Such a beautiful day

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

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.

My favorite part . . .

Benjamin and I have a ritual in the evenings.  Sometime between dinner and bedtime, I’ll turn to him and say, “Benjamin, what was your favorite part of today?”  And he’ll say, “Um . . . my favorite part of today was . . .” and he’ll tell me.  It’s usually something we played together, someone we talked to or something really neat that we saw or did.

It’s always interesting to hear what he picks out from his day.  I love seeing him contemplate it, and the huge smile that lights up his face when he tells me.  (It’s also a great exercise, for both of us, in putting our mental energy towards the best parts of our day, rather than the alternative.  I can only imagine the wonders this will do for his psyche if he starts now.  Imagine a lifetime of remembering your favorite moment in a day, every day.)

After I ask him about his favorite part, he asks me about mine, and I tell him.  But, truthfully, one of my favorite moments is having that conversation with him.  That would be a boring answer every day, though, so I usually pick something else.

Vienna street music

047We went out this morning for coffee and breakfast, which is fast becoming a weekly tradition here.  After a rainy couple of days, today was beautiful:  sunny and cool, so we decided to walk “the long way” for breakfast (i.e., a 10 minute walk instead of 2) and we came upon the Stadt Fest Wein (Vienna City Festival) at the Hofburg.

It’s really a bonus to just happen upon things like that — and it seems to happen to us all the time, here.  Not only is it just a nice addition to a morning walk, but it also takes the pressure off — we didn’t make any particular effort to attend the festival, so we don’t feel like we have to stay a certain amount of time, or see a particular number of things.  We can just really be “in the moment”, enjoying ourselves, and go when it’s time.  It’s really liberating, and it works great with two little kids.

048When we came upon the festival at Michaelsplatz today, there was a three piece musical ensemble (piano, violin, cello) tuning and warming up on stage.  Dan & I had intended to pass by and see what was going on at the heart of the festival, but Benjamin was captivated (Liam was asleep).  Benjamin loved the sound of the music, and he wanted to stay and watch.  So, we did.  He danced a bit, and then he wanted to find a seat, so we sat and watched.  They warmed up with short pieces of songs (mostly tangos) and Benjamin clapped after each one, and made sure that I joined him.  Since it was early, and they were just warming up, we got front row seats to watch.  It was an amazing thing to just “come across”, and such a great experience for him to be able to have — not only did he get to 089enjoy the music, but he got to do it on his own terms:  we sat where he wanted, we stayed as long as he wanted, and when he’d had enough (just as they got started in earnest) we left.  That’s a rare experience for a 2 year old.

We wandered through the next section of the festival (Benjamin did some coloring, after helping set up, at an arts-and-crafts tent and turned down an offer to have his face painted) but then it was nap time, so we headed home.  Of course, it’s just down the street, so after nap and lunch time, we were able to go back.  (The festival was winding down by this point, but we did get to explore a bit, and we ended with a walk and some play time in the Hofburg Volksgarten.)  And Benjamin had his first ever ice cream cone.

And that’s a Sunday for us.  It’s pretty great.

Les moutons!

In French, they don’t have “dust bunnies”, they have “moutons” (sheep).  I feel this is a much more accurate description of what we have rolling around our apartment these days.  (They’re beginning to approach the size and aerodynamics of tumbleweed.)

Housekeeping has not been a very high priority since we’ve moved in to this apartment.  We’ve been spending most of our “housekeeping” time unpacking and organizing . . . not to mention that our vacuum didn’t come with us (doesn’t run on European voltage) and the movers neglected to pack our Swiffer.  Having a dog that sheds, and not having yet located a groomer, the moutons are multiplying and may be planning a coup.

But, this is one of the things I have resolved to be less stressed about.  So we took today, recovered from our exhausting evening yesterday and enjoyed a rainy Saturday playing inside with the kids.  We played soccer, we played grocery store, we took puzzles apart (I don’t think we put any together).  Benjamin is also teaching us to play a variation of basketball which involves very little dribbling, elements of football and soccer and the ball primarily being in his possession — our main role is to try and receive the passes he pretends to give us, and to cheer enthusiastically when he makes baskets.

So, for today, we are overrun with mouton.  I may name them.

The rain

What a day.  I woke up this morning to my first humid day in Vienna.  (That is something I do NOT miss about home.)  It made the heat so much more unpleasant.  The kids and I were all sticky and grumpy by 10:00 in the morning.  It was forecasted to get warmer, and I was imagining just being miserable by mid-afternoon.

026But then, the rain came.  A real, torrential downpour.  We’ve had rain since we’ve been here (although it’s astounding how dry it is here) but nothing like this.  This was a good, pouring rain that lasted for a little while.  As the rain started in earnest, I ran around the house, closing windows, doors and the skylight to keep it outside (where it belongs).

The effect was glorious.  I got to sit in my attic apartment and experience the storm for a while, and when it cleared, the air was cooler, cleaner and drier.  (In fact, the air here is so dry that about 20 minutes after the rain had stopped, our terrace was completely dry.)  It was lovely.

Then, we had a heck of an evening.  Liam tried to choke (quite seriously) on a piece of a toy, which turned me into a trembling mess on the floor after rescuing him.  We went out to dinner and then the rain started again, so we walked home in a thunderstorm (which Benjamin later said was the best part of his day, so that wasn’t a total loss).  Then, Dan got stuck in the elevator coming home from dinner and had to be rescued by the fire department.

What a day.  The rain is nice.  I am tired.

Latitude adjustment

It is sunny here at a quarter after five in the morning.  Not “the sun is coming up”, but sun streaming in the windows.  It starts getting light before 4:30.  It’s taking some getting used to.  At home, we had a rule that the kids couldn’t get up for the day before 6:00.  We just can’t enforce that here.  We can’t convince Benjamin, let alone Liam, to go back to bed when it’s bright out.  It’s making for some early mornings.

And then, on the other side, it’s light here until after 9:00, which is making for some late evenings.

We’re at a very northern latitude here (which, it’s shocking for me to admit, I didn’t realize until recently).  We’re north of every major city in the contiguous US — these are Canadian latitudes!  I actually thought we were a lot closer to DC, latitude-wise.  (How and why I didn’t look in to that further, I have no idea.)

Really, though, it’s lovely.  It’s really pleasant to have so much daylight.  It’s pretty great to be finished putting the kids down for bed and still have it be light out.  But, this raises some concerns . . . first, I don’t imagine we’ll be getting a lot of sleep over the next couple of months.  Second, I don’t know how I’m going to feel about this whole northern latitude thing in November.  (I’ve looked it up, and we will have SEVEN FEWER HOURS of daylight in November than we do right now.  The sun will set just after 4:00 in the afternoon.)  Oh, dear.

My favorite places

018I discovered a new favorite place in Vienna today:  the Volksgarten at the Hofburg.  I’ve actually been there before, but it has changed since I was there last, so I rediscovered it today.  When I was there before, I took note of the huge rose bushes, but I had no idea of what I was in for when they really blossomed.  They’re in full bloom now.  I didn’t realize, when I was there before, that ALL of the bushes I was seeing were rose bushes.  (The only thing I can kind of compare it to is the azalea gardens near where I grew up, but with roses.)  The whole place is basically just a huge rose garden.  It’s literally breathtaking.

There are lots of different varieites, some which I’ve never seen before . . . all different sizes, colors, shapes.  I was overwhelmed with all of them.  And the fragrance . . . the whole garden SMELLS like roses.  When the breeze would pick up, the scent of roses would just waft over the entire park.  How wonderful!

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What’s really interesting to me, though, is that I feel like I discover a new “favorite place” at least once a week here.  I’ve found Schwedenplatz (great gelato and people watching), St. Stephen’s, the Graben, the Hofburg, Schonbrunn, parts of the Ringstrasse, and now the Volksgarten — all of which, depending on my mood, I would probably call my favorite place.  These are places I keep going back to, the places I take the boys for a stroll in the afternoon, the places I fantasize about showing to my family when they come to visit.  Vienna is truly a beautiful city.  I have so much left to explore, and probably, even more favorites to find.

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Today, when we were at the Volksgarten, Benjamin got very excited and wanted to be sure that we showed the garden to Dan when he got home from work.  So, we did — we all went back this evening before dinner for another look.  And then, when it was time to leave, Benjamin cried and asked if we could come back soon . . . and we can.  In fact, we can go back tomorrow.  That’s how fortunate we are — not only do we have the freedom to discover all of these favorite places, but we can go back, whenever we like.  Maybe that’s my favorite thing.

Too much noise

One of Benjamin’s many books is one that was also a favorite of mine as a little kid, “Too Much Noise”.  It’s a folk story about a man named Peter who is unhappy that his house it too noisy, so he is advised to fill it with all manner of loud barnyard animals.  After the animals have been removed, he finds that the noises he used to find so bothersome are now pleasant and peaceful.

I love that book — I loved it as a kid.  I’ve enjoyed it, now that I’m the mommy, because it really provides some wisdom that can be applied to anything from holidays to house guests to bringing a new baby home:  nothing will make you appreciate how easy your life is like having it be hard for a while.

That’s what this is like:  living in Vienna is my “Too Much Noise”.  This is so much harder than anything I’ve tried to do before — when I go back to the US, where I speak the language, where I have the support of my friends and family, where I understand the culture and the etiquette and how everything works, I will be able to do anything.  Short of an incident that would require a call to some sort of emergency services, I really think I’ll be able to handle just about any eventuality.  (And hopefully, I’ll also learn some things here about enjoying what’s around you, taking the kids out and about, and being a little less hard on myself.)

If I can do this, what can’t I do?

Kindergarten and Potassium iodide

We went to see a potential kindergartern for Benjamin today, with mixed emotions.  I’m very excited for him — I know he will enjoy making friends, playing games, making arts and crafts and everything else he’ll get to experience by going to school.  But I’ve never been away from him like this.  We spend our days together.  With very few exceptions, I have been there to guide his explorations, to kiss all his boo boos and to supervise and witness all of his adventures.  It’s going to be very hard for me to have him go to school, even for just 4 hours a day.

That said, we love the kindergarten.  It’s close to Dan’s work, so they’ll ride the train together every day.  The teachers are so nice, and they all speak at least a little English (although not as much, or as well, as I’d like — I fear there is potential for Benjamin, who is an amazing communicator, to be frustrated . . . but they were trying so hard).  The place is lovely and clean, with lots of toys and a beautiful playground outside.  The kids all seemed happy, relaxed and confident.  We were there during snack time, and it was great to see the kids sitting around the little tables, in their little chairs, helping themselves to fresh fruit.  Benjamin really liked it — he cried when it was time for us to leave (although I think the toys were a big part of that).  If it really is time for him to start school (and I think it is — or will be, in September) then I think it’s a really nice place for him to be.

As part of our interview/orientation today, we had a lot of forms to fill out, papers to sign and information (principally in German) to take home and read (i.e., translate).  It was pretty standard:  immunization records, personal information, who’s allowed to pick him up, emergency contacts . . . and a permission form for the administration of Potassium iodide tablets in the event of nuclear emergency.  Yep.

Apparently, this is a standard thing here.  According to the kindergarten administrator, most people here keep the tablets on hand at home, but they’re happy to provide them for Benjamin in the event of a nuclear event while he’s at school.  Which, I guess, is comforting.  Kind of.

There aren’t any functioning nuclear reactors in Austria.  But in a country that is roughly the size of South Carolina, this, alone, is not sufficiently informative.  There are nuclear power plants surrounding Austria on every side, and many of the reactors are close to the border.  But, although the closest one to where I’m living right now is no closer than the closest one to where I was living at home, the thought of stocking up on Potassium iodide tablets had never crossed my mind.  (It’s certainly on my mind now.)

Shocking as it was to read (and sign) a form permitting Benjamin’s teachers to do their best to protect him in the event of nuclear devastation, I think I’m more concerned with the fact that the kindergarten teachers’ English isn’t as good as I’d like.  I think that’s the better place to spend my worry.  And, I’m glad they’re planning ahead and looking out for him — but I’m a little freaked out.