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| To-Do List |
1. drop off Bam Bam's Poo to Gastro
2. buy chocolate bar with ganze hasselnusse.
Irony?Labels: Nummy |
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| Goodbye, Hello |
 Goodbye little ones. I wish I could say that I want you here under my wings, and my feet, and my protection, always. But I don't. I'm thrilled to see you walk to school, to the bus, to the playground. I love to watch you find shoes, find friends. And I'm honored to be the one to wave goodbye from the porch, counting the seconds until the moment you return.
much love,
MamaLabels: Mamaesthetics |
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| Never. Forget. |
Bam Bam loves to give compliments. Bam Bam loves to use potty words. So, one of the highest compliments he can give is when he says, "You're the pee-ist ever I seen."
It slays me.Labels: The World According to Bam Bam |
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| He gets it |
| Hubby slumped on the couch after the boys were in bed last night. His eyes were red after many hours of making breakfast, lunch, and dinner for us all (and then cleaning it up), grabbing new underwear for littlest brother, fulfilling church duties, managing in-the-night visits by kids needing to potty, etc... He turns his head towards me and says, "I don't know how you do it. I'm barely keeping people fed, the three baskets of laundry that you folded last week are still sitting in the boys' bedroom, the house looks like s*#@ and I have spent ALL DAY LONG in the kitchen. I didn't get the bathroom cleaned yesterday and I'm exhausted. " We both started to laugh, me from my queenly place on the couch where I've been relegated for three days, him on the love seat scrunched between my books and crutches. "I'm always grateful when I come and the house feels organized. But, now I realize just what a miracle it is." Indeed. Indeed. Labels: love actually |
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| Quote of the Day |
'While the astronauts, heroes forever, spent mere hours on the moon, I have remained in this new world for nearly thirty years. I know that my achievement is quite ordinary. I am not the only man to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.'
--Jhumpa Lahiri, From 'The Third and Final Commandment' in her book of short stores, 'Interpreter of Maladies.' |
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| I've got Soul but I'm not a Soldier |
Hubby is listening to his playlist while doing dishes, singing along in perfect pitch, sexy as hell. As always. I stop on the landing, arms loaded with laundry and listen, enchanted, to his edgy tenor. Cold Play's electric guitar slowly fades and I hear something more acoustic come on, laced with a lilting beat. A steel guitar starts to play. My knees get weak as I hear, "I left out'a Tucson with no destination...." He matches George's baritone and continues to sing almost every word of the verse. I drop the laundry, descend to the kitchen and watch him, smiling a victorious grin. He turns, innocent but not ashamed, and says, "I love this song."
"So do I."Labels: and then.... |
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| You know how long I've loved you |
It only took an hour and a half to give the medical history.
Yeah.
I'm impressed with the doctors here but it's just so painful to get an appointment/work with the auxiliary staff because of the whole LANGUAGE BARRIER issue. You know, the one where I speak a different language than they do? And neither of us are THAT good at the other person's language of choice? I've been terrified of making the appointment and then, even worse, going to it.
Why?
Because Bam Bam is on the border of being diagnosed with any number of conditions and this doctor wanted to doubt his previous diagnosis (you know, the ones that have revolutionized our lives for the better and worse over the last couple of years? Yeah, those ones). And although I trust our previous docs and his previous diagnosis, I know, have always known, that none of his tests have been 100% conclusive (because of a thousand different factors, I won't bore you. I'm sure you don't want the 90 minute medical history). And because he's not gaining weight, we're now headed for more. More tests. More specialists. More uncertainty.
Frankly, I didn't handle this process that well when we lived in a country where I could communicate with the staff. When I didn't have to pay for everything out of pocket first and then get it reimbursed at out-of-country rates later.
They took 10 vials of blood today. And a urine sample. They want a stool sample. I have to go back in a month. With a detailed description (with weights in METRIC) of his diet. She wants more allergy tests. And to rethink his diet. Potentially change his diet and test him again for Celiac. Somehow figure out if we need to cut out milk. I trust her enough to follow through with what she wants. But I feel like we're starting over. Again. Didn't we just go through this?
Of course I'll do anything to see if he will gain weight and look like a four-year-old instead of a really intelligent two-year-old. Of course I'll go to any expense to get him the best care. But sometimes my will doesn't match my desires. And my desires don't match my heart. And my heart is just. plain. confused. |
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| No naps today |
VICTORY! We will sleep tonight! Yeah, I thought so....until....
the bad dream happened. 30 minutes post bad-dream-wake-up, he's still screaming bloody murder. Hubby is singing him songs on his guitar about not crying so loud. We've sung our favorite tune from the Godfather for him, but it looks like guitar-playing mobsters are not going to calm him down. The kid needs a valium. Speaking of which, so do I. |
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| Good Morning |
Mr. Furious is watching a movie and the DVD presenter says, 'Coming to Own on DVD.' At which point he yells (is there any other kind of talking?), "It's ALREADY OWNED." Then he proceeds to correct the English of the preview, "You mean CRUSHED upon them, not dropped upon them, CRUSHED.'
Can you imagine what this kid will be like as teenager? If I were hubby's grandmother, I would say in a great southern drawl, 'Lord help.' Because we're sure going to need it. |
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| first night |
8:45 pm boys in bed, asleep
9:15 pm I'm in bed, asleep
9:45 pm I wake up as if I'd slept the whole night, wonder why hubby is not in bed
10:45 pm Mr. Furious climbs in bed, bad dream
11:45 pm Bam Bam climbs in bed, no reason
12:00 am Bam Bam needs a baba, I go to fetch it, turn on the light in the boys' room, hubby groans for me to turn it off. I realize my mate has abandoned the communal bed. Traitor.
1:00 am Bam Bam needs more baba, I go downstairs and fill it, realize hubby has returned to our bed and there's nowhere for me to sleep.
1:30-3:30 am Bam Bam and I watch Wallace and Grommit.
3:30 am I fall asleep in the guest bedroom, Bam Bam falls asleep in the chair, I worry that he'll pee on my chair.
12:00 NOON I wake up having no idea what time it is, hubby is awake and dressed, kids are dressed, just returned from the park and lunch. Hubby informs me that he has been up since 4:45 am with Mr. Furious, lucky him.
1:00 pm hubby falls asleep, kids fall asleep. I'm awake, barely.Labels: jet lag, much? |
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| Exhausted his Resources |
My hubby has worn all of his house-mates out with his incessant desire to have company while singing 'karaoke' to High School Musical. Actually, let's be clear, with High School Musical 2. The second one, you know, the one that actually has less plot than the first one. Yes, it's possible to have less plot than the first movie. If you don't believe me, you obviously have not watched the first movie.
Well, tonight he recruited a new victim, uh, partner.
We have a visitor staying with us. She doesn't understand English. She's adorably cute. She's 8.
'nuff said.Labels: Alien Invasion |
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| Have I ever said thanks? |
Here's to S* and his beautiful and talented wife Courtney of Five Elephants who got me into blogging two years ago. And thanks for helping me (just today) figure out how to get pics from MY very own server to show up here on the blog. For someone as technically savvy as myself, it's a freaking modern miracle. Thank you again and again! |
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| oops |
Here's the result of a mistake I made earlier today. I kind of like it, I think. Don't worry, I'll hate it again in a couple of hours. |
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| Lesson in Bilingualism...Yeah, I'm 82% sure that's a word |
So far, Bam Bam (3 yo) is by far the German language star in the house. Of course, he also gets the most exposure because he spends three hours every weekday with a native speaker. BUT, nonetheless, it sucks for me to know less German than a person who still drinks out of a bottle.
Here are a couple Bam Bam moments where he gets an A for effort:
We were eating lunch together and I was talking to hubby about some serious subject like food shortages or what color to paint the wall when all of the sudden Bam Bam gets a very solemn look on his face. He turns to me and says with an expression of empathy, "Bist du ein Brot?" His intonation said, "Are you OK?" but the words he spoke meant, "Are you bread?" I had to say no, that I wasn't bread but I sincerely appreciated his concern.
And this morning, he was eating GF bread with Nutella on it. He was lovingly talking about the joys of 'Schokolade' which is what he calls Nutella. And then he stoppped, looked at me and said, "What is 'Schokolade' in Engwich (English)? And I very self-satisfyingly said (hey, the kid speaks better German than me, I've got to show my skills somewhere!), "Chocolate."
I've got that subject mastered.Labels: Sprechen Sie What? |
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| another example of irony |
 
Within walking distance, we find two very different tourist sites. I included the original picture so you can gander at that sweet punk rocker mama in the lower left-hand corner smiling so beautifully at her baby (in stroller with the orange top). Oh and that guy's face? It's a tattoo. No makeup. Help me guess how many piercings? I guess 11. |
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| Why Read? |
| Because really...if it doesn't agree with my worldview, what's the point?
Right?
Labels: I Write |
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| wide angle |
I've been messing with using a wide angle in portraits as a means of distortion. |
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| 5 Things I miss about America |
| 1. Let's start this by keeping it real. Mayonnaise. Squeezing vinegar-tasting mayo out of a metal toothpaste container is seriously not fun. And it should be fun. Being able to huck a plastic container of mayo at your friend? Fun. Extracting the luscious gooeyness out of the plastic container with a knife? Deliciously fun. Squeezing mayo on bread, working so hard that you start to sweat? Not fun. Also gross.
2. And while we're on condiments. Free ketchup. Definitely miss that.
3. Driving....a car...you know, that we own...and that we don't have to rent...for like $200 a day.
4. Driving said car to grocery store and then sitting on my can while the groceries get transported to the house.
5. The baptist churches that I found on abandoned, tree crushed roads; built in fields and parking lots, strip malls and solitary hills. I miss the religiosity of America, the unabashed faith in something mysterious, unexplainable, illogical.
Things I don't miss about America:
1. Eating too much Mayonnaise. Because really! Mayo is not necessarily a major food group. Trading Austrian chocolate for mayonnaise is not officially a sacrifice in any real way.
2. And if I'm getting Free Ketchup, you know what else I'm ordering? Too many French Fries. Yes. I love those naughty little things. And if I'm ordering French Fries, you know what I'm not eating? Deliciously ripe, warm tomatoes, fresh asparagus from local farms, cheesy polenta, homemade northern Italian creamy mushroom sauce, basically REAL FOOD. Grown from real people, and sent to my local market. Which I love. And which I then expend effort to make. And which nourishes me and my brood on an entire different level than french fries.
3. My car. I love seeing the city on foot. I feel like I live the city instead of passing by it quickly on my way to somewhere else. We're thinking about buying a car. And I hate the idea.
4. Laziness canonized as 'efficiency.' There is almost nothing that Americans do better than marketing laziness to themselves and the rest of the world. Laziness is practically the national pass time. I'm guilty. And as I haul my groceries up five hills to get home, I often think of how much easier (read: better) it would be if I could just drive. But then I would miss yelling at my kids to keep up, every three seconds. I would miss being able to burn off the chocolate bar that I just ate as I was walking. I would miss being able to walk to a reform house which carries gluten free bread, pudding, pastas, cookies, crackers, bread mixes, bread crumbs, seriously delicious nummies for the celiac and non-celiac alike. I would be fatter if I had a car (scary...and true) and besides, I have no idea how/where/when to park in this city. It's a nightmare. My girlfriend spent most of our lovely visit to the Albertina Museum trying to 'pay' for her parking on her cell phone. How sad. And have you ever seen a woodcut by Munch? WOW. I think my favorite was Moonlight 1. She missed it. She was texting.
5. Public religiosity. The Catholic church bells I hear from my front windows and from my back windows call to a non-existent congregation. The churches are beautiful, lush, and empty. I love the quiet spirituality of a people burned by a long-ago war, a dislike for the commercialized and ancient religions alike, and an intense feeling that religion is something so sacred, that a private display is its only appropriate expression. Labels: The Move |
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| Upgrade much? |
All of the changes on these pics (in this post and the one befoew) were done in Camera Raw from the Bridge, both new features that were added when I upgraded my Photoshop CS to Photoshop CS3. As some of you may know, details are my greatest weakness and greatest strength. They overwhelm and define me. I hate that. Working in Camera Raw makes me feel like I'm cuddled up with my favorite blankie at the foot of my parent's bed knowing, KNOWING! that all is right in the world. And now I feel like demanding that someone (MOM!) buy me some onion rings from Crown Burger and feed them to me in bed. Because I'm worth it. And it's my birthday. So there. |
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| Gretchen wears |
grey glasses. At the park. On the Merry-Go-Round. While it's spinning. I need some kind of parenting award for this supreme act of creativity. And guess what. It worked.Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| And this is after |
the haircut. And the 'watch me.' And the 'Don't take the picture yet.' And the 'Take the picture when I get to three. I didn't get to three!" "MOMMMMMM!!!'Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| This little church |
is so typical of what catches an American's eye here in Europe. It was built on a hill, smashed into a triangular shape to fit the space between the road and other buildings. It appears out of nowhere as you swing your head to look for cars before you cross the narrow cobblestone alleyway that meanders around it. It lingers there as you blink to make sure it's real.
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| Like I can answer that |
| I was in the middle of a deep doctrinal discussion with my hubby about the differences between the evaporated milk they sell at 'home' and the kaffee milk they sell here when my oldest interrupted us with a question. "Mom?" His face was raised to us from where he sat. There was something in his quizzical expression. I can't describe it exactly, hope? desire? longing? Or maybe it was simple curiosity. The same kind of curiosity that leads him to streak my side table with reddish-orange acrylics or throw water balloons from our second story window.
Or maybe not. Because he followed that expression with, "Where's home?"
And after he said this, he looked at us as if we could easily solve this dilemma for him. As if we knew the answer ourselves. Labels: The Move |
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posted by Reluctant Nomad at 
