Enjoying the music

Hand in hand with worrying about losing the Mothers' Union in my day to day life, I worry about losing all my local knowledge. Here I know how to get things done, who to call, where to go and who to ask. I know what there is to do round here and when there are big events to go to. In Bosnia we'll be reliant upon a much smaller group of people to let us know how to do things and what is going on.

In our last few weeks in the UK we've been making a conscious effort to do all those things that are on our doorstep. We've used the splash parks and adventure playgrounds and been swimming (a big thank you to the City Council for making all this free for children). We've watched cricket games and rowing races and looked at dinosaurs in the museums. Yesterday we braved the rain and went to a music festival and danced the day and quite a lot of the night away. The boys were in seventh heaven, particularly with the fairground rides and we even got to listen to some music. This morning A was full of talk about the day, chit chatting about the songs he had heard and the other children who were there.

Obviously there are many events in Bosnia which we can go to, and they also have much better summertime weather in which to enjoy such jamborees. But I still worry that not only will I have less day to day activities to do with the boys but somehow we might miss out on some bigger special treat type events. And when I think back to my childhood it is the special treat type of events that I remember most fondly.

All hail the Mothers' Union

Of all the things that are worrying me about moving to Bosnia there is one that stands out above all others. Here, in the UK, I have quite a well developed network of friends with children who can be relied upon to swoop to the rescue on those days when the toys are literally being thrown out of the pram. Today was one such day. A put on his best 3 year old I am atrocious face and was full of whinge and whine from the word go. Nothing was right, he didn't want to do anything, but also didn't want to do nothing. Battering his brother and hording every toy was leading to on-going screaming from both parties. D and I, already grumpy from packing, were not responding well.

This was a job for the Mothers Union. A few phone calls later and the boys and I were out in the woods with other toddlers and other adults and everyone was enjoying themselves. Admittedly the adult enjoyment was enhanced by the appearance of coffee and croissants from an enlightened Mummy, whilst the toddlers seemed to be happy to have other toddlers with whom to make mud pies. The day was rescued, sanity saved and everyone reached the end of the day tired, but happy.

The prospect of not having this network in Bosnia is simply terrifying. Furthermore, my Bosnian is pretty sketchy so not only do I need to find people with appropriately aged children who I like, but I have to find people with appropriately aged children who I like AND who speak English. I suspect it is going to take me a while. In the meantime, I'm fully expecting us to endure some dreadful days. I suspect it is the development of this network which will decide whether our time in Bosnia is a success or not.