Benjamin goes to work

Benjamin has been asking for months to go to work with Dan.  We’ve stopped by a couple of times to visit, and I even dropped him off for a few hours once (so I could do his birthday shopping) but that isn’t what he wanted.  He wanted to go in with Dan — to get ready in the morning and head off on the train with his dad.

032This morning, that’s what we did.  He got up, had breakfast, got ready, packed his backpack and went to work.  As I understand it, they had a good time (even though B got bored pretty quickly, he was a good “helper” all morning).  For me, it was really weird.  The only time I’ve had such a long block of time without him was the one time Dan took him to the emergency room and I stayed home with Liam.  Nearly every day, Liam is awake during Benjamin’s nap, and I kept forgetting he wasn’t here and asleep in the other room — I kept shushing Liam while we were playing together.

I did enjoy my time with Liam.  He crawled all over and even cruised a little.  It was fun to be able to play with whatever toy he wanted without Benjamin determining what Liam is or isn’t allowed to play with.  But mostly, I missed him, a lot.  I’ve grown very used to spending my days with both of my kids.  Sometimes we play, sometimes we go out, sometimes he helps me with the chores, but I really enjoy our morning time, whatever we do with it.

(It might have been a bit of a nice break except for the fact that I couldn’t go out — we were supposed to have some guys from the power company come by this morning, although they didn’t.)

At lunch time, Dan brought him home.  Liam and I were both so happy to see him.  He had a nice time with Daddy at his work, but he was happy to be home, too.

When he starts school in September, this is what it will be like in the mornings, 5 days a week.  I am not prepared.  I think it will be what’s best for him, but I don’t think it’s what will be best for me.  If I were selfish, I wouldn’t send him to school — I don’t want to be without him.

The light is changing

I was outside this evening, around 6:00, and everything looked just a little bit off . . . like when it’s about to storm, but it wasn’t.  The sunlight was different — it was subtler.  Instead of bathing everything in bright light, it was just subdued enough to highlight and illuminate instead.

Fall is coming.  It’s still July.  I think we may have a long, dark winter ahead of us.  I see a time, in my very near future, where I am kicking myself and eating every word I said about the long, hot days we’ve had so far.

On the plus side, the kids are sleeping later, and we’re getting them to bed earlier.  And I love the fall, so if what we get is a long, drawn out period of beautiful light, warm days and cool nights, that would be absolutely fantastic.  Today was absolutely beautiful — it was about 70 degrees as a high, and very windy — I actually ordered a hot tea at Starbucks and drank it inside, because it was too cold and windy outside for me to really enjoy myself (although I did try for about 20 minutes).

It’s JULY.  Oh, dear.

My own words

Things can get crazy here pretty quickly.  This afternoon, I had just made Benjamin lunch and set it on the coffee table when he asked me to identify something in a new book of his.  I turned my back on the coffee table for all of (literally) about 30 seconds when I heard a crash and turned around to see Liam, covered in tomato sauce and Benjamin’s lunch (pizza) face down on the floor.  The pizza wasn’t that hot (thankfully) so no harm was done, just a big mess and a need to reinvent lunch for B.

I picked Liam up, picked the pizza up, put Liam back down (he was covered in sauce, and I didn’t feel like smelling like pizza the rest of the afternoon) and turned around to get a napkin (again, maybe 20 seconds of walking from one side of the living room to the other to pick up a napkin) and turned around to see my very fast youngest child assaulting my computer (which, very foolishly, had been left on, unlocked and within reach of my kids).  By the time I got to him (about 4 seconds later) my computer was covered in pizza sauce, he had completely changed the way my Outlook interface looks and started to compose a message to a listserv at MITRE.  (I still haven’t figured out how to change the interface back, because babies have special computer ninja powers that allow them to access otherwise unknown features of applications and the operating system.)

At this point, I, my youngest child, my floor and my computer are covered in pizza sauce, when about 90 seconds earlier life was peaceful and I was feeling quite together.  A little frustrated, I sat down, scooped Liam up (pizza sauce and all) and said, “Argh, Liam!  What am I going to do with you?”

At which point, Benjamin came up to me with a patient and understanding expression and said, “Mommy, I know little brothers sometimes mess things up, but Liam doesn’t mean to.  He’s only a baby.”

After removing my jaw from the floor, and saying something like, “I know, baby, I’m just frustrated”, he responds with, “Sometimes people get angry, but it’s ok” (still patting my shoulder).

I guess he’s been paying attention, after all.  And, he’s right.  So, I gave both Liam and Benjamin big hugs and lots of kisses, cleaned everyone up and we all shared leftovers for lunch.

(Thanks, Benjamin.)

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Happy third birthday, Benjamin!

My wonderful, sweet little boy.  I am so happy to see you turn three years old.  I’m sure I will say this every year, but I can’t believe that so much time has passed since the magical day that you came in to this world and I became a mommy.  I remember every moment of that day as though it happened yesterday — it was the most important day I’d ever had.  I am simply overjoyed to have you in my life, and to watch you grow and flourish and become even more fantastic all the time.  I love you so very much.

021We’ve had a big year!  We’ve moved far away from our family and friends, and you became a big brother.  You have made these transitions gracefully and enthusiastically.  You have taken the move so well.  Once, in the beginning of our stay here, when things were very hard and frustrating, I said I wanted to go home, and you burst into tears and said you didn’t want to go home.  You tell me all the time that you love it here and that you love Austria.  I’m so glad that you do!  It’s been wonderful to see you learn and explore and make this place your home.

031And what an amazing brother you are.  The very first thing you said upon us bringing Liam home from the hospital was, “So cute!” and you’ve gotten even better since then.  Watching you look out for Liam, care for him, think of him, share with him, I am amazed and impressed and inspired.  You are the sweetest, kindest, most loving human being I have ever met.  Ever.  You are constantly looking for Liam, watching him, making sure he’s happy, asking about it if he isn’t, sharing with him, helping him, talking to him and considering him.  When he or I drop things that we need, you will stop what you’re doing to help, whether we’re in the house or out and about in the city, even if you’re busy with something else.

047And your kindness doesn’t stop with your brother.  You are always concerned when you see anyone who isn’t happy.  Just today, we were at the park, and a little girl was crying.  You pointed her out to us and asked, “Why is that girl sad?”  You notice how other people are feeling and you want to help them.  You never want anyone to be sad, angry or upset in any way.

071And you are so brilliant.  We’ve known for a while that you have an exceptional mind and heart, but you constantly surprise us with how extraordinary you are.  Speaking to you is like conversing with an adult, except that you often ask more insightful questions.  You speak in complete, correct sentences, your vocabulary is phenomenal, you are creative and thoughtful.  Today, we were walking down the street, and you looked and some carriage horses that were trotting along and exclaimed, “Mommy, those horses are rocking out!”  It is wonderful to watch you learn, and to watch you apply the things you learn.  You’re learning to count and speak a little in German, Spanish and even Chinese and when you start school in the fall, I imagine you’ll quickly surpass everyone else in the family in terms of understanding and speaking German.  You learn songs from me or from tv, and you remember them.  Just today, you started singing, “The wheels on the bike go round and round, all through the town” (even though you’ve only ever heard it as, “The wheels on the bus”).  You can read numbers and most of the letters, and you’re starting to be able to write letters, too.  People comment all the time to us about what a good talker you are and how much you understand.  Even people who are used to dealing with children aren’t used to someone like you.  You have such a wonderful spirit, too:  whatever the weather, you’ll tell me what a beautiful day it is.  (When it is raining, you tell me you love the rain — that isn’t something you can teach someone.)  We talk about the favorite part of our day, and I’m always thrilled to hear what you’ll choose.

154You also have an astounding memory.  Anytime we go somewhere we’ve been before, you’ll remember it.  You’ll say, “This is where we were yesterday” (everything before today tends to be “yesterday”) and you remember where you are in space (you’ll know when a road ahead of us, or off to the side, goes to some other place we like to go, even if we haven’t been that way in a long time).  I think you take after me, a little, in this kind of awareness of yourself in time and space (it will serve you well).  You remember the things we tell you, the things we teach you and the boundaries we set (although sometimes you pretend to have forgotten, if it’s something you don’t like — like only one more story before bed or only 5 more minutes in the park).

You love to play with all of us, and you’re very particular about the way your games are played.  We play basketball, soccer, baseball, race cars, puzzles, drawing (you like drawing outside with chalk in particular), choo choo trains, “Old McDonald” and tent (which I think is your favorite).  You like to yell “Boo!” to scare people, and you will often start to bark (“Woof WOOF!”) very loudly if you’re excited, or just to get attention.  You take an entourage of stuffed animal friends with you wherever you can — they all have names, and you care about each of them.  If one falls off the couch, or out of your bed, you won’t rest until it’s back where it should be.  (I think, right now, Jingle is your favorite, but I’m not sure, and I don’t want to ask, because I’m not sure it really has occurred to you to even have a favorite.)  You are strong and fast and you love to run, jump, ride your tricycle and play at the park.  “I want to run!” and “I want to play!” are two of your most common sentiments.  You have boundless energy that amazes me.  You have great balance, and you pick up physical skills really quickly.  You got your first bike yesterday (for your birthday —  but you found it a day early) and you were already riding it pretty skillfully this evening.  You love to dance and spin, by yourself or with your dad.

You love your family — not just me, your dad and Liam (although you love us all very, very much), but also Bailey, Grandma, Topes, Grandpa, Sam, Margie, Mina, Nick, Peter, Adam, Jo and Gordie.  You ask about everyone all the time, and you get so excited when you get to talk to them or to see them on the computer.  You love them and you tell me that you “miss everyone from home”.  You ask all the time about your friends from home, too — Jordan and his family, Joshua, baby Ellie and their family.  You make friends quickly, and you remember names very well, so you’re already asking about Krishana, Niklas, Sean and Ian all the time, too.  In the fall, you’ll start to attend kindergarten, which I anticipate with very mixed emotions:  it will be so hard for me to give up so many hours with you every day, but I know it will help you to be even more at home here, and I know you’re ready to be around kids your own age every day.  You’ll love it!  (I will miss you.)

I hope I’m doing a good job as your mom.  There is so much I want to teach you and show you and share with you.  It’s a big job, and I don’t do a great job every day (but I do my best every day).  I’m sorry for the times when I mess up and don’t do it right.  Most days are great days, and most moments are wonderful — I’m working on the others.

My baby, I love you so much.  My time with you is filled with joy, love and awe.  I am so glad I get to be with you all the time.  You are one of my most favorite people in the whole universe (your brother is the other) and I can’t believe how fortunate I am to have you in my life.  Thank you for being so very wonderful.  I love you absolutely and completely.  I’ve said this to you before:  you don’t have to do anything in particular or be anything in particular for me to love you.  I love you, exactly as you are.  I love you, and you are an amazing person (it’s not that I love you because you are an amazing person).  You are my wonderful, perfect, darling Benjamin.  I am so grateful to have you in my life.  I am the luckiest mommy that there has ever been.  Thank you for being my child.

Unexpected surprises

009Tomorrow, my little boy (well, the biggest one) turns 3.  I know it’s a cliche, but I have no idea where the time has gone.  (Although, at the same time, it seems hard to believe that 3 years ago I didn’t yet have any kids.  Once you have them, you feel like you’ve always had them.)

Today, to celebrate, we took him to the zoo, and let him have free rein.  (Pretty much:  he wanted to go in with the elephants, and that’s where I drew the line.)  He got to pick which animals he wanted to see, where we went, how long we stayed.  We even let him pick out a stuffed animal from the gift shop.  (He chose a snake.  He was going for the panda and changed his mind at the last second.  The snake is pretty cool.)  Some of our friends joined us, to help us celebrate, and Benjamin really loved that.

012We had a great time, and then we stayed too long, everyone got hot, tired and cranky and we left in the midst of tears, naps, frustration and irritability.  That seems to be how these things happen.  I know from experience, though, that the ending won’t ruin his experience or memory of the day.  I know he had a great time.  He got to run around, see stuff, climb on things, eat ice cream and generally do pretty much whatever he wanted for hours and hours.  We saw giraffes, elephants, a gibbon, flamingos, a lion, penguins, sea lions, a polar bear, and we even had an albino peacock wander right past where we were having lunch.  (I have no idea if it was supposed to be loose, but there it was, just wandering through.)  Good times.

046After coming home and recuperating for a few hours, Benjamin was playing ball with Bailey.  For Benjamin, the purpose of this game is to hide the baseball where it will be the hardest for Bailey to acquire it and then to run away and giggle while Bailey gets it anyway.  To be clever, he decided to hide the ball in our storage closet (the only closet in our whole apartment) which is generally closed and off limits (although not strictly verboten, it’s more that it’s relatively uninteresting and out of the way).  Problem:  that’s where the (as yet unwrapped) birthday presents were hidden.

“Daddy, Daddy, Dad, Dad, Dad!  Come see!  Look what I found!  I found a bike!”  Pause.  “Is it my birthday present?  Is it mine?”

050No, he wasn’t supposed to get it until tomorrow, but what are you going to say?  His delight and excitement certainly wasn’t diminished by getting it today (in fact, it may have been enhanced by the complete surprise).  He is thrilled, if a little uncertain about how best to tackle this new challenge.  (Another gift, which he didn’t find, is the helmet which goes WITH the bike, so we took it rather easy today.)  His sweet excitement was wonderful to witness.  That is a special kind of happiness reserved for small children on their birthdays and on Christmas morning, and we get to experience it again by making it happen for him.

He’s an awesome kid.  I hope he’s having an awesome birthday.

Getting myself together

I have not had an easy week.  It hasn’t been a bad week, just very busy, with lots of stuff to do (and some weird and random things thrown in, just to keep it interesting) and it followed on the heels of having guests for over a week.  Whenever I have a week like this, I struggle to keep my head on straight.  It’s my natural tendency to succumb to the pressure of the stress and freak out — become irritable, short tempered, sad, anxious, angry.  For reasons I don’t think I will ever understand, when subjected to more than usual stress levels, my brain somehow flips the importance of things — things that shouldn’t matter too much to me (like how clean my house is, whether or not I’m on time to a play date, or whether we got a chance to cook the chicken in the fridge before it went bad) become vitally important, and things that really ought to matter (like what kind of day my kids are having or whether or not I’ve eaten in the past 8 hours) threaten to take a back seat.

I’ve fought this fight all week.  Some days went well, and others not so well.  I freaked out over little things more than once, but I managed to win a couple of those battles, too.  As the week has gone on, the stress has increased, not decreased.  I knew I had to do something to bolster my defences, or things would continue to deteriorate, so I planned to spend all of today resting and playing with my kids — nothing gets me back to “good” faster than some time alone to read plus some time to enjoy my boys without having to be anywhere or do anything in particular.

Circumstances conspired against me, however, and I wasn’t able to do that for a lot of today.  I did get a little bit of reading in during nap time (while BOTH children were sleeping at the SAME time) and I got a little play time in.  But, I’m still not quite to where I want to be . . . so I’m replanning my day tomorrow with some recuperation and recharging time.

I am not giving up easily.  I want to be the best mom I can be for my kids:  I want to take challenges in stride, let little things go and keep a positive, mature and level-headed outlook regardless of what happens.  Or, at least get closer to all of those things than I am now.  I’m really, finally realizing that the only way that is going to happen is for me to be in a good mental place.  It’s like getting enough sleep if you’re an air traffic controller — you can’t fake it, you have to sleep.  Lives depend it.  My kids’ happiness and sense of security depend on me getting my head together.

So, for tomorrow, reading Harry Potter and playing trains with Benjamin are on top of my to do list.  This is important.

I live in my house

054

And today was a very good day

We had some friends of ours (a co-worker of Dan’s, his wife and their two boys, aged 8 and almost 1) over to our place for the first time yesterday.  Shortly after they arrived, Paula looked at me and said, “I’m so relieved to see that it looks like you live in your house”, by which, she meant, that my house looks like it always does:  it looks like people who have two children, a dog, and not a lot of time live here.  I sincerely do my best to keep my house in reasonable shape, which mostly means keeping up with the mountains of laundry our family produces and cleaning up a ton of dog hair every day.  Benjamin pitches in by helping with “clean up time” in the evening whenever the level of toy carnage starts to look like Santa’s sleigh had a tragic accident in our living room.  But, for sure, my house looks lived in.I used to apologize, “Oh, don’t mind the mess!”, “We just moved in”, “Things have been busy, it’s gotten away from us”.  But, I made a decision, recently, not to do that, unless any of it is actually true.  My house always looks this way.  This is, really, how we live.  I’m totally ok with it.  It isn’t because I don’t know how to make it cleaner, and it isn’t because I’m so overwhelmed that although I’d like to have it look different, I just can’t keep up.  It’s because this is how it looks when you put in exactly the amount of effort that I have allocated to housekeeping.  I could make it look better, but I elect to do different things with my time and energy.  Given infinite money, I suppose I’d hire someone to make it look tidier (but it’s not the first place I’d put my money).

So, when they came, I didn’t apologize, I just welcomed them in.  I fought the urge to make excuses, until Paula mentioned that she feels more comfortable coming to a house that looks like ours (and hers apparently looks much the same) because she knows the kids can play without worrying too much about “making a mess” and they really feel like they can make themselves at home.  There is a famous Marianne Williamson quote that includes, ” . . . as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.  As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”  Who knew that it was true not just of “letting our light shine”, but also of leaving our Legos on the floor and the lunch dishes on the counter?

I remember going through the same kind of thing when Benjamin was first born.  Things were so hard, I was so tired, frustrated, even angry sometimes.  But what I was feeling just didn’t match the face that people put on when they talk about bringing their baby home from the hospital — it’s so easy to feel like there’s something wrong with you.  Then a good, kind, generous, wonderful, loving and generally happy friend of mine told me what she experienced when she brought her daughter home from the hospital . . . and it was exactly the same as my experience, full of stress, ambivalence and feelings of inadequacy.  It was great to know I was like her, even if everyone else was floating on pink and blue clouds, sleeping when the baby slept and finding time to write thank you notes and start their baby books.

I think this kind of thing happens too often.  We work so hard to make things look the way they “should” that we don’t notice that very few people actually live in that “should” space — we all just visit it when we’re having guests.

I may actually be Supermom

Oh, I am tired.  What a day.  It was a day full of very nice things, but I am worn out, and I have given of myself to a fault . . . which is not new, but the grace with which I did it definitely is.

017

The first part of my day was normal:  feed kids, change diapers, try to make naps happen, play games, clean up, help make more messes, overfill the washing machine, clean the soapy water off the floor, keep the dog from eating B’s snack.  Normal Thursday.

078Then I took the boys to the park with a friend who has two kids (one a few years older than B, one Liam’s age).  Oh my.  I’ve taken B and Liam to the park together before, on my own, but the addition of other children that they know added an element of chaos that I was not expecting.  Liam is also big enough now to require being entertained in his own right (I can’t just stick him in the stroller the whole time).  It went just fine, but it really wore me out.  B was trying to keep up with his older friend, and they got in to all kinds of shenanigans together (I’m not sure B’s shoes will be dry for tomorrow) and he learned important lessons (i.e, if you let go of the chains on the big-kid swings, gravity takes over in short order).  And Liam had a lot of fun trying to keep up with B (thank goodness he can’t walk yet).

Then we all went to dinner (my friend and her husband, their two kids, plus all of us Calles), and halfway through Dan gets a call from his uncle.  Who is here.  To see us.  (This is the first we’re hearing about it.)  We knew he was in Austria, but not having been able to coordinate a visit with him before he left, we figured we wouldn’t see him at all.  Surprise!  So, Dan goes out of the restaurant, leaving me with the boys, to figure out a way to rendezvous with his uncle, who does not have a working phone and who is planning to drive back into Vienna to see us immediately.  “Back” because he drove into Vienna earlier today to see us, showed up at our door, and when no one was home (see park story, above) decided to walk around Vienna in the hopes that he might run into us.  When that didn’t work, he drove back OUT of Vienna, borrowed a phone from someone and called Dan.

Dan was in and out of the restaurant for the rest of the meal, looking for his uncle, who is planning to meet us at the restaurant.  His uncle shows up just as we’re leaving, and we say goodbye to our friends and go back to our place.  We show him around and visit for a few minutes, but then I have to go put both kids in the bath (together, which I haven’t done before) because Dan has a Skype appointment.

So, we make plans to meet up with his uncle tomorrow.  And then I put the boys in the bath, get them both clean, get them both out, get them both dressed, get puked on by Liam, get him clean and dressed again, get Benjamin a bottle, feed Liam, put Liam down, get Liam back up and then get him back to sleep.  (At which point, Dan joined me to brush Benjamin’s teeth, but then Benjamin asked that I read him his story before bed, and he’s so sweet, and we got so little one-on-one time today that I said yes.)

I got a little grumpy with Benjamin at one point in the bath when he was splashing Liam and wouldn’t listen to me and stop, but otherwise, I did all of this and didn’t even freak out.  I’m not even mad or frustrated with Dan.  (Really.)  I think I may qualify for sainthood.  I haven’t tried walking on water recently, but maybe I should give it a shot.  (Or maybe I should wait and see how tomorrow goes, first.)

Cool

We have air conditioning.  Dan went out and bought a one-room air conditioner with a big tube that vents to the outside.  It’s awesome.  Before it arrived, it got up to 91 degrees inside my house today.  It’s now down to an amazingly comfortable 84 — it’s 88 outside, at 11 pm, as a comparison.  (And to think, I used to feel so hot when I would visit my in-laws in Florida and they would set the thermostat to 78!)

There was record breaking heat in Vienna today.  The boys and I made plans to meet a friend and her son (Benjamin’s age) to go swimming and try and beat the heat.  Just getting all of our stuff together and getting out the door took just about all of the energy I had allocated for today.  Then we took the wrong bus, had to walk a long way in the sun and the heat, and then, of course, when we got there, Benjamin wanted absolutely nothing to do with the water.  Sigh.  So, we stayed about 20 minutes and went back to my friend’s house (with air conditioning!) so the boys could hang out and play.  By the time we got home, I had a coating of salt on my face from sweating.  (Ick.)

We had a very nice (if very hot) day.  The heat doesn’t last here the same way it does at home, though — less than 10 days ago, we had a high temperature in the 50s, and by tomorrow night, it will get down to almost 60, so I think we’ll be able to give our new a/c unit the night off.

Hot and tired

I know, I complain a lot:  it’s hard work being here, I can’t communicate with anyone, it took forever for us to get our stuff, I hardly ever get a break and it’s really hot.  All of that is true, but that doesn’t mean that we aren’t having a good time here.  Generally, things are going well, and we are having an amazing experience.  Most days, I’m really confident that we made the right decision, and I spend most of my time truly enjoying Vienna and my kids.  Right now, though, I’m exhausted, and that’s making it hard to think about anything other than that.

I think part of it is that I’m still recovering from having house guests last week.  I think part of it is the 4-5 hours of sleep per night that comes with having kids and staying up too late.  And, I’m sure part of it is stress.  Whatever it is, I’m really tired.  I’m trying to take it easy on myself right now, but that’s not a strong suit for me.  I’ve found myself alternating between listlessness and irritability over the past 36 hours or so — which I think is mainly from the fatigue, but made worse by the heat.

I’m used to it being 72-ish inside pretty much everywhere.  At home, you only have to endure the heat for the duration of time it takes to go from your front door to another front door, or if you do something outside for a while.  Admittedly, cars can get pretty hot inside, but the a/c knocks that down pretty quick.  I’m not accustomed to the temperature being 85+ inside, all day, everywhere.  It’s hot in here by 10 am and it doesn’t cool down until after 9 in the evening.  There’s just no escaping it here.  Most places don’t have air conditioning, and the places that do typically set it on about 85 and leave the windows open (which, admittedly, is cooler than anyplace else, but still, not like the US).  Being in my apartment, in the heat, all day, really wears me down — I’m not sure if it’s exacerbating the exhaustion I’m feeling or helping to cause it, but either way, me no likey.

Also:  Dear Dan:  please get an air conditioner.  Seriously.  That is all.