The Fear

As our move to Spain approaches (9 days, 14 hours, 15 minutes) the fear has started to creep in.

I wake up in the middle of the night wondering what the hell we are doing and why. 

Every room of the house is filled with piles of stuff to bring, sell, give away, dump, store. The kids are running feral and tantruming from when they wake til when they go to sleep, and if that fecking dog barks one more time at the front door I am taking her to the woods and one of us will not be coming back.

Stressed? Moi?

So I thought it would help to write down my fears and get a little perspective. (This could go either way here...)

What if the kids don't adjust to Spanish school?

What if they don't make any friends?

What if I don't make any friends?

What if everyone loves it and I don't?

What if one of us is unhappy?

What about the swimming pool and the 4 year old who can't swim?

What about the balconies on the houses?

What about driving on the other side of the road?

What if I can't communicate properly with the people I need to?

And what if I really, really miss home?

Now this is where you guys come in and tell me how I'm being ridiculous and everything will be just fine.

Guys?

Guys???

A rather big move

As some of you may already know I hit the big forty TO-FECKING-MORROW *gulp*

Having had this momentous landmark on the horizon over the past few months it's true to say that I may have gone a little mental. Days have been spent running up to old women in the street with a crazed look in my eye and grabbing their withering arm - 'is this it?' I would whisper desperately, white knuckles clinging on tightly. 'Is this IT...?' Nights meanwhile have consisted of looking at old photo albums and sobbing into my Pinot Grigio.

Or something like that.

It could of been Chablis.

Anyway, in the midst this madness the husband asked for the seventy hundredth time why didn't we move abroad for a few years.

We had always enjoyed travel pre-kids, indeed we met on the hippy shores of Byron Bay in Australia and spent the next few years zig zagging between there and London, Thailand, Bristol, New Zealand and Ireland.

Then the kids happened.

And so, in my mental, crisis-fueled little brain I agreed, and the wheels were set in motion. Right now I find myself surrounded by boxes and bags and I'm counting down in days not weeks to the date we take a handful of mismatched belongings to our new home in Spain.

Except that we haven't actually got a home yet.

Minor details and all that.

So I might not be around much for awhile - but do get ready for Kate Takes 5 The Spanish Years (or possibly months..)

It could be a bumpy ride.