The License Saga Continues

I went through the traumatic experience of giving up my New Zealand license in July, in preparation for my new job as a nanny.

I was told that I would receive my license in 7 weeks.

7 weeks came, 7 weeks went.

No license.

At 8 weeks, I called to politely inquire. 7 weeks? Oh no, who told you 7 weeks? No, no, it'll be at least 3 months.

I called 2 weeks later when it was well over 2 months. Oh we've started, but we haven't heard back from New Zealand yet.

What is to blame for this gross incompetence? Bureaucracy in general, or something more pernicious?
Brexit. This is because of Brexit. Every man and his dog is applying for an Irish license at the moment because if you live in Ireland and you are from the UK, if Brexit goes ahead, you will need an Irish license.

Today, I called again, after waiting patiently for 3.5 months now.
So, we haven't been getting much mail lately - any progress on my license - have you actually sent it?
Uh no. It will be at least a 3 month wait.
It's already been 3.5 months, nearly 4 months.
Oh.
Yea, so can you escalate it?
Yes, yea I can.
And how long will the escalation procedure take?
Oh no, we can't tell you time lines, that would be setting ourselves up to be incorrect.

Also while I'm here, I had a friend who had his license replaced and is now limited to only driving an automatic here. That's not going to happen to me right?
Oh yea, I'll just have a look, we have heard back from New Zealand and you have only been approved to drive an automatic
Right, but my New Zealand license allowed me to drive both (thinking to myself: oh, so you have heard back from NZ now - so what exactly is the hold up?)
Did you sit your test in a manual?
Yes.
Well you'll just need to prove that then.
How? What other way is there around this?
Oh well you could get an Irish Learner's permit and sit a test in a manual car
I went through this process to avoid that
Sorry that's the only way!

SO MUCH RAGE

Allegedly after you arrive in Ireland, your NZ license is valid for 1 year. Given the general incompetence of government agencies to talk to each other here, or themselves, I very much doubt that there would be anyone actually checking that on the off-chance that I got pulled over.

If all I was doing was hiring cars and driving about the place, this would not be an issue at all. However, my job is to drive small people around. Other people's small people. And I have to be on their insurance. These stupid hoops must be jumped through.

Argh.

That is all.

My Jeans are Dead and My Friends are the Best!

We welcomed the lovely Jess Julian the other day, our first visitor directly from New Zealand.

Obviously, given she had access to places like Pak N Save, we gave her an extensive list of junk food to bring over.

Jess arrived on Sunday night and she then proceeded to empty most of her pack onto our coffee table - a veritable treasure trove of Kiwi goodies! There is a reason that NZ is the 3rd most obese nation in the world - it's because our junk food is awesome. (Also: other country's public transport means you don't have to own a car, and can walk way more, but that's another blog post for another time.)

So excited to try Flat White Chocolate!

Jared got his much hoped-for Houston Texans jersey, and it turns out there was some skulduggery and Jess pulled out two pairs of jeans! Allegedly one is from Jaime and one is from Jess - thank you so much!

Appreciate this photo dammit -
I spent ages tidying my room to get it
photo-worthy hahahaha

My jeans were worn for the last time on Monday - they finally gave up the ghost - the timing was perfect!

You're welcome for that view ;) 

So suffice to say - my friends are the best!

Then I got to thinking, and the only reason they could do such a kind thing is because they knew about my problem. Now, it is a reasonably self-inflicted problem in a lot of ways I must admit, and I had plans of thrifting some new jeans in the near future, and taking care of this problem myself. Truly, I agonised over even mentioning such a trivial issue.

But I did.

My main motivation for doing so is my mantra of 'be the change you want to see in the world' (Cheers Gandhi) and 'write the blog you wish you'd read before you left'. Like if I'd known last year what I know now, would we still be here? Thirdly, I like telling it like it is, and being authentic.

(Caveat: if not Ireland, we then probably would've ended up in the UK somewhere, and would've been right in amongst the shitshow that is Brexit, so possibly ignorance was a win this time?)

We live in an age where it's really easy to get caught up in comparing your inner, well known circumstances to someone else's exterior front that they present IRL or online.

Online personas are really easy to edit and sculpt to shape how people see you, and perceive your life. The constant hopeful quotes, travel pics or stunning wedding albums can lead everyone to believe that your life is all hunky dory, when in fact you can be really struggling.

It can then be really hard to talk about struggling if people's expectations are that you are not struggling. Few people would be bold enough to ask 'Hey, are you actually OK?' on the off-chance that you're not. Also, no one wants to be the Debbie Downer online with the passive-aggressive generic posts, clearly fishing for someone to ask.

So we say nothing, and, rightly so, people assume that we are fine - after all no news is good news, so no complaints are good complaints, right? If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. Our vernacular is replete with such sentiments.

This idea is almost compounded by the idea of 'your life, your destiny, your future is in your hands', leading to the conclusion that a lot of your problems are probably your fault, so perhaps you should just fix them and get on with it, no complaints needed.

Now I'm not saying that self-love and self-care aren't necessary or important - they are. There is something deliciously freeing about the idea of only being responsible for yourself, your feelings and your future.  There is empowerment in this idea 'I am in charge of my destiny', and 'You do you' and 'Cut off everyone who disagrees with you, this life is just about you and you are worth it', and the 10 million other versions of self-aggrandising statements that state, but also over-inflate the power of the self in our minds.

You DO have huge agency over your life and there ARE a bunch of things that are in your control, and your attitude DOES determine your altitude, in some-to-most situations. This is true but it's not true all the time, or in all circumstances. Like so very many things, it is not that simple.

This philosophy of pulling oneself up by one's bootstraps and being self-sufficient is great... until you've got nothing left in the tank. There is an awful lot we can do to help ourselves, there is. But we all tick on a collective clock, we are herd mammals, we're designed for community and to give and receive help. We can achieve more when we work together, and others can help to lift us to heights unattainable alone.

Most people really like helping. My perception of how many people like helping is I'm sure warped by how much I like helping, and therefore in a birds-of-a-feather type scenario, most of my friends do also. So in my world, most people really like helping. But in order to help, you need to have a need or a problem to be solved.

The problem is: Most people do not like admitting they have a problem.

Obviously, the people who ask for help all the time with everything are very draining emotionally and in other ways, and I'm not advocating that. I'm all about independence, but I'm also about interdependence. The synergy of working together and sayings like 'many hands make light work' are tried and tested ways of doing life.

However, there is a time when actually admitting that you've tried every available option and you've got nothing left is important, because it's part of the practise of vulnerability. As anyone who's listened to Brene Brown will tell you, no meaningful relationship can happen if there's not an element of vulnerability. I would go as far as to say the more vulnerable you're willing to be, the deeper a connection you're likely to make.

I'm a bit hit and miss with social nuances, and one of them being the idea of 'you're not supposed to ask for help'. My inner pragmatist is simply too pragmatic to let pride win in those kinds of arguments in my head. Last year, we had about 3 years worth of work to do in one year. In reasonably typical Lauren fashion, we had bitten off more than we could chew (alone). So to help mitigate against this we had several working bees at my house, and I was pleasantly surprised by how many people turned up - people like being given the opportunity to help. I think there's something in our DNA that actually enjoys working together, but it has largely been inculcated out of us in the last century, in an obsession of individualism.

We now speak of self-love with the idea that that is all that we need, but science and anecdotal evidence have disproved this unequivocally. We need other people who validate and 'get' us. People who are lonely can struggle with mental health issues, but are also more likely to suffer from physical health issues as well! (See here for more facts about loneliness and here for how loneliness is across all ages.)

How can we as individuals and also as a society hold this idea of self-agency and empowerment simultaneously with the idea of community? About a year ago I read this article about community care, and it really stopped me short. I had been one of those people who had advocated ad nauseum for self-care and self-love, and I still think those things are important, but they're not the only tools in our toolkit.

I grew up within a really awesome church community which included friends and family. Eclectic and eccentric, fundamentalist, fun and fabulous, within this plethora of personalities there was always a group willing for a walk, camp or an adventure. There's a lot of things I do not miss about going to church, but I do miss having a herd, a group, a network. These people were always there for me when everything was going great, when I was growing up, when I had questions, and when I had celebrations, but the brilliance of community shone in one of the darkest times in my life - when my brother committed suicide.

In a practical sense, there was funeral help, there were people that came over and helped us clean, there were people that fed us, bought us groceries and drove us places. But there were also people that played my piano, that sat with us, that came at the drop of a hat when the waves of grief got too high. There were people that invited us over for dinner, and sent flowers, and came from hither and yon for the funeral, and checked in on us for weeks and months and years afterwards. There were people that prayed with us, and emailed and visited and hugged and cried with us, and I will be eternally grateful to those people. Nothing could ease the pain, but it eased the burden of the pain.

I left the church about 5 years ago now, and I didn't realise how rare those experiences of community are.

So now, not really consciously, I am kind of obsessed with recreating this community, this sense of doing life together. I love people, I am drawn to people, more than that, I NEED community, I delight in people and I am energised by (most) people (with few exceptions).
Why would you swim alone when you can rope in a swimming buddy?
Why would read a book alone when you can be part of a book club?
Why would you dance alone when you can be in a room full of dancers?
Why would you sing alone when you can be part of a choir?
Why would you drink wine alone and risk being labelled an alcoholic when you can host a party and be called a legend?

I'm sure there are myriad answers to those questions for other people, but for me, the answer has always been 'Duh, you wouldn't. The more the merrier.' It is the most joyful thing ever for me to host people and create an opportunity for people to hang out.

Now, I theoretically understand that introverts are a thing. I grew up in a family of them, and I somewhat understand how they tick, although I frequently forget their upper limits and they forget to remind me, and it becomes a problem. I'm not saying in any way shape or form that introverts are lesser or that there's not good things that come from introverts - quite the opposite (the subject matter of another blog post I'm sure). Most of my best friends are ambiverts - half introverted and half extroverted, and I just take delight in gathering these wonderful humans for as long and as often as they're willing to be gathered.

Someone mentioned that now I'm not longer in Whanganui, their calendar has not been as full of events or gatherings. I see no reason as to why this should be an unsolvable problem. I get it everyone is busy - but everyone has to eat - so why not eat together? You too can create excuses to catch up, even in our time starved culture. As with everything, it comes down to priorities, but sometimes you can be a little stymied by what do with an intention, so just in case you were wondering, here's some thoughts from inside my connection-obsessed head.

 I give you:

Lauren's life-hacks to creating community:

1. Look after yourself. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, socially, financially. You're no bloody good to anyone if you're [tired/ stressed/ angry/ distracted/ peopled out/ broke/ insert result of lack of self-care here]
2. Ask the question - be willing to make the first move. Check in with that random person you were thinking of, bet you'll make their day!
3. Try for face to face - this includes but is not limited to bribing your friends to come to Ireland with free accommodation.
4. Plan ahead - set time aside for hanging out with someone, and check with them when is best - don't spring it on them last minute because you're setting them up to say no and feel bad for disappointing you, and then you feel stink too. Try questions like 'hey, when are you free?' or 'I miss your face, wanna hang out soon?'
5. Assume that everyone else wants to hang out with you - why would they not? You're awesome! How do I know this? Because I only have awesome friends, and only awesome people would still be reading at this point.
6. Be willing to have small talk, but also don't be afraid to tackle the big, deep, dark stuff - you'd be amazed what people will tell you when you break out a 'no, but how are you really?'. Also I literally study before social gatherings so I have small talk fodder. (Usually by skimming news articles in the car outside when I'm already late, but that's by the by.) 
7. Hug - long and often. We need 4 hugs for survival, 8 for maintenance, and 12 for growth. So aim for 13 times a day, for ideally 20 seconds at a time. It releases chemicals in your brain like oxytocin, and improves your immune system and a bunch of other cool things.  
8. Assume the best in people - if people don't get back to you, or don't call you or bale on you last minute, do not - DO NOT - take it personally. That speaks to where they are and what's going on for them. It's likely explained by something completely innocent like a double booking, being too tired or a screaming child. Even if it is about you - which likely it's not - it's still not gonna help if you take it personally. Their loss for choosing not to hang out.
9. Make some boundaries and stick to them - I will only go out 1 night this weekend instead of 3 for example. Or I will only stay for 1 hour at X event. I'm not so good at this one, so let me know yours in the comments and I might adopt some.
10. If you're giving, decide how much [time/money/effort/food] you're willing to give, and only give that. Check that the receiver actually wants what you're offering or if they actually need something else, and leave it at that. That is enough.
11. Counter-proposition - if a suggested time/ date/ activity doesn't work for you, offer an alternative. The purpose is hanging out, not the activity. 
12. Be willing to get out of your comfort zone - if your friend is into metal, be willing to go to a concert with them. If someone is feeling down, go and have a PJ party at their place and watch movies. If you cannot physically be in the same room as them, video chat or call. 
13. Get a spa pool - it worked for us, dual win of this also works for alone time.
14. Try something new - and sit with the feeling of wanting to run away after 5 mins (It might just be me that gets that, but I doubt it.) Assume everyone else there is also feeling a bit hesistant, and try and put them at ease. 
15. Be willing to be vulnerable - talk about your problems. Chances are your friends have some solutions. If nothing else, it dispels the idea in people's heads that they are the only ones that have heaps of problems. 

Now on that note, I'm going to go and hang out with some AWESOME Irish humans who I met at a volunteering training a couple of weeks ago. I'm getting reasonably outside of my comfort zone and meeting them at a bar even though we've never hung out alone before. I'm quietly confident... wish me luck!

Empathy: A Secret Super Power

I had a really great poster on my wall when I was a kid. It spoke to how to teach kids things, the mentality of my mother and also my family at large. I can't remember exactly what it said but it was a bunch of lines to the effect of if you teach your child to fish then they can be a fisherman, but with values. Things along the lines of if you show your child how to control themselves when they're angry, you'll teach them discipline etc etc. [Bare-with, lemme consult the internet] I think it was this:

I have throughout my life been raised by the premise of 'How would you feel if they did X to you, would you like it?', 'Treat others how you wanna be treated' but also 'Come on, stop your crying, it's not that bad, things could be much worse'.  I come from a long line of Choleric women, largely my mother, who is pretty fearsome herself, though she doesn't see herself that way. A legacy of 'take no shit, particularly not from children.' 

My family show affection by gentle ribbing, if your the butt of the jokes then you're 'in', particularly if you can laugh at it too. There's sarcasm, there's cutting burns, but there's love. You don't talk about it - don't be weird - but it's there. That was my experience anyway - I think my brothers perceived it a bit differently.

Working with children, you automatically relate to them as your parents/family related to you. With a lot of self-reflection and intention that can be overcome, but mostly that's innate, particularly in new situations or when you're tired or scared or [insert other tricky emotion here]. I am constantly comparing my nanny kids to what I did or had or ate or played at their age, and if their normal is my normal, and if not, why not.

I have been criticised as a teacher for being too nice. So I became hard(er). And you have to be hard to teach intermediate kids (11 and 12 year olds), particularly the lot I was dealt.

What I'm now learning more fully is you also have to be soft. You have to be vulnerable, you have to bring something of yourself and your concern to the table. That's how you build real relationships. I know in my heart of hearts that all of those scallywags I taught know without a shadow of a doubt that I cared very very deeply for them, and that was demonstrated by how many came back and visited me - mostly to tell me about the even bigger trouble they were getting in now.

My nanny family are beautiful. They are so lovely, it's like the family version of apple pie - sweet, and warm, a bit fruity, and definitely good for you, if in no other way than on an emotional level. Everything is kindness and 'oh, are you ok, pet?'

And I kinda feel like Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding. I can't quite put my finger on what, even now, but something deep inside me balks at this. Somewhere, somehow I've internalised this idea that if you're too nice to your kids, if you don't make them clean up after themselves, if you don't yell at them occasionally, then the result will be spoiled brats.

But watching this family in action, nanny mum (NM) is the loveliest most patient, most caring human on the planet. It is a privilege to behold.

I watch NM, and she prizes spending time with her kids, doing their homework with them. She knows intimately who their friends are and what happened in their days, and she worries about the affect of accidentally wearing the wrong uniform or hanging out with the wrong friend on each and every of her children. She is excited for them, and rejoices with them in their successes and mourns their difficulties with them. There is precision and attention to detail to her parenting and it is awesome. She values investing herself into them, investing in the relationships with them and it is beautiful to behold.

Now nanny dad (ND) is also an impressive human. He remembers every skerrick of information I tell him about what I do in my weekends, as well as everything from his kids lives and he is involved and invested in his kids in a really really awesome way. He delights in them and loves to see their art creations and play with them. He rushes home to coach football and obviously enjoys being a dad.

Now I must say this: they are lovely but they're on to their kids, they will call them out on their crap, and it will not be tolerated, but it's done in such a gentle but firm way, the likes of which I've not seen.

I'm with my nanny family 6 weeks now, and these kids are lovely, like properly lovely. They're so well-behaved for me that I'm reasonably sure their parents on bribing them on the sly.

Last week, my hip hit a ledge mid stride, with a full weight whack, and J, the eldest, immediately is all 'Are you ok, Lauren?' with the kind of empathy I've not actually seen in many children, like I could tell that he could tell how much it hurt.

This small act cemented for me probably a stunningly obvious conclusion: in order to teach empathy to our kids, must we show empathy to them, and to ourselves. Instead of viewing this as weakness, instead of this producing spoiled brats, could this in fact be our greatest strength?



It turns out research has been backing this up for decades. Browne (2010) speaks of how the more empathetic a parent is in relation to their child, the more empathetic a child is to the parent, but also to peers. This conclusion is reinforced by study upon study, but my favourite being Cotton's (1992) work - an oldie but a goodie - stating the more parents and teachers teach empathy overtly, the more it occurs, a short read with capitalised letters, ideal for skim reading.

Where do people with empathy get? They're much more adept at building relationships, they're brilliant networkers, because they are good at relating to others. They are more successful at building small businesses and also at maintaining friendships and relationships, according to Laurie Hollman. 

People with empathy are likely to understand the interconnectedness of people and our planet much more, caring for humans and animals alike. They seem like the kind of people we need going forward.

People with empathy, in jobs that require empathy, are unlikely to be replaced by robots - who's want to go to a robot counselor, or be taught by a robot, or have their house sold by someone who can't understand people and their motives?

Imagine what an empathetic police force would look like, and if the empathy muscle was well developed in our politicians. (Jacinda is pretty boss at this though) Is that not the kind of world we should be striving for?

But more than empathy, the way this family interacts teaches amazing communication skills and how to deal with people crossing boundaries assertively, without being OTT or embarrassing anyone.

How much of life drama would be curtailed if adults knew how to have quiet, calm conversations when people cross boundaries? How many marriages saved? How many employees kept? How many friendships restored? (Youtube channel The School of Life is really good at pointers for this kinda thing)

So much of our society at the moment is unable to relate to other factions. This idea of quiet and calm conversations with children about how others think and feel and process things differently to us, might this be the vaccination for misunderstanding? Could this quiet, calm conversation model be the answer to a disconnected, misunderstood world?

The implications for living in this kind of environment are huge. Not only does this help children relate to themselves more, but surely this would go a long way to nipping mental illness in the bud, and perhaps even even quashing suicidal thoughts and ideations if these kind of conversations were more common? Is it that simple? That simple, but that hard.

I went into this role thinking I had heaps to offer this family, and I still think that, but I've been humbled by how much I have to learn from them too. 

This different approach speaks to values, and priorities. Most salient of which I guess boils down to a relationship-oriented life vs a task-oriented life.

For me, this battle of task-oriented vs relationship-oriented has never been fought so overtly in my consciousness before. Another part of my family heritage is being a workaholic. I'm so aware of how much they're paying me, so I'm so mindful of trying to help them feel like they're getting value for money, and I also want to enable them to spend time with their kids when they're not working so I'm busting my arse trying to get as much of the humdrum boring work done as humanly possible. But NM doesn't seem to care, she's just like 'look after my kids, make sure they're happy, have fun with them, everything else after that is a bonus.'

I find I don't quite know what to do with that.

I compare myself to my mother (as I'm sure we all do) and I think I'm a relationship-oriented person, but I am very task-oriented compared to my nanny family. Part of that might be the difference between my professional and my personal mode, but I find it really hard to stop and just play with the playdough with C who is 4.

I got to wondering why I struggle with this so much, and I think it's because I've never had a relationship-oriented job before. Teaching is way too busy to be classified as relationship oriented, though the only way it works is by building rock-solid bonds with kids. I've asked NM for more stuff to do, and she just kinda hasn't replied yet. So I bake. And they're elated. And I sort and rearrange things, and they're stoked.

I spent a bit of time yesterday researching Halloween activities/food/decorations so I look forward to actually doing more fun things with these crazy cats over the next few weeks rather than just issuing directions of 'Right, put your things away, homework, eat, put your things in the sink' and spending some quality time with them. My inner teacher has not yet relaxed enough to be able to 'wing it' or 'chill out and hang out' with them, and as a professional in a job, I doubt it will. Doing things together totally counts as relationship building and quality time riiiiight?

I find I am excited to go to work. I'm really looking forward to enjoying them, and enjoying this job that doesn't even feel like work. What a privilege it is to help raise these beautiful humans.

PS: Quiz on empathy as bonus for reading all the way to the end!