The Secret Life of Fleas

I don’t have much to report so I’ll keep this post short and sweet. For the past few days, I have singlemindedly declared a war on fleas. I’ve been crazy busy vacuuming the house and spraying all of the carpet, rugs, and upholstery to try to exorcise the little monsters. Jonathan is in charge of spraying the yard this afternoon. Hopefully our efforts will keep the pest situation under control until the professionals spray our property next Tuesday. 

At first I viewed preparing my house for pest control as a setback from getting our house ready to sell, but actually it has given me the kick in the butt I needed to finish organizing the closets and getting the clutter off of the floor. It took me the better part of yesterday afternoon, but look at my closet!

After donating the majority of my professional and summer wardrobe, it’s opened up a ton of space. I don’t think I’ve seen my closet floor or ceiling since we moved in.

Can I complain for a second? I am exhausted. Again, not to draw any parallels between pets and children, but my dogs are definitely curing my most recent bout of baby fever. Since we had to destroy the dogs’ beds due to flea infestation and we don’t want to buy new ones until the flea problem is eradicated, the dogs have been sleeping in our room.

Since I’m supposed to stop Samson from scratching, I am hyper vigilante to any movement he makes during the night. And I’m sure it’s psychological, but when they itch, I itch. I woke up at 2 AM to the sound of Bailey scratching her bites and suddenly I felt itchy all over. After trying to fall back asleep for 30 minutes, I decided to take me and my body pillow to the couch.

As soon as I got settled in with a midnight snack and a How I Met Your Mother marathon, I heard Jonathan yell from the bedroom, “Laine! Bailey threw up everywhere.” I rushed upstairs to find Jonathan still tucked comfortably in bed and a pile of dog puke in the corner of the bedroom. I guess since I’m the housewife, that means I’m on clean up duty at 3 AM.

After scrubbing the carpet, I headed back down to the couch. Four episodes of How I met Your Mother later, I managed briefly to fall asleep until Jonathan left for work at 6. I. am. so. tired.

Seriously, I don’t know how you parents do it, especially you parents who both work full time. I simply cannot function without 8 hours of sleep, so my off and on 4 hours I got last night are not hacking it. Right now I’m torn between a caffeine binge or taking a nap. Decisions, decisions.

One thing I know for sure: one of the biggest pros about Scotland is that there are NO FLEAS! Samson has been a big ball of allergies ever since we moved to Houston. I’m hoping that since his ancestors hail from the UK, these will be cleared up once we move.

In super, awesome, wonderful news, a house down the street almost identical to ours just went on the market last Thursday and it has already sold! We’re crossing our fingers that ours will sell as quickly. We’re also crossing our fingers that we’re able to put our house on the market next week. Still no word about our visa approval…

Sick Day

Yesterday Jonathan came home from work to find me passed out on the couch watching Army Wives, with a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel curled up at my feet and a box of animal crackers still in my hand.  I’m sure that in that moment, he questioned my decision to quit work a few weeks early so that I could help with the relocation. But wait, I can explain:

The past two days have been traumatic in my household. I know better than to compare my dogs to children, but a good analogy would be: imagine if you discovered your children had head lice, and then imagine if one of your children had a severe allergy to head lice so bad that their hair was falling out. And then imagine that the head lice were in your yard, carpet, couches, neighborhood, basically everywhere. I’m talking about fleas, people. Fleas of Biblical proportions.

Our dogs are 6 and 7 years old and we have never had a flea problem before now. They are on Frontline, a monthly flea and tick preventative treatment that thus far has worked wonderfully. But apparently the combination of last year’s drought and this winter’s rain have created a flea paradise in Houston. They are everywhere and I feel absolutely powerless to fight it. And poor Samson is highly allergic. He has a rash covering most of his body and the hair on his chest and back is falling out in clumps.

Jon and I stayed up until midnight on Tuesday bathing him with flea shampoo and spraying him with another flea preventative. Wednesday morning, I was up bright an early with both pups in the tub. After their bath, I gave them both their monthly Frontline and took Sam directly to the Vet.

The doctor gave Samson a cortisone shot to help with the itchiness and advised us to treat the environment. We’ve hired a pest control company to spray our house and yard, but the earliest they could come is next Tuesday. Until then, I have thrown away all of our dog bedding, have vacuumed obsessively, and only allow my pups outside twice a day to use the bathroom. At this point, I’ll do anything.

Sam is just so miserable, it absolutely breaks my heart. How do you explain to a dog that scratching will only make it worse? Poor thing is simply trying to get some itch relief and yet I have to fuss at him anytime he scratches. He must be so confused. But if he doesn't stop, we'll have no choice but to put a cone around his neck.

The Vet could tell how worried I was and put his hand on my arm to ask if I was okay. Big mistake. I immediately started crying and said, “I just wish there was something I could do. I just wish the fleas would bite me instead”. Yes, I said I wished the fleas would bite me instead. Again, I know better than to compare my dogs to children, but that is some mad love right there.

There is no doubt about it, I love my dogs to pieces. I know when we do have children, my entire concept of love will change, but I don’t think my feelings about my fur babies will.  They aren’t just dogs, they are my family.

Wishing I could take the flea-bullet for Sam is evidence that I quite possibly love them more than I love myself. More evidence? It’s a little known fact that I’m slightly allergic to dogs, especially dogs that shed and have a lot of dandruff. When my dogs get baths, they tend to lose a lot of hair which then tends to get in my eyes, nose, and mouth.

Needless to say, after bathing both dogs, taking Samson to the Vet and vacuuming my whole house, it was time to take a Benadryl, which explains the passing out on the couch for 5 hours. Do housewives get sick days? I’m guessing they do, at least until they become Stay At Home Moms.

This morning, Sam and I are both feeling much better. I only spotted one flea during his inspection this morning and believe me, that flea rued the day he landed on my baby boy. Sweet revenge...

Visa Woes

Yesterday we received confirmation that our visa application and documents had arrived at the UK embassy in New York. The current processing time is estimated to be between 4-7 days. After that, the approval packet will be sent directly to Jonathan’s company for processing and then finally returned to us. The absolute best case scenario is that we will have our passports back in hand by next Wednesday.

This wasn’t the news we wanted to hear. The weeks before our move are running out and it’s doubtful the company will sponsor a house hunting trip within 2 weeks of our move date. My fear is of packing up and shipping out without any idea of what our housing situation will be. On the other hand, it could be a positive thing.

For our past two moves we have purchased houses without knowing much about the city we were moving to. It might be a better plan to have a week or two to become oriented with Aberdeen before we decide where to settle down.

Already we feel torn between two scenarios: living close to town so that Jonathan could walk/bike/bus to work or living a few miles out of the city so that we can enjoy the Scottish countryside as our backyard. It would be so convenient to live close to town, only have one car and to be able to walk to restaurants, shopping, or even the train station if we wanted to head out of town.

However, country life is tempting too, especially after living in Houston for the past year and a half. When my parents lived in Aberdeen, they rented a house 6 miles from my dad’s office and had 3 acres of land. From the kitchen window you could often spot deer, rabbits, pheasant and an occasional fox. I loved going for runs around their house because there were several country roads that took me past rolling hills and scenic sheep farms. All of that space and yet only a 15 minute commute for my dad.

Wildlife in my parents' yard in Aberdeen

On the one hand, where else could we affordably live in a safe, clean, pedestrian friendly city with reliable public transportation?

On the other hand, where else could we live with this as our backyard?

Deciding between the two scenarios is likely to be our most important decision when settling in Aberdeen, but it feels abstract discussing it from Houston, Texas. The good thing is, there is no wrong answer to this question. Both would be an extraordinary and unique experience giving us two different perspectives of life in Scotland.

I’m leaning slightly towards a house in the country, mainly because I can’t wait to see this one’s excitement when she spots a pheasant in the yard.   

Jonathan is slightly leaning towards a house closer to town, mainly because I told him he could get a motorbike. Boys will be boys.

March in Review

It’s been a big month for our household; one involving career changes and relocations. I can’t believe that it has only been one month since we found out we were moving to Scotland. It feels like an eternity.

I’ve been a housewife for two full weeks now. I figured by this time I would have read 4 books and baked 5 dozen cookies, but apparently being a housewife is a ton of work that doesn’t allow for much free time. Of course, I’m in the midst of an international move so I’m sure once things settle down in Aberdeen, I’ll have plenty of time for book clubs and baked goods.

All things considered, my personal goals in March were pretty on par. Let’s recap.  

Reading: I read two novels: Swamplandia! by Karen Russell and South of Broad by Pat Conroy. Both were decent, but a bit disturbing. I've only read two books by Pat Conroy, but they both involved some pretty awful crimes against children. His novel Beach Music is on my 'Must Read' list and I'm assured by many that it's the best book ever written. I just hope that child abuse doesn't play a huge role because it really makes me sick to my stomach. He does write beautifully though, so I have to give him that. Definitely made me want to take a trip to Charleston, South Carolina.

On deck for April are two mystery novels: The White Lioness by Henning Mankell and In The Lake of The Woods by Tim O’Brien. My ex-coworker Marilyn and I had our own little book club. Before we met, she strictly read mysteries and thrillers and I read anything but mysteries and thrillers. We’ve done a great job of exposing each other to books we would have never discovered on our own. She lent me a few books in my final week of work that I am desperately trying to finish before we move. It’ll be a thrilling and mysterious month for sureJ.

I’m super excited to read the Tim O’Brien novel. If you’ve never read his book The Things They Carried, stop what you’re doing and go read it immediately. Seriously, one of my all-time favorites.  

Cooking: I only found time for one new recipe this month, but boy was it a good one. Roasted Vegetable Enchiladas! Yum, yum. It makes my stomach growl just thinking about it. Jonathan has already requested a repeat of this dish which means it was a huge success.

Stacked Roasted Vegetable Enchiladas; picture and recipe from Perry's Plate

This is one of those recipes that I absolutely love because you can change it up depending on your mood. You basically just choose 6-7 veggies that you like, roast them in the oven and then layer them with tortillas, spinach, and cheese for a delicious, cheesy, vegetarian enchilada lasagna. We’ve heard that the veggies are super fresh and reasonably priced in Aberdeen so we’re trying to round up some good vegetarian recipes. Let me know if you have any!

Writing:  I wrote in the ballpark of 15,000 words, only 5,000 shy from my goal of 20,000 per month. I’d say for such a hectic month, that’s not so bad. I’ve kept up my pace of blogging every weekday which is getting substantially harder as the move gets closer.

Four more weeks! It just doesn’t seem possible, but reality is definitely sinking in. I go back and forth between excitement and apprehension.  I’m terrified, but in a good way. It’s not brave, if you’re not scared, right?

Monday Progress Report: Low Self Esteem

Last week was pretty productive and I feel like we’ve done just about everything we can do until we know what kind of house we’ll be moving into. For now we’re in a holding pattern until we get our visas approved.

Logistics: We completed our Ex-Pat Orientation and our Psychological Interview. I barely passed my psychological evaluation which Jonathan found hilarious. According to the mental health assessment questionnaire we had to fill out, I’m intolerant, insensitive, and offensive. Seriously. Jonathan was giggling the entire time the therapist was reviewing the results. I on the other hand was fighting back tears, probably because I’m so darn insensitive.

Jonathan passed with flying colors because apparently he is uber empathetic, open minded, and full of positive energy. My husband has many endearing qualities, but to say that empathy is one of them is quite a stretch. I’m seriously questioning the validity of this questionnaire. I’d like to move on, but I doubt Jonathan will ever let me live this one down.

We received two market analyses on our home and will be choosing our realtor today. It’s a tough call since Jon and I met with opposite realtors.  We both love our home and feel like it should sell itself pretty easily, but I still feel bad about choosing one realtor over the other. I really have to stop being so insensitive.

Shipment: Our shipment company came by last week to assess how much we’d be taking with us. The good news is, they said a few cans of Rotel (and other less important food products) would be fine to bring in our shipment.

The bad news is, they weren’t too confident that our beloved King Sized bed would fit into a Scottish bedroom. We won’t know for sure until we line up our rental property. Luckily we still have our old Master bedroom set which is Queen-sized. We’ll just have to find a replacement guest bedroom set if our King furniture won’t fit in the house. Sleeping in a smaller bed is a sacrifice we can make for this adventure. Plus, it’s so cold in those stone houses, we’ll want to be snuggled up close anyway.

"Moving is such hard work."

We decided to use a pet transport company to ship our fur babies and plan to go with World Care Pet Transport. My parents used them to transport their golden retriever from the US to Aberdeen and had nothing but great things to say. I know it will help to ease my mind even though it will eat up our moving bonus. That’s what it’s there for, right?

Miscellaneous: We painted the guest room. Well actually, Jonathan painted the guest room, but I did a swell job of taping off those electrical outlets!

In other news, I waited for an hour at Plato’s Closet to try to sell all of my gorgeous summer attire. I had two huge bags full off BCBG dresses and tops from JCREW and Urban Outfitters. In the end, I earned 5 bucks for 2 T-shirts. The rest of my clothes were unacceptable because of “pit stains”.

Seriously, that’s what the teenager making the assessment said to me. Not only am I intolerant and offensive, but apparently I also have problems with body odor. It was a tough week for my self-esteem guys. A very tough week. And this might sound bitter, but after spending an hour in the store, I know exactly why my BCBG dresses weren’t acceptable and it had more to do with too much body coverage than too much body odor.

So, snotty teenager working at noon on a Thursday when you should be in school, please tell me straight up that my clothes are too classy for your clientele rather than insult my hygiene. Sorry, I had to get that one off my chest. So if you’d like to buy some gorgeous, barely worn dresses with absolutely ZERO stains, check out your Houston area Goodwill branches.  Moving on….

This week’s goals: Hire our realtor, sign a pet transport contract, and hopefully get our visas. If we do get the visas back this week then we will amend this list with both house hunting and listing our house to sell. Other than that, my main goal this week is to salvage my self-esteem. Please feel free to leave various compliments in the comment section of this post in order to aid with this process. Thank you!

Devil in a Green Dress

I did something bad. Real Bad. Really, really bad. It all started out innocently enough, with a trip to Memorial City Mall to cash in on a gift certificate to Sun Ski Sports. After using our store credit to purchase an Aberdeen appropriate North Face fleece and Ugg slippers, we were faced with the choice of going home or continuing to shop. The prospect of bypassing colorful spring garb was depressing to me, but Jonathan mentioned that he’d at least like to glance around at Fossil. Big mistake. As soon as we entered the store I heard my name being called by a ravishing sea foam green maxi dress.

I decided to try it on, just for fun. Big mistake. It was as if the dress were tailor made for me. When I was shopping for my wedding dress, I kept waiting for that emotional reaction when I put on ‘the’ dress. It never happened. But there, in that Fossil dressing room, I knew that this dress was designed specifically for me, fitting me like a glove and accentuating my green eyes (which at this point had filled up with tears of joy).

I had visions of myself walking barefoot down some Portuguese beach, hand in hand with my true love. Visions of sitting in a café in Paris reading a Hemingway novel. Visions of watching the shore disappear from the deck of a Mediterranean cruise ship. And even though I‘m about to move to the arctic circle and have no realistic use for a new maxi, I knew that I just had to have this dress.

When I was checking out, the Fossil employee asked me if I had somewhere special in mind to wear my new frock. “To France”, I replied, and gave Jonathan a wink and a nudge.

So American

As our move date gets closer, I find myself becoming unexpectedly sentimental about my American-ness. I’ll never forget a friend’s comment at a late-night College party when I asked where the nearest 24 hour McDonald’s was. “You’re so American” she said. When I ordered a Malibu and Coke at a restaurant in Paris, I got the same response. And again when I requested the DJ play a Nelly song at the Nigerian Yacht Club.

“You are so American.”

So often this is said in a condescending manner. Occasionally it’s good-humored teasing. But either way, I know it’s true: I am so American. But what is it about me exactly that so screams my nationality? And will this cripple me as I try to live outside my home country?

I’ve been reflecting more and more on these questions, trying to call to mind what makes me uniquely and unequivocally American. I think that culture is so intrinsic that it can be hard to identify what makes your own unique, kind of like describing the taste of water.

I was born and raised in South Louisiana, but it wasn’t until I moved to West Texas at age 24 that I realized how heavily my geography and culture impacted my identity. To this day, I feel like a fish out of water in Texas and desperately miss Cajun Country. If I experienced so much culture shock in crossing one state line, it’s hard to anticipate what crossing an ocean will do.

When we recently went to the Houston Rodeo to see the Zac Brown Band, they performed Devil Came Down to Georgia. As I stood in that packed arena, listening to a classic country song, I identified that moment as being uniquely American. Other things that come to mind are college sports (specifically SEC football), outdoor music festivals, Target, summer camp, country music, Thanksgiving, Spring Break, crawfish boils, and a thousand other little things. Also, I find that Americans in general tend to exude confidence, friendliness, and ambition.

Those are some of the good things. But on the other hand, being American sometimes implies priorities of consumerism, convenience, and self-entitlement. Either way, I know that I am as All-American as it gets. And so I worry that I may struggle more than I think with the adjustment to Scottish life.

Aberdeen does have both a McDonald’s and a Starbucks, so if I get desperately homesick, I can always grab a Quarter Pounder or Caramel Macchiato. And on the other hand, what I’m most excited about is stumbling upon those things that are uniquely Scottish; getting to eavesdrop on a cultural conversation that the Scots themselves might not even identify as special. I’ve simply got to change my perspective, stop thinking like an American, and embrace this opportunity to immerse myself in a different cultural experience. I’m pretty sure that’s one of those ‘easier said than done’ sort of things.

What I’m most ambivalent about is the possibility of raising children abroad. Jon and I don’t have kids yet so I’m getting ahead of myself, but since our 10 year plan involves both overseas living and starting a family, it’s a factor to consider.

On the one hand, I think affording our children global experiences is such a gift. On the other hand, I mourn the fact that they may grow up without little league tournaments or vacation bible school; that I may not be able to relate to their childhood because it differs so much from my own.

I had one of those magical middle-class American childhoods and I get a bit sad thinking that my kids might miss out on those same experiences. It’s scary because I’m not sure what their own childhood memories will be replaced with or how to give our children a sense of their own American-ness.

I met a few people in college who had grown up abroad and they mostly seemed very mature, fascinating and well-rounded. A few others couldn’t handle it and ended up transferring to schools in Europe and Canada. They simply didn’t identify themselves as American and felt too much culture shock when finally immersed in their own country. I know their parents felt saddened by this rejection, though they knew this was a risk when raising their children outside of the US.

Ultimately, I want to offer my children varied and numerous opportunities. As of now, we believe the best thing for our family is to take this adventure and explore the world. We will have to constantly reevaluate this philosophy as we go and reassess what the best situation is for our family at any point in time.  

I recently found this book in the travel section of Barnes and Nobel. It’s a collection of essays written by Ex-pat women defining what it means to be an American living abroad. I can’t wait to read this one, though I think it might be more meaningful to wait until we get to Scotland to start.  Maybe I’ll even read it at Starbucks, because that would just be so American of me.