Church bells

Posted on June 9, 2011 by admin

One of the best things about where we live in Vienna is that we get to hear church bells ring every day. They ring at noon and 5:45 p.m. every day, and then on the weekends they also ring just before 9:30 in the morning. (I find the times themselves a little random, but I’m guessing it has something to do with church, and if I actually went, I’d probably know.)

We are within hearing distance of at least three sets of bells, maybe more — I’m not even sure which ones I’m hearing at which times. I absolutely love to hear them, and I’ve already grown accustomed to telling the time by them. The boys are usually down for their naps by the time the noon bells ring, and Dan gets home right after the bells ring in the evening. On the weekends, if I hear the morning bells and I haven’t gotten myself in gear to get some things done, I’m probably running late.

Some days, my routine with the kids feels so familiar, it’s actually easy to forget how far from home I am. No matter how wrapped up I get in my day, I hear the bells and I stop what I’m doing for a moment to listen. Although I’m used to hearing them, I don’t take them for granted (yet). They’re magical to me: anachronistic and yet so perfectly appropriate, so much of Vienna. It’s like snow on Christmas — it belongs, but its belonging doesn’t diminish your delight when you find it.

Progress

Posted on June 8, 2011 by admin

We’ve been here just over two months. I didn’t really see it happen, but somewhere along the way, we got settled here. Life is getting into a (new) routine and most of our creature comforts have gotten sorted out. I am starting to have places I “usually” go, and I’m finding I need to go digging in the suitcases less and less. We’ve come a long way.

When I think back over the past few months, it’s really amazing to me how good we have things right now. We are sleeping on an actual bed (OUR actual bed), the kids are in their own cribs, we have a functional place to change diapers, we have a full kitchen (which we regularly use to cook our meals), we have two strollers to choose between for our outings, we have a selection of clothes for ourselves and the kids, we have a bathtub for Benjamin and a baby bath for Liam, the kids have all of their toys and space to use them, we can wash our own laundry (and dry it), we have our Austrian IDs, a bank account and train passes, we have tables, chairs, a booster seat and a high chair, I know where the grocery store is, where to get coffee, donuts and ice cream, we’ve discovered a pizza place that we love, and Dan actually got paid last week, and it’s (almost) enough to cover all of our bills for this month. Oh, and now I have a fan.

We still have things to do, to be sure, but we are unpacking, organizing and cleaning in comfort and style. It’s fantastic.

I’ve finally arrived at the destination I was fantasizing about a month ago. I didn’t really notice it happening, but we LIVE here now.

The heat

Posted on June 7, 2011 by admin

I can’t stand the heat. It’s driving me nuts. I’ve never been one of those people who longs for the heat of summer — I’ve always been someone who would rather be too cold than too hot (my philosophy is that you can always put more layers on, but there are only so many you can take off). I hate being sweaty when I’m sitting still — not my style. It’s not super hot here . . . 85 or so during the heat of the afternoon, but it varies between 5 to 10 degrees hotter than that in our apartment. I’m used to setting my air conditioning at home at a max of 72, so this is rough for me. Benjamin seems unfazed by it, but Liam is sweating all day, and we’ve started going out in the afternoons just to get out of here at the hottest part of the day.

We have huge, beautiful windows which, when opened, allow a great cross breeze and really cool everything off. But, these windows are about 5 feet tall and open like French doors — each has a radiator positioned directly underneath it, so even though the sill is 3 feet off the floor, it is not out of the reach of a 2 year old. And we live on the 6th (also top) floor. So, we can’t open the windows when Benjamin is awake. They actually have a funny design that allows us to open a single pane of the window about 4 inches, which allows the air to move a little, but we’re pretty stifled up here.

The whole attitude towards heat is different here — no one has air conditioning, and the Viennese alter their dress very little, even when it’s very hot outside (3 piece suits, dresses with tights, jackets and even scarves are common to see). I don’t know how they do it.

I think that it’s similar to how we deal with snow in the DC area. We don’t get a ton of snow (winter of 2010 notwithstanding) so when we do, we close everything down, do our best to get it out of our way (kind of) and move on. We’re really just gritting our teeth, closing our eyes and pushing through: we’re surviving, we’re not thriving. Besides, it’ll be gone in a few days. We don’t invest a lot in dealing with snow, because it’s just not a space we need to live in for very long.

I think the heat is the same here. It’s about the same here as it is at home, temperature wise (although a lot less humid) but it won’t be as hot for as much of the summer as we experience at home. So, rather than adjust their surroundings to be something they can thrive in, they just grit their teeth and push through.

I can appreciate the Viennese (and, I think Europeans in general) being steadfast in the face of the heat — I can see that if it isn’t bad for too long, they don’t have the requisite motivation to alter their homes or their wardrobes significantly for it. (Although I do wish they at least put ice in the drinks.) I also hear it’s something you get used to (I hope so).

Dan brought home a fan today. I think it may be the best gift he’s ever brought me.

Absence makes the heart grow . . . sadder

Posted on June 6, 2011 by admin

I miss my family. It was not completely unusual for me to go 4 or 6 or (on occasion) even 8 weeks without seeing some members of my immediate family (parents, brothers and sisters). But, it rarely went beyond that. I’d get to a point where I’d realize I hadn’t seen them in nearly 2 months, and pick up the phone . . . or a birthday or holiday would roll around and we’d all get together. (I never went this long without seeing everyone at this time of year, though: Easter, Mother’s Day, my brother Peter’s birthday have all passed since I’ve been here.) We hit the 2 month mark today, and I’ve really noticed over the past few days that my longing for home (most particularly being with my family) has been growing. I may be very fortunate, and get to see my mother very soon, but it will be months (or more) before I see the others. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around that.

I don’t wish for anything monumental, I just want to see everyone. I want to talk and hang out and maybe have a meal. Catch up on what’s been going on and joke about old stuff. Just talk and be relaxed, and have everyone be amazed at how wonderful my kids are. (Skype is a great invention, and I am really grateful for it, but it’s hard to carry on a decent conversation while wrangling both children, which is how most of my Skypes to home end up going.)

I guess it’s one of those things — you don’t really appreciate how good you have things until they change. I can’t believe that I ever went 4 or 6 or 8 weeks at home without seeing my family. They live 45 minutes from where I was living! Why did we allow that? Why did I live in Virginia when I could just as easily have lived in Maryland and been close to everyone? (I know why, but the reasons don’t stand up to scrutiny right now.)

I don’t know how things will be when I move home. Who knows where everyone will be? But, I can say, I will make different choices. I miss them all more than I thought I would after 2 short months. It’s not just the amount of time that has passed, but the knowledge that I can’t do anything about it right now that is so frustrating. I am so grateful that I’ve had my family so close to me (geographically and otherwise) my entire life up until now, and I’m disappointed at the way I have taken it for granted without even realizing it.

I’m not taking it for granted right now. I love you guys, and I wish you were here (or I were there). (Lesson learned.)

Helping a stay at home mom

Posted on June 5, 2011 by admin

When you stay at home with your kids, lots of things are different than if you work outside the home. There’s the obvious stuff: your job follows you 24/7 (including on vacation), you rarely get to use the bathroom by yourself, the concept of a coffee break is foreign to you, and you get to work in your pajamas. Also, you truly become the CEO of your household. You can manage your kids, your home, the errands, and the dog, all at the same time, and all by yourself for 8 or 10 or 12 hours a day. So, when someone shows up and offers to “help”, however well meaning, it often doesn’t work. It’s not because you’re controlling or because you’re overly particular. It’s because you can juggle everything by yourself, so having a novice step in and try to help you just doesn’t: it messes up your regular rhythm and requires extra accommodation on your part (showing them what to do, explaining why, working around what they’re doing).

Maybe this isn’t specific to stay-at-home-moms: maybe this is just something that happens with whichever member of the family is the one who calls most of the shots and executes most of the plays (I just know it didn’t really show up in my life until I became a stay-at-home-mom).

Whether it’s friends or family, people want to help, which I can appreciate. They want to help around the house, or help with the kids, but 99% of the time, they’re doing a job you don’t mind doing (because no one offers to help with the ones you’d really rather not be doing), they aren’t doing it as well as you would on your own and often, they’re unintentionally creating additional collateral damage that you’ll just have to rectify at some point. I get that they want to help anyway, and it often is actually helpful, but sometimes it isn’t, particularly when they’re insistent on helping with a particular thing or in a particular way. There’s usually no graceful way to turn down even the worst “help”, so you suck it up and accept it anyway and fix everything later. But then they’re offended that you didn’t appreciate their help enough. Why don’t people understand this?

I actually think I know. My dad used to be a professional house painter. I’ve helped him paint before, and when you start, you start with the inside of a closet. Why? Because your mistakes won’t show, you won’t be in his way and he won’t have to redo your work. Instead of being a stay at home mom, imagine I was a cook at a busy restaurant. Would anyone unfamiliar with that business, or even with that particular restaurant, assume they could walk in and actually take some of my load off on the first day? Or would they understand that maybe, after a few weeks of training, they could begin to actually be helpful? The first few days would inevitably be more work for me — telling them what to do and how we do it, explaining my methods and demonstrating my rhythm. What if I were a brain surgeon? Or an air traffic controller? Would just anyone think they could come in and help me do my job that I do every day without their help?

I don’t think they would. I think that, sadly, when people believe they can “help” a stay-at-home-mom without any training or experience, it’s really a form of condescension. (And by “experience”, I don’t mean just having kids, I mean being a stay-at-home-primary-caregiver.) They would never assume to be able to help a “professional” with their work without any training or practice, but they think they can help “just” a mom. It’s an overt demonstration of an internal feeling that a mom’s job is actually so easy that anyone can do it.

Well, it isn’t. I’m good at what I do, and it took years of sweat, tears and exhaustion to learn what works, what doesn’t, and the best way to take care of everyone and get everything done. If you want to help, sincerely, ask me what you can do and actually listen to the answers. You may not understand, but there is a method to my madness and a reason for everything I do. I’m happy to explain it, when I have the time. You may have to paint in the closet at the beginning — try not to be offended. This job is harder than it looks.

The zoo

Posted on June 4, 2011 by admin

I’m working on turning over a new leaf in terms of being flexible (especially with the family schedule), so when Dan suggested that we eat breakfast out this morning, I went along with it, even though it totally blew our busy schedule of chores and house cleaning. We had a lovely time, and still managed to get to the grocery store and do a bit of laundry and organizing before nap time.

It was important, after all, that we keep our afternoon free, because we had plans to go to the zoo today. I mentioned it to Benjamin earlier in the week and he has been talking about it non-stop ever since. He would wake up in the morning and ask if we were going to the zoo today. Then, all day, he would periodically tell me that we couldn’t go to the zoo today because we couldn’t go without Daddy, and Daddy had to work.

Today, we finally went to the zoo. It’s on the grounds of the Schonbrunn Palace, which we’ve visited before. We saw giraffes, tigers, reindeer (with babies!), cranes, lions, monkeys, goats, water buffalo and a rhino. (We tried to see the Pandas, but they were hiding or sleeping or otherwise unavailable.) It’s very zoo-like . . . by which, I mean, it’s what you’d expect: lots of animals.

But, it’s different, too. First, many of the animals (although not the big carnivores) could get out of their enclosures with relatively little effort. The reindeer, for example, were behind a 3′ fence that I imagine they could jump easily if sufficiently motivated — I’m guessing the designers are counting on them being sufficiently motivated very, very rarely (and I’m sure they’re right — why would a reindeer want to visit downtown Vienna when he’s got a cushy reindeer-friendly habitat at his disposal?). Also, people could get IN to many of the enclosures even more easily if they wanted to (which I am not used to). Even Benjamin could have climbed into several of the enclosures (again, not the lions or the tigers, which is good) if we had let him.

It is a very Austrian approach, and it makes me smile. I can imagine having a conversation with the designer:

Me: “What if someone climbs in to the enclosure! They could get hurt!”

Designer: “Why would anyone do that?”

Me: “I don’t know . . . curiosity, foolishness, showing off for their friends?”

Designer: “That would be stupid. They’d probably get hurt.”

Me: “But, they might hurt the animals.”

Designer: “I don’t think so. No one would do that.”

In the US, this conversation would be a precursor to a multi-million dollar lawsuit from the family of someone who was mauled by a reindeer or trampled by goats after climbing into the enclosure with the animals. In Austria, it’s an attitude which is part of the oldest zoo in the world (it’s been there for over 250 years).

If you ask Benjamin, his favorite part of the zoo was the tigers and the flamingos (which we didn’t actually see — but he’s been learning about them on “Go, Diego, Go” all week, so he’s got them on his mind). My favorite part is the fact that you could climb into the enclosures with the animals, but no one does. I love this philosophy that is so pragmatic and irreverently Darwinian, and the fact that people actually seem to be able to control themselves and behave, even though they have the option not to — imagine that.

Giving directions

Posted on June 3, 2011 by admin

I am constantly being asked for directions. Without exaggerating, I’m probably stopped and asked for directions 30-40% of the times I walk out of my front door. I think it’s because I live in a very touristy area, I kind of look like I could be Austrian, and I don’t look intimidating (usually). But it really happens all the time.

It started the first night I was ever in Vienna (back when I was visiting Dan here in 2010 for the weekend). I was asked for directions to hotel where we were staying, so I actually managed that, even though they didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak whatever they were speaking. I’ve been asked directions in German, English, French and even what I think was Japanese. One group of women, who only spoke German, was not put off when I explained I only spoke English, nor when I couldn’t understand what they were asking to find. I eventually managed to figure it out with the help of the map on my phone. I think I’ve managed to point everyone who asked in at least the general direction of what they were looking for.

It happened again today — twice in the same hour. Benjamin, Liam & I were out for our morning walk, and we stopped to get donuts (it is, after all, National Donut Day in the US, apparently). The customer ahead of us in line was asking (in German) how to find a particular grocery store. The woman behind the counter of the bakery said (in German) that there wasn’t one around, but pointed him in the direction of another one. I understood what they were saying, but couldn’t explain in German, so I added, in English, that I actually knew where that store was. He turned to me and asked in perfect English where it was, I explained, and he thanked me and headed off. Then, on our way home, we were stopped by two women, who asked in excellent German, about the location of a shop on the same block where we live. I understood, but couldn’t explain in German — I tried to gesticulate it, and said (in mild frustration), “I don’t know how to say it in German, but I can show you!” To which one of the women replied, “Oh, wonderful! You speak English! I’m from New York!” (I know how to get there, too, but can’t explain that in German, either.) Her companion was actually Parisian, and we walked the block or so together and talked about Vienna.

It’s funny — I guess I just have one of those faces: I look friendly and helpful which equates to very approachable. Most Austrians that I’ve encountered are really quite helpful and friendly, as well, but they often don’t look it. Every person that has asked me for directions, and who I’ve been able to communicate with in English, has expressed surprise that I’m an American — the woman today said she picked me out particularly because I looked like a local. I should have asked why. (I think it might be the stroller. I don’t think very many people would take on a European vacation with two little ones, let alone moving here, so I think the stroller gives me extra credibility.)

So, I wonder: is it really that I’m being singled out so often as a good person to ask for directions, or are that many people wandering lost around Vienna? Either way, it feels really good to be able to help — I spend a lot of my time here feeling awkward and out of place, so it’s nice to have something to offer. It’s also really fascinating to watch the flow of language around me. Even I, of relatively limited linguistic ability, participated in conversations in English, French and German today. And I helped some people. Pretty cool.

Sick day

Posted on June 2, 2011 by admin

When you’re a stay at home mom, you don’t get sick days. I knew, when I started staying home with my kids, that this was one of the benefits of a “regular” job that I’d miss the most. When I’m sick, I only want to curl up on the couch, watch mindless tv and drink ginger ale until I feel better. Not a lot of opportunities to do that in my current occupation.

Working when you’re sick is more or less difficult depending on the job — it was hard to teach dance lessons well with even a cold, but I could write software with the flu (although for the sake of my coworkers, I tried to do it from home). Being a stay at home mom is an intense job — the hardest I’ve ever had. You can only slack off so far — you absolutely have to on your game. You can’t really take a break, even when you’re sick. Nothing changes. Diapers still need to be changed, kids still need to be fed, messes need to be cleaned up, stories need to be read, cuddles need to be given out, and you have to do the dozens of things you do all day to keep your children from causing themselves (or each other, or the dog) serious harm. There’s very little margin for adjustment. (In fact, it can actually be harder — any attempt to give yourself a break will probably get the kids off their schedules, which can make things tougher.)

I am sick today. My day was pretty much exactly the same as always, except we didn’t go out to explore at all, and we watched more tv than usual. (And, all the tv we watched was all in English.) I kept things as simple as possible all day, but it was still pretty much business as usual. Benjamin was bouncing off the walls because he didn’t get out at all, and Liam was fussy all day (I’m hoping he’s not getting sick, too). I had Dan pick up dinner on the way home, and after dinner, I got to lay down for half an hour.

Here’s hoping I feel better by morning.

Such a beautiful day

Posted on June 1, 2011 by admin

We don’t have as fixed a schedule here in Vienna as we did in the US. I was pretty strict with our family schedule at home — here, I’m trying to turn over a new leaf in terms of flexibility, and we’ve also been here for not quite two months (during which time we’ve lived three different places) so we just don’t have things settled yet.

Allowing for flexibility, however, our days tend to follow one of two general patterns: either we get out and explore (or get some things done) first thing after Dan leaves in the morning, followed by an afternoon at home, or we have a relatively quiet morning at home doing household stuff and try to get out in the afternoon. I try to make it a point to get out for a bit every day, and I’ve managed that most days. (I find it helps my sanity, as well as Benjamin’s, to get out and stretch our legs, and I’m also fighting a latent desire to curl up on my couch and watch tv in English all day and temporarily forget where we’re living, which, although occasionally tempting, I know I will regret one day soon.)

Getting the kids out of the house is always an ordeal, although I’m getting better at it. I change diapers, get kids dressed, get myself dressed, make sure the diaper bag is packed, then one child will inevitably need another clean diaper, or one of us will need a clean shirt (because they just spilled something and/or spit up on themselves, or on me), put anything edible away so the dog doesn’t eat it while we’re out, make sure everything is off or closed and squared away, grab my keys or Benjamin’s water or Liam’s pacifier (whatever I almost forgot) . . . and then it’s time to pack all of us, and the stroller, into the too-small elevator and go out into the world.

Typically, by the time I get everyone downstairs and strapped into the stroller, I’m nearly too exhausted to go out.

But every time — every single time — we walk out the front door of the building into the courtyard, Benjamin looks up at the sky and says, “It’s such a beautiful day!” It doesn’t matter what’ it’s like out: cloudy, hot, raining, cold, windy. It’s worth all that effort just to hear it. Really.

Baby food

Posted on May 31, 2011 by admin

Liam is working his way up the baby-food-chain . . . from rice cereal to oatmeal to wheat to veggies. He is a human version of a baby velociraptor — this kid will eat anything that doesn’t move faster than he does. Most babies are relatively slow to take to “solid” food (if oatmeal and pureed carrots can be counted as solid) but not Liam. He doesn’t spit food out, he doesn’t make faces — it goes in, he swallows it and he looks for the next bite, even the first time he tries something. We have to cut him off, at some point, so he doesn’t make himself sick, and he cries when we put the food away. (Don’t worry, he’s still nursing — he won’t starve.) He has yet to meet a food he didn’t like.

The difficulty is that baby food is hard to find here. At least, the kinds of baby food I’m looking for. A variety of formulas are readily available, and rice cereal and oatmeal were easy to find, too (once I learned the word for oatmeal: “haferflocken”, which is a great word). Beyond that, the next step for Austrian babies seems to be “peas and lentils with ham”. The only “single ingredient” pureed baby food I can find here is carrots — everything else is some kind of combo. (I also realized that I’m pretty unlikely to find pureed sweet potatoes here — they’re more of an American continent thing.)

I don’t know if mothers here are more industrious than I am: maybe they’re all making their own baby food (which is possible). Maybe they’re less hung up on uber-testing their kids for allergies to every single possible thing, so they just puree a bunch of stuff together (which is likely). Or maybe I’m shopping in the wrong stores (also possible — I’m looking in the grocery stores and the drug stores, but there may be something else out there). It’s hard to tell, and it can be frustrating. It’s not just that I’m not able to find what I’m looking for, but that I don’t know if what I’m looking for exists, and I don’t know where I’d look for it if it did. I’m not sure which store names to look for, and when I look for the stores online, I’m searching Austrian websites in German. This is not a trivial process.

Today, I packed the kids up and headed out to look at a store which seemed promising. Upon arriving at our destination, I couldn’t find the store (let alone the baby food). I tried a grocery store that I happened upon, but with no luck (they had the same “peas and lentils with ham” that our local store has). When I got home and re-checked the directions, I realized that the address of the store was correct, but the placement on the map was wrong. I was familiar with the area, so I walked to the place I saw depicted on the map, and couldn’t find it (no wonder I couldn’t find the right street, since I was in the wrong neighborhood).

This doesn’t go in the category of major frustration, just mild curiosity turned minor obsession. It is yet another of the things that I took for granted at home and am struggling with here (there are so many). Liam will be fine and will be introduced to all manner of foods (and he’ll probably start catching his own meals next week). But here I am, thinking wistfully of the baby food aisle at Safeway — never thought that would happen.

A Mommy Abroad

Our big adventure, as a family of three.

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