Say Goodbye / Say Hello

**whoops - quite a number of posts didn't publish. Here they come, waaaay overdue!**

This post is already a month overdue. Change is hard, people.

Our last few weeks in Germany were full of goodbyes and see-ya-laters. There were so many and I didn't do a great job of getting pictures.

PJ on his last playdate with his bestest friend.

She also left Germany.

Me holding a dear friend's gorgeous baby.

Two weeks of sorting and throwing away, giving away so that we could focus in. For me, it was 13 years. For my husband, his entire life.  

The movers came. Our stuff went.

We handed our gorgeous home into new hands. There were tears. We spent a week with Oma & Opa. There was much laughter as well as some tears.

In the end, we ended up with two cards packed with people & stuff.

At the airport our family came with us. We all treasured those last gorgeous moments together before the big change really took place.

Then we boarded our first plane. We were nervous (the Mr and I) and excited (PJ and Bean).

We survived - with no sleep - all the way to Iceland. We made our next flight.

And settled in.

...with just an hour to go, the kids finally fell asleep.

And we landed. In Denver. Home. Some of us were more excited than others. Some of us were more exhausted than others. Direct correlation, there.

And invaded my brother and sister-in-laws home for two weeks. There was much love, mess, and sleep. There was a lot of laughter and a lot of tears.

Change is hard. Cultural change is hard. The kids have defiantely handled this better than the adults. But that's a story for another day.

XO

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

Four Months

PJ is Four Months today! One-third of his first year is already over - remember when it all began?

This weekend I closed up the first box with the clothing he's outgrown, saying goodbye to all of his 0-3 month size clothing. All of those adorable little outfits, outfits, outfits, and outfits. As I carefully folded up the clothing, arranging and organizing, many memories came back, like this one, and this one, and this one.

And we are "only" one-third into the year - what will it be like in a few months? Thankfully I was told to enjoy this time often enough that I actually started to listen. Thanks everyone.



xo

Appreciating the Little Moments

PJ was born in July 2011. It is now September 2011. Between then and now – and unlike the mythology of motherhood – there have been more dark moments than moments of joy. Going into pregnancy I knew that I was at high risk for postpartum depression but what I did not know was that the support I thought I would need was far from what I really needed. I was also ignorant that breastfeeding, something I had planned on doing since I watched my mother breastfeed my sister, was a learned skill for both myself and my son and it is a difficult skill for us both to learn at that. There were other things I had failed to understand: the power and the pain of short bursts of sleep; what colic is; how much a new mother needs her mommy.

To say we struggled would be an understatement not unlike saying the Grand Canyon is „big“ and German „a little tough to learn at first“.

Thankfully, my husband was also able and willing to take the first month of our little boy's life off of work. I'm not sure what would have happened had I been alone. With him in the house, cooking, cleaning, shopping, encouraging, reassuring me and PJ (often literally at the same time), I could yell at him, slam doors at him, cry at him, and – most importantly – blame him for all this insanity instead of our little boy, just days and then weeks old.

Not that our son remained untouched by all of this. Breastfeeding was so difficult and so painful that I exuded fear every time he cried and every time I held him in my arms. Infants, like animals, react to our feelings and PJ's reaction was natural: my arms were not a safe place and he screamed for safety. Based on the bad advice we got during his first few weeks, I'm pretty sure he was also screaming out of hunger but that's another story.

I cried on the phone, I cried on skype, I cried going to the bathroom. Everything was too much and my world was wrapped in dark fog, a fog I hadn't seen in years since my last true depressive episode. I got scared and so did my husband.

"What do you need? How can I help you?" he kept asking over and over again, desperately ready to do anything to help Fix This.

"I don't know," I kept answering in many vague ways. Like so much, I didn't know what I needed or what would help.

Time crept past and after four weeks my husband went back to work. I learned about the La Leche league and got the patience, understanding, support, and expert guidance I needed for breastfeeding to become successful. I went onto Facebook and asked for support between 12 and 5, when my son was the most upset and I was alone. People - some of them surprising - started coming. I got up the courage to go to mommy groups. My mommy came for a visit. I went to my first MOPS meeting. My sister arrived to help.

And things got and are getting better. Breastfeeding is established and going well. My son has almost doubled his weight, grown out of his 0-3 month clothing, and had learned to smile and coo. And I have proven to him that my arms are the safest place to be. We all sleep a little more. The colic is basically gone. My husband is and continues to be an outstanding husband and father. I see and feel now that I am not alone.

Which brings us to a recent morning, 11 weeks into this adventure. After a rocky night, my husband, son, and I all laid down for an early morning nap. I nursed our little man to sleep and then I gently rocked onto my back, placing one hand on my husband's thigh. My right arm was wrapped around my son and my left hand was resting on my husband. Both of my men were peacefully, deeply breathing in their sleep in our dark bedroom and I looked at them both and tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought, "This. I really like this moment."

Here's to appreciating more of these moments. 

 xo

Colorado in the House

This week a Colorado cousin and two of her college friends stopped over in Heidelberg as part of their six week trip around Europe. Together we took a quick tour of the Thingstätte (in German only) and the monastery ruins above Heidelberg, followed by the mandatory Heidelberg castle tour by yours truly.

It was good fun to meet two new good people and get to know my cousin a little bit more. Listening to their stories and their plans, I was reminded of the awesome trips from my late teens and 20 around the US and the world, first to Spain, Bolivia, and then all over Europe with a short pop to India, and finally New Zealand (link leads to collection of all New Zealand related posts) and Australia. Those trips changed my life: it changed how I think, feel, and act. They opened my eyes and my heart, leading me away from where I shouldn’t and couldn’t be and bringing me to where I should be - which is here with my Mr. Onion awaiting our first little bundle of joy.

Looking back the trip that I carry with me the most was also my first time out of the US when I went to Spain to study abroad. It was tough and lonely and frustrating and a hell of a lot of fun. It was also the first time I realized that just because I’m American doesn’t mean I’m right. That my normal isn’t necessarily normal to everyone and sometimes my normal is just super weird. That history is written by the victor but that doesn’t mean the victims or the losers or the not-quite-victors have lost their voice or have nothing to say. And that sometimes I will be the victor and sometimes I won’t.

What about you - what trip(s) do you carry with you?



xo

Goodbye 2010 - You Were Good to Us

2010 is coming to an end and I, for one, cannot believe that it has already been one complete year since we celebrated the beginning of 2010. So much happened this year, most of it really good and some of it, eh, well, not so good. But like all good personal historians and people who chose to remain sane, I find myself concentrating on the positive.

The Steinbach Clan celebrated our first year of happy matrimony as well as many small moments of shared happiness like this one, this one, and this one. The Mr. also finally revealed to the world his dance moves.

2010 brought some pretty significant changes to how I view myself:

• I started responding to “Frau Steinbach” with the understanding that its me.
• I finally got unlimited German visa, more than seven years into this adventure.
• I started writing again – even trying some new stuff like fiction and attending two excellent workshops one in Scotland with Joanna Paterson and one in Ireland with Irene Graham
• I started growing towards the role of mother.

2010 did include a few sad moments. I lost a dear friend and faithful writing fan. The Mr. and I also said goodbye to our little Peewee. Happily, I reached 30 and finally broke the curse of crappy even birthdays. Thanks again to everyone who helped celebrate my new decade!

But we sure did travel a heck of a lot this year:

• Ireland
• Italy (where we came home with a little bun in the oven)
• Vancouver and unlimited Sushi (yes, it turns out this was my highlight looking back)
• Our honeymoon in New Zealand – there are so many blogs, but I chose the one that remained in my heart at the highlight
• London
• Scotland

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

The Other Side

I was in Ireland this past weekend for a very intensive creative writing course. When I stepped into my rental car in Dublin, I saw this reflection on my windscreen:

The reflection is a clever reminder to drive on the left side of the road. For me, an American living in Germany, the left side is the “wrong” side to drive on, so I need the reminder, as silly as I found it at first.

Then I started to reflect upon the past few weeks. I am currently going through a personal change process, in which I’m working on changing certain thought and behavior patterns both personally and professionally. It is an exciting time and also a challenging time. I’m quite tired a lot of time because I’m questioning and moving deep, deep down within my heart and soul. Change is tough and change is draining.

Suddenly the reflection in my windscreen wasn’t so silly anymore. Instead, I found myself wishing I had something like this as a constant reminder for all of the other changes as well.