The Three Weeks (+) That Didn't Go As Planned...

We just spent three weeks house sitting in Germany, and I keep thinking about how different it looked on paper. It was supposed to be a pause. A reset. A few quiet weeks to breathe, re-charge, connect as a family.

Instead, it was full in a way I didn’t quite expect.

We were taking care of one very lovable dog, three horses, eighteen chickens, two mama cats… and six tiny, three-week-old kittens. Which, for the record, are almost the cutest baby animals on the planet (still second to lambs, I stand by that).

Kittens! Oh my goodness are they adorable...

So yes, there were soft moments. Slow mornings here and there. Little pockets of calm.

But mostly, it was movement. Paired with a slight pressure to get stuff done. Because alongside the animals and the house, we were still in the middle of figuring out life without our car. Letting it go in Austria felt clear in the moment. Necessary, even. That car was on its last leg for a while and needed to be put in its final resting place – no doubt about it. But the reality of what came after hit quickly. As a traveling family, a car isn’t just helpful—it’s kind of everything.

So those three weeks became a mix of holding space for daily life, homeschooling and fun- while also trying to rebuild something essential. We were searching for a new car. Well, honestly: a cheap used car. Remember from the last post, we didn't want to buy a new car at all. Maybe we hear about the green card soon and can spontaneously go state side. But that's just something we can't plan for right now. So? Test driving. Making decisions. Sorting paperwork for the new one, and closing the chapter on the old one.

Searching for a car... a little bit of R & R... then packing. Pretty much sums up our house sitting gig.

And then there were all the in-between things that don’t pause just because life is full—appointments, quick doctor visits, kids seeing friends, time with family squeezed into whatever gaps we could find or popping up last minute on a free afternoon.

It wasn’t chaotic in a dramatic way. It was just… constant. And towards the end, the pressure started to build. We had found a car, purchased it and drove it home. But we had one last thing to take care of before leaving: registering the used car we had just bought. We got a great deal on it (haha, yeah, too great of a deal I guess) and just needed the paperwork to make it official. It sounds simple. It wasn’t. The first appointment didn’t work because my husband printed out the wrong form. The next available appointment was too far out. Suddenly, we were days away from leaving- without a registered car.

And that’s when you could feel the shift. The urgency. The tension. That sense of needing to fix something now. Take care of it now. Figure it out now. And we couldn't. There was a moment where an appointment opened up. It felt like the solution. Everything moved quickly—booking it, getting in the car, driving almost an hour to make it in time.

Our new (used) car... which we were foolishly excited about.

And then it unraveled just as quickly. The appointment hadn’t actually been confirmed (our mistake). One missed click. Hours gone. Still no registration. It’s one of those situations where, from the outside, it might seem like a small mistake. Other people could just wait another week for the next available appointment. For us? Our friends that we were house sitting for were coming back the next day. I was in the middle of packing and cleaning. It didn’t feel small at all.

Because when you’re under that kind of pressure, your system changes.

Your body shifts into stress mode—fight, flight, urgency—and your brain follows. Well, partly. The part responsible for clear thinking and creative decision-making goes quieter. Not because you’re incapable, but because your biology is prioritizing speed over precision. We could see that happening in real time those last couple of days. Little mistakes, quick decisions that we later realized weren't the most wise ones. And even knowing that, it didn’t make it disappear.

The interesting thing about stress is that intellectually, I know everything is okay. Truly. We’re safe, we have options, we’ll figure it out. But the body can still react to uncertainty and pressure as if it’s a literal threat to survival. That’s what the stress response does. Your nervous system doesn’t always distinguish between “life-threatening danger” and “our car broke down and we have no idea what the plan is.” Which is why resilience work matters so much to me—not pretending things aren’t stressful, but learning how to help your body come back to safety even when life feels uncertain. I’ve been using every resilience technique I teach this past week, that’s for sure.

Anyway. Another appointment eventually opened up a few hours later. For early the next morning. The morning we were supposed to leave. This time it was confirmed. Properly. So we packed the car while also holding our breath a little, hoping this would finally come together. Which it did.

Whew. Car registered. Check. Big check.

The plan after that was simple. Drive to family for one night. Head up to Denmark the next day. Take the ferry. Arrive in Norway. And we were so ready for that part. The exhale. The space. The feeling of being somewhere steady again. No more short stays- remember? We're slowing down even more and staying places for a season.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead, we found ourselves- after driving for 7 hours straight- on the side of the German Autobahn. Car not working. Waiting for a tow truck. That kind of stress that sits heavy in your chest while cars rush past and you’re trying to stay calm for the kids, for each other, for yourself. Trusting that everything will be fine (I mean in the large scale of things, come on, we're all fine and this is just a huge inconvenience). And suddenly, everything shifts again. No Norway. No clear plan. Just us, somewhere in between, trying to figure out what comes next.

You guys know what happened: travel day going great (even doing work in the car!) then- tow truck, hotel room, rental car and we're back where we started from...minus a few hundred Euros.

Since then (our car broke down on the side of the road almost exactly one week ago) I'm just breathing through a lot of frustration and impatience mixed with surrender and trust. Taking steps every day to try to figure out next steps and all the how and logic behind them. It’s a strange place to be. On one hand, we know we’ll figure it out. We always do. Everything is fine. Truly. On the other hand… it’s frustrating. It’s tiring. And yes, we really, really just want to be in Norway.

But this is the life we’re living.

Not perfectly curated. Not always smooth. Sometimes incredibly beautiful, sometimes deeply inconvenient, sometimes both at the same time. So here we are again—adjusting, problem-solving, taking the next step we can see. We don’t know exactly how this part unfolds yet. But we’re in it. I had a low yesterday that was just kind of like- why?! But I don't need to know the why right now. Just focus more on the 'how' (which my husband is way better at right now than I am) and ...

...trust...we’ll figure it out. We always do.