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I Moved Into Our New House and Met 19 New Neighbors on Our Street! It Was Weird.
It started five months ago with the people who share our fence. They were nice and we were new, so the conversation revolved around our dogs, mail for the former owner, and if the HOA is strict about paint colors. They are. Handshakes and names quickly moved to swim invites and baked goods, with a walk for the ladies and a beer for the guys. Southern California fence culture says, “That side’s yours, this side’s mine. Keep your tree limbs trimmed.” But since I’m not originally from here, Carrie culture says, “Let’s knock the fence down and have a BBQ!” The first thing we noticed about our new neighborhood…
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Your Hoopie’s Showing
My grandma. So sweet and helpful. If you ever wore a necklace in her presence and the clasp slid around toward the front, she was your girl. “Oh here, honey, let me help you. Your hoopie’s showing.” I naturally learned from an early age how hoopies should be on the back of my neck and only the back. Letting them rotate to the front looked unkept/disheveled. I also learned wrinkled clothing was a no-no. From t-shirts and jeans to knickers and parachute pants, everything qualified. Does this give you hives? Let’s be clear though: I’m still a fan of ironed clothes if I’m going somewhere that demands a grown-up…
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Gym Rookie: Humbled Under the Barbell
My doctor told me women my age should lift weights. Pause right there. “Women my age?” One perk of moving back to suburbia is living within a few miles of my former gym. Since I took my membership card to Mexico twelve years ago, and then brought it back, I figured I’d take a shot and see if I still existed in their system. Week One: I opened the glass door in a slightly self-conscious manner and approached a young, over-bubbly staff member. “Hi! Can I help you?” “Uhh, yes… are there a maximum amount of years you’ll hold a frozen account?” “I don’t think so. Let me…
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Clearly We’re New Here: Moving Back to the United States and Another Culture
Are there any two words more filled with trepidation for a middle schooler than “new school”? Well, maybe “avocado prices,” but that’s probably more for the moms. Plop that middle schooler in a new country, state and city, and you’ve got a recipe for a confused kid. According to sociologist David C. Pollock, “A Third Culture Kid is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents’ culture. The TCK builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership in any.” Though they’re American citizens, one child has never lived here, the other one doesn’t remember living here,…
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The White Girl Doesn’t Fit In
This post is part of Lysa TerKeurst’s Uninvited Book Blog Tour which I am delighted to be a part of along with many other inspiring bloggers. Are you a blogger? You’re invited! Do you know a blogger? Invite them! I don’t fit in. At all. And that’s okay. For the first few years I lived here I didn’t feel like it was okay though. I wanted to fit in so I could stop feeling insecure. I wanted browner skin, better Spanish and a clue about how to make tamales. I didn’t want to fit in so I could be with the cool kids, I just didn’t want to feel so different. Of…
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No Language, No Voice: Going to School in Another Country All Alone
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” ~ Deuteronomy 31:6 I led my firstborn to the concrete classroom with the green metal door and faked a bit of confidence. Micah did not want to go in just as much as I did not want to leave, so we stood there squeezing hands and scanning the crowd. Dozens of brown eyes stared like they’d never seen white people. It was March—not the best time to enter a new school. Especially in another country. We had only lived in town…
