We have moved to our new home - San Diego, CA.  If all goes well, we shall be here for a very long time.
     The kids for the most part seem happy, but it is fair to say that I didn't realize how much of an adjustment this move to the States would be for them, and in fact for me as well.  Indeed, the only one who doesn't seem to need much adjustment is Tim, the only pure-blooded Brit among us. 'I just live in the moment - I'm happy wherever I am', he says. 
     I, on the other hand, have frequent, vivid memories of the UK, which make me feel as if I'm being pulled back there.  Yet, I know that after 18 years in a foreign country, living away from my family, it was time to come home.  It's just that things here are a little bit foreign for me now, which is a very strange feeling.
     Anyway, the adjustment for the kids is in everything - the accent (even though they are used to mine), the television shows (they miss Horrible Histories SO MUCH), the food (don't even get me started!), the design of the house ('Why don't American houses have doors?'), and most especially, the schools.
     Yes, the schools.  There have been a lot of factors out of my control concerning this move - for instance, the timing of the move - and I just had to go with it.  We moved right before Abigail, our oldest, was due to embark upon her GCSE exams in England.  On the one hand, the move was a good thing, because Abigail was really struggling in school and I wasn't sure what her GCSE experience was going to be.  On the other hand, she was in a system in which she understood the expectations and was somewhat on track to at least pass her exams. 
     When we moved here, however, it was clear that, at least as high school is concerned, Britain and California have two very different approaches.  Abigail can cope somewhat with the humanities, but when it comes to math and science, unfortunately the material is completely unfamiliar.  We've had a spate of conversations and phone calls and emails this week between Abigail, her school counselor, her chemistry teacher, her math teacher, and myself.  Abigail's chemistry teacher is almost certain that she will fail the class.  Her math teacher is shocked at her lack of skill.  Her counselor, although lovely, blamed me for encouraging her to put Abigail into the wrong classes (as I really had no idea how Abigail's English education was going to match up with her California one, I just did my best).
     So, if things don't improve rapidly, Abigail could very well lose a year of high school.  The other problem is that Abigail never really takes these kinds of situations seriously.  I'm usually the one pushing for a solution to these kinds of issues, and that just makes her even more uninterested and in denial about the gravity of it all.  I think now it might be sinking in.  But whether that leads her to push herself enough academically remains to be seen - her endurance level was never very high in these matters.
     Part of me considers at times the idea that maybe I have ruined her future by having her change schools at such a critical juncture.  But I also know that God sent us here, to this particular place at this particular time, and so I have faith that things will work out.