Pardon Me, Can You Point Me to the Toilet?

Twenty something years ago I sat in an Italian restaurant in England with my then boyfriend’s family and asked where the bathroom was. My future in-laws looked at me with the kind of blank confusion I can only assume my face resembles when my children talk to me about FortNite, leaving me–cross-legged and full-bladdered–in a…

The Breakfast Club

It’s not often I drop my kids at school. The thirteen year-old is in charge of his own schedule and the ten year-old, who almost is, cycles in with his father. On the rare occasions I am in the a.m., I usually spot The Breakfast Club. On any given school day the mothers of the…

Expat Speak

Pristine gym shoes and undented lunch boxes aren’t the only sign of a new school year. At an international school like the one my kids attend, there is also a sea of new faces, a phalanx of new germs, and, if you put in the effort, the opportunity to make new friends. Meet and greets…

Expat Life Version 7.2.8: Survival Mode

Recently a friend confided to me, with a mixture of both surprise and exasperation, how difficult she’s found managing her time. A new job, two young(ish) kids, a house, a husband, a life, the whites, the darks, the ironing and all the rest. It’s a lot to fit into the confines of the day, I…