Where O Where Have the Ex-expats Landed?

(Title to the tune of the children’s song about the little dog that I can't get out of my head.)

We have landed here. My hometown. Most of us will be here until the end of January. Or thereabouts.

Since departing Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport, we’ve been in Dublin (just the airport, so that doesn’t really count); Chicago (spending the night in Gurnee, Illinois); Iron Mountain, Michigan (Grandpa); Channing, Michigan (Great-Grandpa); Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario (long story); and now Hancock, Michigan (Grandma).

Let me just say this:
When becoming ex-expats, be sure you have a baby who is content in any situation so long as mehmeh (mama in the sing-songy voice of a 14-month old) is nearby; a father who doesn’t mind flying, babysitting, cooking, packing, freezing, driving, counseling, and konking; and a mother who is willing to rearrange nearly all of her storage space and sleep in the basement while you are taking over her house. If you have those three things, life will be OK.