Raising Americans in Germany

What do Aliens Eat?

2011-12-14T11:09:00.001+01:00

Max: Momma, what are you eating?

Me: Indian food.

Max: What is that?

Me: Well, we eat lots of different kinds of food from different places. Leberkase and wurst are German foods, hamburgers and barbeque are American, and pizza and spaghetti are Italien.

Max: And Alien?

Playing Cars

2011-09-04T21:39:00.000+02:00

Me: Look Max, my car is doing donuts.

Max: Mine is making cakes.

"See" in German is "Lake" in English, but Sounds like Sea with a Z at the Beginning

2011-06-05T22:22:00.000+02:00

Munich is surrounded by little lakes, and I can say little lakes, because I come from Michigan which is surrounded by big lakes, or the Great Lakes as they are more officially called. Anything smaller than the Great Lakes are little lakes. Of course this is all a matter of perspective, but despite their less than Great size, these lakes are no less magnificent. They are down right gorgeous, and considerably cleaner than the Great Lakes. The last week of May, we visited Ammersee, and we were treated to some pretty amazing views, especially at the end of the day when a storm started to roll in.

This week, a friend offered us her family home on Walchensee, about an hour outside of Munich. We had never heard of Walchensee before, as it is not easily accessible by public transportation like the more popular Ammersee and Starnberger See. Nestled in the foothills of the German Alps with fantastic views of Zugspitze (the tallest mountain in Germany) Walchensee blew away all the other lakes. The first day we arrived there was cloudy, but I did manage to capture this interesting shot of a sailboat being towed by a rowboat.

Turns out, the locals in Walchensee are fiercely protective of their little spot of paradise and have prohibited use of any sort of gas guzzling polluting motor boats. The obvious result, a very clean lake, but the unintentional side-affect is that the lake has become a popular destination for sailors, windsurfers and kite-surfers. Unfortunately on days when there is no wind, sailors have to tow their boats with a row-boat, but I'm sure they don't complain about not having to share the lake with "stinkboats."

On Friday, the we took the "Herzogbahn," or cable car, up the side of the mountain, and we were treated to some amazing views. Unfortunately, we were there at the wrong time of the day, so we had less than ideal lighting for photographs.

The lake winds its way around a couple mountains, so without an airplane, or maybe climbing to a higher peak, it is impossible to get a photo that can fully grasp the shape and size of the lake. Below is another end of the lake from the other side of the mountain.

There are loads of hiking trails in the area. When we started out on the trail pictured below, we thought we were just taking a nice walk in the neighborhood, with Maggie on her trike and Maxi on his Laufrad, however it wasn't long before the trail got too steep, and we abandoned the bikes. Yes, you can do that in Bavaria without fear of someone stealing them. Pretty soon though, it was too tiring for the kids, and Paul became their camel.

The contrast of the mountains and the water is something rare, but it reminded me a little bit of Lake Moomaw, made by the Army Corp of Engineers, about an hour away from our home in Virginia.

Clearly, Walchensee is much cleaner, so clean that Germans say the water is drinkable. That means a lot coming from a race that typically refuses to drink tap water, preferring bottled fizzy water. No, that doesn't mean that Walchensee is fizzy, just that the water is clean and tastes good, which my daughter can attest to, as she drank quite a bit of it.

Even though the kids are fully dressed in the photo above, they did get to jump in the water the next day. And spending as much time as I did in Lake Michigan growing up, I wasn't concerned with the frigid 15°C (59°F) water temperature, despite the gawking stares of nearby observers.

Paul has taken upon himself to try and get more photos of me on vacation. This isn't the best photo from the group, but I think it is the funniest. I'm usually behind the camera, not in front of it, so for good measure here is one more photo from Walchensee.

Conversation

2011-06-02T20:13:00.000+02:00

"I want a big sister."
"I'm sorry baby, but that is something, I can not give you."
.
.
.
.
.
"Can't you buy one?"

Naked Guitar Player

2011-05-31T11:50:00.000+02:00

As my friend says, add a Bavarian felt hat, stand him at Stacchus, and he will make millions!

Mango & Avocado & Arts Education

2011-05-25T14:39:00.001+02:00

In the hardware store hall to the bathroom, Maxi stopped pointing up at one of the cheaply framed prints of great artists. "Look, Mommy it's avocado."

I inspect the print of Van Gogh's self-portrait, looking for an avocado, "Hmmmm, I don't see an avocado."
Then I remembered, the same self-portrait was in the book 13 Artists Children Should Know.

Had Maxi's four-year-old brain remembered the name Van Gogh as avocado? "It is a Van Gogh baby. Is that what you are trying to say?"

"Oh, it's a mango."

"And that is a Picasso" I pointed at another print on the wall.

"It's avocado," he responded, not skipping a beat.

New Beginnings

2011-05-23T21:07:00.002+02:00

Almost exactly a year ago, I was off to Paris for the Left Bank Writers Retreat, and in my blog I made promises for a whole new look and direction of Raising Expats. Those exciting new changes promised were forgotten, because while in Paris, I was hit with some news that sent my personal life into turmoil. After that, I almost gave up the blog completely. My writing became intensely private and personal. The blog was meant to be light and humorous, and I had too much sadness in me to keep that going. Now, I'm moving forward with new purpose and direction which will include a new commitment to my blog, hoping to share with you the continuously crazy antics of our family living abroad. With this new commitment to the blog, comes a new look. The background photo was taken by my sister and extremely talented artist, Danette Alles, at the Neue Pinakothek in Munich.

Oh, and don't forget to check out the new option to the right to follow my blog via email.

An Amphibous Child

2010-10-20T15:02:00.000+02:00

Max will not let the fact that he is the only non-German speaking child in his kindergarten hold him back No, no he would figure a way around the language barrier. When Paul dropped Max off at kindergarten yesterday, Max hopped into the classroom, and immediately transformed into a little amphibian. "Rib-bit, rib-bit!" ia apparently an internationally recognized greeting amongst children ages three to six. Followed by a few more croaks and zaps of the tongue, Max was soon the center of attention, provoking a few more amphibious lurkers to come out of hiding, as well making other giggle. Apparently our little comedian has built a following at his kindergarten, because today when he arrived at school, his little fans swarmed him anxious to hear his newest animal impersonation.

It is amazing to think that I was ever worried about my child being intimidated by the language. He is truly his father's child and would be able to make friends with a lamp post.

Picadillo is Cooking in My Kitchen

2010-10-20T15:01:00.000+02:00

New favorite recipe is a traditional Cuban or Brazillian dish, Picadillo. We can at least safely say it is Latin American. I did not make many changes to this recipe, I halved the hotter spices like chili and the paprika, thinking my kids might eat it if it wasn't too spicy. I was wrong. I also added rice and beans to the mix so that the rice would cook in the juices of the Picadillo. Mmm, mmm, mmm, muy muy delicioso!

Promises, promises

2010-10-20T14:13:00.000+02:00

I should never make public promises about the blog. I really did plan on changing the blog, but have become completely swept up in other ventures, so I have just not had any time. Until I can really give the blog my full attention, I am going to retain the blog as a way to relates stories about living here to friends and family back home.

Changes Coming

2010-09-13T11:42:00.000+02:00

I am so sorry that I have been remiss about the blog. The changes promised in June have not been forgotten. Just as my husband's Nanny used to say, "Sometimes, life gets in the way."

We are back in Munich, and things are settling down a bit after our whirlwind of a summer, so I will be back very soon with some new things to announce.

Until then!

New Directions

2010-06-16T15:03:00.000+02:00

Ask any stay-at-home mother of small children what she wants more than anything, and she will probably respond with some time to herself. Well, this Saturday, I am going to Paris for a writers retreat. For nine days, I will be alone without children or husband. I will submerse myself in the art and culture of the city, and I will focus on my writing.

When I return from Paris, I will be making some changes in my life, some subtle and some more drastic. These changes will be reflected in this blog. Raising Expats will be getting a makeover. It will have a new look and a new focus.

See you then.

Identity Crisis

2010-06-13T14:50:00.003+02:00

Living and raising a family in a foreign country has challenged me in new and unexpected ways. I am no longer in my comfort zone, where I am content with the status quo. I never realized how much I defined myself by the people around me. Now in this new context, I am free to re-define myself, and that is both terrifying and exhilarating.

When I graduated from high school, I wanted to be someone extraordinary. I wanted to be a journalist traveling the world telling its stories. I never saw myself as a house wife and mother. I love my family, but I don't love the example I am setting for my children. My children need to learn that they are free to define themselves in anyway they want to, and I want to be an example to them.

Productive Procrastination

2010-05-05T21:30:00.002+02:00

Tonight before Max went to bed, he insisted on picking up all the stuffed toys off the floor. This was 100% procrastination on his part, but who am I to complain? I’m just relieved that they are up off the floor.

After two attempts yesterday to put the stuffed toys on their shelves, only to have them knocked down almost immediately by Maggie and then Max, I surrendered to a play area with a plush floor. So tonight, when Max was picking up the toys to avoid going to bed, I didn’t fight with him. He stuffed and crammed them into all the available spots in the toy bins. If they didn’t fit into the bins, he stuffed them on top of the books, and when there was no more room there, he piled them up on the toy kitchen. Of course this means that he completely overlooked the four empty shelves where the stuffed animals normally sit.

At one point this would have freaked me out. Every toy has its proper space, and I’ve spent many hours sorting out the toys and separating the blocks into their appropriate bins. I would dive under the furniture; pull up the couch cushions and search the corners until every last block, ball and car were accounted for. Now, I’m just grateful for any help in trying to conquer the toys that have taken over our lives.

It is definitely tempting to let him delay his bed time this way every night, even if a few toys end up in the kitchen sink.

Endearing

2010-05-04T10:24:00.005+02:00

After living in Germany for almost three years, the novelty has worn off. Every once in awhile though, something surprises me. Like this, the surprise in the cereal box, or Müsli bag in this case: A miniature wooden train car.

Unlike the typical surprises in the cereal box of plastic straw etc., this one actually encourages me to buy more of the Müsli. The little train came inside of this red plastic egg that my children are modeling here,

and here.

Things like this make me smile and think, "Wow, this is pretty cool."

Driving

2010-05-04T09:37:00.000+02:00

Today was my first day driving stick alone. I had finished my lessons at the driving school, and I had been practicing with Paul in the car. When we woke up this morning and it was raining, and with a little encouragement from Paul, I decided to be brave and drive Max to Spielgruppe (pre-school).

I stalled at every intersection, and I was honked at by numerous motorists. Max, to his delight, learned a new explicative on our way, and every time I stalled, he would say it in unison with me. I wonder if the teacher will notice... hmmmm.

I was shaking by the time we reached school, and though the drive home was much smoother, I can still feel my heart pounding. I need a little more practice before I do that again.

Update on Kindergartens

2010-05-02T12:39:00.002+02:00

I swore I would not be one of those moms, one of the moms who freaks out about what preschool her child goes too, but when I wrote this post, I was dangerously close to crossing the line. We had only applied to three kindergartens for Max, Waldorf A, Waldorf B and the Waldkindergarten. After receiving letters putting us on the wait lists of two of the three, Paul and I started to worry and wonder if we should start applying to other kindergartens. Most kindergartens open their admission in February, but maybe we could get on some more waiting lists, increasing our odds of finding a spot for Max. The biggest concern of course, was the gap in his language skills. He was finally starting to make progress in the German language, and we were worried that any length of time not in school would set him back.

Needless to say, I was quite relieved when we received the acceptance letter to the local public kindergarten. We had applied over a year ago, but after having an underwhelming experience at the information afternoon, we quickly forgot about it. Once we were accepted to this kindergarten the pressure was off, and before we knew it, all of our ducks seemed to line up. A couple weeks later, we were accepted into Waldorf B which is very close to where we live. And at the beginning of this week, we received a call from Waldorf A where Max is currently attending a Spielegruppe. They had a spot open up, and they offered it to us. We declined, as we had already accepted the spot at Waldorf B.

Maggie is guaranteed a spot in the Spielgruppe at Waldorf B, and later in the Kindergarten class, so I can be sane once again, at least until we start looking at Grundschulen (elementary schools) in three years.

Sneak Peak into the Future

2010-03-01T21:28:00.002+01:00

Paul: Maxi, how was school today?

Max: (blank stare)

Paul: Did you play with anyone?

Max: Maxi played.

Me: Did you play with Lena? Daniel? Isabella? Jonathon?

Max: Maxi played.

Paul: What did you play with?

Max: Maxi played.

Me: Did you play with Autos? Kugelbahn? Puppenwagen?

Max: Maxi played.

Me: Did you sing? Dance? Cook?

Max: (rolls eyes at his hopeless parents and sighs)

Me to Paul: Wow, I didn't think it was supposed to be this hard to communicate until his teenage years.

Learning How to Drive, Once Again

2010-03-01T20:30:00.001+01:00

For the better part of the last year, Paul and I have been debating about whether to buy a car or move closer into the city. We loved the idea of having a small carbon blue print, not to mention minimal transportation costs. Moving into the city has its additional benefits of being closer to things like restaurants and shopping. However transporting two small children around the city via public transportation had become burdensome, an enormous time suck and incredibly stressful. Finally the car won out.

However, I hate driving, I always have. My first day of drivers education back when I was 15 1/2 years old, my instructor Mr. Norman screamed "JUMPING CATFISH, JUDAS PRIEST and JIMINY CRICKET" from the passenger's seat at regular intervals. I went home that afternoon crying, and swore that I would never return to driving school. Luckily my oldest and wiser sister dangled the carrot of freedom in front of me, persuading me to return with a new determination to learn.

Sixteen years later, Paul and I bought a manual transmission car, and once again I am learning how to drive. Luckily, my drivers license transferred from Virginia, so I did not have to pay for the very expensive German driving classes and tests. However, to preserve our marriage, we decided it was best for me to learn how to drive stick with a professional. Not only would we have been screaming at each other within a half-hour, but I am learning on a transmission that belongs to someone else.

This past Thursday was my first time driving. Overall, I'm doing much better than the first time I drove automatic. The biggest problem I'm having is that I keep stalling at intersections. Sixteen years of driving automatic, and my instinct is to ease up on the brake when the light turns on green. This does not work with a manual transmission. Luckily, my instructor is no Mr. Norman, and she was very calm and collected every time I stalled the car.

After my first class, I was relieved that I had taken the class with a professional. While, I realize that we might end up spending almost as much on lessons as we would have to buy an automatic, I feel like I am learning an invaluable skill. I am hoping that with this new skill, I will feel like I have better control of the car, and maybe I will enjoy driving just a little more.

Making the Rounds Again

2010-02-23T14:03:00.001+01:00

Once again that time of year has arrived, where we are applying for kindergartens. Last year we applied for the Spielgruppe (playgroup) for two-year-olds, and we were accepted into two Waldorf kindergartens, we'll call them A & B. At the time we thought we were going to move, so we went with Waldorf A which would be closest to our new location. It was a difficult choice to make because the Waldorf B was only ten minutes away and we liked both schools very much. Well, we did not move, and since October we have been making an half-hour commute to drop-off and pick-up Max at Spielgruppe.

Being in Waldorf A's Spielgruppe did not guarantee us a spot in their kindergarten. So, this year we once again are making the rounds, applying for the 3-6 year-old kindergarten classes. In addition to Waldorf A, we applied to Waldorf B, hoping our decision not to send Max to their Spielgruppe wouldn't affect his ability to get in. We also applied to a Waldkindergarten, which is an outdoor kindergarten. Five days a week, for four hours a day, the children play outside in all, but the extremest of weathers. On extreme weather days, the kindergarten has alternate activities planned in indoor venues like museums and librarys.

On Saturday we received a letter from Waldorf A, saying that Max would not be able to attend their kindergarten in September, which admittedly disappoints me. I was sort of expecting this answer, as they had very limited space available. However, I still feel a little bit slighted.

However, I am trying to look at the sweeter side of Waldorf A's answer. The other two kindergartens are within easy walking distance to where we live, and it would not be difficult to get Max there in the mornings. Waldorf B has a very nice facility, and the Waldkindergarten has a special appeal to me. Paul grew up in the country, and from three to eight-years-old, I lived in the country. Both of us spent hours and hours playing outdoors in all sorts of weather. And we have very fond memories of that, and we think it would be a great experience for Max.

Now we wait to find out if Max was accepted into either of the other two kindergartens. We are supposed to hear from the Waldkindergarten this week, and next week we have our interview with Waldorf A. Hopefully, one of these will work out, or I will have to resort to Plan B. I'm not exactly sure what Plan B is yet.

Our Blue-Eyed Beauty

2010-02-15T00:23:00.000+01:00

She gets those from her father. Beautiful almond shaped eyes.

Rodel Schlitten

2010-02-15T00:06:00.003+01:00

Every once in a while, there is something about living in Munich that I find very endearing. Right now, it is seeing the parents pulling their children around on Rodelschlitten, what we in the States would consider an old fashioned wooden toboggan. It looks like a snapshot of the past. Only, the classic American Wooden Toboggan, as seen here is nothing like the Classic German Rodelschlitten here.

Our former neighbor still has the two Rodelschlitten that she used as a child. Last year she lent us one for Max. After falling off of it once face first, it was hard to convince him to get back on. The only way he would ride it is if I heaved my big pregnant body on it and rode behind him on the sled, poor Paul pulling both our weights.

This year, however has been a different story. Over the weekend, I borrowed another neighbor's Rodelschlitten, outfitted it with Max's Fußsack, a heavily insulated sleeping bag type thing, that is usually in his stroller, and stuffed him in it for the morning. We trekked through the local forest, and Max had a fabulous time, even though I was quite tired by the end of the two hour haul.

Sledding is taken much more seriously here. Growing up, I used a $5 roll-up sled to cruise down the hills. Here, the average child Rodelschlitten starts at about €40, but I've seen some Rodelschlitten costing upwards of €300. However, these sleds aren't just used for the kids to slide down hills. People use their Rodelschlitten instead of strollers, to pulling their groceries home, and I'm getting the impression that sledding is treated as a serious sport.

Sipping Tea After Coming in from the Cold

2010-02-14T15:49:00.003+01:00

After stripping all of our layers and winter trappings, we usually just hang out in our long underwear around the house, looking like a mismatched troupe of acrobats. Many a raised eyebrow I have received from a delivery man when I show up to the door in long underwear and a t-shirt.

Put Everything Into It Dish

2010-02-12T12:01:00.002+01:00

If you are anything like Paul and me, by the end of the week, you are looking at a half-empty fridge, with an assortment of things that are about to go bad if you don't use them right away. Well, I used to put these things into a soup or a quiche. However, over my last visit home, my sister introduced me to fritatta. It's almost like a quiche, but with none of the hassle of the crust. My latest fridge clean out special combined eggs, field greens, mushrooms, sheep cheese, sprinkling of Gouda, and my two trusty stand byes onions and garlic. I sauteed the onions and garlic in butter, added the mushrooms to the frying pan, mixed the whole lot together, poured into a glass pie pan and cooked at 200C for about 30 minutes. Scrumptious! I think adding cherry tomatoes would have added a nice touch as well.

The Missing Piece

2010-02-02T20:29:00.011+01:00

It is 4:30am in the morning, and our 2 1/2 year old, Maxi has been sleeping on a mattress on the floor of our bedroom while Maggie learns to sleep through the night. I immediately wake up, even the slightest whimper of one of my children is picked up by the mother antennae. Max wakes up coughing and crying. He climbs over to the edge of our bed.

He whimpers "Ma-Ma, Maxi hurts, Maxi wakes up."

"I know baby, you're sick, do you want to sleep with us?"

"Yes," he whimpers, and I scoop him up in a hug and pull him over my body in-between Paul and I.

This is unusual because Max has not slept in our bed since he started sleeping through the night. Even when he is ill, and I climb into his bed to comfort him, he'll respond with "Mommy, GO!" So, I savor this rare moment, his little body curled up against mine.

I hold on tight because I realize in the still of the morning, that times like these are fleeting. It will not be long before I will no longer be the center of his universe. Marni Jackson says it best in Double Lives, "[H]aving children transforms you. It keeps on transforming you. And the hardest thing to prepare for is this constant change."

My first born opened up my heart; I never knew that I was capable of loving someone so completely. Admittedly, I was worried about the second child, how could I possibly love someone as much as I loved Max? However, with Maggie I learned that there was even more room in my heart, and this astounded me. With my children I have found a completeness that I never realized I was missing.

Life before children dulls in comparison. Watching them grow and develop has colored my world. I marvel as my baby's brow furrows in concentration when she is mastering the art of picking up Cheerios with her thumb and forefinger . My heart swells the first time my son starts referring to himself as "I" instead of "Maxi," and when he climbs up next to me, slides his arm around my neck and whispers into my ear"I love you Mama," my heart just about bursts.

My children have taught me to appreciate the small things again. The smallest things give them joy like how Maggie's face lights up simply because I walk into the room. Or how Max thrills at the sight of a snowball. Their laughter and their smiles are contagious. I can't help, but be happy when they are, which is why discipline can be so difficult sometimes.

Nothing is impossible for them, and they are not scared of failure. At one time getting from one side of the room to the other once seemed impossible, but now Maggie can do it at lightning speed. Their determined spirits have rekindled mine. My children have taught me to live again. They've inspired me to pursue my dream of writing, and to stop worrying about failure.

I have not lost my self, I have simply transformed.

Phone Conversation Between Paul and I Over the Christmas Holidays

2010-01-31T09:37:00.005+01:00

ME: Maggie has been saying "Da-Da" all day.
PAUL: Her first word!
ME: No, it doesn't count unless she connects the meaning to it.

about a week later...

ME: I changed my mind, "Da-Da" was her first word.
PAUL: Why?
ME: Because she started saying "Ma-Ma" today.

Getting Out of the House with Two Small Children

2010-01-30T10:04:00.007+01:00

There are certain laws that seem to govern getting out of our house with two small children. The first being that it always takes at least an hour long to get out of our house than I think it’s going to take. If I am smart, I do as much of the preparation to get out of the house the night before, i.e. give baths, pick out clothes, pack diaper bag, fix drinks and snacks etc. This works well for planned trips, but doesn’t work so well for the more spontaneous trips like a walk to the park or running to the store because I ran out of saline solution three days ago, and forgot to pick it up the last two times I was out.

The second law is that once I have everything ready to go, and I am about to leave the house I realize that I forgot something, and I run back to get it, probably putting down whatever was in my hand, like my umbrella or pacifier on my way to retrieve it.

The third law is that by the time I have retrieved that umbrella or pacifier or whatever it is that I put down when I went back to get whatever it was that I forgot, one of the children have messed their diaper, so I have to take both children back inside again. This has become even more complicated in the winter, when I have to strip off winter coat, boots, snow pants, mittens, hat and scarf to change the offending diaper. By the time I’ve changed the diaper and gotten winter gear back on, the other child has messed their diaper, and I have to go through the whole process of undressing and redressing again. Finally both children are ready to go and a bit fussy because they are so warm inside with all their gear on, and I am sweating buckets, because I didn’t bother to take off my winter gear during all the rushing around and changing of diapers. Sometimes I try to take short-cuts and leave mittens on, or only pull down the pants and snow-pants instead of completely removing them, but this is a mistake because inevitably I will end up with poop on one of these irreplaceable items, making the rest of my trip and therefore my day unpleasantly smelly.

The fourth law is that whatever the meteorologist posted on wetter.com about the weather, I can almost guarantee that when I get outside exactly the opposite is happening. So, once outside I am stripping the children and changing them into something more comfortable, or getting their coats, hats and gloves on. Being an experienced car-less mother who depends on stroller transportation, I keep all forms of gear for every curve ball Mother Nature can throw at me tucked into my stroller and diaper bag for just such an occasion.

The fifth law is really more of an addition to the fourth law, saying that whatever the weather looks like outside of my window or out on my balcony, by the time I get all the children and their gear down the elevator, down the front stairs and outside, the weather has changed.

The sixth law is that I will reach the bus stop just in time to see my bus whiz by. I probably saw this coming, but there was really nothing I could do about it because I was too far away to run with the heavily laden stroller and two small children strapped in. Luckily the bus comes every ten minutes, and if I am really lucky I will sit in the bus stop with some chain smoking old lady who feels it her duty to tell me 101 reasons why I shouldn’t have my children out in this weather. Being a non-German speaker, I smile pleasantly nodding my head, and say in heavily accented German, “Tut me leid. Mein Deutsch ist nicht sehr gut.“ At which point I usually receive a “Humph,” and a disdainful look meaning ‘When you live in Germany, you should speak German.’ If I am having an especially lucky day, the stranger recognizes my English accent and switches to English, and then I’m forced into yet another lengthy conversation about why it is so important for me, especially as a mother, to learn the language, as if I didn’t already know that. Please tell me when a mother of two children two and under has the time to learn more of the language than just what is needed to get by.

The seventh law is that because I missed my bus, I will miss my next transfer as well, spend at least thirty minutes of uncalculated time waiting on transportation, and finally arrive at my destination an hour later than planned, only to realize that the drinks and snacks I packed the night before are still sitting inside the fridge back at home.

Überraschung (Surprise)!

2010-01-27T14:48:00.007+01:00

Sunday night when I returned home from my knitting group, Paul was on the computer while talking to his brother. When I walked into the living room, this look of surprise went across his face. "I didn't expect you home so early," then he looked at the clock, "errr I didn't expect it to take me so long."

I looked at the computer and saw a blank Microsoft Word document. Huh? A big grin crossed his face, "Well, let me put it this way, you are not getting a laptop for your birthday."

Paul has never been good at keeping secrets from me, and every year he tries to surprise me for my birthday. It has become a fun game between the two of us. How long will Paul be abel to keep a secret?

I love surprises, but I also like to play detective to guess what my surprise is going to be, so Paul teased me with a couple hints.

The first hint: He has to let me in on the surprise before I actually get my birthday present because everything here is in German.

The second hint: I'm not actually getting my surprise until March.

The first two hints made me guess that the gift was an experience, which is Paul's favorite kind of gift.

The third hint: It is something I can wear, but I will need accessories, and I already have them.

The third hint really threw me, because something I could wear, doesn't fit in at all with an experience. He quickly revised his hint, and said it is one of the other meanings of the German verb "to wear," or "tragen." Well, after I went to see the verb tragen in LEO I skimmed the various meanings, and I wasn't any closer to guessing my surprise.

I decided to play fair, and I wasn't going to ask too many questions, and I wasn't going to sneak around our bank account or his email to figure out the gift. I was excited about the possibility of a real surprise that I wouldn't find out until my birthday, and three weeks isn't very long to wait.

Unfortunately, yesterday when I picked up the mail, I saw an envelope for Paul from the Bavarian State Opera House. At this point, it all clicked, "tragen" to carry, I can carry tickets. I left the mail on the desk for Paul, and did not say anything to him. I still didn't know what he was taking me to see at the Opera, and I didn't want to spoil the fun we were having in our little cat and mouse game.

When he saw the mail, he asked me if any of it meant anything to me. For a split second I considered playing dumb. I wanted to keep the game going longer. However, I told him the truth, that I had figured out what we were doing, but I still didn't know what he was taking me to see. About one minute later he told me. We're going to see the Barber of Seville. It's in Italian, but the subtitles are in German, so we have to read the story ahead of time, and maybe find a DVD of it with English subtitles.

While I think both of us were a little disappointed that the game was over, it doesn't take away from the excitement about going to the Opera. Not just any Opera, but the opera buffa of all opere buffe. It's supposedly one of the greatest comedic Operas of all time. And, we are going to the Opera in a real European Opera House. Now, I just have to figure out what to wear.

Arriving in Dulles with Porter

2010-01-23T12:32:00.001+01:00

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig...

2010-01-23T12:11:00.007+01:00

Mistakenly, I though the return trip would be easier. It's an overnight flight, so the kids would sleep, right? Wrong. Though they are both exhausted, they are too keyed up to actually sleep. And since everyone else on the flight is sleeping there is no one to help me when Maggie has another blow out diaper. I drag a now, barefoot Max to the airplane bathroom, trying not to think about what he is probably stepping in, as I lock all three of us in the cramped space. While I strip Maggie of her clothes, and wash off the poop that has traveled up her back, Max entertains himself by pulling the toilet paper off the roll and throwing it into the sink.

When we finally clear up our mess and try to awkwardly exit the bathroom through the accordion door, Max takes off running again. Luckily this time, he runs to the back of the plane, and the one grandmother on the plane wakes up and tries to grab him. When she misses, I unceremoniously dump Maggie in her lap and take off after Max, before he can make it around the back of the plane and up the aisle on the other side into first class again. Once I safely buckle him back into his seat belt which is no match for a two year old escape artist, I make him a
nest with his pillow and blanket, and out of pure exhaustion he finally passes out. I retrieve Maggie from the grandmother across the aisle, and nurse her back to sleep. For the remaining two hours of the flight, I watch the documentary This Is It about Michael Jackson.

When we finally land in Munich, a very nice flight attendant helps me bundle the kids up and exit the plane. Of course no one had bothered to unlock the elevator, so I had to back the stroller up three escalators with Maggie dangling out of the Ergo, a diaper bag hanging over one shoulder, Max's pillow in the bottom of the stroller, and the bag of toys in the other hand.

When we got to the baggage claim, I practically begged the security agent to let me deliver the children to their father on the other side before I picked up my baggage, but he instead in his best pissed off voice told me that it was absolutely impossible, because I was in a secure area. So, another father took pity on me, and sent his teenage daughter back with me to retrieve my five suitcases. It turned out that because the plane had arrived half an hour early, Paul wasn't there yet anyways, so the very tired kids and I waited patiently for Paul to show up twenty minutes later. And after a very harrowing drive home with an insane taxi driver, we finally arrived home and I promptly passed out.

A One Way Ticket to Crazy

2010-01-21T08:28:00.008+01:00

The kids and I just returned from a seven week visit to the States. Long visits like this were a promise we made to our parents to try to assuage our guilt about moving to Germany. Paul's German contract promised him six weeks of vacation along with a slew of holidays. A long trip back home would give us more quality time with our families than the occasional weekend visit.

The only way Paul agreed to letting the kids and I go that long was if I was willing to split the difference. So Paul came three weeks in the middle, meaning that I did both flights alone with the kids. I had flown alone with Max once before, and while it was not easy, it was not impossible. When I agreed to doing it with two children, I must have had a momentary lapse of sanity. But what was done, was done, and since we purchased the economy non-refundable, non-changeable tickets, there was no backing out.

Thank God they were direct flights, so I did not have to make a connecting flight by myself. Just like any other day when I am managing the kids by myself, the key to success is organization. So, first I tried to minimize the amount of luggage I was taking with me, which ended up being a car seat and four suitcases, two of which were filled with Christmas presents and other things for friends and family. On the way back, we left the car seat behind, because as it turns out it was only approved for use in the United States anyway, but we picked up a fifth suitcase because the obscene amount of Christmas presents we received for the kids.

Carrying on the flight, I brought only the bare essentials: one diaper bag, one bag of toys, winter coats and trappings for all three of us, as well as necessary restraining devices like the Ergo and the stroller.

The last time Paul and I flew back from the States, we fed Max so much to drink that by the time we reached security his diaper had leaked, and we had no spare set of clothes in our carry on. We ended up running around the airport to try and find him some clothes, and ended up purchasing a tourist sweatshirt four sizes to big, and stuffing him in his sleep sack for the flight.

This time I was careful to monitor both kids liquid intake, check their diapers regularly and bring extra clothes in the diaper bag, just in case. And, it's a good thing considering Maggie had a blow out mid-flight. Getting through security and walking to our connecting flight went fairly well. Max only ran away from me when we were waiting to board the plane.

Another mother looked on sympathetically, and pointing to her teenage son saying, "He use to run away from me all the time." If there is one thing I have learned about trans-Atlantic flights is to depend on the kindness of strangers. I immediately befriended this mother and her children. She had been there before me, and no one can relate to me like another mother. Besides that, her eleven old daughter loves children and babies and could not wait to play with my kids. There were also a slew of other grandmothers on the flight that quickly offered to help me by holding the baby while I rushed to the cramped bathroom to change Max's diaper. I also quickly enlisted the help of a college kid who was sitting next to me to keep an eye on Max when I needed to change Max's diaper.

Max was great for the most part. Yes there was some whining, crying and general disobedience, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, or anything I couldn't handle. The only time things got hairy was when Max peeled off, running gleefully up the aisle through business class and straight into first class. I didn't think it was the right thing to yell at him and wake up all the passengers in business and first class, so I followed along as quietly and quickly as I could with Maggie dangling from one arm, using the other arm to try and grab a weaving and dodging Max. It wasn't until we reached the glut of first class flight attendants, that someone intervened, "Ma'am, Ma'am, you can't be up here." As apologetically as I could manage in my somewhat exasperated state, "I know, I'm sorry, he got away from me." The very nice flight attendant grabbed Max's hand and cho-cho trained him back to our seat.

It was on this journey to and back from first class that I noticed that there was a kids movie on one of the channels. When I got Max back into his seat, I tried to find the movie, and when I realized that the channel wasn't working for either my seat or Max's seat, I called for the flight attendant. I should have realized from past experience this call button is completely useless. Either the flight attendants pay absolutely no attention to it, or they just assume that Max is playing with one of the buttons.

So I finally flag down one of the flight attendants, and she tells me that they can't do anything about it until they reset the movies for the next run. The next run comes, and nothing has changed, so I flagged down another attendant. This one tells me, that she can't do anything until they reset the movies for the third run. This time, the desperation starts to creep into my voice, "But I already told one of the other flight attendants this was a problem, it is the only movie appropriate for him."

So, she tells me she will see what she can do, and she comes back to me five minutes later apologizing, saying that she is going to try and reset the movie to another channel for the third run, but she can't do anything until then, because it would disrupt the rest of the passengers movies, and there aren't and other free seats in the airplane. As a conciliation she gives me a postcard of appreciation for my understanding. Great, meantime what am I supposed to do? I know, I'll let Max play with the post card, I'm sure it will entertain him for all of three seconds.

At this point the eleven year old girl comes up and offers to play with the kids in the aisle, and I have a moment of calm. Finally we land, and I know it is only an hour or two before we get through immigration, baggage claim and customs. Max is a champ, the eleven year old girl entertains him while I hunt down a United Airlines porter in the mess of what is Dulles international baggage claim. The porter helps me with my luggage, and gets us through customs quickly to the waiting and very expectant hugs and kisses of grandparents.

Weeks later that postcard of appreciation for my understanding resurfaces, and I visit the United website to claim whatever the voucher is for. Oh fabulous, it is for 10% off any international flight originating in the United States. Too bad, I live in Germany.

And then there were six

2009-11-23T21:23:00.006+01:00

No, I'm not pregnant with twins. I'm talking about the sixth stroller that has been added to our ever growing collection of strollers. Sadly, the double stroller that I was so proud of turned into a piece of junk. The metal was cheap; the front axle kept bending causing the front wheel pop off at inopportune times like when running to catch the bus.

Thankfully the first time, Paul was with me, and he picked up the front end, and the two of us managed to make the bus. Our planned trip to Starnberg was cancelled, but we did manage to re-attach the wheel long enough to get to the city park. All I had to do was push down slightly on the back handle so that most of the weight was on the back two wheels, not a long term solution by any means. When we were in the park, we bent the axel back by wedging it against the concrete enforcements of a park bench.

If we could manually bend the axel back into place, it probably wouldn't take much to bend it again, and it did. The next time the axel bent, I recognized the tell tale wobbliness, and I managed to get home before the wheel popped off. Since then I've refused to take the stroller out for anything more than a walk around the block. Since Max can handle a walk around the block, the stroller has been collecting dust in our bike room.

I've been using the single stroller to get back and forth to Max's Spielgruppe, and this has caused both Max and I to end up in tears multiple times. So, we've purchased a new double stroller, the Phil & Ted's Sport with double's kit, one of the strollers I "reviewed" last time, but wasn't overly thrilled with. I'm still not happy about the expense, or the fact that the front wheel doesn't lock, or that it isn't super maneuverable, but at least I can be sure that the front wheel won't fall off mid-transit.

By now, Paul and I have spent enough money trying not to buy an expensive stroller that we could have purchased two Bugaboos. So, here is my word of advice to all new parents who are looking for a stroller. Invest in a good stroller. Invest in a stroller that is going to be worth something on the second-hand market. A friend of mine sold her Bugaboo and used the money from the sale to purchase her double stroller when her second child was born.

ETA: Just wanted to let everyone know that someone commented and told me that you can lock the front wheel. There is a little knob underneath you can twist to do it. It's not been much fun to kneel down in the snow to lock it before getting on the bus though, so I generally don't. So far my only complaint about the stroller is that the brake only locks one wheel, which isn't so great on the bus. I put my foot behind the wheel when we are on the bus. This might be unique to my Phil & Ted's, as my friend who has the Vibe doesn't have the same problem.

Learning

2009-09-01T14:09:00.001+02:00

Parenting has a steep learning curve. That is what a father of three told me a couple weeks ago at a dinner party. In the twenty-nine months I’ve been a parent, I would say these words of wisdom ring true. I am learning how to be parents; I am not perfect. While I have ideas of the kind of parent I want to be, it is my children that are teaching me how to be a mom. Already I have had to grow, adapt and change.

Max is about to start his pre-kindergarten playgroup in one month, and it absolutely kills me to have to send him away at two-and-a-half years. I never thought I would be sending my baby to school when he was still just a baby. Much less sending him to a school where he did not speak the language and the teachers did not speak his language.

This has been a very humbling experience for me. As much as we have tried to prepare him, we can barely scratch the surface with simple vocabulary like Schmetterling (butterfly) and Auto. I had hoped that maybe by osmosis he was picking up some of the language when I took him out to playgrounds and shopping where he is surrounded by German, but it has become pretty obvious that he has not picked much up. When a mother at the pool asked for her child’s toy back, Max just stared at her completely baffled. When an older boy approached Max and said “Hallo Kliene (Hello little-one,)” Max said “Hi boy!” and the child looked back at Max baffled. Or when my friend spoke to him exclusively in German she said that she got the distinct impression that Max didn’t like her so much anymore. I suspect that this will be much like the interactions between Max and his classmates and teachers at the playgroup.

I can only imagine how confused Max will be, and how hard it will be for me to send him back into that confusion day after day. At the same time I know that this is the best time for Max to overcome the language barrier. As hard as it is on me to send Max to school next month, I keep reminding myself that this is what is best for him in the long run. And I hope that I am right.

The Great Healthcare Divide

2009-08-21T23:08:00.006+02:00

Since the health care debate is the main topic of conversation in the United States right now, many people have asked me about my experience with socialized health care. Germany is a mix of private and public health care. Everyone that works here pays into the public health system, and they and their dependents automatically qualify for public insurance. However some people choose to upgrade to private insurance so they can go to specific clinics or doctors and get more services like the gestational diabetes test covered.

Back, when Paul and I lived in VA, we paid out-of-pocket for private health insurance, because Paul’s employer’s health plan was super expensive, and they didn’t contribute towards it. The premium amounted to 9,6% of our gross salary. This did not include maternity coverage. To get maternity coverage we would have to pay an additional lump sum which would have amounted to 12,3% of our gross salary. Furthermore we would have had to pay for the maternity rider for six months before I could even get pregnant to qualify for the coverage. If I got pregnant five months and twenty nine days after we started the maternity rider, I wouldn’t have been covered. And, we could only add this coverage in siy month intervals from when we first enrolled. When I got pregnant with Maggie, it wasn’t planned, and if we had been in the USA, we would have had to pay for the whole thing out of pocket. When we asked our friend, a health insurance sales representative, he told us we wouldn’t be able to find any less expensive coverage. Furthermore, this coverage would not cover any pre-existing conditions, so it was a good thing that we were all healthy. We also maxed out our health savings plan in six months with co-pays and uncovered services, like visiting the optometrist and the dentist. This doesn’t include what we paid for prescription drugs.

In Germany, there also is no such thing as pre-existing condition or maternity riders. For this we pay 7,45% of our gross salary, Paul’s employer pays the same amount as required by law. For each doctor we visit in a yearly quarter, we pay 10€. It was a good thing I got pregnant in Germany where the public health insurance has no such thing as a maternity riders or rules on how to qualify for coverage.

Total out of pocket expenses from my first check-up all the way to post-birth care for two pregnancies: 125€. This included the 3 standard ultrasounds, all the regular maternity visits to my OB, all the standard tests, a gestational diabetes test, a strep-b test, giving birth twice, staying four days in the hospital after Max’s birth and three days after Maggie’s, and getting an epidural once. I paid 0€ when I went into the hospital for a uterine infection staying another four days, and they let me bring Max with me. Though, we did have to pay for Paul and my Mom to stay in the hospital room overnight to help me with Max. My health insurance covered the rental of a Medela Symphony breast pump, a pre-natal class, and a midwife who visited me at home after the birth as long as I needed her. If I choose to, I could have paid 0€ to take an ante-natal get back into shape class. Additionally, I’ve paid 40€ for 3 months of birth control, and I will pay 175€ for an IUD which is good for 3 years.

Regarding pediatrics, we’ve had equivalent care as we had in the States. For sick visits, we’ve get in to see the doctor the same day, for well-visits, we schedule about two weeks in advance. With Max, our pediatrician actually visited us at home after he was born. We only pay 10€ a quarter to the pediatrician including all the World Health Organization recommended vaccinations. We paid 10€ to the pediatric optometrist for a check-up and scheduled within two weeks. We paid 10€ for the pediatric dentist and scheduled the same week.

After three ER visits, we’ve had to pay 0€. When we take the children to the ER, we take them to a children’s hospital, of which there are at least three in Munich. When we took Max for what we thought might be bronchitis, we waited about two hours on a Friday night. When we took Max after he swallowed hand sanitizer, we waited about five minutes. I’m pretty sure every time I’ve ever been to the ER in the States; I’ve never waited less than two hours. When I was in the car accident in Ann Arbor, brought to the hospital in an ambulance and had my neck in a brace, I waited four hours before I saw a doctor. I thought they had forgotten about me. I don’t know how much, but I know my parents got an enormous bill for that, and now ten years later, they are still owed money from the University of Michigan hospital for being over billed.

When Paul went to the ER for his broken clavicle in Germany , he waited three hours on a Thursday night, paid 0€. He scheduled his follow-up with an orthopedic surgeon one day in advance, and paid 10€. His physical therapy to rebuild his muscles will cost 10€ a quarter. In the USA, Paul went to the ER for his appendix, we waited about four hours the first time. When he went to the ER for his appendix the second time for his appendix we waited another four hours. We walked out of the ER the first time because his tests came back negative, but the surgeon still wanted to cut him open, even though he couldn’t even look at us because he was too tired. Out of pocket, we paid $2000 in hospital bills for what the health insurance wouldn’t cover.

Of course the ERs aren’t full of uninsured people seeking basic medical care in Germany, because there are no uninsured here.

For sick visits to general MD, we’ve gotten in on the same day (even if we have never been to the doctor before.) I’ve been denied by doctors in the States because my health insurance was from a different State. When I had the ovarian cyst in DC, I had to call six doctors before anyone would see me, and the one who did see me only did because I was crying when I called. For Paul’s root canal, we paid 0€. For my cleaning, we paid 0€, and Paul had a special cleaning which he paid 80€ for out of pocket.

All this government running of healthcare hasn’t ruined it. Saudi Arabians and other nationalities from around the world come here to pay out of pocket when they get really sick. They could certainly afford to go to the USA if they felt the health care was better there. In fact, Munich airport has a medical center for people who fly here for healthcare. Even the plastic surgery industry is highly desired.

Obviously, I can only speak from our personal experiences with both systems, but in the States, I had many complaints about my health insurance. Here, I’ve not yet had one. And maybe giving birth, uterine infections and broken clavicles aren’t serious enough to be worthy of comparison, but I think they are. They didn’t bankrupt us like medical bills for similar services have done to so many Americans.

Finally, yes Germany has the fourth largest economy in the world, and yes its population is only 82 million, but the United States’ Gross Domestic Product is three times larger than Germany's.

Passports

2009-08-17T11:50:00.019+02:00

Last week, Paul and I went to the U.S. Consulate to report Maggie’s birth and apply for her passport. With Max, we applied for his straight away when he was two weeks old because we had no idea how long it would take for him to receive it, and we needed it to return home to the United States.

Since I know you are wondering if she has dual citizenship, no, she doesn’t. Neither of our children have dual citizenship. In Germany, you only qualify for citizenship by blood. Or, if you have lived here for seven years, you can apply for citizenship. A funny little quirk on that rule is that a friend of mine who lived here for seven years was able to get dual citizenship for her child when he was born, though neither she nor her husband have German citizenship. Once our children are here for seven years, we can apply for citizenship for them, but I believe they would have to choose between the two countries as adults.

I’m getting off point however, so back to passports. We had to get the kid’s photos for their passports, which are good for five years. Because everyone knows that an infant is very representative of what they are going to look like a year later, much less five. The photos couldn’t be just any old photo of their face; oh no they have to be biometric photos with mouth closed, no smile, eyes wide open, and no obstructions.

A two week old baby only keeps their eyes open for a few minutes a day, so I originally tried to take the photos myself. Here are examples of my first attempt at photographing Max for his passport photo.

I thought I did a pretty good job at meeting the biometric requirements, and I even had them sized right for the biometric requirements, but we couldn’t get them to print out to the right size on the do-it-yourself photo printer at the photo studio. So we finally took him into a photo studio to have them done.

Max adamantly slept the entire time we were trying to get his photo taken. He slept through fire truck sirens on the street; he slept through my mother and I undressing him. We tried turning him upside down, everything. Nothing woke this kid up. Of course the whole time I was wondering why wouldn’t he sleep like this at home?

Finally, we had to leave the studio and come back when he was awake. Of course a two week old baby is usually only awake when they are hungry and want to eat. And, if you don’t feed them right away, screaming usually follows, which doesn’t work out so well for the biometric photo either. Finally I was able to feed Max back to calm, and we got the photo which will represent him for five years.

And just for kicks, this is what Max looks like now, two years later.

With Maggie, I wasn’t going to mess around. I took her straight to the photo studio, and got her photos taken and printed out. Only I forgot they needed to be a different size than the standard German passport photo, so I spent 16€ on photos that are too small, which of course I didn’t realize until the night before our consulate interview. However, now we have six perfectly darling biometric photos of Maggie.
So in desperation, since there are no 24-hour photo studios here, I did the only thing available to me, I tried to do the photos myself. This time I had a photo printer, granted it is a cheap photo printer, not commercial quality, but I would be able to get the photos the right size this time. Anyone, who has tried to photograph a two month old, knows how difficult it is to get them to smile for the camera. Of course, when you are trying to photograph them not smiling, they seem to do nothing else but ham it up for the camera.
We weren’t sure if the consulate would take a home-printed photo, but they were quite happy with them, so, this photo is going to her passport photo for the next five years.

On a side note, the passport application also asks for their weight, height, eye color and hair color…hmmmm.

Quick Update

2009-08-14T20:54:00.004+02:00

On Paul: He went to see an orthopedic about his broken clavicle, and found out he has to wear the figure eight sling another 3-5 weeks. He was also very sternly lectured about not using that arm at all. It's very hard for him not to be able to hold his children. Once the bone has healed, he'll have to rehabilitate the muscles in his left arm. Then he'll be able resume holding Maggie and Max with both arms, and I'll be able to walk Asia again.

On Max: Potty training has pretty much fallen to the wayside, as Max has lost interest. He still uses the toilet about once a day in efforts to procure M&Ms. The process has added a whole new array of amusing vocabulary combinations to Max's repertoire, like "a big poop coming," which of course he never tells me in time to get him to the potty. When Max is perfecting a new word he practices combining it with all the important people in his life. His latest, "Maxi's butt, Da-Da's butt, Maggie's butt, Oma's butt, Opa's butt, Asia's butt, Ma-Ma's BIG butt." Thanks kid.

On Maggie: She's eating, pooping, drooling, crying, cooing and smiling. She's also getting Ma-Ma's BIG butt back in to shape, by forcing her to dance her to sleep twenty times a day. Since we never invested in a rocking chair, this has been both of our children's preferred methods of going to sleep in infancy. I consider it my exercise routine, and I recently added squats to my impressive dance routine. It's a good thing we live on the top floor.

On Asia: Poor dog hasn't gotten much exercise lately, since I can't take her for hour long evening walks anymore. She's been a champ about it though, and is pretty much doing the same as Maggie, eating, pooping and drooling.

On Me: Read above, as my life revolves around these three people and our crazy pooch.

In Sickness and in Health

2009-07-29T13:31:00.011+02:00

Only my husband would break his collar bone on the way to work, and still go into the office for a full days work. When he came home that evening I took one look at the mangled mess that used to be his left shoulder and sent him straight to the hospital, after he ate his dinner of course. However, my anger at him for not wearing his safety helmet has overshadowed any sympathy I might have.

PAUL: When I started to fall, I felt like a complete asshole for not wearing my helmet.
ME: You are an asshole for not wearing your helmet.

Later, after he had some problems connecting a logical thought.

ME: Are you sure your head is OK?
PAUL: Well, wouldn't you rather have a dumb husband?
ME: A dumb husband vs. a smart husband?
PAUL: No an annoying husband?
ME: How about a dumb and annoying husband?

My lack of sympathy has been magnified by the fact that until he heals, he is limited on what he can do with the children. The worst part is that he can't pick up the baby when she cries. So if I want to take a shower, it had better be a quick one, and when I take Asia for her evening walk (which used to be my evening ritual, my hour alone to myself, my moment of peace and quiet, my sanity saver), I have to strap Maggie to my chest.

The most optimistic estimates have Paul healing in 4-6 weeks, but everyone we've talked to knows someone who had the same injury and had to undergo physio-therapy after healing to rebuild muscle strength. So it might be several months before he can pick-up Maggie again.

Music Appreciation

2009-07-24T13:44:00.002+02:00

I visited a friend’s house last week for much needed adult interaction. She has a daughter around the same age as Max, and another daughter about six months older than Maggie. The two older kids were playing with a sing-a-long children’s book. It was filled with the simple songs of our childhood, the songs we all know by heart and the ones that when we hear them as adults get trapped in our head for days and weeks.

The book started playing its tinny version of The Wheels on the Bus, and Max started bopping his head to the beat. My friend smiled at him, and asked him if he knows the song. She starts singing the lyrics, half expecting him to join along with her daughter. Max looks at her funny and keeps bopping his head.

Trying to cover my shame, I look on with a half-smile and a non-committal shrug. Max doesn’t know this song, and he won’t know the next one played either, Row-Row-Row Your Boat. He doesn’t know them because I never play them at home, and he only hears them when we are at other more devoted Mothers’ homes. Selfishly, I don’t play, nor do I invest in music that will drive me crazy. I’m already half-way there, and I don’t need any help finishing the trip.

When I’m feeling especially guilty, I will play the podcast, Spare the Rock, Spoil the Child. However, mostly Paul and I play music that we like. So Max might not be able to sing along to Hickory-Dickory-Dock, but he can get down to Barry White, and slow dance with Mommy to Van Morrison.

Secret Smiles

2009-07-20T14:31:00.002+02:00

My mother and I are both convinced that Maggie has been smiling since she was just a couple weeks old. My pediatrician thinks I’m mad, which might be true, but has nothing to do with whether or not Maggie is an early smile-er. Of course Maggie refused to smile during her U3, the German well baby one month check-up. However, can you blame her, she was being poked and prodded, hung by one leg than the other and flipped this way and that at a time of day when she is usually sleeping.

Most people explain those early baby smiles as gas, but gas has certainly never made me smile. Maggie’s smiles are becoming more frequent and more obviously a reflection of how she is feeling. When Max leans down to her and whispers “Hi baby,” tickling her with his blonde fringe, a big toothless grin lights up her face. When I speak dinosaur talk, the rolling lips, the clicking of the tongue or the popping of lips, she looks at me, gives me her silent baby laugh and coos.

Those easy un-conscious smiles are one of the best gifts my children can give me. When everything else seems to be falling apart, and I’m not sure I can take it anymore, just one precious smile from one of my children, and I can go on. This time is fleeting, and one day their smiles will be forced if the photographer can coax one out of them. So please don’t take away my babies’ early smiles, they are my little nuggest of gold, the moments I will hold on to when they reach those teenage years, when the smiles become rare and few in-between.

Germanish

2009-07-18T14:30:00.004+02:00

As we are learning German, picking up various German words here and there, we find ourselves often throwing in German words to our English speech. This often confuses others, like once when someone asked about Asia's breed, and I responded with Mischling. They looked at me funny, not sure if we were using the German word or if Mischling was the English name for an strange dog breed. Strange would be fitting since Asia is indeed a strange dog, both in appearance and behavior.

I recently signed up to receive a German word of the day via email, and this has become very useful. Sometimes I already know the word, but more often I don't, and slowly I'm building my vocabulary. Like yesterday I learned how to say "Es ist sehr bewölkt heute," which is incredibly appropriate today if I want to talk about the weather.

Earlier this week I received Rührei in my mailbox. This is incredibly useful, as I can't tell you how many times I'm at a restaurant and I see various forms of Ei (sounds like eye) on the menu. I know Ei means egg, and the part of the word before Ei is how the egg is cooked. Every time I ask Paul if he knows how the egg is cooked, and every time he doesn't. So, I order it anyways thinking once I receive my egg I'll have learned a new word. By the time the egg is served however, I can't remember if I ordered the Rührei or the Spiegelei. I mean to refer to a menu or my dictionary when I get home, but I always forget. So every time I return to a restaurant I'm faced with the same dilemma.

Excited I showed Paul my word of the day, and asked him if he knew what it meant. He didn't get it at first, so I covered the Rühr- with my finger so he could get and idea of what the word was about.

"Oh, it's how the 'eye' is cooked."

See how Germanish can get confusing, but also amusing?

Ring Around The Moon

2009-07-15T12:41:00.013+02:00

I'm hot, I'm sweaty and I'm covered in pee because a new brand of cloth diaper we were testing just failed like a sieve. I'm sitting on the bathroom floor in my nursing bra and panties, with a semi-nude Maggie now safely in a more reliable brand of cloth diaper. She is alternately gulping and coughing to keep up with the fast stream of milk rushing from my breast, which sprays all over both of us every time she pulls back. A naked butt blurs past me, as Max gleefully streaks out of the bathroom past me. Maggie dangling wildly from my breast, I race into the living room training diaper in hand just in time to see his baby white butt launch into the air as he trips over his own feet, and crumples to the ground sobbing. It's another successful day of potty training.

You might think I'm insane for potty training Max this soon after the new addition, and I'm inclined to agree. However, this wasn't my choice, it wasn't Paul's choice, and it wasn't even in our plans for the immediate future. It was Max's choice.

It's been a long time since I've gone to the bathroom without an audience. I've long since gotten over the feeling guilty of holding a wailing baby over my shoulder while relieving my bladder. Later, when Max's separation anxiety stage kicked in, I often carried him with me to the bathroom, sitting him in his bumbo or in a strategically placed playpen outside the bathroom door. Now going to the bathroom with mommy is such a routine he often follows me in chattering away about whatever it is that interests him that day. I'm so used to this routine, that I have to remind myself to close the bathroom door when I'm at friends'.

Last Thursday, we were following this normal bathroom ritual; Maggie briefly occupied in her playpen, when Max looks at me quizzically, "Maxi poops?"

Not really listening, I replied, "Yes, Mommy is going potty."

He repeats his previous phrase a little more loudly and with a whine at the end "Maxi poop-EEEEEEEE?" because maybe now, Mommy will pay attention.

Startled, and a little confused, I looked up at him, "Is Maxi going poop?"

He nods his head yes. I was used to this, as he has been alerting us for weeks now about activity in his diaper. A preliminary inspection reveals his diaper is still clean.

I start to get a little excited, as he repeats his phrase raising the volume each time, "MAXI POOPS!!!!!"

I ask him tentatively, "Does Maxi want to use the potty?" He solemnly nods his head, yes.

"OK," and I start to remove his diaper.

When I pick him up to set him on the potty, he locks his long legs around my body crying "NO!"

"Ok, you don't have to," and I put him down.

He repeats his phrase, "Maxi poops.”

This sequence of events repeats a few more times before I get a brainstorm.

I close the lid of the toilet, and ask him, "Do you want to sit on the toilet now?" He nods yes, and I pick him up, he screams again, but I sit him down anyways. After about 3 seconds, he realizes he is OK and starts laughing hysterically.

Suddenly, I remember the children's step-stool potty stored in our other bathroom. We had briefly courted with the idea of potty training this winter, and purchased one, but after reading the first chapter of the book decided neither he nor we were ready.

With Max following me excitedly, quipping his new favorite phrase, I quickly dig the potty out and install it on the toilet, the whole time sure that Max is going to fulfill his prophecy on the floor before I get it installed.

As I'm installing it, Maggie starts to cry, but I don't want to lose this moment with him, so I ignore her. Once Max is safely on top of the pot, I quickly retrieve Maggie who wants to eat. Max is thrilled with this new throne, and chatters away about it for several minutes. I hover over him expectantly holding fussy Maggie. Nothing happens. Five minutes pass. Nothing happens.

Trying not to let the disappointment show on my face, I look at him, and ask, "All done?"

"NO!"

This is going to take a little longer. So, I sit down on the floor to start nursing Maggie who is now voluminously voicing her displeasure at not being fed on demand.

"Mama, Maggie, go!" Have I ever mentioned that the hardest thing about your child learning how to talk is when they start telling you what to do?

"I can't go honey," I can't leave him on my hastily installed potty that at any moment topple and send him plummeting two feet.

"Mama, Maggie, go!" Who is this kid, who has been accompanying me to the bathroom, his entire life, but is suddenly overcome by modesty?

"Ok," I relent, and Maggie and I retreat to the hallway the bathroom door open, Max in clear view.

I nurse Maggie, while Max blabbers away. When I'm finished nursing and burping her, I ask him if he is done, and wants to get down. He is emphatic in his dissent. I grab the bouncy chair from the living room and put Maggie in it next to me. I'm starting to get a little bored now as the initial excitement has worn off. I inspect the potty; there isn't even a drop of pee on it. Every time I ask him if he wants to get off, he refuses. So we wait.

Then a bell goes off in my head, my dad potty trained me in 3 days or so he claims. He sat me on the potty the entire time, feeding me food and drinks and entertaining me. So I run and grab his half-drank juice from breakfast and a book, Everyone Poops from the living room. Then I do what every good mother does, and I grab the camera. After a few shots of him reading the book on the toilet, he still refuses to get down from the toilet, yet this is yielding no results, I realized we are going to need a few more books, and a little bit more food. Eventually I install a bedside table next to him, complete with a neat stack of books, and a bowl of grapes, followed by cookies, followed by pretzels. I sat down again next to Maggie, feed her again, and call Paul to tell him what is happening. I'm the pinnacle of patience right now.

Suddenly I hear a stream of pee which Max inspects with his hands. Thrilled, I exclaim, and clap my hands. Maxi claps too. I ask him if he is all done, he still refuses to get off the toilet. A few minutes later, he poops, and I'm so proud of him when I can't get through to his father to share the news, I wake my mom up on the East Coast. .

Since Thursday, the novelty of the potty has worn off for Maxi. When he's not distracted or too busy, or he sees an opportunity to make Mommy put Maggie down, he lets me know when he has to use the potty. Since the first amazingly successful day, we have had a few pees and poops in the toilet, a few pees on the floor, and a whole lot of M&M rewards (read bribes). I introduced the M&M's to encourage Maxi to get off the toilet. Otherwise Max would spend half the day up there.

Something you never want to hear over the baby monitor

2009-07-08T17:05:00.003+02:00

Your cell phone ringing...

Memory like an Elephant (when it matters)

2009-07-08T15:48:00.007+02:00

Conversation between my parents, Paul and I. My mother was talking about how she has had a bad memory since she cracked her skull.

PAUL: (exasperated) Are you kidding me? You don't forget anything, your hold things against me that I said years ago. Imitating her in his best mother-in-law voice, "Well you said 'Blah, blah, blah'"
MY FATHER: (laughing) Paul, women have this special memory for the things we say that they can use against us later.
ME: The only reason women have this memory and men don't is because WE ACTUALLY LISTEN.

Sex After Baby

2009-07-08T15:37:00.005+02:00

Conversation between Paul and I about 3:00am in the morning, after Maggie woke up to eat.

PAUL: (groggily) She slurps too loudly. I'm going to sleep in Max's room.
ME: (bleary eyed) Humph.
PAUL: Is it OK?
ME: (still bleary eyed) Humph. I'd have a lot more sympathy for you if you helped me over the weekend.
PAUL: Humph. (as he leaves the room)

The next morning.

ME: Do you think you'll start sleeping on the couch now?
PAUL: Yeah, probably.
ME: If you think you aren't getting much sex now, you're going to get even less if you stop sharing my bed.

Paul hasn't left me in the middle of the night since.

PANIC and running around aimlessly

2009-07-07T12:53:00.008+02:00

My first day alone with the two children, and we ended up going to the emergency room before we'd even reached lunchtime. While I was attending Baby Maggie, my two-year-old, Max, got into his father's backpack and swallowed an unknown amount of hand-sanitizer. He ran into me crying, holding the half empty bottle trying to get it out of his mouth.

The hardest part about being in a foreign country where you don't speak the language, is dealing with emergencies,

My first reaction was to PANIC and run aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed, while trying to peel back the label for the promised "additional drug facts." After the 30 seconds which felt like forever it took me to peel back the label I read "Keep out of the reach of children. If swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center immediately."

My reaction more PANIC and more running aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed. I didn't know the phone number to a German poison control, nor can I speak German to someone on the phone. Not being able to use body language makes it almost impossible to communicate even with people who understand English pretty well.

My brain addled by the PANIC I was still feeling, I called my husband. He told me to call the ambulance, which was a pretty appropriate response to the amount of PANIC I was conveying over the phone, though not appropriate to the situation. Max was showing no signs or symptoms of being poisoned and was immensely enjoying chasing his wild eyed mother around the apartment.

The PANIC and running aimlessly around the house half-crazed briefly paused, and I told Paul I was going to call the pediatrician. This led to more PANIC and more running aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed in a wild search for my wallet which has the pediatrician's card on it, because when I am in PANIC mode, my brain can't compute the obvious. The wallet was in my bag where it belongs.

I tried calling, but after ringing a couple times, I got a strange message in German, and elevator music which is not at all soothing while PANICKING and running aimlessly around the apartment half-crazed because your two-year-old just swallowed an unknown amount of hand sanitizer. I hung up and dialed again, and got the same result. More PANIC, more running around aimlessly. I called Paul back and was met by a busy signal. More PANIC, more running around aimlessly.

Not sure what to do, I attempted the pediatrician again, at which point Paul showed up on call waiting. I told him I couldn't get through to the pediatrician, and he sensibly asked me if the pediatrician was open. I retorted, "Of course, the pediatrician is open." He suggested going straight to the pediatrician's office instead of calling.

My addled brain responded with, "THAT ISN'T EXACTLY EASY WITH TWO KIDS," no car, a stroller in the basement bike-room, and at least 30 minute door-to-door commute if I catch the bus at the exactly right moment.

His response, "That isn't the point, is it?"

My response, "Sometimes I hate you for bringing me here where I feel so helpless," which was really my way of saying, "I hate that you are being reasonable, while I am PANICING and running around the apartment aimlessly half-crazed." So I hung up and accidentally turned the phone off, which meant more PANIC and more running around aimlessly because I had to search in our file cabinet for the stupid pin number to turn the phone back on, because I can never remember it. Who puts stupid pin numbers on cell phone anyways?

After more PANIC and more running around aimlessly, I found the pediatrician's card that I had set down in the bathroom during a previous episode of PANIC and running around aimlessly. I looked at the back and realized that the pediatrician’s office was about to close for lunch and wouldn't be open again for another three-and-a-half hours, enough time for the hand-sanitizer to take effect, and my child would no longer be laughing while chasing his wild eyed mother around the apartment.

I called Paul back, and told him that I had to go to the emergency room. Still the voice of calm and reason, he told me he would call a Taxi when I was ready. So after I retrieved the baby's car seat from the attic and put shoes on Max and me, I made sure I had my wallet with health insurance cards, when I realized that I didn't have any cash. More PANIC and more running around aimlessly, I called Paul and told him I didn't have any cash to take a taxi. Still calm and reasonable, he told me to ask the Taxi to take me to a bank.

Once I was in the taxi, the PANIC and aimless running around subsided, because I now had a sense of direction, but mostly because I was restrained by the seat-belt. Max was sitting in the taxi's car seat happily babbling away about taxis and autos. We got to the children's hospital, and we were almost immediately triaged in to see a doctor. This was disappointing to Max who was having fun riding the carousel in the waiting room.

After the doctor contacted a Berlin Poison Institute about Max's choice of poison, she informed me that the amount missing from the 1oz bottle wasn't enough to do any harm. She still did a full examination of him to make sure that he wasn't showing any signs or symptoms of poisoning, and with a reassuring smile she told me that every child this age swallows something like this.

Crisis averted.

Stroller Poor

2009-07-06T11:38:00.010+02:00

When I purchased our fourth stroller, I thought it would be our last. I had no idea that I was already pregnant with my second child. We weren't trying to get pregnant at the time, and we thought by the time baby number two would come along, that Max would no longer need to ride in a stroller. So when we found out that Maggie was on her way, we started to explore how we could avoid getting a fifth stroller.

Our first attempt was to get the Buggy Board, a little board attached to the stroller where the older child can stand. Max did really well on the first test run. He seemed to really enjoy riding the stroller this way, until we reached a familiar path, and Max decided he would prefer to walk on his own. This made it enormously more difficult since Max likes to wander around taking his time picking up rocks and inspecting the bugs.

Paul decided we needed to "train" him to stay on the buggy board. That weekend we took Max shopping. He did great getting there, though it took all four hands to pop him on the bus, followed by the stroller, parking the stroller and getting him seated. Still, something I would be able to manage by myself with practice. Then we go to DM (a kind of CVS) where we needed to pick up a few things. As soon as we entered, Max popped off the buggy board. We tried to convince him to stay on the buggy board, but half way through the store he was too distracted to cooperate anymore. So, our next solution was to try him on the child size shopping carts. Max bounced around the store like a pin ball. Watching him run at full speed pushing the shopping cart through everyone and everything in his way was entertaining, but not practical.

Our next thought was to teach him to walk next to us while we pushed the stroller, holding his hand. Trying to convince a two year old to stay with you when there are so many tantalizing things on the shelves is harder than convincing U.S. Congressmen to impose term limits in Congress. Our next thought was to give him something to occupy his hands, so we picked the biggest item from our shopping bag, and gave that to him to carry. This actually worked several times, and it seemed we had a solution to shopping with our two-year-old on the loose.

Several times Paul and I ventured out with Max, strollerless. Usually our trips ended with Paul carrying Max home on his shoulders or asleep in his arms. Still we kept our heads in the sand, convinced that we would be able to get Max used to the buggy board or walking along side us.

Then Maggie was born. I could carry Maggie in a sling, and push Max in the stroller. This worked the first couple times, until I tried to go down the escalator at the train station. When I would bend over to hold the stroller, I had to use one of my hands to keep the baby from falling out of the sling. Max's safety now depended on my other hand holding the precariously perched stroller on the escalator. On shorter shopping trips I put Max on the buggy board and Maggie in the stroller. Max's first time off the buggy board, I gave him a giant bottle of water to keep his hands occupied. Shortly afterwards he had managed to pick up a Snickers bar and would have fit a few other items under his chin given more time.

The last straw was on the way home, when in typical two-year-old fashion, Max kicked and screamed in my arms the whole way home, while my mother pushed the baby stroller. This was the last straw. My mother wasn’t going to be in Germany forever to help me. I needed a double stroller with all the features I described here, and it needed to seat two children. There isn't a single double stroller that fits into our elevator, so I would have to enter the building via the garage and leave the stroller in the bike room. Still there were features we couldn’t live without, like big wheels for getting on and off the bus and trains. All the inexpensive tandems out there didn't have big wheels, and few of them are designed to balance on the back wheels long enough to ride down the escalator.

There was one stroller, the Phil and Ted's stroller that is ingeniously designed, with an sibling seat that fits under the stroller, but after seeing one in person, and its design flaws, I didn't feel like it was worth the money, 800€ after adding all necessary accessories. We didn’t want to pay that price when we hopefully won't be using the stroller for more than a year-and-a-half.

So it we started looking at side-by-side strollers with necessary feature, like the TFK, Urban Jungle or Easy Walker, but those prices were still sky-high. We looked at E-Bay and visited a family selling their double stroller. Even second hand, we were looking at spending at least 6oo€ for something we wouldn't use for very long.

We briefly considered buying Chariot’s bike trailer that doubles as a buggy. 1000€ doesn’t seem so bad, when a bike trailer can hold the children up until they are about six-years-old, and afterwards can be used to lug around groceries or any number of items you might want to take along with you on a bike ride. This we would be getting a lot more mileage for our money, but it was still a lot of cash, when we are trying to save for a car.

So back to the drawing board and after a full days search online, I found a little known stroller company, which makes the Crown. It still doesn't fit into the elevator, but it had all the desirable features plus some extra perks, and with all the accessories and shipping cost only 350€. The only thing I would change about the stroller is to make a larger storage compartment and to go back to one of their older models where they have two front wheels, not just one. Two wheels makes it much more stable when going up escalators or getting on to buses.

Now if only Pasing Bahnhof would finish the construction on their escalators and elevator, I’d be set.

Update: Within 3 months of purchasing this stroller, it started to fall apart, and I regret not buying a more expensive stroller.

Seven Year Itch?

2009-07-05T12:03:00.010+02:00

This morning when I was getting in the shower:

(Baby monitor goes off)
ME: Honey. can you handle her?
PAUL: Yes. (as he leaves the bathroom)
(Baby monitor goes silent)
ME: Honey, she put herself back to sleep.
PAUL: (no response)
ME: (a little louder) Honey, she put herself back to sleep.
PAUL: (snapping) I know, stop yelling, you'll wake her up.
ME: (defensively) I didn't think you could hear me.
PAUL: (popping his head into the shower) I went in there, I saw her, stop hounding me.

A few minutes later after I emerged from the bathroom, Paul was still in the apartment sitting on the couch with my mom and son. I was surprised to see him there, as he had to go into the office today.

ME: You are still here?
PAUL: (sheepish eyes) I didn't want to leave on a bad note.
ME: (heart melting) Sometimes I have to remind myself why I love you.

This has been typical of our conversations of late, the stress of having a new baby in the house, adjusting to sleep debt and adjusting to juggling two children.

We're entering the seventh year of our marriage and our ninth year together, though we spent so much time together those first two years, you could almost say we were already acting married. Over the years, we've weathered different storms, and right now I feel like our marriage is still very strong and happy. Through the difficult times, we both have had to remind ourselves why we love each other.

I realized Paul was my true love when I realized I could be 100% myself around him. He loved every bit of me, even the scary parts. Our relationship is comfortable like a pair of old tennis shoes. Sometimes they get stinky and itchy, but with a little work, some repairing of the sole or a new pair of laces to add some excitement, we've been able to make them comfortable and reliable once again.

Love you babe!

The Origins of "Ba-Ba-Boon"

2009-07-03T13:14:00.015+02:00

Max, Maggie, Oma (Grandma), Opa (Grandpa) and I spent all Wednesday at the Zoo. Maggie's experience was less memorable considering she slept the whole time.

Max had a very memorable experience. First glance of the polar bear exhibit is a bit dismal. If the exhibit in Berlin is Paradise, this one looked like a trailer park on the wrong side of town complete with floating debris in dirty water. However, timing is everything with the polar bear exhibit, and after my fourth visit to the Zoo, I finally had an "Ah-Ha "moment, and the reason behind the floating debris came clear.

After watching the playful Pavians on Baboon Island, Max perfected the word "Ba-Ba-Boon" because it so much more fun to say with the extra syllable.

Saying"Ba-Ba-Boon" lost some of its charm when the Mandrill intimidated Max.

Luckily the memory didn't last long, and Max has been saying "Ba-Ba-Boon" ever since.

The "Ba-Ba-Boon" might replace the "La-La" (Gorilla) as his favorite primate, as long as the Mandrill doesn't give him nightmares. Hmmm, maybe we should rent Lion King so he can see the Mandrill isn't such a bad guy.

P.S. If you are reading this on Facebook, you can get a fuller experience from viewing my blog where you can watch the videos.

"Ba-ba-boon"

2009-07-03T08:03:00.004+02:00

Adding the extra syllable makes it so much more fun to say.

Bumble-Bees Say Bzzzzz....

2009-07-02T15:38:00.012+02:00

One of Maxi's favorite things to do is tell you what the animals say. When he was just about 1-year-old, he started imitating our dog panting, and the meows of our cats. Since then he has acquired many more animal and bug sounds, and loves to identify the different creatures in his books and on his shelves. Because he loves animals so much, I never guessed his reaction when encountering the real thing.

On our walks with Asia, Max started identifying the various bugs he saw, ants on the sidewalks, butterflies in the fields, snails in the path etc. On this particular walk he saw bees buzzing amongst the flowers. He stopped to look at them, and knowing his curiosity, I told him to be careful, not to bother the bees, because bees sting and stings hurt.

Shortly after we reached the field and started to walk down the path, Max let out a shriek and started crying. I rushed over to him thinking he had been hurt, and in sobs he said "bumble-bee," and put his arms up saying "up-up". I picked him up, and wiped away the tears, after which he immediately stopped crying, so I knew he wasn't seriously hurt. I started to set him back down on the path, which resulted in more crying and shrieking. Paul and I both tried to convince him to walk on his own, explaining that there were no bumble-bees, only flies, but he refused to walk, backing up against me crying and screaming"UP-UP." Once we were safely off the path he piped up "Bye-bye bumble-bee," as if nothing had happened.

A couple days later, Max got something in his eye, and started sobbing "bumble-bee" which leads me to believe that the day we were in the field, Max was reacting to a fly that flew into his eye.

About a week after that, Max woke up with a piercing shriek. Paul rushed into his room, where Max was sobbing "bumble-bee." Paul had to shake out all his blankets and his pillow to show Max that there were no bumble-bees in his bed. My poor baby had a nightmare.

Take Two...

2009-05-27T15:24:00.005+02:00

Even though I had been told the second baby would be easier, I didn't believe it until it actually happened. From day zero, baby number two has been 100 times easier.

Pre-Delivery: With Max, I read every book about labor and delivery inside and out. Paul and I took a birthing class, and we practiced various massage techniques, visualization and positions to ease the pain. I even wrote out my ideal birthing plan. With Maggie, I didn't read a single book, not even a single website about labor and delivery. It didn't hit me how unprepared I was until I started having hard contractions. I didn't even remember how to breath. Luckily deep breaths in and out seemed to suffice.

Labor and Delivery: With Max, I was in labor for 10 hours. It started with my water breaking followed immediately by contractions every two minutes. I was begging for an epidural even though I originally wanted to try and do it drug free. I also had an episiotomy that cut so deeply into the muscle, that the midwives were worried about it tearing with my second baby. With Maggie, I had been having contractions off and on for several days, so I wasn't sure if I was actually in labor or not. By the time I was convinced that I really was in labor, we left for the hospital only three hours before the baby was born. My midwife had to break my water when it was time to push. I had no time for drugs.

Breastfeeding: It took six weeks for Max and I to learn the art of breastfeeding. Maggie immediately took to the breast, before we had even left the delivery room and has been eating like a champ ever since.

Sleep Debt: Max wanted to sleep all the time, and probably would have if I hadn't been so histrionic about him needing to eat every four hours during the night. Maggie has been sleeping six to seven hours every night since she was born, eating well during the day, and is already back to birth weight in the first week.

Stress Levels: Paul and I struggled the early weeks with the stress of feeding Max and adjusting to the sleep debt. This time around, we are so much more relaxed about the little things and of course it helps that we are sleeping well.

Baby Blues: I cried every day for several weeks after Max was born, I haven't cried once with Maggie. I suspect I won't get the baby blues this time, at least not until Paul has gone back to work and my mother has returned to the United States. Then I might be singing a different tune.

Temperament: It's a wonder that Max turned into such a relaxed child after the struggles of his early weeks and his crazy parents. Maggie so far seems to be pretty relaxed, but I suppose we'll find out with time how her personality develops.

What I've learned: I have to agree with my girlfriend Pernille's grandmother, "Easy parents lead to easy babies."

Introducing...

2009-05-27T15:05:00.011+02:00

Maggie Ruth

May 21, 2009 8:11am

3450 g (7 lbs 10 oz)

53 cm (21 inches)

Purl, Knit, Purl, Knit

2009-04-14T09:57:00.005+02:00

Right before Christmas of 2007, I found a new interest in knitting. My oldest sister is a fabulous knitter, and I was quick to tap into her for advice and information. After I finished my first project, a Christmas stocking, I quickly got distracted with other things, like our new house, our new city, and the million and one activities I was involving Max in from story time at the Staunton Public Library to Buggy Busters in Gypsy Hill Park.

Now that I'm back in Germany, where knitting is pretty prominent, at least amongst the older generation, I started to get interested in it again. My big sister also got me hooked on Ravelry.com, where I found out that a local English speaking knitting group meets every week for what is affectionately termed "Stitch n' Bitch." My fellow knitters range from University students to working professionals, parents and single people, and there are from all over the world. The one thing they all have in common, other than their English and living in Munich, is how utterly awesome they are.

This group has been a much needed escape for me. It's been great to meet people, and do something that isn't based on the commonality of having children alone.

Carrot Cake Cupcakes with White Chocolate Cream Cheese Frosting

2009-04-14T09:50:00.006+02:00

Another, yummy, yummy recipe.

I did a test run on these over the weekend for Max's 2nd birthday party next weekend. The cupcakes themselves were fabulous, but I'm going to try a healthier alternative to the recipe by using considerably less sugar, substituting a whole wheat, wheat germ and white flour mix for the white flour, and substituting apple sauce for the vegetable oil. As for the frosting, both my husband and I thought it was too sweet and not cream cheesy enough, so I'm going to double the amount of cream cheese and half the amount of confectioners sugar. I'm going to do another trial run this week. If it turns out well, I'll repeat it for this weekend's party.

Edited: The alternative worked out great. I substituted a equal part mixture of Wheat Germ, Whole Wheat Flour and White Flour for the all purpose flour. I also substituted apple sauce for the oil, and used only half of the called for sugar. For the forsting, I used twice the cream cheese, and only half a cup of the powdered sugar. I didn't use the cream at all. This was also really yummy, and I had to restrain myself from eating the whole bowl of frosting. On a side note, you need less than half of this frosting to cover the cupcakes, so keep that in mind.

Yummy, Yummy Chicken

2009-04-14T09:38:00.004+02:00

I have a new favorite recipe to add to the my list. I only made a few changes based on some of the reviews and to satisfy my own tastes. The first change I made was to use veggie stock instead of chicken stock. Next, instead of using Sun Dried tomatoes, I used cherry tomatoes, which I added to the frying pan with the chicken, and then into the broth of the baking pan. I only added 1/2 the stock to the baking pan and a drizzle of balsamic. The 1/2 cup of balsamic, I combined in the frying pan with half the stock. Once it reduced by 1/2, I added 1 tbsp of mustard and 2 tbsp of butter, which I then added to the baking dish in the last 10 minutes. Also, on a side note, it took about 45 minutes for the chicken to cook all the way through, not the 15-20 minutes prescribed in the recipe. I didn't add any salt or pepper for taste.

Subtle Differences

2009-04-14T08:03:00.006+02:00

Anyone who moves to a new country, and or new city, notices the differences. Some of these differences make life more difficult, i.e. not knowing the language makes it much harder to decipher a bill or do your own taxes. Some differences are inconsequential, like different food brands. Some differences make life easier, like the fact that the ATM gives your ATM card back before it gives you the cash. No one ever forgets to take the cash they just debited, but how many times has an ATM card has been left behind in the machine?

And then there are the differences that make your life spectacular... especially in Bavaria. For example, we just had a four day weekend, because not only is Easter Sunday a State holiday, but so is Good Friday and Easter Monday. Bavaria has six more public holidays than most of Germany. In 2009, 21* public holidays fall during the work week. Furthermore, we also are guaranteed 30 days of vacation. For the kids, they get out of school for 14 weeks** in six chunks through out the year over the seasons. Now I might be scratching my head, wondering how great this is when my kids are home this much, but I bet that my kids are going to be thrilled. No wonder Germans travel so much.

The only downside to all of these Holidays is that it doesn't only close businesses like my husbands office, but it also closes the stores. So, you had better have all your groceries bought before the holidays start, because there is no where to go to pick up a last minute bottle of milk. The only exception to this rule is gas stations, restaurants and tourist attractions like castles and museums. The same is true of Sundays. With the exceptions of restaurants, gas stations and tourist attractions, everything is closed. At first this was annoying we were used to being able to run out on Sundays for some last minute item we needed at the store, and sometimes we did our grocery shopping on Sundays. Now that we've adjusted, we are forced to relax and enjoy ourselves on Sundays. There will be no running errands on Sundays here. And if for some reason we don't have groceries, we have to go out to eat. Shucks.

Furthermore it's rare that you meet many Germans who work longer than 50 hours a week, and most only work 40 hours.

Now this might make you think, this can't be good for business. The German economy must be in the hole. However, according to the IMF, World Bank and CIA Factbook, Germany has the fifth highest GDP in the world, following the United States, Japan, China and India. Yet it only has 82 million people, compared to the USA's 306 million, Japan's 127 million, China's 1.3 billion, and India's 1.7 billion. I'd also like to point out these figures are after West and East Germany reunited, and it is after Germany converted to the Euro, both which were huge drags on the German economy.

So, Germany must be doing something right. It proves that there can be a comfortable balance between quality of life and productivity. You don't have to work like a dog to be profitable.

*I might have the exact number off here, but it is still signficantly larger than it was at home.

**To see the specific holidays check http://www.deutschland.de/aufeinenblick/ferientermine.php?lang=2

Genius or Stupid?

2009-04-14T07:36:00.006+02:00

So last week Paul and I visited the KVR, or the Kreisverwaltungsreferat; try saying that five times fast. This is the big scary government office where we apply for and hopefully recieve residence permits. We were trying to get permanent residence permits for Max and I. For whatever reason when we moved here, they gave Paul one, but not his wife and child. Everyone else we know the spouse and children receive the same duration permit as the other spouse. However, we were told that Max and I had to be here five years, before we could apply for a permanent permit. Not ones willing to leave a place empty handed, we also asked if I was eligible for the Integration course.

The Integration course is a German language course combined with German history, German government 101, how to manage German bureaucracy etc. This course is extremely more affordable than taking classes on your own, as we only have to pay 1€ per class hour. Many of my friends who are here because they married a German were offered or mandated this course, but few of us who are here with our non-German spouses received it. The bureacrats at the KVR I guess took pity on me however, and offered me the course.

Now I have to take the class within three months of receiving the Certificate of Entitlement. Only the class close to our home starts two weeks after the baby is due. It's two and a half hours four times a week in the evenings. I'm not quite sure how it's going to go, as I'll be completely exhausted. I might be a very poor student. However, like I said, it was either complete genius or utter stupidity.

Edited to add: After further inspection, I realized that the Certificate of Entitlement is good for two years. The three month thing is regarding the course registration.

The Second Time Around...

2009-04-09T12:35:00.002+02:00

When I was pregnant with Max, I read every single book we could find about pregnancy and infant development. I even read every book out there about getting pregnant, and then later about childhood development. I'm not sure when it happened, but at some point, I stopped reading, and it was the best thing I ever did as a parent.

It might have had something to do with the fact that Max didn't start walking until he was 18 months. I got tired of reading all of the things that my child should or shouldn't be doing at such and such month, and I was tired of worrying. As long as my pediatrician wasn't concerned, I wasn't going to worry.

Max has pretty much developed at his own pace, and I've learned to accept that about him. He lifted his head and sat on his own, much later than the books suggest is normal. And, he never crawled. He only started doing his ape-like shuffle at 11 months, when a lot of other babies have already started walking. Yet, he was able to throw a ball and stack blocks way earlier than what the books suggest is normal.

As a mom, I've realized children will learn new things in their own time and in their own way. We briefly forayed into potty training, to quickly realize that he wasn't ready yet. Just sitting him on the toilet sent him screaming. We were mildly concerned about transitioning him from his crib to his bed, but he did that on his own over Christmas. One day, he decided to sleep in a bed, and after that we never put him back in the crib. We don't have a problem with him getting out of his bed like some other parents do. The same thing happened with introducing a pillow, a blanket, a straw-cup, and now a regular cup, and pretty much every major developmental milestone.

The kid does things on his own, when he wants to. I suspect, that this will make it easier for us to parent our second child. At least we won't be worried about her doing things too late or too early. The pressure for her to live up to the expectation of the child development books won't be there. I've not read a single book about pregnancy this time, and I've only briefly skimmed the weekly emails I get about her development. I'm not even concerned about taking another birthing class.

Reading books about discipline however, that is a whole other story...

We have a fully functioning new computer...

2009-03-31T12:29:00.009+02:00

...in German.

We recently purchased a new desktop computer to replace our barely functioning notebook. My notebook was getting so bad, that most of the letters had faded off the keys, the Z key went missing, the left mouse button only worked when it felt like it, and there were many many things I could no longer do on my laptop. It was time for the old girl to be retired.

Generally we put a lot of research and thought into a purchase of this size. However, as it happens our new computer ended up being a total impulse purchase. We happened to be in Le Buffet the restaurant at the top of Karstadt Hauptbahnhof Saturday night. As I was heading for the escalators, I went by the computer section noticing that many of their computers were on sale at a fraction of their original cost, and before we left, I dragged Paul back through the computer section.

We talked to the computer sales person for awhile, and he showed us a couple models to choose between. We decided to go home and talk about it, and come back the following weekend to make our purchase. However, for some reason, we decided to turn around right then and go back and make the purchase. It ended up being the last model other than the display model, they had in the store. The poor sales guy was trying to go home, and the store was closing, but the manager decided to let us purchase it anyways.

After we lugged it home, or Paul lugged it home via S-Bahn, bus and trail, in a drizzling rain, we were too exhausted to unpack it and set it up. The following morning, we tried to set up a computer in a language we barely know. Not only were we trying to translate German, but we were trying to translate German computer speak, or more specifically German Microsoft speak which is confusing enough on its own.

The first thing we tried to do was change the operating language from German to English, not realizing that you can't do that in Windows Vista Home operating system without an upgrade and purchasing a language pack. We did manage to change the keyboard to a US English keyboard, which isn't helpful at all since it's a German keyboard. I also managed to accidentally delete the German keyboard settings, which Paul somehow magically fixed.

Next we tried the Internet. So far, we've been able to just plug in our USB cable into my laptop and Paul's work laptop without a problem; this wasn't the case with the new computer. The new computer kept saying it didn't recognize the network. So after doing a snails paced search on the Internet, we uncovered all kinds of problems that people have had with their Internet and Windows Vista, and the network card. We also called a couple of our computer nerd friends and family, but they weren't able to help us either.

We were dreading contacting Karstadt, and HP to try and resolve the issue through broken German, but Paul was going to do suffer through it, and he was going to lug the new computer back to the store so they could show him how to fix the problem. He emailed HPs support desk and gave them my contact info so they could contact me during the day. So today after I received HPs email, I logged on to the new computer to tell the the exactly error message we were getting, and suddenly the Internet was working!

I have no idea how it resolved itself, and I don't care. Now if I can just get used to the German keyboard.

"Would you like fries with that?"

2009-03-13T15:05:00.003+01:00

In my teen years and during University, I worked in several restaurants. This was how I earned my extra income while in school. Because of my experience, I generally have a lot of patience with restaurant servers, and I understand when someone is having a bad day.

German customer service is notoriously bad, especially in restaurants. Generally this is because servers don't work for tips. They actually get paid a decent wage, so they aren't trying to turn tables, or sell you more food to get a larger tip. There are benefits and disadvantages to this. One of the benefits is that you can sit at your table as long as you want, even if you only ordered a coffee... Of course the flip side to this, is that if there are no tables available when you show up to a restaurant, and you don't have a reservation, they will turn you away. No waits lists at German restaurants. The first time we went out to dinner here, it tooks us three restaurants before we could find a table. It was well worth it though, because we had the most fabulous Turkish food complete with belly dancing entertainment.

You get used to not being waited on hand and food, and you adjust to having to flag a server down when you want something like another drink, or the bill. Generally the servers are friendly or at least cordial. And of course, Max tends to charm them all.

Well, for the first time in my life, I didn't leave a tip. I have never had such deplorable service, as I did yesterday. Max and I met my girlfriend and her son for brunch yesterday at the Stadt Cafe, near the Stadt Museum and Synagogue in downtown Munich. It wasn't a fancy restaurant, it's a Cafe. We specifically choose this restaurant because it's pretty open, it's large, and it's casual. Usually these are the things we look for when looking for restaurants to take our children.

Apparently the server did not like children, because she was rude to us from the get go. When she first came over, she lectured us not to let the children play with the menus, because they were very expensive to make. WTF? I've worked in restaurants, and menus get destroyed just by the nature of the business. They get food on them, they get dog eared. Sometimes they get burned with cigarettes. Our children playing with the menus was hardly going to hurt them. These weren't fancy menus either. They were laminated paper, that's it. And, I'm sorry, I know that multi-colored menus cost more to print, but if you're worried about your menu getting destroyed, maybe it's too expensive for the restaurant.

Ok, so we removed the menus from the children's reach, and let them play with our keys instead. Well, the server was rude and inhospitable the entire time we were there. I was very excited because the menu had a PastramiBagel "New York" style on it. Bagels are hard to come by in Germany, and New York style bagels are even harder. Well, when our food came back, it wasn't a New York bagel, it wasn't even a bagel. It was foccacia bread. I was very disappointed.

So, the next time she was within reach of the table, I told her that it wasn't a bagel, and in a very snotty voice, she said, Oh, we're all out of bagels. Ummmm, couldn't you have told me that after I ordered, before you brought the meal out? Now, I'd have to wait another 30 minutes to order something else, so of course I ate it anyways. It just wasn't a bagel.

Finally, as we're leaving, my girlfriend had her two year old son tell the server goodbye. The lady completely snubbed him, wouldn't even look at him, or crack a smile. Instead she got up, and walked away.

If I had left a tip on the table, at this point, I would have gone back and removed it.

To me, this kind of service isn't just bad customer service, but it's bad business. It shouldn't matter that we had children. It shouldn't matter if we were in wheelchairs, or if we were a different race. We were paying customers, and our demographic of stay-at-home moms, we're the biggest spenders out there. And if you are nice to our children, we will tip generously.

Goodbye American Modesty

2009-02-23T07:54:00.003+01:00

The first time I went to a prenatal appointment in Germany, I was in for a bit of surprise. When I hid behind the curtain to change out of my clothes, I was confused. Where were the customary hospital gowns or at least the paper blanket to cover up?.

I peaked back out from behind the curtain, and asked the nurse for something to cover up with. She looked at me funny, and then to my friend Amelie who came along to be my translator. Amelie having been through a OB/GYN appointment in Germany already was quick to explain.

She explained to me, that here they don't provide hospital gowns or paper blankets. I had forgotten how comfortable Germans were with nudity. Well, when in Rome... Anyways, for future appointments, I found a compromise that I was comfortable with. I always wore my longest maternity shirt whenever going to for a prenatal appointment. By the time Max was born, I was comfortable getting undressed without a prenatal gown. And well, after I gave birth to Max, I had completely lost my modesty anyways.

Now when I go to the OB for prenatal appointments, I have no problem getting undressed, though I do find it a bit strange that they still provide you with a curtain to get undressed behind.

Overheard

2009-02-04T20:26:00.023+01:00

Like many other parents of toddlers, we've starting the tour of kindergartens, visiting open houses, filling out applications and setting up the all important personal interviews. Kindergarten in Germany more like preschool in the United States. Children attend kindergarten from three to six years old, and it isn't mandatory, though there are many public kindergartens available. Children don't start formal schooling until six years old.

At first I was rather opposed to sending Max to a kindergarten, much less one of the two year programs that many kindergartens offer. I am not ready to give Max up. If we were in the States, we definitely would not be considering preschool yet.

However, Paul made a very convincing argument. Max needs to learn German, and he isn't going to learn it at home. Many children don't start speaking until three or older, so it would not be a stigma for Max in a two year program. However, if we wait until he's older to expose him to the language on a consistent basis, it could be a problem. We've heard horror stories of children who speak only English and start school, and are completely ignored by the other children. We don't want Max to feel socially isolated, so we need to get him into a language program earlier while it will still be easy for him to learn.

Because the language is the main factor in our kindergarten search, we've decided against the bi-lingual kindergartens. We've also crossed off the parochial kindergartens, as well as the public kindergartens after a very underwhelming visit to the local public kindergarten.

This leaves us to the private kindergartens. From what I can tell, there are three main categories of private kindergartens. There are the kindergartens that are more like day-cares. There are the kindergartens that are practically college prep, and there are kindergartens that fall somewhere in between. There are also different types of pedagogue, Montessori, Parent-Child-Initiative, Waldorf, and probably some others that I don't even know about.

After next week, we'll have visited four kindergartens and interviewed at three. I already have my favorites picked out, but we'll see what happens after all is said and done.

Borscht

2009-02-04T20:22:00.003+01:00

I added a new recipe to my Favorite Recipe Corner (bottom right). I altered the recipe just slightly by using three diced beets which I left in the stew, and I also added some garlic and stew meat. I made this deicision after reading the reviews of the recipe. I was very impressed with how this stew turned out, and I really though the sour cream added the right touch.

ETA: I removed the recipe corner, and am from now on just linking the recipe directly to the post.

First Impressions; Flashback to Munich Part I

2009-02-03T16:12:00.007+01:00

WARNING: This is a really long post about pre-natal health care.

When I was pregnant with Max, I was considerably more ambitious about recording my pregnancy experience than I am this time; I kept a journal as well as sent various emails to all of my family about our experience. Here is an edited snippet from an email about my first impression of pre-natal and labor and delivery care in Munich.

"We finally found an Obstetrician. In Germany, they (the proverbial they) recommend that you pick where you want to give birth, and then find the doctor. We went to an orientation at the Frauenklinik Roten Kreuz (the women’s Red Cross hospital). It was amazing. It was a beautiful hospital, very clean and all the latest technology. They have an on-site NICU. The doctors are all highly regarded, and they are one of the few hospitals that have been able to maintain a highly qualified and full nursing staff despite the nursing shortages. The hospital is number three in the country for obstetrics.

Hindsight: Reading between the lines, many of our friends and family were concerned that the "socialized" health care in Germany would be a detriment to the quality of care I and my new baby received. I went a bit overboard in reassuring everyone that I was getting care on par with the care in the States.

They use the latest technology in Cesareans which has the shortest recovery time. And they have all the pain medicine available should you choose to use them. However, pain medication is not encouraged.

Hindsight: Again, I had to reassure everyone that I was getting the best care. While it's true that they try to encourage you to have the baby naturally, my midwife was the first to suggest the epidural to me. I was only half way through the labor, and she could tell that I wasn't dealing with the pain well. I have a very low threshold for pain, and a high intolerance for discomfort. She read me very well, and I don't regret the epidural at all. I received the epidural six hours into the labor at two cm dilated. I fell asleep immediately after the epidural, and when I woke up I was fully dilated, and ready to go.

Every birth is assisted by a doctor and a Nurse Midwife.

Hindsight: While this was true, it was really the Nurse Midwife who did all the work. The only reason the OB ever came in to the room was to make the episiotomy. They have doctors on hand for complications, but they don't do the brunt of the work for the majority of the births.

They have eight birthing rooms with all kinds of birthing assistance. Over the bed is a rope/towel thing hanging from the ceiling to help you situate yourself. There was a birthing ball, a birthing stool, and they recommend all kinds of different ways to help ease the pain. They also have three birthing tubs, which they highly recommend using to deal with the pain of labor. They offer aroma therapy, homeotherapy and an extensive library of music for you to play during the birth. They encourage you to bring anything from home that will make you comfortable from candles and scents to music.

Hindsight: The only thing I really took advantage of was the birthing tub, and the minute I got out of the tub, the pain got 10xs worse. This time around, I'm hoping to stay in the tub longer, because I really do believe that it is much better for pain management.

Standard of care is to stay in the klinik for three to four days afterwards. They have lactation consultants to help you learn to breast-feed, and a special nursing room with the gliding rocking chairs and nursing pillows. They also have a room with a glass ceiling so you can see the stars, where they encourage you to use the time to bond as a new family. If they have the space, they’ll let you have your own room and the father can stay overnight.

Hindsight: This paragraph highlights the best parts about my hospital stay. Max and I spent four days in the hospital afterwards. I only had a roommate for half the time I was there, and Paul, Max and I spent a lot of time in the atrium once my roommate moved in. The nurses were so fabulous too. I would have given up breastfeeding if it wasn't for the encouragement and support I had received from them. Afterwards I sent all the nurses chocolate as a Thank You.

Oh and they have classes before and after the pregnancy that are free of charge. They have everything from your “crash course” on birthing to back building exercises and gymnastics. They also have a class after the birth to help you get back in shape.

Hindsight: The classes aren't really free of charge; your health insurance pays for them. However, it was still really fabulous to have them available. We went to a different pre-natal class, which was lead by an English speaking midwife. I didn't take advantage of the post-natal get back in shape class, but I've gotten mixed reviews on its quality. For health insurance to pay for it, you have to enroll three months after giving birth, and the quality of the class depends on the midwife leading it. My friends who attended the classes, all said that it was pretty low-impact, which I guess is good if you just recently had a baby. However, I'm generally only into high impact exercise classes like spin and kickboxing.

And, if you’re really alternative you can get acupuncture for 15 Euros to help you with the discomforts of late pregnancy. I’m not that adventurous, though if I get desperate, we’ll see.

Hindsight: I didn't take advantage of this, but I have friends who did and really thought it helped them.

The hospital is amazing, and the doctor that gave the orientation is going to be my doctor He told us that most of the doctors and Nurses speak English, and they will make sure that we have English speakers in the birthing room with us. If a shift ends in the middle of your labor, they actually take an hour with the next staff person to get them up to speed."

Hindsight: This wasn't true at all. All of the doctors spoke very good English, but only a few of the nurses knew more than a few words. However, it wasn't difficult to communicate with my Midwife at all. She was one of the most experienced midwives in the hospital, and though she didn't speak a lick of English, and we spoke very little German, we had no problem communicating with her. She was really awesome, and came to visit me after the birth of the baby in my hospital room. We also had no problem communicating with the nurses despite the language barrier.

New Addition to the Blog

2009-01-27T19:05:00.005+01:00

I've decided to add my favorite recipes to the blog. In the bottom right hand corner, you'll find a link to my favorite recipes each week. In last week's veggie delivery, I received a Hokkaidokürbis, or a golden hubbard squash. It is an absolutely beautiful squash, and it made a wonderfully delicious soup. The maple spiced hazelnuts added a really nice touch.

ETA: Instead of a favorite recipe corner, I've decided to link directly to the recipe in my posts.

Six Months in Munich

2009-01-26T10:07:00.009+01:00

This past Friday, Paul got his six month review at work. Now, normally this wouldn't seem like such a big deal, but for us it is. In Germany, the first six months is a probationary period, and companies can fire the person with no reason, and the person can quit with no reason. After the probationary period has passed, it becomes increasingly difficult for a company to discharge an employee, and an employee has to give three months notice.

What seems commonplace to most Germans, had my husband near ecstasy. Knowing that his job is secure as long as the company is secure is a huge weight off his shoulders. He has really enjoyed his position, and he really enjoys working with his colleagues. To know that our place in Germany is secure, and we can stay here indefinitely, well that's just about sends him into the clouds.

Now, that our place here is looking more permanent, and we aren't going to be packing up a shipping container anyway soon, we've decided to start making some permanent decisions, like replacing the light bulbs hanging from our ceilings with real light fixtures, purchasing an espresso machine*, and searching for kindergartens**.

Yes, Munich, we've purchased an espresso machine, we are here to stay.

* More on the importance of owning an espresso machine in Munich later.
** More on our kindergarten search later.

Baby Boom?

2009-01-26T09:42:00.011+01:00

I don't know much about population studies, and it might be my age, but seems like there are an extraordinary number of women who are having babies in 2009, or are trying to get pregnant. Off the top of my head, I can think of 20 women I know who are pregnant, between friends from the States, family members, friends in Europe and classmates from high school and at least two friends who are openly trying to get pregnant. And everyone I know who is pregnant, seems to have the same feeling, that there are a lot of pregnant women right now.

When I was pregnant with Max, I had a few friends who were pregnant, and I made a few new friends through the pregnancy, but it was nothing like the babies coming out of the woodwork this year. People seemed more conservative, not sure if they wanted to reproduce, and if they did, they only wanted one, maybe two offspring. In the last year or so, people seem to be less conservative about breeding, and there seems to be a sense of optimism about the future. Perhaps, it's in the air, or perhaps it's just my age, but it seems like we're starting a baby boom.

In honor of the 44th President of the United States of America, Barack Obama, I'm dubbing this generation the "Baby 'Bama Generation." We'll see if I'm right, and historically this and the next years prove to be a contemporary baby boom.

Assimilation

2008-12-17T13:13:00.005+01:00

The other day I called the veterinarian to schedule an appointment for my dog. She needed her regular vaccinations. In my broken German, I started in on the conversation with my usual, "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, aber mein Deutsch ist nicht sehr gut. Ich habe einen Hund, und ich würde gerne einen Termin," meaning "I'm sorry, but my German is very poor. I have a dog, and I would like to make an appointment". The receptionist on the other end rattled off a endless stream of German, and me completely lost as to what she was saying started again rather pathetically with "Ich habe einen Hund." (I have a dog). Exasperated, she responded with "Do you speak English?" which I very enthusiastically affirmed.

My own struggles with learning German has given me new appreciation for the immigrants in my home country. While I was never such a hardliner as to say "If you're in the USA, you should speak English," I did feel strongly that newcomers should be putting their best effort forward to learn the language of their new country and that they should assimilate.

However, I never before realized the difficulty of learning a new language. Even if you're studying a language every day, and you're trying very hard to learn the language, it will be years possibly longer before you become fluent in the language.

I've made a couple big mistakes in my efforts learning the langugage. The first mistakes, is that I've found my little security net of English speakers, where I'm very comfortable. Sound familiar? The second mistake, is that I have not put my best effort into learning the new language. I can give you all kinds of excuses, from "everyone knows English here" to "I'm pregnant, and don't have the energy to learn right now." The truth though, is that I'm just completely overwhelmed by the effort it takes, and it's just easier to not put in the required effort. And I'm also hesitant about trying to speak German because I know how bad my German is, and that people rarely understand me.

Well, the very fact that I'm a mother, makes it 10 fold more important that I learn German. While a whole lot of people know English, not everyone does. As my very good friend and teacher who is fluent in both Spanish and English puts it to the Spanish speaking parents of her students, you need to learn English so you can advocate for your child. Well, I need to learn German, much for the same reason.

So while, it's a little early to make New Year's resolution, this is going to be my most important resolution. First, I'm not going to stay comfortable in my little network of English speakers. I'm joining a German speaking playgroup without any of my English speaking friends. Second, I'm going to start studying the language on a daily basis, not just when I feel like it. And third, I'm going to be willing to embarrass myself in front of fluent speakers at the supermarket, at the banks, at the post office, everywhere. Because, lets be honest, embarrassment is going to be the key to me learning the language.

Zuckerhut & Knollensellerie

2008-11-23T17:34:00.003+01:00

In a previous blog, I wrote about my experience with Community Supported Agriculture in Virginia, and how it changed my culinary life by introducing all sorts of new vegetables like pak choy and beets. In Munich, I recently joined something similar to Community Supported Agriculture, only it’s on a much larger scale, and they deliver. Every Tuesday I receive a delivery including a box full of organic produce, but I’m also receiving milk, cheese, bread, eggs, and various other odds and ends though it like olive oil. I could even order organic beers and wines if I desired. The best part about it, is that I can receive the produce year round receiving deliveries once a week or less.

With my first order, this past Tuesday, I received two items in my produce box, I’ve never heard of before, not even in English. Zuckerhut, translates into sugar loaf, and it looks similar to a large head of romaine, but it’s more bitter. The second is Knollensellerie which translates to celeriat or celery root. Not to confuse, this isn’t actually the root of celery, the plant that grows out of this root doesn‘t even represent celery abstractly. The edible part of the plant looks like a very large knobby white root.

Once I had these vegetables translated, I started to search for recipes. None of my cookbooks, nor my favorite recipe websites had them, except for one French Onion soup recipe, of which I‘m not a big fan. Google was the most friendly to celeriat, and I found out that it’s the most common vegetable put in the compost bin. I also found that it makes a delicious soup when sautéed with garlic and onion and puréed with milk and cream. A Google search of Sugar Loaf turned up things like the ski resort and other non-produce related items. When I added the term “vegetable” to my search, I eventually discovered deep in the search results that Sugar Loaf is a type of chicoree, and should be used with balsamic vinegar or cream to make it less bitter. I never actually found a recipe for it, but did find that it‘s most commonly used in salads. Paul, the ever willing guinea pig, tried it in a salad with balsamic vinegar, but couldn’t take it. So I decided to experiment and substitute it for spinach in a potato, leek, spinach quiche.

Quiche is a really popular dish in German bakeries, so I was really surprised, when I couldn’t find ready made curst or a single pie tin the largest grocery store in Munich’s metropolitan area. After talking to my friends, I realized that to get a proper pie tin, I have to visit an import store, or import it myself. Last time I tried to make my own pie crust for apple pie, it turned out disastrous. However, Munich wasn’t giving me any other option. And, I’ve found with my new passion for cooking, I’m able to master things that I’ve failed miserably at before. Since I needed a deep dish pie tin anyways, I found a spring form cake tin, and a recipe for pie crust in one of my favorite cookbooks.

With the help of Paul, (my secret to success in the kitchen), everything was going along smoothly, except that I failed to thoroughly read the instructions on my crust recipe. The first obstacle came after Paul rolled out the dough, and we needed to refrigerate it, only once the crust was rolled out to it’s full size wouldn’t fit into our tiny European fridge. November weather saved us, and we put the pie crust out on the balcony to “refrigerate” while I finished preparing the filling. After the crust was properly refrigerated, Paul tried to press the crust into the cake tin, only, it was so cold from being outside, it didn’t conform to the tin very well. Paul ended up piecing it together like a quilt. After this, I was supposed to pre-bake the crust (sans filling) in the oven filled with baking beads. Baking beads. What the heck are BAKING BEADS? Needless to say, I didn’t have baking beads in my kitchen, so I decided to pre-bake the crust in the oven, sans baking beads. About 10 minutes into it, I realized that gravity was getting the best of my crust, and the sides were caving in. So I quickly pulled out the crust, and filled it with the filling, the only thing I have to hold up the sides. In about 10 minutes, I should find out if this worked.

Verdict: The quiche turned out to by quiet yummy, despite the debacle of the crust. Max loved the crust, and we loved the filling, so between the three of us, we devoured half the quiche in one seating.

Dare I Open a Can of Worms?

2008-11-06T13:55:00.002+01:00

So, the last few days, few weeks really, it's difficult to say that anything has been on my mind other than politics. So, knowing that some of my friends and family that read this probably won't agree with my opinions on politics, I'm going to keep it to a minimum. It's an understatement to say that I'm happy that Obama won the election.

However, to those of my friends and family that are very dismayed, and even afraid, I understand your pain. I felt the same way when Bush won in 2000. I'm going to ask you to do me a favor though, and give Obama a chance before you predict the future. If you believe in prayer, than I ask you to pray for him and his cabinet. He's inheriting some of the worst problems a President has ever inherited, and he's going to need guidance.

Sick Again

2008-10-29T11:38:00.002+01:00

Not much to report these days, unless you want to hear about Maxi getting sick at a dinner party hosted by Paul's boss. One of the things I find difficult about being a parent is when Max gets sick. I know that it's good for Max and me to get out and socialize, but it seems that every time we go to a playdate, my little petri dish picks something up. Then we spend a solid week or two recovering from the illness as it works its way through the entire family. Then we go out again, catch a germ, repeat. Personally, I'm really too lazy to ever be a germ-a-phobe, but I definitely understand the temptation to lock our family into a germ free bubble. Well, Max seems to have recovered from his latest bug, so tomorrow we're meeting friends out at San Francisco Coffee Company to catch the next bug.

My Dog Hit a Car

2008-10-17T10:03:00.003+02:00

Paul was out walking Asia with a neighbor and the neighbor's dog. It's pretty common in Germany to let your dog run off leash, even in the busy parts of town. German dogs are so well behaved, they never run away from their owners. We've even seen owners leave their dogs outside of the grocery store while they run in to get something. The dog won't be hooked up to anything, but will sit there patiently waiting for the owner.

Asia isn't a German dog, and she has her limitations. She probably will never be that well behaved, so we keep her on leash most of the time. However, there are certain paths, where there are no cars, that we let her off leash to play and run and burn off some of her wild energy. Paul and our neighbor were on such a path. Paul overestimated Asia's limits, and didn't get her back on leash soon enough as they were nearing the end of the path. Asia darted out the path and across the street. As she turned around to run back across Paul, she ran head on into the side of a moving car.

Tires screeched, brakes slammed and our neighbor screamed. Asia ran straight home to me. Luckily she didn't get thrown under the car. I imagine that she sort of bounced off the car. Paul took her to the veterinarian the next day, and she only had minor cuts and abraisions. Nothing serious was wrong. He told Paul that "Asia is the luckiest dog in the world."

Learning to Cook

2008-10-14T12:22:00.003+02:00

We’re hosting a Halloween party, and I want to serve traditional American food. Though, what is traditional American food is questionable. I decided on pulled pork barbeque. Of course I’ve never made it before, and before I met Paul, I had never even heard of it. On Friday night, I made for the first time, and two of our good friends were kind enough to be my guinea pigs.

Let me back up in time a bit. I used to abhor cooking. When we were dating, Paul hated coming to my apartment because the fridge was always empty save maybe a bottle of Cesar dressing and a hard piece of parmesan. As a single girl, I dined out most of the time, and frankly my limited skills couldn’t compete with the dining out ethnic restaurants.

When Paul and I got married, I decided to try a little bit harder to learn how to cook, but ultimately the responsibility fell to Paul. Unless I had a cook book on hand, and about four hours to prepare and cook a meal, I was pretty much hopeless. Besides, by the time I got home from work, I was too hungry to cook.

It wasn’t until I became a stay-at-home mom, that I really learned to enjoy cooking. Part of this was because I had the time to follow the more elaborate recipes that reminded me of restaurant food. While living in Virginia, we bought a share in a local farm, part of Community Supported Agriculture, and this got me very excited about cooking. Receiving unfamiliar veggies like squashes, beats and pak choy, as well as free range chicken and eggs, brought out my creative side.

Now I look at cooking like art. It’s a creative process, and you hope that what you cook will turn out as good as you imagine. Unlike art, I get to follow pre-tested recipes. Pulled Pork barbeque is no simple recipe. Between preparing the sauce, seasoning, soaking and then another seven hours of roasting in the oven, it took me a good fourty-eight hours too finish the pulled pork from start-to-finish.

It was a huge success. My husband and our friends loved the pulled pork. How it is that I can handle cooking something so complicated, but grilled cheese continues to thwart me is a mystery.

It feels a little like Christmas

2008-10-06T16:55:00.003+02:00

Last week, our container from the United States arrived. Even though it was all stuff we had lived with for years in the United States, we weeped with joy to see our couches, our beds and our winter clothes. The night after the movers moved us in was like Heaven. I don’t think we’ve ever enjoyed sleeping in our bed as much as we did that night.

For the first month and a half, we slept on a cheap air mattress, from Real (Germany’s Walmart), with a thin blanket. Max slept in a playpen, and as for furniture, we had a few camping chairs and camping table lent to us from friends as well as a handful of dishes that we had to wash in-between every meal.

When Paul made breakfast Sunday morning, he used two pans to cook the French toast and one for the sausages. You don’t know what a luxury it is to have two pans to cook with, until you’ve been cooking with only one for over a month.

The time before our container arrived, we lived with the few clothes that we brought over in our suitcases. Unfortunately, when I packed for myself, I forgot that Germany is as far north as Canada, and only brought summer clothes. They proved useful for all of about three days. The one pair of jeans and one sweatshirt I had were starting to take on a life of their own by the time our stuff got here.

Well, now almost a week later, we are pretty much completely packed. It’s hard to believe that we lived in a house three times the size of our apartment. Our furniture actually fits, and we have to buy a few more things, like wardrobes. Apparently, Germans don’t believe in closets.

Hopefully, we’ll be living here for awhile, because I’m not looking forward to another trans-Atlantic move.

Hidden Placater

2008-09-26T14:03:00.002+02:00

Max is suffering from a nasty cold right now, so I wasn’t surprised when he woke up screaming from his nap. Listening to his horse voice and his hacking cough makes me miserable, so I can only imagine how bad he must feel. When I went in to get him, he wouldn’t let me comfort him.

I know that it's cheating, but when I can‘t calm Max down, I often use the dog to help. So when the opportunity to terrorize Asia didn‘t make him feel better, and he continued to scream and point at his room, I was a bit baffled.

He was making his intentions pretty clear that he wanted to go back into his bedroom, and then back into his playpen. I thought maybe he wanted to go back to sleep. After I put him in, he angrily tossed and turned in the playpen, screaming "Da-Da" the whole time. Clearly Ma-Ma was incapable of handling this situation.

While he screams, he keeps pulling at the blanket that is covering the flimsy mattress. Wondering if there is a shard of glass or something else bothering him, I peel back the blanket, and peeking up at me is a photo of Paul. Max is immediately calmed and starts saying "Da-Da." He’s been carrying that photo around with him for the better part of the afternoon.

Raising Asia

2008-09-24T16:49:00.003+02:00

When my husband and I first got married five years ago, there were two things I really wanted, a dog and children. My husband wasn’t convinced, about either. After one year of continuous hounding (no pun intended), I started to make some inroads towards getting a dog. I didn’t have him 100% committed, but we were getting somewhere. We did loads of research, and talked about the various breeds that would fit our lifestyles. But all this talk was going nowhere, and I was getting impatient.

A woman who I volunteered with had just adopted a mutt to be a companion for her aging Shelty. However, the dogs weren’t getting along, and the new dog had severe anxiety and jealousy issues. Being the sap that I am, I immediately fell for this poor dog’s sob story. She was on her fifth home in the first six months of her life, no wonder this dog had issues. Surely, I the compassionate and patient human was the right person to “rehabilitate” this dog, being that I had absolutely no dog training experience whatsoever. I went to visit the dog that evening after work, and when I got home, I told Paul that I had found a dog that I wanted him to meet. What I didn’t tell him was that this dog was coming home with us for a trial weekend. My heart was bigger than my common sense, and we kept her. That is how Asia became part of our family.

Asia was a case study in separation anxiety. She barked, jumped and eliminated in her crate, whenever we left the house. By the time we got home, she’d be covered in poop. I only worked two minutes from home, so I naively thought it would help if I returned home for lunch every day. So for several weeks, I’d come home for lunch, quickly bathe her and rush back to work, only to have to do the whole thing again when I got home that evening. This got old fast.

With time, patience and loads of research on training, Asia’s anxiety didn‘t disappear, but it got less. However, whenever one of us was sick, or on vacation or for some reason spent an abnormal amount of time at home with Asia, the anxiety would rear it’s ugly head, and we would have to re-train her again. Taking her to boarding kennels proved disastrous. The only place we could leave her was with a good friend who also had a dog. Having another dog to wrestle with seemed to dispel Asia’s anxiety. We could also leave her with my parents, but she would act depressed and morose, sleeping the whole time and not eating.

With our recent move back to Germany, Asia’s anxiety has again reared it’s ugly head, and besides driving us crazy, it’s severely irritating our neighbors. So once again, we’re re-training our dog. And, I keep wondering, when is she going to learn that we always come back?

When you really want your mommy

2008-09-21T21:49:00.003+02:00

I haven’t been adding much lately, because we’ve all been sick, and not just “cough, cough, sniffle, sniffle" sick, but violently sick. The kind of sick that makes you writhe in agony praying for a release that only death can bring.

After four days of agony and no indication of letting up, we reluctantly decided to go to the doctor. Now I say reluctantly, because this is one of the drawbacks of living without a car, despite the great public transportation. Because when I’m sick, and I can barely make it down the hall to the bathroom, the thought of dragging myself, my husband and my 17 month old son, into the 40 degree weather, down to the bus stop, onto the bus and down to a doctor’s office which we’re only vaguely familiar with its’ location is less than appealing.

So, after we manage to get to the doctor’s office, we have to argue with the receptionist in our broken German and her broken English to take us despite the fact that our insurance cards haven’t arrived yet. After about an hour, the Doctor, kind soul that he is, takes us back into his office, where I almost cry when I realize that he’s going to treat us. He tells us it’s viral, to take some Imodium AD, go home, and we’ll feel better tomorrow.

Only, we didn’t feel better the next day, nor the next day, and the Imodium, it didn‘t work. After the ordeal of going to the doctor the first time, we were even more reluctant to go the second time. Though, this time we were more prepared, we found a quicker and easier route, and there was no arguing at the front desk. The doctor was surprised to see us again, but quickly realized that we had more than just the flu. Being the good German doctor that he is, he’s not going to prescribe an anti-biotic until he’s confirmed that we have a bacterial infection, and to do so he needs a stool sample.

Now, Paul and I have spent almost a week swallowing a pharmacy of anti-diarrhea drugs to get the poop to stop, but the one time we really want it to come, it’s not forthcoming. We knew that eating is the most likely way to get our bowels moving, and it just so happens that the doctor has a bunch of health cookies that he willingly provides for the task at hand. Now, had we not been in such a weakened state, we might have noticed the over eagerness of the doctor in pawning those cookies off on us. Because those cookies only loosely resembled cookies. They more closely resembled birdseed. After only eating bananas and apple juice only week, we were supposed to figure out how to eat these things. It was like holding your nose to swallow bad medicine. We couldn’t even eat two.

The doctor recommended some biological medication and live culture yogurt to help reestablish the natural balance of bacteria flora in our bowels, kind of like yoga, only for the intestines. And after two days of this new course of treatment, while we wait for our lab results, we’re finally feeling better. I’m adding live culture yogurt to our permanent grocery list.

What to write

2008-09-21T19:55:00.003+02:00

I have a new found respect for the professional bloggers out there. Or maybe not just professionals, but the people who seem to come up with something new to write about on a regular basis. I'm trying to write a new entry, but I'm really struggling with getting it right. I know that there are some funny parts to it, but I can't seem to relay the humor of the situations like I would like too. So please, be patient, as I try to put this entry together. You might have to deal with a few duds, while I get used to blogging regularly.

Crunchy Towels & Stiff Jeans

2008-09-12T21:09:00.004+02:00

Today is laundry day, and doing laundry is always an adventure in Deutschland, especially with an ornery toddler. Since I also washed clothes during Munich Part I. I knew what to expect. Just like last time, I am using the coin operated laundry in the basement of our building. The coins don’t go anywhere near the machine. They go into the electrical meter on the side of the wall. Instead of turning on the washing machine, the coins turn on the electric to the washing machine. I also have to turn on the water.

During Munich Part I, we had laundry time down to a science. The laundry room was in a neighboring building, and we had to sign up for our slot. I knew that if I signed up for six hours, I could get seven loads done. Two fifty-cent pieces bought me exactly one hour of electricity, but no cycle is exactly one hour, it‘s either less or more. Since there is no hot water line to the washer, water heats up in the machine, so the hotter the water, the longer the cycle. Since I don’t want to waste any of the electricity I’m paying for to turn on the water, add soap in, toss in the laundry or set the cycle, I wait to turn on the electricity until everything is ready to go.

After the first load, the following loads were a mad rush in effort to make the most of the bought electricity. Since there was still time left on the meter, and there is no way I would waste those precious cents on a stopped washing machine. Five minutes before my load was done, I’d run downstairs, hold my finger on the “open door” button and when the tumbler creeped to a stop, pop open the door, dump out the wet laundry into a basket (which was already strategically placed in front of the machine), toss in the dirty clothes, add the soap, close the door, push start, and add money to the electrical meter, so that I wouldn’t run out of electricity mid-load. After I spent my time leisurely putting the wet clothes into the dryer, or onto drying lines, before starting the mad cycle all over again in fourty-three minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

Our previous laundry room had a dryer and two very large rooms complete with lines to air dry your clothes. We didn’t realize what a luxury this was, until we moved into our current apartment. Being the very ecologically conscious people that Germans are, very few households actually use dryers. Our new laundry room doesn’t have a dryer, the two drying rooms are so small, I could fill them both with half of our laundry. Our new apartment has a washing machine hook-up, so our next big purchase is going to be a washing machine, after we recover from the purchase of the stroller. And, we have a large attic space with skylights, so we’re installing our own drying lines, cutting down on the madness.

However, until then, we have make do with what we have. The rush isn’t so mad anymore, as there is really no way to rush anything with a toddler. And since there is no sign-in sheet at this laundry room, I won’t be receiving any nasty grams if the laundry goes a little bit past sign-up time, or if I forget to clean out the lint tray and turn the water off. As for the lack of a dryer, my family will get used to the crunchy towels and stiff jeans.

The Story of Four Strollers

2008-09-11T18:29:00.005+02:00

In Munich, without a car, you depend wholly on walking and public transportation. The quality of public transportation here is so high, that you can get from almost any point to another point via a complex web of trams, buses and trains. If you have a small child, a stroller becomes essential to life. You will likely depend on this form of transportation until your child is three even four years old, possibly even longer. You will use your stroller until your child has the stamina and speed to keep up with you for approximately 1 mile or 2 km stretches.

Purchasing a stroller in Munich is much like purchasing an auto, you need to consider your needs before shopping for the perfect stroller. What kind of terrain will you be crossing? Will you be need to go up and down stairs, will you have a lift(elevator)? Will you be riding the bus/tram/train with the stroller? Will you ever have to carry the stroller with child inside? Is the stroller for an infant or child? How many children do you want to put in the stroller? What kind of storage space will you need below the stroller? Will you be walking, jogging, grocery shopping or going to festivals with your stroller? Where will you park your stroller? Finally there are the amenities to consider, cup holders, one hand steering, location of breaks, adapters for car seats, rain covers, mosquito nets, diaper bags designed specifically for the storage, size of wheels, number of wheels, and believe it or not even sound systems.

So the last time we lived in Munich (Munich Part I), we discovered Kindermarkts, second-hand childrens markets held at various times through out the city in churches, city parks etc. Being the poor students we were, excited about the money we were going to save, we went to our first Kindermarkt. The first mistake we made, was arriving late in the morning. Veterans of Kindermarkts know that the early bird gets the worm. The second mistake we made, was not doing any research or asking any of the Questions, so we had no idea what we were looking for. The third mistake we made was buying impulsively (much like we bought our last two houses).

Very proud of ourselves for the money we saved, we took our stroller home. We got home only to realize that the fabulous shocks on the stroller, made it impossible to get up the three stairs in the lobby to the lift. If I pushed down on the handle bar to lift the front wheels, the wheels stayed on the ground. If I lifted up on the handle bar to raise the back wheels, the wheels stayed on the ground. $%*&, this was not going to work. Between the two of us, we were able to take the stroller and park it in our basement storage area, until we decided what to do with it.
We needed to find another stroller. So, Paul asked around at MIPLC, where to find some baby stores in Munich? The staff recommended Schlichting on Weinstr. near Marienplatz. It was only the most expensive and overpriced baby store in the whole of Bavaria, though at the time we didn’t know any better. When we looked at the price tags, we fell over. There wasn’t a stroller there for less than € 700, unless you counted the umbrellas strollers, which were still a good € 6o and not suitable for a new born. And the cribs were insanely priced as well. Having a baby was going to be very expensive in Munich, how were we going to be able to afford this? We left this store sticker shocked and depressed. Our baby was going to have to sleep in a box, wear hand stitched clothes sewn out of my old clothes, and we’d have to carry the baby everywhere we went.

Internet to the rescue! Surly I could find something online more in our price range. I searched on Ebay.de. The first mistake we made was not translating every word in the descriptions. The second mistake we made was not finding a model of the stroller in the store to a) compare prices, and b) be able to test drive it. The third mistake we made was buying impulsively (do you see a trend here?). So we ended up buying a second-hand Mutsy Urban Rider jogger complete with hard bassinet, chair, two different hoods, a warm weather cover for the bassinet, attachments for a car seat, and a fußack. A fußack (sounds like feuss-sack) is essentially a warm and fuzzy sleeping bag that fits into the stroller chair to keep babies warm in cold weather, very necessary when your stroller is your main transportation in Munich. All of this was less than half what it would have cost brand new (if they still sold this model, which they hadn't for several years). The canvas materials were perfect, practically new, couldn’t tell at all that it had been used. The wheel spokes were corroded, not badly enough to compromise the strollers integrity, but an eye sore. The hand break was broken, not a big deal, since I wasn’t really planning on going jogging, but would have come in handy on some of the big hills in Olympia park. The brakes on the wheels were bent out of wack, and didn’t actually fit into the wheels, so they were ineffective especially on the crazy turns of Munich bus drivers, but of course I didn’t realize this until after I almost lost the baby and stroller and took a row of people out on the bus. My husband and father later fixed it with a hand wrench. The stroller had the option to pivot, but not on the front wheels, but the back wheels. This was awkward and difficult to control in tight situations, so we ended up keeping the pivot locked and wrestling with the stroller to get it to turn. It was much heavier than the strollers currently on the market, but with the big pneumatic tires it was still manageable to climb up the stairs. The storage underneath was adequate, but not great. The folding mechanism was really difficult even after we figured out how it works. And finally, the stroller was huge, making it very difficult to manage in the aisles of grocery stores and trams, it didn‘t fit into all lifts, and Max and I almost bit it on a narrow escalator in a local department store. Imagine the looks on the German middle aged women, when I almost catapulted my 6 week baby out of the bassinet.

Never-the-less, after € 300 invested into two strollers, I had to live with the Mutsy, and I got used to it. It was great on all terrains. I could part crowds of people like the Red Sea, and when we returned to the States, it was perfect. I had my car, and the only time I needed the Mutsy was for Buggy Busters, an exercise class in the park.

Fast forward to Munich Part II. My dear and darling husband, Paul, moved to Munich ahead of us, leaving Max and I to tie up all the loose ends in the States. This also meant that I was alone on the eight hour flight to Munich with a sixteen month old (who by the way isn‘t yet walking), our dog Asia, her crate, a car seat, three suit cases, and a stroller. I decided to nix the stroller, and opted for the Kelty carrier instead, packing the stroller in the container to be shipped to our door step in Munich. However, I soon realized, with the travel time it took for the container to get to the docks and be loaded, the container ship to sale to Northern Germany, and then to be driven down to Southern Germany, where we lived, that we were talking several weeks, possibly months in Munich sans stroller. This was not going to work. There was no way I was going to haul my 25 pound/11 kilo boy around on my back in Munich. So, I decided to purchase an umbrella stroller, easy to travel with. I was able to fold it and throw it up on a top of a luggage cart. At the airport, after only a few bleary hours of sleep, with a very tired Max in the Kelty, I managed to inch my way towards customs by taking turns pushing the two luggage carts 10 meters at a time. Luckily a really nice person offered to help me to customs after I was half way across the floor, and afterwards a customs official took me out to meet Paul. I was really glad that I didn’t have the Mutsy with me too.

Ahhh, we’ve arrived in Munich, now all we have to do is suffer the umbrella stroller until the Mutsy gets here. The cobblestones are beating it up, the wheels are about to pop off, and I have to lift it over curbs, but it’s temporary. Oh, but wait, what’s this? Paul has rented our apartment for us ahead of time, but didn’t think to make sure it would accommodate our stroller. The are seven steps up to the lift, ten steps down to the basement, the lift is too small for the Mutsy, and we live on the fourth floor. Nor did he realize that there are no escalators or lifts at the local train station, meaning I have to carry the stroller up about 30 steps, or ask in my broken German for someone to help me. When I found this out (the hard way, by trial), I called Paul about to cry. As luck would have it escalators and lifts are being added to our train station, but not to our apartment building. Nor is there any convenient place to store the stroller near the front door of the building.

So here are our options, I could store the Musty in our parking spot, but we’re renting it out to someone else. I could store the Mutsy in the bike room off of the parking garage and go through the garage door. Then I can run the grocery bags and other shopping through the garage, into our building, leave the groceries next to the basement lift, run back to the stroller get Max, run to the… oh wait, $%*&, that’s not going to work either. So I guess our other option is to invest in our fourth stroller.

So, this time, oh no, we’re not making any of the mistakes we made with our first two purchases. We have spent many days visiting every store in the city that sells strollers, sometimes twice. We’re asking all the questions and measuring the strollers up, down, backwards and forward, and hopefully this time we’ll get the perfect stroller. Since we eventually plan on having another child, should we get a stroller that has the baby bassinet as well as the chair? We might still be in this apartment, so it would be silly to invest in another stroller, but than have to buy yet another one that will work for an infant. We considered even purchasing a double stroller, but the double strollers are all too big for the elevator. Luckily there is this hand little stand you can attach to your stroller and Max can stand on it when his little sibling comes along.

We think we’ve found stroller that meets most of our needs. It can handle all terrains from gravel to cobble stones. The back wheels are large, so it will easily go up and down the stairs. The base is one of the smallest ones out there, as small as our umbrella stroller, so it will fit into the elevator. It‘s a fairly compact stroller, and it has swivel wheels in the front, so it will handle the aisles of grocery stores and trams easily. It’s only 11 kilos/ 25 lbs., so in terms of strollers this kind, it’s pretty light. It has great storage space, and you can raise the seat/bassinet to add even more. And I’ll be honest the first thing that got me looking at the this particular brand of stroller was that one of the models is wired for your I’Pod so you can play music to your child. Unfortunately the one wired for I’Pod doesn’t have big enough wheels. So, based on our extensive research, it looks like the I’Coo Targo City will be stroller number four. Now we just have to decide upon a color.

While making dinner...

2008-09-10T19:07:00.003+02:00

ME: I put some parmesian on the salad.

PAUL: I don't care, I'll eat it like it is.

ME: I don't know how to make it taste good. We don't have any dressing.

PAUL: How about some undressing? (in the suavest voice he can manage)

ME: (rolling my eyes)

PAUL: Come on, you got admit it, that was slick.

ME: And he wonders why his come-ons don't work...

Beginnings

2008-09-10T11:09:00.007+02:00

Back in 2005, while my husband, Paul, was in the midst of his third year of law school at good ol' University of Baltimore, we started to contemplate our future. We could take the traditional route; an aspiring Patent Attorney, Paul could apply for positions at local B'more law firms, or the USPTO in DC. However, Paul and I weren't ready to throw in the towel and settle down. We started to look for a new adventure.

Ready to try out a new city, state and possibly even a new country, we started to look at Intellectual Property LL.M. programs, Masters in Law. In the United States, many legal professionals don't see the point in an LL.M., however, this was a great opportunity for Paul to further his expertise in Intellectual Property and specifically patent law. He applied to programs all over the United States, including San Francisco, St. Louis, Seattle, Chicago and Washington, DC. He also applied to a program in London, and low and behold there was an English speaking program in Munich. Ultimately he was accepted into all of the programs, but the one in Munich had the most appeal.

The Munich Intellectual Property Law Center was still fairly new, only a couple years old since it's inception. MIPLC was a partnership between Max Planck Institute for Intellectual Property, Competition and Tax Law, the University of Augsburg, the Technische Universität München, and the George Washington University Law School (some of the biggest names in Intellectual Property academia). But what impressed Paul, was that there was no permanent faculty, the classes were taught by the elite of the World's IP academia and professionals. Another deciding factor, was that Munich's location, pretty close to the center of Europe. What a great jumping point to visit other countries and cities in Europe. It was dual package, it would sooth our wanderlust and it would further Paul's career.

We moved to Munich in September of '06. Since I couldn't work, while we were in Munich, we decided it was the perfect time to get pregnant. I could fill a whole blog on being pregnant and giving birth in Munich, so I'm not going to say much right now, other than it was ultimately a great experience. I'll try to fill in other posts with reflections on being pregnant and giving birth here. In April '07, our son, Maximilian was born.

Four months later, albeit reluctantly, we returned to the USA. Paul finished his thesis in the States and started to look for a job. In January '08, he started his career at a law firm, as one of their first Patent Attorneys, we bought a home in Western Virginia, and we started to settle down. We made friends, joined clubs, and classes. We planned to live out our lives here, we thought our adventuring days were over.

However, not quite six months into our new "settled lives" Paul received an offer from the biotech company in Munich he had interned at during his LL.M. We were not looking for this, nor were we expecting it. It surprised us as much as we surprised our families, friend and colleagues when we accepted the position. We decided we weren't ready to throw in the towels on our adventure, and we didn't see any reason why our son Maximilian couldn't join the adventure with us. That brings us to today, here we are starting our lives in Munich once again. This time we have a different perspective on our lives here, as we are now Raising an American in Europe.