I just finished reading the book Momzillas. And let me tell you that if any of the people who reviewed the book on Amazon had ever experienced something similar to what the main character experienced, their ratings would have been much higher.
I have been there—heck, I still am. Traveling and moving around can be a lot of fun. Or a real pain.
People get either very excited or kind of freaked out when I tell them we moved here from Switzerland. They always ask why, where else have we lived, and so on—and invariably they end with “You are so lucky.” Probably true. I am happy to have the opportunity to travel and live in different places, and while I didn’t just trip on it (but rather went seeking for it), I am thankful to be able to do it, because I love it. Most of the time.
The first year after we moved here, I didn’t feel so lucky. I had been back in Europe for eight years—and even when I was in the U.S., I lived on the West Coast, in L.A. I also didn’t have any children then. Of course I didn’t expect it to be the same: as any expat will tell you, it’s never the same. Besides, I was a mom now and it was the opposite coast anyway. I “knew” the East Coast was different, but I thought I knew what to expect, and I was willing to find out and experience the rest. Boy, was I in for a surprise.
Because of the short duration of our assignment, it was important to us that the girls keep their mother language fresh—so it was decided early on that Sarah would have to attend an international school of some sort, one equipped to deal with children who spoke little English and who were moving back to their country of origin eventually. That of course spells “private school.” We located a school in the general vicinity (of where DH was going to be working) and it was approved by the company. Everything else was arranged based on the fact that Sarah was going to attend this school, including the area where we were going to live (which narrowed it down quite a bit).
Skip ahead to Sarah actually starting school. We had an initial honeymoon period, when everything seemed to be going smooth and working out just fine, but it quickly came to an abrupt halt. The teacher who had seemed so friendly, so willing used to easing in the children who moved mid-year turned out to be actually very strict and set in her ways. The girls who were at first so excited to have a “new girl” joining the class started showing a snobbish side and not above bullying.
My suggestion to temporarily use one of the two mandatory (???) hours of religion with practice time for Sarah to catch up with the rest of the class because of the difference in curriculum was met with a solid NO (and no other option offered). And I started meeting the other moms in the class (cue scary music).
