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I am leaving for England tomorrow morning. I am excited! As much as I love Germany, it's always good to go back to England. Mikey gets to hang out (and no doubt be completely spoiled by) my parents. That's a grandparents job though right?

At the moment I'm listening to bad bad EuroPop music, packing and cleaning up the house ready to leave. I detest packing, I always think I've forgotten something and usually have. I always try to pack really light too, which in this case is difficult as I'll be gone for just over a month. Not looking forward to dragging all of this through the airport along with a little boy who will no doubt want to crawl all over the place and wave to everyone when we are there.

Mikey is upset because not only did it take 3 hours to put him to sleep last night, resulting in 3 hours of lost sleep for him, not to mention he woke up 4 times in the night (the second time I brought him into bed with me and he proceeded to wake two more times and bite me to make sure I was awake too) but I also just stopped him from eating "floor cheerios". He didn't want them when he was in his highchair 10 minutes ago, but now that he's thrown them on the floor I guess they're extra enticing. Such is the life of a toddler. He's 18 months old tomorrow, how time flies.

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I am a 24 year old British stay at home mother to a two year old boy. Married to a U.S. soldier and currently living in Germany.

I have seen the Vatican from the very top of St Peter's Basilica, the mud in the World War I trenches outside Ypres. I have walked through Montmartre side streets bustling with people in the evening, gotten lost in the streets of Greenwich Village NYC, run through cornfields on the Welsh border and sat outside with a cup of tea watching fireflies in the fields of the outer Chicago suburbs.

I have held the hands of others through addiction, fear, suicide, despair and come out the other side. I have left everything behind to begin anew.
I have fought mental illness and walked through snow in the mountains of the lake district, England. I have explored the morgue in the bowels of an abandoned hospital on a summer evening, climbed to the top of scaffolding on the outside of a five floor warehouse to look at the city lights of Nottingham at night and I have watched the sun setting on the Texas horizon.

I have held my son's tiny hand through the plastic window on an isolette in the NICU ward. Walked, speaking only in whispers, through the catacombs beneath the ground on the outskirts of Rome and seen the fireworks over Heidelberg castle.