Because love is fantastic and life is hard

I have two boys, who I love more than anything in the entire world.  I was made to be their mama, and I am profoundly grateful that I have that honor.  They light up my days with love and joy.  Watching them learn and grow and become more of who they are each day is an amazing blessing.  I am so lucky.

It is my most desperate hope that one day, they grow up to be kind, strong, intelligent, happy, peaceful, loving men.  I hope they have lives that fill them with joy.  I hope they live such wonderful, exuberant, amazing lives bursting with passion that they don’t think to call me every day.  And I hope they are loved.  I hope they find someone who sees the fantastically wonderful people that they are and who feel as lucky to be in their lives as I do.

Because, love is fantastic.  And because life is hard.  Stuff happens.  Things get tough, hearts get broken, people suffer and struggle.  And we are all saved by the people who carry us through that.  We ALL need each other.  Each of us gets to, if we’re lucky enough to find them, choose that one other person we need beside us on those darkest days — and the one we want to share the gorgeous, transcendent, bliss-filled moments with, too.  We ALL get to choose.  And that choice, once made, should be equal, in the eyes of the law, whoever is making it and whoever they choose.

Equal.  The SAME.  Not “equivalent”.

Because, people, life is hard and we need each other.  Nobody should have to do it alone and nobody gets an asterisk for “almost but not quite”.  Whatever the future holds for my boys, my friends, my friends’ children, their friends and millions of others that I’ll never know, I want them to get to share their love, and their life, with the person they choose.

Frankly, I hope my kids grow up to read this and fail to understand the need to talk about marriage equality.  I hope they think that this discussion is ludicrous, because, in the world they inhabit, it will hopefully make no sense to them.  I hope that my children will inherit a world where this argument is antiquated, embarrassing and recognized as being fed only by hate and unfounded fear.

I’m an American, and I believe in freedom of religion.  I believe this also grants us freedom from religion.  The separation of Church and State ought to guarantee that the outdated morality of much of our citizenry cannot dictate the law of our nation.  Marriage, as defined by the Church, is the business of the Church (although hate and exclusion have no place there, either).  But marriage, as defined by the State, belongs to all of us.  Equally.

March is still winter in Vienna, too

When we left for our weekend trip to Salzburg last Thursday, it was (amazingly) not snowing.  Lately it has felt like we miss all the good winter weather — the two best snowstorms in Vienna this year happened when we were skiing in central Austria and when we took our trip to Italy.  We left on the first day of spring, and we expected to return to spring (much like we expected to find spring in Salzburg).

014While we were gone, it snowed in Salzburg.  It also snowed in Vienna, which was rather a surprise to us, because there hadn’t been any snow in the forecast for Vienna.  But we woke up yesterday morning to Facebook stories and pictures from our friends, showing a snow-dusted Vienna.

We got back, and it was still snowing.  We had snow accumulation on our uncovered, but somewhat sheltered, terrace.  We went to bed, it was snowing.  We woke up, it was snowing.  It has snowed all day.  The outdoor café tables are covered.  The daffodils and crocuses that had bravely pushed up through the ground are covered.  The forecast calls for more snow tomorrow (all day) and more later in the week, too.  Looks like winter isn’t done with us yet.

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The best laid plans

A good friend of mine, Krishana, who we haven’t seen in a while, texted me today.  She was going to be in our neighborhood (literally across the street) this afternoon and wanted to know if we wanted to meet up while she was there.  She was planning to arrive right in the middle of the boys’ nap time, but she graciously offered to change her plans to be able to see us, so we made a plan to get together after nap time.  Perfect!

First, I made the mistake of *telling* the boys that we were going to meet her after nap time.  Their tandem response was, “Krishana! We love her!”  Note: never tell your kids ANYTHING exciting that is going to happen after nap time, because it will take forever to get them down and the nap will last 5 minutes.  And that’s exactly what happened.  The kids are usually great about taking (typically short) naps — they lay down willingly and stay down quietly for about an hour (sometimes longer).  Today, it took me 45 minutes to get them to sleep and Benjamin wanted to get up literally 5 minutes after he closed his eyes.

So, instead of the kids being well-rested and having half an hour or so to wake up and get ready to meet our friend, they woke up at pretty much the exact moment we needed to start getting ready to get out the door if we were going to be on time.  And they were cranky.  Benjamin was grumpy.  Liam cried whenever I tried to touch him.  Bravely, I continued onward — I told them we’d need to start getting dressed in 2 minutes in order to get out the door on time.  More crying.  More grumpiness.  I was getting stressed and frustrated.  I didn’t want to be late, but I also didn’t want the kids to be miserable.

And then, I looked at the boys, imagined the amount of accommodation they would have to make, for my sake, to make the plans work, and realized, “It’s just not going to happen today.”  As much as I wanted to see Krishana, to catch up and hang out, I was also very aware that getting to see her wouldn’t be as great — for anyone — if the boys were crying and miserable.

So, against all of my perfectionist mommy instincts, ignoring my internal self-scolding for blowing her off after she adjusted her plans around *our* schedule, I cancelled.  That is so not me.

But, it was really pretty functional.  Although I was disappointed and a little wistful that she was so close by, but we were unable to see her, I knew it was the right decision.  The kids were tired, cranky and frazzled.  I was in my overly rigid mommy mind where everything HAS to go a certain way and I get critical of myself and the kids when things go a bit off the rails.  I get like that sometimes — more focused on how it “has” to be, instead of on how to make the best of the current situation — and I’m starting to learn to see that as a warning that I’m really not seeing things the right way.

I was bummed.  So were the boys.  (And, I’m guessing, so was Krishana.)  But, we were all being taken care of in the way we needed to.  I wasn’t asking more of the boys than they were really capable of in that moment.  And I wasn’t asking superhuman things of myself — getting grumpy kids dressed and out the door in a few moments, all while trying to keep my patience and remember that we were supposed to be having a good time.

So, it didn’t go the way we wanted.  My boys took their time waking up, got themselves together, and we had a good afternoon.  No lost tempers, no hurt feelings, no unrealistic expectations.  We’ll see Krishana again soon, and, in the mean time, we had a peaceful day.

Rain/snow

We woke up on Thursday of last week to an unexpected snowstorm.  “How nice!”, I thought, “One last chance to enjoy a little snow before we get started on spring for real.”  Because, you see, Vienna isn’t really like the Washington, DC area, where I’m from, which can pretty much count on getting completely slammed by a major March snowstorm at least every other year.  Winters here, although cold, aren’t particularly wet, so we don’t really get all that much snow.  (Your mental image of snow covered mountains in Austria is perfectly legitimate — just not for Vienna.  You’re thinking of the Alps . . . which are further west.)And, what snow Vienna got this year, we mostly managed to miss with travel — the biggest storms this year came while we were (ironically) skiing in the Alps, and while we were in Italy.  So I was happy to enjoy our last winter snowfall last week.

But, not so fast.  Let’s not get excited.  Spring may officially arrive in just a few days, but when we stepped out of B’s school this morning after dropping him off . . . it was snowing again.

007I love winter, I really do.  I love snow.  I think it’s pretty and white and sparkly and makes everything more beautiful and creates this lovely, hushed, glittering, snowglobesque (I just made that up) environment that I LOVE to spend a few days inhabiting.  But today’s relentless mix of rain, snow and sleet did nothing but my turn my wistful attention towards Thursday and the first day of spring.  Seriously, I got rained on, snowed on and sleeted on all during the 10 minute walk to my German lesson tonight (and then again on the way back).

And yet . . . we’ll be in Salzburg for the weekend where . . . they’re calling for snow.

Bagpipes and Sousa — St. Patrick’s Day in Vienna

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!  As an American of Irish descent, I feel a bit of extra pride in my Irish heritage on March 17.  I don’t really celebrate the holiday so much, though, other than doing my best to make sure that my one green shirt is clean so I can wear it.

Like so many things, the American perception of St. Patrick’s Day is something I probably never would have taken particular note of if I’d never lived abroad.  As much as the truly Irish may mock the green beer and general confusion about the distinction between a shamrock and 4-leaf clover, Americans do a pretty fine job of honoring the Irish each March.  (Which makes sense, because whether or not we recognize it the rest of the year, there is a lot of Irish influence in the US.)

Things here in Vienna are a bit different.  There’s very little distinction made between Irish and Scottish things, so you see a lot of crossover.  And then, there’s just kind of general feeling of revelry, with not so much thought put into the relevance of it.  For example, the St. Patrick’s Day parade in Vienna yesterday did go by the Irish abbey (although the name of the abbey itself translates to “Scottish abbey” thanks to an old naming convention), but it featured bagpipes, kilts (both mostly Scottish) and lots of John Philip Sousa marches (he was from the US, and I can’t find any connection to Ireland or Austria).  It’s fun, festive and celebratory, so I certainly don’t hold the strange hodge-podge of cultural references against anyone, but it gives me a little appreciation for how (surprisingly) culturally aware the American celebrations of St. Patrick’s Day are.

1316However the festivities happen, it’s a day to enjoy Irish heritage, which, for me, means lots of thoughts about my family, my heritage, and my favorite place in the world to visit.  This is my first St. Patrick’s Day since having actually been to Ireland, so the images it brings to mind, this time, are truly my own, and that much more special than ever before.

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“Die Osterhasen”

20130316-150923.jpgThe Easter markets opened today in Vienna. Unlike the Christmas markets, which are plentiful and sprinkled throughout the city, there are only two major Easter markets in Vienna each year (that I know of, at least). One of these, the Altwiener Ostermarkt is on the Freyung, which is very close to our house (on the block directly across the street from our house).

We love the Easter markets. Not only are they fun and festive, with yummy treats and intricate, beautifully beaded and hand painted eggs, but their arrival informally marks our Viennese anniversary.

Our first spring here, Easter was later, in April, and one of the first fun, Viennese things we did after our arrival was to visit the very Easter market that is now across the street from our house. (We were living elsewhere at the time, which kind of makes it a fun coincidence that we once visited what would become our neighborhood, back before we knew it would be.)

20130316-150935.jpgI look forward to the markets each spring. We take the kids and wander through, sampling treats and window shopping. The amazing eggs are wonderful to admire (although I constantly worry about knocking over an entire display). And, tucked at the back of this market, there is always a stall where the bunnies live — just two or three, hanging out (usually sleeping or snacking). The kids can stop by and visit with the bunnies, watching them do their bunny thing.

Today, when we visited the bunny stall (the bunnies this year are HUGE), B was entranced. He stood and watched the bunnies — one slept while the other hopped around and had a snack. He turned to me, after a few minutes, and said, “You know, at school, I learned that these are called ‘Osterhasen’ in German.”

20130316-150946.jpgI think that is so cool. (I didn’t know that.) Watching B enjoy the Osterhasen, and remembering back to our first Easter market trip, nearly two years ago, I’m pretty amazed at how far we’ve come. Two years ago, we barely got through a visit like that, and it was far more stressful to do it. Now it feels like a familiar tradition, and we kind of even understand what’s going on.

Vorschule, here we come

In Austria, the year of education immediately prior to primary school is called Vorschule (preschool) and the years preceding that are called Kindergarten, opposite of what they’re called in the US.  Also, while the “official” start to Vorschule happens the September before first grade, the preliminary evaluations and the first structured lessons begin in March of that year, since nearly all Austrian children seem to attend Kindergarten.

So, for B, that means now.

As with everything else from his school experience, this is new to us.  We had no idea that the more formal part of his education was about to begin.  We went to an informational meeting at his school last night, expecting to hear only about things for next September, and were surprised to hear about the evaluations that are set to begin in the next few weeks.

I don’t know much about kindergarten in the US, and even less about Vorschule in Austria, but it seems to me that they focus on different things.  I have the impression that American kids entering kindergarten are supposed to already be started on reading and writing, able to count and recognize numbers, and capable of dressing themselves . . . so we’ve been watching B’s progress and encouraging him to develop these skills.  Although the kids in Austria will be evaluated on things like motor coordination, emotional maturity and math skills, the vast majority of the emphasis in Vorschule appears to be on language development.  Really, almost entirely.  As the principal said last night, “Without language, we cannot have any learning”.  (But, of course, she said it in German.  What’s more amazing is that I understood her.)

And, while B’s verbal and math skills are impressive, and his drawings get more detailed every day, the emphasis for his upcoming evaluations will be on language skills — vocabulary, sentence structure, prepositions, reading comprehension (when the teacher does the reading) and verb conjugation . . . all in German.

So, my first thought was to worry.  Actually, my first reaction was to freak out with stress.  Especially because I can’t even help him.  His German is equivalent to mine (if not better), and my “help” would probably hinder more than improve his skills.  But, I don’t need to worry.  First, we were happy to find out that there is a whole separate evaluation track for kids who are learning German as a second language.  Secondly . . . when we get back to the States, is anyone going to hold his problems constructing proper German sentences against him?

Since it’s “school”, it’s hard for me to not get worked up about it and instantly focus on how to improve his evaluation.  The overachieving perfectionist in me really wants to come out.  But, there’s no need.  He’s getting the education that he needs just by getting up every morning and going to school.  He’s learning that he can do hard things.  He’s learning to share, play well with others, take turns and ask when he doesn’t understand something.  He’s learning a whole new cultural perspective.  And he’s learning some German, too.  It’s *all* important and significant, and every day that he spends in the Austrian school system teaches him major life skills.  He’ll have his evaluation done, and the teachers know already that it will identify which areas he needs to work on.  Great!  And then they’ll work on improving those things.  What is there for me to get worked up about?

But the thing is, back in the US, I would have.  I would already be putting inadvertent pressure on him to succeed in a way that works for me.  Being here, and having to step back, gives me so much more appreciation for the system.  I have to trust and respect his teachers for their patience and expertise, for it’s perfectly clear that they are taking on a job that I could not do.  I hate to admit it, but I recognize that I might not have had the same willingness to trust in them, nor the same awareness of the need for me to stay out of it, if we were at home.  And an evaluation of “needs to improve”, in any area, would probably have put me on defensive mode instead of open acceptance, which is what I’ll most likely react with here.  But isn’t that what school is for?  Improving?  So why should that bother me?

As part of the meeting last night, we got to go through and do some of the activities B will be doing soon.  We did a rhyming game, a matching game, saw how they do “reading” comprehension, built stories with pictures, and worked on our prepositions.  And, as B will do, we did it all in German.  It was actually pretty fun, and just about at our skill level.  We learned quite a few things.  And after an hour or so of intently listening to German, trying to pull out relevant information and formulate intelligent questions, we were exhausted.

I’m kind of jealous, though.  I think I need Vorschule.  If I spent an hour each day playing those games, I’d be awesome at German.  Both Dan & I felt like we learned a lot last night — not just about the Austrian system, but some new German, too.

So, here we are.  B is about to start a new chapter of his academic career, and I’m already learning lessons about relaxing and accepting the process without obsessing over my natural desire for perfection.

In short, I think that Benjamin isn’t the only one getting an education here.

Really, really old

I’m an American.  We count things as “old” when they’ve been around for 200 years, and “really old” when they existed when our country was just a conglomeration of colonies.

In Vienna, I am surrounded by things that are “really old”, or even, my new classification of “really, really old” which pretty much accounts for stuff old enough to not quite make sense to my brain.  (Like, for example, the building I live in, which has been around since at least the 16th century.)

There are also plenty of new things in Vienna, like the Starbucks that just went in on the next block, about 1 minute from my front door.  I’m excited about it, and I stopped in yesterday to check it out.  On my way home, I noticed a sign outside of the restaurant next door, pointed directly at the new Starbucks:

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And I had to laugh.  Yep — really, really old.

For whom the bell tolls

Vienna has a lot of churches (the saying is that there is one for every day of the year).  And those churches have bells, and the bells are rung a lot.  It’s actually one of my favorite parts of living in Vienna — hearing those bells ring every day.  We’ve gotten accustomed to the regular schedule of church bells — many ring at noon every day, one nearby church rings at 5:45 each evening, another (a little further away) at 7:00.  And then, on Sundays and on the major church holidays, there are extra bells, before and after the church services.  (We’ve gotten so used to the “regular” schedule that I always notice when there are more than usual.)

And then, this evening, shortly after 7:00, the bells started — all over the city, from all of the churches — and they didn’t stop.  They kept ringing, and ringing.  After about 10 minutes, Jo and I noticed and commented.  About 10 minutes later, we figured out what they were celebrating — there must have been a new pope elected.  The bells in Vienna rang for over half an hour, celebrating the selection of the new pope.

Living in this city, where the music of the many church bells has become commonplace (if no less magical), it seems perfectly appropriate to have learned about the election of a new pope by hearing the bells chime with such enthusiasm.  The news spread from the Vatican to Vienna and then to the people by the sound of the bells.  It is a moment of my history here that I don’t think I will ever forget.

Living in the present

“My name is Emily.  I live in Vienna.  I have two children.  I come from the USA.  I like to travel, read, ride horses and dance.  I go to the cafe and sit outside.  Good morning.  Good evening.  Thank you.  Please.  You’re welcome.  Goodbye.”

Until now, that’s the rough equivalent of most of my spoken German.  Most notably, up until yesterday, I had no way of speaking in anything other than the present tense, which has, at times, caused a fair bit of confusion for whoever is unfortunate enough to have to attempt to decipher my rough attempts to communicate.  I recently had a very circuitous and confusing conversation with one of Benjamin’s teachers.  She was asking me to pay a fee for a field trip that’d I’d already paid to the other teacher, but I couldn’t say anything other than “I am paying”, at which point she looked at me expectantly.  I finally thought to add, “I am paying yesterday”, but that seemed to confuse things more because she thoughts i was trying to say, “I will pay tomorrow” and just butchering it.  We finally had to resort to bringing in an English speaking teacher to clarify.  (I also don’t have the future tense, which means I always end up saying roughly, “Benjamin is not at school in two weeks because we are on holiday.”  But that’s ok — it seems to work.)

It seems like kind of a silly thing, but I am really quite excited about starting to add a past tense to my repertoire.  80% of the time, I get by just fine with broken, present tense German and a lot of patience from the people around me.  But it’s nice to be learning how to say things (a little bit more) properly.