it was time for a Mommy and Daddy treat- a refreshing pint. We found a pub called the White Swan. Here in Britain, some pubs won't allow children in the bar area. It's always best to ask, and it's against the law for a child to sit at or approach the bar. So we scored a table near a window where we could people watch and let the Bean play with his new double-decker bus (for ants, I was informed). 

My advice from earlier still stands, don't pick the first pub you come to because chances are that every other tourist out there will be in there, too. If you see people wearing football jerseys or college students in matching outfits you're probably not going to want to bust up in there. Trust me on this one.

At this point we were pretty much toast, so we decided to head back. We hopped on the tube and hopped on the train and we were home by  6:45. Not bad.

Just a few tips to help you on your way:

Have a plan. London is a big city. Even with public transport, I would concentrate your efforts in one quadrant at a time. It will still take time to get anywhere. Research what attractions are open and what hours.

Take cash.  When you're out of cash - you're done. This helps you from overspending.

Take coins.  The public restrooms and restrooms in the train stations are pay toilets.

Look fancy, but you still have to pay to pee. An alternative is to plan your fluids. They frown on tourists coming in just to use the loo, and more than likely the facilities will be up at least one flight of stairs. 

Kids don't care about history.  It's true. So if you want to enjoy your visit, keep this in mind. And there are tons of kid-friendly, super cool things to do.
Wear decent shoes. Unless you're used to walking miles in strappy sandals or 6 inch heels - then go for it.
'Train' for your adventure. It's hard to go from walking zero miles a day to walking five or more. Also, plan on carrying your child as even the most energetic child will hit the wall after a day of fun The Bean will not ride in a stroller, no matter how tired he is, but if your child will and you want to drag/push a stroller all over London....kudos to you!

So for a rough hundred pounds, we had a fabulous fun filled day in London! We had so much fun that Bean fell asleep as soon as the train left the station. Now I am off to write some postcards and plan this weekend's get away.

Cheers,

Lisa