Smugness, Self Sufficiency and the Western Way

I am not a good sick person. I hate sore throats, coughs, fatigue that refuses to budge, and anything remotely related to illness. I like to be in control; I have far too many things on my list of to-dos; and I have 2 small children who need me to be engaged, energetic and present more often than not.

This past week, my body decided to play host to a rather unpleasant guest. No amount of vitamins and homeopathy could keep this bad boy at bay, so I spent a great deal of time on the couch while my children (gasp) watched more television than I could keep track of (gasp). I bleached all bleachable surfaces, continually washed our hands, and even wore a face mask when I was required to come within a foot of them. Was I over the top? Yes. Would I do it again to avoid the possible outbreak of such a nasty invader? Absolutely!

I found myself a bit homesick for Shanghai this week. It could have been the recent discussion about a potential job offer in Shanghai, but I knew it was more than that. Phil was out of town on a business trip, I was all alone with the kids; and the weight of the housework and childcare in light of my own illness was more than I could really process.

It made me miss those sick days when I knew Ayi would be coming through the door at 8am to clean, care for the kids if I needed her to, and maybe even cook. Poor me, right? I get it. It's very un-American to admit as a woman that I liked having another person help me care for my children and keep my home in order- but I admit it. There is something very lonely in the way we Westerners care for our homes and families; particularly Western women. We love our friends and families. We take great pride in our homes. We have can-do attitudes. These are all good traits. It's how this translates for many of us that can cause a lot of worn out women and families. Oftentimes, this can-do attitude mixes with pride and a few other elements to create overworked, overtired, and overstressed women who walk around feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders.

While Ayi was a hired member of our family, she was not a sign of our wealth or status like a nanny might be here in the US. She was simply an extension of our family as in so many other families in China. Having an Ayi is part of a larger idea that it does indeed take a village to do anything. People would often marvel in horror (if that can be possible) at the fact that I would have two little babies out on my own. We would often get to talking and joking; and the Chinese women would usually tell me- "you Westerners have 1 adult to 10 children while we Chinese have 10 adults to 1 child here."

Back then I felt a bit smug and self sufficient; now- I do not.

The Inevitable

The inevitable. I struggle ever so slightly against it, but realize the time has come to give my blog a major overhaul. It is time to change and update everything about it- its photos, its purpose, and its mission.  In working toward these changes, I find myself struggling with the identity of this space in the blogosphere; and through that, have come to realize it's my own identity I am struggling with.

For the last four plus years I have been Jen Kinney- wife and adventurer; living out a life long dream in the city of Shanghai. I have been an explorer, a student of language and cuisine, a writer, and a traveler. I have had the opportunity to wear many different hats and enjoyed each and every one of them.

As if life wasn't exciting enough- I added the hat of motherhood to my wardrobe. While living in Shanghai we welcomed our twin sons into our family and it has been one of the greatest adventures and challenges yet. However wonderful motherhood can be, I find myself in the midst of this repatriation fumbling my way through stay- at- home mommydom and asking some major questions about what it all means.

Hence the identity crisis of sorts...

All of this to say I am not sure when or how these blog changes will take place, but I am certainly working through the details and trying to figure it out. Perhaps this is my way of hanging on, but the time will come when letting go and changing course feels natural. Until then, c'est la vie!