Thank You Open Air

PJ and Bean started in a pre-school just a 30 second walk (literally, I timed it) from our first apartment in Denver. The school is called OpenAir Academy and is based upon the Reggio Emilia approach.  I can't tell you much about the approach other than it appears to be based upon treating children like humans; engaging with them where they are; working on social skills and kindess; and spending a lot of time outside. 

And boy did it work. Especially PJ - who has a pretty awful experience with bullying and negativity in his German school - blossomed. In a very short period of time, he became even more curious, thoughtful, and best of all --> kind. 

Parents are welcome in the school at any time and for any reason. The Mr. and I would pop in at the start just to see how things were going. They were always going very well. Our children were engaged, included, excited. The teachers were helpful, positive, and made an impression they generally cared about their school, their students, and themselves. 

The administrators were always available, always willing to discuss, always personable. And hilarious. Such a wonderful place. 

One day the Mr. and I were invited to PJ's classroom to help make schnitzel. The kids got messy and were so engaged. 

The school does parents-nights-out. We felt so comfortable with the school, the teachers, and our childrens' reactions that we took advantage of it. When we arrived, both were fast asleep. They were the only ones fast asleep. 

Another time the school invited us all to a music-in-the-park day. The teachers played football, rolling around on the grass with the kids, laughing as loud as could be. We had two carry-ins to get to the know the other teachers and each other. Every time it was loud, unscripted, inclusive. Really remarkable. 

But then we decided to move. And the pre-school is too far away. There were tears (mostly from the parents during the decision making). It was brutal to consider that the place that welcomed our children, included them and us from day one, and formed the safe environment for PJ to heal wouldn't remain a part of our lives. 

Our their last days, we snapped all those pictures. I think they tell the story much better than I ever could.

XO XO 

Last Day in Germany

Today is our last full day living in Germany. It feels strange how long it took to get to this day and how quickly time has flown by to bring us to today.

Yes, there was a project plan.

At the start of the month, the Mr. was promoted to Chief Steinbach Officer.

I had my last day of work before relocation vacation started. And got seriously jipped in the chocolate department. I really thought that was going to be full of chocolate.

Then the serious business started: really sorting, really packing, really giving away.

Then two weeks ago, the moving company came for those things that we will move to Denver.

It left our home so forlorn.

Thankfully in the same week, we signed for an apartment in Denver.

Then last week we emptied the home we created and handed it over to a growing family. Matilda had her last day at the day care. We invaded Oma & Opa's home. We all had our last play dates with dear friends. These aren't the only ones; I haven't been perfect at grabbing pictures of dear people and places.

PJ and his best friend Lisa (also leaving Germany)

PJ and his kindness buddy

We even said goodbye to Uncle & Aunt since they are both on vacation this week out of Germany.

And today we pack up everything that we will take on the plane tomorrow. Already tomorrow. 

Wow.


xo

Welcome Sally to the Family!

We've  had something pretty dramatic happen in the US side of our family. Little One, also known as Super Sister, and Uncle B were in a bad car accident last week. As in, their van flipped a couple of time and was airborne for a while and my sister and my brother-in-law were rushed to the hospital. Thankfully, both are alive.

Uncle B is now doing okay, running around with lots of bruises and cuts. My sister, however, has more damage, especially on her face. She has already had some operative work done, is sporting a shitload of stitches, and is facing another set of operations very soon. In classic Little One take-it-by-the-balls-ness, she isn't down all the time and she isn't pretending everything is okay. Nope, my sister is real. She's angry and then thankful and then sad - she goes through a normal range of emotions about creating and then surviving a fucking awful car accident - and she has renamed herself Sally.

As in Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Which, we all know, is one of the best movies ever.

Nightmare Before Christmas anyone? source

Welcome to the family, Sally!

But lets be honest, my sister doesn't really look like Sally. My sister has curves where they should be instead of a set of twigs with skin stretched over them. She also has a seriously awesome sense of fashion. Her hair's got waves and body and soul; it doesn't just hang in one big piece behind her shoulders. That and my sister is about 15 million times prettier.

And far more special to me, PJ and the Mr.

Far. More. Special. Vastly more special.

There is so much more I could say about all of this. Things like:

• how she doesn't have health insurance and what kind of 'first world country' doesn't have universal health care?!?!
• how when my mom said, "I need to tell you something about Little One" last week, I thought my entire world was going to crack
• how difficult it is to want to hold my baby sister and be limited to skype
• how thankful I am to the skype people (I LOVE you guys) for creating and then sustaining that platform
• how impressed I am (again!) by my brother-in-law
• how if my sister ever does anything like this again I'm going to wring her neck. And if she dies? I am going to kill her.
• and a lot more.

But I can't quite find the words. So instead I'm going to express what I can: Thank you trucker man. Thank you for paying attention. Thank you for calling 911. Thank you for pulling over. Thank you for stopping. Thank you for getting out of your truck. Thank you for rushing to the demolished van. Thank you for staying. Thank you for praying with my sister and my brother-in-law. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you, stranger. May we all take a lesson from you.

xo

Facebook Follow-up

Recently I posted on Facebook the following statement:

In just seven very short days Mr. starts his parental leave. Part of me excited; but the part of me that realizes that this amazing time with PJ  is coming to an end in just five weeks is very sad.

First thing: wow, I really need to reread my status updates for grammar in the future. Ouchie.

Second thing: I thought I was doing that Facebook thing of sharing what was going on in my head and moving on. But then private messages started finding their way into my Facebook and email inbox. I realized that I had also wandered into that strange world of parenting advice; the role of men and women at home; and the whole stay-at-home vs. career mom debate. Thankfully I'm Facebook "friends" with primarily rational, caring people and the messages never ventured into the aggressive, insulting, black-and-white realm one usually finds on the Internet. Instead they were full of mostly kind, supportive messages...that didn't really relate to what I was trying to express in very poor grammar. Instead they seemed to represent to me so many misunderstandings that pop up in conversations about parenting. 

Therefore, I decided to not just answer those personal messages but to also write a blog post in the hope that maybe I can help influence the overall conversation. Not that I'm asking too much of my little corner of the web.

Wink. Wink.

Please note: none of these quotes are real and have been created to represent those misunderstandings in a broad way.

To the misunderstandings:

1. "Yeah it really stinks when men try to get involved. They don't have the skills and just get in the way. But no worries! The four hours every day will pass quickly and your husband can't kill PJ that quickly." "Write down how to do everything, add a daily list of things to remember, and then call to make sure everything is going the way it should."

I am excited that the Mr. is coming home to be with us. Excited. And not just because he does stuff like laundry, grocery shopping, and cleaning the kitchen. I'm excited because I enjoy being with my husband and PJ loves being with his da-da. I'm excited because I live in a time and place which makes extended leave during the first year of a baby's life possible for the mom and the dad. Both of us. The parents. That is awesome.

Know what else is awesome? That my husband, PJ's daddy not only steps up with joy to spend five months of his life to be with his little man but that he is excited to be a hands-on, getting-dirty-and-rocking-the-house stay-at-home daddy for a while of his own free will.

Seriously. Stop laughing. Once I realized how awesome being with little man is, I offered to stay longer ... lets just say the words "No" and "way" were part of the Mr's answer (with a nice big F-word inbetween).

So I am excited!

But to the point about trusting the Mr. with PJ alone...let's be really clear: I don't trust you with my kid. I know, I know, I have become one of those moms. But, hand on the bible, I trust my husband. Yes, the Mr. will do many things differently. He will forget a lot. He will make mistakes. Will that always make me smile? No. Do I doubt his ability and his desire to be the best daddy ever? No. Will he do some things better than me? Oh hell, yes.

So, I won't make him lists of "how to take care of PJ" - nor will I call him every hour just to make sure that he is doing what is on those lists. I may call every 20 minutes to hear what PJ is doing, saying, eating, etc but that because I need to hear it, not because I think the Mr. can't hack it.
The problem - if you can call it that - is me. Not the Mr. Me.

(And, yes, I'll work on that whole trusting you with my kid thing. Sorry about that.)

2. "Since you hate your job, don't go back."

I am sad that my dedicated time with PJ is coming to an end but I am not sad that I am returning to my career. I'm sad about what I'm leaving behind - not what I am moving towards. I am and will always be his mommy. No one can take my place. He is my child. We will have wonderful times together and there are joys that I haven't even thought of yet, but there is a huge lists of won't be able tos:

• I won't have hours and hours every day for play dates with other kids.
• I won't always be the person to see all of his firsts. (And, yes, if I told you that you saw something before me - with the exception of rolling - I lied. Sorry about that. But you were so excited and, well, I'm a push over sometimes.)
• I won't have what seems to be endless time to lay around with him after his naps while he slowly wakes up, casually nursing and playing with his hair, my hair, his nose, my nose.
• I won't be able to read Chirpy Chick five times in a row every time he wants me too.
• I won't be able to goof around on the changing table, trying to make each diaper change less of a fight (or wrestling match) and more of a game, for endless periods of time.

...because sometimes I will need to get to work, or an appointment, or whatever.

But who said I hated my job? Not me, cause I don't.

3. "You should have enjoyed your time at home more." "You should be more thankful."
 

This glorious, blessed, amazing period of life is coming to an end and, yes, I grieve for it. I grieve for it and grieve in part for it because of how much I have treasured it while it was taking place. All good things come to an end. Yes. But being sad about it is natural and human and real. I could not have enjoyed it more and I could not be more thankful for this blessing.

So, since I seem to lack a mature way to deal with this one, a picture in response:

3. "A real mom feels the way you feel - a mom should be at home!" "Being a working mom is the only way to raise successful, independent kids!" "Don't make the mistake of staying home / going to work!"

If I've learned one thing from my career development: know your weakness, know your strengths, minimize your weaknesses, and set up your job and your life to build upon your strengths. An easy way to know what your weakness and strengths are is to put yourself into a specific situation, watch a pro at whatever job or life situation you are considering, and then note what you feel. If your response is, "I really admire this professional. Wow." and nothing else ... move on. You've just identified something you can appreciate but you are not interested in.

For example, my new stay-at-home mom friend. She is awesome. I admire her. She is poised, flexible, strict, funny, adaptable, clear, honest, and just damn likable while she balances two extremely different, equally outrageous and wonderful boys; a lovable, energetic puppy; a gregarious husband doing an hour commute each way; a regular exercise routine; a leading role in a local mom's group; a healthy and vibrant group of friends...there is probably more I don't know about yet ...all in a foreign country. Right now, as I type this, she has two extra adults and three extra kids in her house. And she is genuinely happy. I watch her with admiration and think, "I really admire this professional. Wow." ...and nothing else.

So, like race car driving and stock trading, I may be totally impressed but I'm not interested in learning how to do it myself.

However, if you are in that specific situation, watching an expert, and your think, "I really admire this pro and I need to know how she does it." ...stay. You've just identified something you are not only interested in but you are ready to put the work into to become good at it. 

For example, my working mom friend. She is also awesome. I admire her. Over the past seven years, I have slowly grown closer to her. She balances two intelligent and immensely entertaining girls; a key role (including creating and founding) the wonderful Heidelberg International Professional Women's Forum; a lovely and supportive husband; a vibrant group of friends all over the world; a nearly full-time job (the last time I checked)...and more that I don't know about...all in a foreign country and then throughout an international move. And she is also genuinely happy. I watch her with admiration and I want to know how she does it, practice it, morph it into what works for us, and then role model it for others.

So that's what I am going to be doing: becoming a working mom. Is it easier than being a stay-at-home mom? No. Is it harder? No, I don't think that is true either.

My choice to return to work is a choice that goes beyond me. It is a choice, a decision that the Mr. and I have made as individuals, as spouses, as parents, and as a family have made based on what we believe is right for us, for our family. It may change, it may not. Our choice is not a statement or a judgement about your family. Do what is right in your family and for your family. And, please, understand and respect - maybe even accept - that I will be doing the same for mine.

So, now allow me to revamp my original statement:

In just two days the Mr. starts his parental leave. Part of me is excited; but part of me also realizes that this amazing time with PJ is coming to an end in just four weeks and is very sad.


xo

The Toy That Keeps Giving

At just five weeks PJ started playing with his first toy: a silver rattle. Almost seven months later, he continues to be enthralled with that same toy. When he gets his little fist around it, there isn't much that can get between him and his rattle. Now he'll even hold onto it while crawling around the apartment, balancing himself on the rattle for a split second. 

That "vroom" noise is new and entertaining - but that giggle remains my favorite!

xo

Mommy Got Her Hair Did

Last week I realized I hadn't gotten my hair cut in about six months. Six months. With long hair that means: tangles, tangles, and even more tangles. Ouch. Since I'm celebrating my birthday (like that plug?) next week, I decided I had - HAD - to get my hair did. Then I learned that the hair dresser who has been taking care of me for years was off duty getting her masters. Double ouch.

After asking around I got a recommendation and discovered that the only appointment available before my birthday was during the afternoon when the Mr. was unavailable to take care of PJ. That could have been a reason not to get my hair done. Instead I swallowed big and arranged for our little man's first babysitter while awake. Thankfully Opa jumped at the opportunity.

Today when Opa arrived, I had to again swallow really big and walk out the door. Good thing PJ loves his Opa and cuddled up close as soon as he could. That made walking out the door a hella lot easier.

Thankfully the hair appointment went really well (and quick) and PJ was a happy camper until about ten minutes before I got home. I don't like when our little man cries, but it sure is good for my ego when he is crying because he misses me...and stops as soon as he is snuggled into my arms.

Thank you very much to Opa! I'm sure PJ enjoyed his time and is looking forward to another go at it sometime soon. 

xo
ps. Like those red cheeks? 'Cause they herald in little man's first tooth - it just broke through his gums!

First Toy

Little PJ played with his first toy today, a little silver rattle we got at our family baby shower. First he followed the rattle while the Mr moved it from side to side and then it for a short period of time, enjoying the loud noise it made. We were very proud parents!

Gettin Better

This picture pretty sums up week one: exhausted, confused, and overwhelmed with theory crashing into reality. Because theoretically I'm against binkies; you'll notice that my theory is worth about a dollar two-ninety-eight in the real world when PJ had another meltdown that I'm sure had a reason, I just couldn't figure out what it was.

But we survived! Still exhausted, still confused, still overwhelmed, but at least I'm back to smiling.

Yes, time played a role, but so did many of you. Thank you for not asking and just stepping in. Thank you for answering my desperate call for breastfeeding help on Facebook (even reposting my call for help). Thank you for the reminders that I can absolutely abuse my midwife with questions, questions, questions. Thank you for calling and leaving messages that it all gets better. Thank you for coming around and staying not-too-long or for still waiting - impatiently, I know - for us to finally get back with a day that works (this boy needs an assistant to schedule all his appointments already). Thank you for the food, cake, and drink.

Thank you.

Week two is shaping up to be a chaotic but far more enjoyable ride.


xo

Moment of Beauty

It isn’t much of a secret that I’m (a little more than) ready for the Worm to arrive and the heartburn; cactus-y attitude; extra pillows; random, unnecessary projects; mobility issues; and vegetarian sushi to disappear. These past two weeks have been particularly annoying with bouts of nausea and cramping; lack of sleep; and a cactus-y attitude that has turned into a pissy one.

Earlier this week I was having a particularly tough moment and a colleague-friend stumbled into my mood. Her reaction? Here's a hint: it wasn’t snippiness or avoidance or offense.

Answer: it was flowers. Beautiful, beautiful flowers.

Thank you, Ms. Toes, thank you.

xo

Why Being Pregnant is Like Being a Cactus

Last weekend some fabulous friends put together the last baby shower. It was a relaxed affair with yummy food, a few simple and rather informative games, and good people. Since I was the only there that has so far lost her mind and gotten pregnant, we talked about a lot more than pregnancy and babies. It made me realize that I haven’t been in a group of women without having the entire conversation revolve around our growing bellies for about six months. It did me good.

Long story, short: it was a great afternoon that stretched until almost 11pm and included a lot of laughter. Thank you very much ladies for arranging the shower, for coming, and for those of you that were unable to come: thank you for your messages and your support from afar! We missed you.

So how is being pregnant like being a cactus?

Because as the dear C & T proclaimed pregnant ladies are round and rather prickly. Which is true, so true.

I’m most certainly round and rather prickly. My patience is, well, lets just say it’s rather limited and often tried. I can’t really explain how’s it is being tried considering I hardly see people and everyone I do see is in the take-care-of-the-pregnant-lady zone. I mean, I get ice cream on demand. On demand and I don’t ever need to beg.

I’d also like to add that I feel like I’m in a freaking desert all the time. I’m hot, I’m sweaty, I’m thirsty, and I’m grumpy. I’ve never been in a desert but I think I would feel that way. I would hope I’d complain about it a little bit less.

The poor Mr.

I think he is as ready for the worm to make his entrance as I am. And when he gets here, I’ll be making good use of this baby shower gift.

Who's in?



xo