My New Year 2013

I mentioned in July 2012 that there were a number of worries bouncing around the House of Joy. Back then I wrote “I may share them, when I discover the words to express them, or I may see them float away into the realm of stuff-I-should-have-never-worried-about-and-quickly-forget-about before those words come to me.” Welp, it turns out that some of those worries did just float away but a few stuck around, pulling energy from me. For example, Aunt Sally? She’s doing great. But some other stuff…not so much.

I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. Instead, on my birthday I usually think about what I want my next year to be like; how I want to spend my time; and who I want to be. Yet, this year on my birthday I just couldn’t find the energy or time to think through my new year. I was far more focused on getting enough sleep to get through each week.

But then came the end of the year and a two week break from just about everything. I promptly got sick with strep throat, my nemesis. I slept and complained through Christmas. As I got better, the Mr. and I began the best type of vacation for parents: a sleeping holiday. Essentially one of us would wake up with PJ when he woke up (between 5 and 7am). Then when the other one got up (somewhere between 8 and 10am), the first one headed back to bed. When PJ laid down for his nap (between 10:30 and 12), we’d all sleep together. When PJ woke the second time, our day finally really got started. We’d spend each afternoon with friends or family or together out-and-about.

Rinse and repeat, with each of us taking the earliest shift every other day. Glorious, I tell you, glorious!

But back to the worries: the more sleep I got, the more energy I had and the more I started to think about this past year and, far more importantly, the year I am living in now. The fog started to clear and I gained a lot more clarity about what and who has been taking and giving energy. I also started to think through what I was going to do (or not do) for each of those ‘taking’ and ‘giving’ aspects of my life.

A number of those are too private for me to write about here, but two aren’t.

First, writing gives me energy and it is time for me to get back to my project. The characters and the plot have been running around in my head and I’ll start moving them onto paper tomorrow. I have no idea how I’m going to find time for this but like the very talented Katrina Kittle wrote on Facebook recently, “The secret to finding writing time is similar to saving money: pay yourself first. You will always find time later to clean the kitchen, shop for groceries, or grade the papers because you HAVE to. But the writing is too easily "put off" until everything thing is done...which means you never get to it.” This one, I’m going to start To Do. That feels good.

Second, the battle of being a working mom is exhausting.  Notice that I did not write ‘being a working mom is exhausting’ because being a working mom gives me energy. Its dealing with people who ask me, “Who is raising your child?”. Yup, got that question not once but twice. And who tell me, “Moms shouldn’t work.” Got that once followed by ‘I mean you’ll figure out what is okay for your family, but let’s be honest….’ And in an office environment in which “low performer” and “mother” can be used as synonyms in a meeting with no repercussions (in fact, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that got annoyed by it).  

I know for a fact that I have been passed over for interesting work that fit my profile, growth plans, and willingness to travel to the T. I know that I was passed over because the man in charge of pulling the team together assumed I wouldn’t “want” to attend a weekly project meeting at 6 or 7pm local time without first talking to me. I’m confident that this has happened more than once.

I’ve had women who have children say, “Well, I want to have quality time with my children” and “If you want to work so much, why did you have a kid?”

I’ve had women who don’t have children say, “When I have a family, they will come first” and “Don’t you miss your kid? I would” and “Why does work come first for you?”

I’ve had men tell me, “Children need their mothers.”

I’ve even been asked if my child was an accident because I “rushed” back to work after nine months and when PJ was 13 months old, I started working full-time.

This shit exhausts me. Because, like racism, each time I run into these comments and these situations, I need to push back. Not always directly and never forcibly. But I need to push back. For example: (this is the EXACT conversation)

“Wer erzieht dein Kind?” (Translation: “Who is raising your kid?”)

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand the question. Could you ask it in English?” – me (who totally understood the question)

“Who is raising your son?”

“Are you asking me if he goes to a day care because yes, he goes to a day care. Don’t you have children?” – me

“Yes.” Followed by more details that I won’t share here out of respect for this person.

“Where are your children?” – me

“With their mother, of course!”

…or…

This is NOT the exact conversation – but the general sweep of it.

‘I heard about the XCG work and thought I could fit the profile. Could we talk about it?’ – me

‘Oh, I already have the team together. You would have been great but since the work is global, the meeting is going to be held every week at 6 or 7pm. So I didn’t think it would work for you since you have a kid.’

‘That really is a pity because I work full-time and on global work. I hope the next time we can have a conversation about the work together. Then I can decide if my work schedule and other obligations permit me to join the team. Good luck.’

I’ll be totally honest after both of these conversations -  in fact, all of them - I stewed. I bitched to people I trusted (learning in the process that these aren't personal, lots of working mothers deal with absurdity). I stewed more. I found myself literally grinding my teeth. And then I stewed  even more.

Now after our sleep vacation, I realize that I stewed a shit load of energy right out of my soul. And for what purpose? Those people who believe that people with a penis or an unused uterus are better employees, better team mates, better colleagues, and/or those who believes mothers who don’t work or work part-time are better mothers…they don’t care that I’m stewing. Lord, I significantly doubt they even notice.

This one, I’m going to start To Not Do. I’m not going to assume the burden of pushing back and entering into the battle for all women who work full-time. I’m not going to stew. Instead, I’m going to continue doing my work to the best of my ability with the highest level of professionalism I can muster. I’m going to continue being the best mother I can be (which I’m pretty sure is a great mother). I’m going to continue doing both. That also feels good.

Now, wait, that feels great.

So, here’s to my new year. I think it’s going to be a great one.


xo

Good News: She's Ours!

Its official: the Steinbach clan is buying a house. Which means we will have loads more space, lots less stairs, and a big fat mortgage.

When did we get all grown up I ask ya?


xo

The Most Glorious Sound of All

After choosing to hang out in his luxurious and rent free studio apartment for an extra 10 days, our little guy roared into the world yesterday.

On Wednesday a stress test showed some signs of difficulty for him, so I was checked into the hospital for an induction. Thursday was a long and boring day full of almost hourly check-ups for both of us but without any signs of moving towards birth. On Friday morning we started the same routine at 8am, then the Mr. and I ate some breakfast and then took a nice long walk about a beautiful Heidelberg neighborhood. I had a few mildly uncomfortable contractions during the walk but nothing to write home about. I was gearing up for another long, boring day.

I showed up for another standard check-up at 12:30 and this is where it all sort of blurs. Between 12:30 and when PJ arrived around 15:30, I went from expecting a long, boring day to being a mommy of a healthy, long little boy.  Somewhere in between there I was convinced I peed on a midwife (just my water breaking); yelled at that same midwife to, quote, “make it stop” (and that was the nice stuff); fell in love with the anesthesiologist (I believe I may have told her that I love her an embarrassing number of times); gave the Mr. a hell of an upper body work-out while he helped hold me still enough to push; screamed “what are you doing to me?” at two doctors that were inserting some sort of vacuum device and the midwife was literally leaning on the top of my uterus to rush PJ out because his heart wasn’t beating (thank goodness they ignored me and got the job done); and lots more that I didn‘t quite catch.

The blur stopped when PJ was safely out, heart going, lungs working and he let out the Most Glorious Sound of All: his first, loud, seriously pissed off and, most importantly, healthy cry. That moment when he took a deep breath and then let it rip was the moment. The moment my nightmares disappeared and I heard, “I am here, I am alive, I am healthy. Here me roar.”

Welcome to the party little man. Thanks for joining us.

xo

Hangers!

Something like a miracle occurred in our apartment this weekend. The Mr. sorted through his clothing and decided to give away a large amount of the stuff he hasn’t worn in a good long while. I think there may have been shirts in there from his late teens. I’ve been encouraging (asking, begging) for this for a good long while but the Mr. isn’t quite the sort-out-and-throw-out sorta person that I am.

Granted, I have been known to be a little more enthusiastic about getting rid of things than most likely necessary. But that’s not what this blog is about. This blog is about how darn exciting it was to see a small mountain of clothing to give away and a whole pile of free hangers.

Because who doesn’t love free hangers?

xo

Dry Clothes Made Easy

After eight years of hanging clothes to dry, I, okay, we are now the proud owners of a dryer. We hesitated for so long due to:

• Space – we don’t have that much and neither of us are willing to walk up and down three flights of stairs to the “washing cellar”
• Cost of machine – these things cost a serious amount of money
• Cost of energy – dryers are massive energy suckers and electricity is expensive
• Clothes stay nicer longer when slower dried in fresh air – totally true and while one needs some patience, I’ve got t-shirts that are over five years old and look great

But with our little worm on his way and our tentative plan to use cloth diapers, common sense prevailed. Neither of us good imagine hanging that amount of clothing all over our already cozy apartment for the rest of our lives.

 

So, after months of research, discussion, and bouncing ideas off people, we finally chose an energy- efficient, small dryer. It was delivered last week and I have only positive things to say about it. Forget penguins or vrom vroms (also called “handheld vacuums”), I'm in love with our dryer.

 

 

 

 

xo

Two Beautiful Mommas-to-Be

I’m super lucky: I get to share my first pregnancy not just with the loving, excited, and totally involved Mr, but also with a close friend who is just as pregnant. As in, our projected due dates are two days apart: mine very end of June, hers very start of July.

There is something to be said about being able to share this experience with another first-time mom who I was already close to before we both got pregnant. We’re wandering into and through body and lifestyle changes for the first time, together. And while our pregnancy couldn’t have been more different from the physical symptom side – she’s had none of my nausea or food issues and I’ve been a great sleeper in significant contrast to her continued insomnia – we share many of the same emotional experiences: hopes, fears, confusions, surprises, and the immense responsibility of naming (let alone raising!) another human being.

Thankfully we’ve been able to visit each other three times during our pregnancies. As great as email, facebook, phone calls, and skype may be, there is nothing better than sharing a time zone, couch, and good gab. Hopefully we’ll continue to share our friendship and our pathway through motherhood for years to come.

Until then, we compare bellies. If I may say so myself and for the both of us: we’re two seriously hot mommas-to-be.

xo

We’re All Getting Older

The Mr. and I flew to the US two weeks ago to visit family and friends and enjoy two baby showers (more on those later, promised). After an almost 24 hour trip door-to-door, we showed up at my little brother’s apartment. I was jet lagged, exhausted, and the little boy was disco dancing around in my belly – which made it quite difficult for me to make sense out of this picture.

Yes, those are three quite muscular manly-men chilling on the couch with glasses of wine.

Dear Lord, we are all getting older.

 
 
xo

The First 3-0 Is In The House

I celebrated the mystical turn into the big 3-0 recently with tons of chili, peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips, and friends dear and near. It was a good party and I thoroughly enjoyed my entry into the next decade.

I was expecting 30 to be good; I recall when both my mother and my youngest aunt hit 30. Back then a new decade seemed like a good thing, like life got somewhat easier (gimme a break - I was 10 when I mom celebrated her birthday and across the ocean when my aunt did). In reality, their lives didn’t magically get easier and mine didn’t either...but there is something to be said about 30.

30 found me with a partner-in-crime and in life that I enjoy being around and respect; good relationships with my core family members; a network of people that I care about and that care about me all over the world; and a property owner with enough money to finance the life we’re living and still save. And importantly 30 didn’t find me filled with that searching, that yearning that defined my teens and 20s. That yearning was necessary to get me to where I am today and it is still here, within me but it isn’t the core of my emotional platform. Instead my life is based on feeling good about myself with all of the stuff that maybe other people would like to change and feeling good about others with all of that stuff that maybe I’d like to change.

Long story, short: I’m not so wobbly anymore.

Thanks to the family and the friends who helped celebrate my special day. I thought Facebook might crash or the neighbors would call the cops. I’m lucky and I’m thankful I get to share my life with you.

The theme: It took me 30 years to look this fabulous.

The Chili - 3 flavours: spicy, spicier, spiciest. All three pots were gone before the night was over.

The Friends

The Fresh 30-Year-Old

xo

Ich bin unbefristet

As of today, almost 8 years after I arrived, I am the proud owner of an unlimited “unbefristet” German visa.

I may now stay in Germany for as long as I want and earn my income however I’d like. Basically, I have all the rights all these crazy Germans do, I just don’t get to vote. As an American with a good job and German husband, I haven’t faced significant troubles staying here but there is something comforting about knowing that now I can – forever if I chose to.

Watch out Germany – you might just be stuck with me!

xo

Fun Little Tidbit – Sharing Shoes

The Mr. is about 4 inches taller than I am. I can easily fit the top of head under his chin. Yet, we wear the same size shoe. It is fun for me because I get to slip into and out of his shoes whenever I want to. The Mr. loves this about me, almost as much as when I hound him about new home improvement projects. It isn’t as much fun for the Mr, since he isn’t really all that interested in the majority of my shoes.

While in Italy the Mr. and I took a hike and his bad knee started hurting again. That made him not happy.

I was wearing my Nike Free, so we decided that we’d take advantage of our identical shoe size and swap shoes.

It was a successful change. We both got to enjoy the rest of the hike pain free, including:

A view onto the lake

Fairy mushrooms



The valley where we got engaged. We sat underneath the tree that has been since been cut down.



And even took a little moment for a kiss.

xo

Sparta Lives!

Although the movie 300 - which the Mr. adores - created the impression that Sparta ended dramatically in battle: have no fear! Sparta lives!

xo

Yes, You Were Right

Dear Esteemed Female Family Members Who Did So Much for Our Wedding*,

You were right. I enjoy gardening and sometimes new furniture makes me giggle with glee. Proof in pictures below!

The super pretty balcony boxes. 

The pretty potted plants. We also have tomatoes and strawberries, but they weren't feeling the camera.

Our new, all grown up dining room chairs that the Mr. put together all alone while I was in London. 

Bless him!

XO

*you know who you are ;)