Adventure playground

Posted on November 21, 2015 by admin

It’s a tradition at Benjamin’s school that every year, each class takes a trip together. In the older grades, the trips vary from a weekend spent camping to a week skiing in the Swiss Alps, but for the younger classes, a day-long field trip is typical. Last spring, B’s class took their trip to an “adventure playground” called Robinsoninsel (Robinson Island). I had no idea what to expect from an “adventure playground”, but B’s teacher had talked several times about how much she was looking forward to it, so I imagined it was going to be a pretty fun day.

As one of the parents who had volunteered in B’s class throughout the year (and, possibly, as the first to volunteer), I got to join them on their adventure playground trip. I, too, was pretty excited when the big day arrived. A whole day to play outside with my kid and his friends? And it counts as school? Sounds great! Once we got there (after a tense moment when I almost missed the bus stop with my assigned group of first graders), I started to understand the excitement. This was a really cool place. It covered most of a city block and looked like the kind of “playground” a child would design of you let them — there were rope ladders, trees to climb, swings, hammocks, tree forts, rabbits, ducks, a pond with tadpoles, and a “smurf house”, made of living trees.

As always, one of my favorite things about being able to join in on these outings is that I get to spend the day with B. But also, as I had been in the classroom every week and gotten to know each of his classmates as well, it was great fun to watch each of them explore their new environment in their own way. There were actual goals to accomplish, like looking at bugs under microscopes and learning about different types of animal habitats, but most of the day was spent in a less structured type of learning — climbing, balancing, running, jumping, getting dirty and discovering on their own.

Though the day was gray and drizzly at times, we had a fantastic time (and, on the plus side, no one had to worry about sunscreen, including me). It was a wonderful opportunity for a group of city kids to learn and play outside for the day, and I felt honored to be able to join them.

Schönbrunn summer concert

Posted on November 17, 2015 by admin

Every year, the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra puts on an outdoor concert on the grounds of the Schönbrunn Palace here in Vienna. The concert is recorded and rebroadcast in the US (and perhaps elsewhere) later in the summer, but it actually takes place in May. (As a result, every summer we get calls and emails from friends and family asking if we are going to a concert that actually happened months earlier.) It’s a free event, but due to busy schedules, sick kids, and inertia, we’d never been before. This year, we made the trip out to Schönbrunn to see it.

Weather-wise, we may have chosen the worst year of our time here to finally go. It was raining, and though we hoped that the drizzle might hold back the crowds, there were lots of people in attendance (though, since we’d never been before, it’s possible that it WAS significantly less crowded than it would have been in great weather). When we arrived, we got to walk through and under the palace to enter the grounds (a passage I’d never seen open before), and out into the gardens, which were fenced off and organized to corral the people and protect the flowers. There was no chance of getting a spot (standing only) anywhere near the orchestra, so, after a bit of wandering, we took a position with a good view of one of the tv screens showing the action (the point being to hear the music, anyway). The Gloriette was lit by colored lights, and the atmosphere among the crowd was happy and relaxed, excited for the concert.

And it was lovely. The music was fantastic and the setting absolutely stunning. It was fun to be out for the evening, even in spite of the rain, and the kids enjoyed themselves more than we had expected. It started relatively late (for us), so we knew we wouldn’t be able to stay for the whole thing, but the boys happily stayed for over an hour of classical music, which was pretty impressive. They danced and clapped and ran around as much as the crowds allowed. After about an hour, the boys were getting antsy, and we were all getting a little stiff-legged from standing/holding kids, so we decided to call it a night. Rather than fight our way back out through the crowds, the way we came in, we opted for a side exit, through the gardens and out towards the zoo.

And that was the most magical part of the night. We could still hear the music from the concert, but, as we walked through the trees, we were mostly in darkness. There were spotlights among the trees, which gave us some guidance, and a steady flow of other people also leaving the show, but we were mostly on our own in the warm, summer darkness, in the gardens of Schönbrunn Palace. We let the boys run ahead, warned them to watch out for puddles and for other people, and listened as their laughter came back to us as they ran and leapt through the gardens. It was so joyful, so peaceful and so beautiful, I could have stayed there forever. It was an absolutely perfect summer night, in an improbable place, with my most favorite people. It was like a dream. I imagine that if my boys remember it, it will be the kind of memory that seems like it wasn’t actually ever real. I doubt I will ever forget it.

Mother’s Day hike

Posted on November 16, 2015 by admin

It’s taken me years to figure out how to make Mother’s Day work at our house. If we were in the US, we’d get together with my mom and do something nice like a dinner out, most likely, which would be great. Here, it’s a little less straightforward. The idea is for the boys to make a nice day for me, but a lot of what I actually need the most is a break from my usual “mom” duties. I don’t want to spend Mother’s Day doing anything other than being with my boys, though, so I’ve finally discovered the key to having a great day: I get to decide what to do, and no one gets to complain. (That works better in theory than in practice, though.)

In reality, it’s kind of an opportunity for me to get to do something I’ve been wanting for us all to do but haven’t had the chance. Over the past few years (though never before on Mother’s Day) we’ve been working on a hike that we’ve cobbled together in bits and pieces (including this past April when I foolishly assumed that pleasant weather down in Vienna would translate to pleasant weather up in the hills — which it did not). My lone Mother’s Day request was that we complete (or at least continue) that hike.

And so, we set out to do just that. We took the bus to the stop where we had quit during our early April snow shower hike. Luckily for us, it turned out that we had done very nearly all of the uphill hiking on our previous journeys, and we had only to walk down the hill to Vienna. That also meant that we were also able to start our hike with a gorgeous view over the vineyards and down into Vienna. And then we set off, down the hill, through the woods.

The boys had brought stuffed friends along with them, as well as binoculars, and we took lots of breaks — to look at bugs, climb on trees, and admire the lovely views. Our walk through the woods gave way to a walk along the edge of some of western Vienna’s many vineyards, and then along some hilly ridges lining farmland.

We walked, and we walked, and we walked, and though the occasional grumble came through, they were remarkably patient with indulging my request for the day. We picked wildflowers, smelled lilacs, and did our best to stay out of the way of the many bikes that flew past us. Near the end of our nearly 4 mile long hike (good thing it was mostly downhill!), the route turned steeply downward, crossed through and under what looked like maybe the remains of an old city wall (anyone know what it is — near Nussdorf, Eichelhofstraße?), and then, quite suddenly, we were in Nussdorf, at the end of the hike, and finally, completely finished.

In all, it took many tries over several years, but we did it. And I had a lovely Mother’s Day with my boys (and I think they enjoyed it at least a little bit, too).

Labyrinth

Posted on November 15, 2015 by admin

The grounds and gardens of the Schönbrunn Palace are some of our favorite destinations here in Vienna. We visit the zoo on a regular basis, make a point of going to the Christmas and Easter markets every year, and always enjoy a climb up the hill to the Gloriette, with the lovely view over Vienna as a reward at the end. Still, with our many visits to Schönbrunn, we had never been to the labyrinth, though we’d always meant to. So, this past spring, we took a free day and made another trip out to the gardens of Schönbrunn.

Our main goal was to explore the labyrinths, but we were planning to make a day of it, so we got started early. I had always wondered — what would the labyrinth be like? Would it be fun? Boring? A little scary? Would we get truly lost? That was part of why we hadn’t ever done it — we weren’t sure we’d enjoy it, but, with the recommendation of a friend and her slightly older (than my kids) son, we were up to try it.

There are a few labyrinth choices — one set made of short hedges (that you could see over), and another with 8+ foot high hedges — more of a classic hedge maze. We decided to start easy with the short one. It was a good choice. The kids took off through the maze — literally. While we adults were limited to the actual paths, the kids could slip between the hedges to switch routes. They got ahead of, and away from, us very quickly. The only way it worked was that we could still see their heads as they ran on through the maze. Though I was slightly concerned that we might lose track of them, we actually didn’t, and I think it was extra fun for them to reach the end of the maze well before we did. At the end, we were rewarded with some large games — an interactive fountain, some balancing tables, and a big musical instrument the kids played by stomping on it. A success! Much fun, and no one got lost.

After our success in the little labyrinth, we decided to take on the bigger one. This one, with hedge walls over 8 feet tall, was not a place we could safely get separated. We stuck together and wound our way through, encountering, at each dead end, a stone block bearing a zodiac symbol (for reasons I don’t understand, but the kids were enthusiastic to learn the symbols). At the end, we got to enjoy a lovely view of Poseidon’s Fountain. The journey was relatively short, but we had to discover the way out, as well, so it was a good adventure. After finding the exit, we stopped for an ice cream and some playtime at the playground — including an elevated eagle structure (whose wings were actually flappable — only in Vienna!).

We wanted to extend our day at Schönbrunn, so we climbed up the hill behind the palace to the Gloriette (something we’ve done many times before). We took a hike through the woods, had a picnic lunch, and inadvertently took dozens of inchworms along with us on the rest of our hike (they kept dropping out of the trees onto our clothes). We finished up our day with a climb to the observation area at the top of the Gloriette (our first time up there) for an even better view over Schönbrunn and Vienna.

As usual, we had a fantastic time visiting the grounds of Schönbrunn Palace. It remains one of my favorite places to take the kids in all of Vienna. And, even after 4 years here, we were able to experience something new and exciting in a familiar place.

The lost backpack

Posted on September 13, 2015 by admin

Getting the kids to and from school every day is controlled chaos. We commute on the always crowded rush-hour trains and buses. Last year, in the mornings, Dan would take both boys in, dropping B at his school first and then taking Liam to his school, 2 U-Bahn stops away. Then, at noon, I would go to get L from his preschool, rush home for a quick lunch (and, some days, a short nap for L), and then go back to B’s school to pick him up with L in tow. (We’ve changed things up a bit for this school year, but the basic principles are the same.) By the end of the day, we’re all tired. L is either desperately in need of a nap that he’s not going to get, or groggy from just having woken up from a too-short nap. B is tired from a long day at school and sometimes PE or after school sports. And I’m worn out from managing it all. Our trip home can be relaxed, peaceful and comfortable, or it can be stressful, crowded and grouchy — it depends on the circumstances and on our own states of mind. Such is the reality of traveling to two different schools each day via public transportation.

I try to not be the packhorse mom, laden down with bags, books, paper, sweatshirts, art projects, toys, gym clothes to be washed, and coats, for several reasons. It makes me grouchy. I’m already tired. I don’t feel like it’s safe when my hands are over-occupied with STUFF when they should be free-ish to help the kids on and off the train, up stairs, onto an escalator, or through a crowd. And, I feel that teaching the boys to be responsible for their own things shows them what a pain it is to drag around extra stuff and hopefully makes them more aware of the consequences of their own choices (and less likely to think that it’s absolutely necessary to drag every Beanie Boo on every outing). That being said, last year B was carrying at least two bags home every day, and the choice was not his — it was school-mandated. So, I would typically carry my purse and one of B’s bags, while B was responsible for his second bag, and they were each in charge of anything else they might have brought along.

But even with our routines, and our attempts to not be overburdened, it doesn’t take much to unravel the whole thing.

One day last April, we were headed home, as usual, and had gotten to the last leg of our trip before the last 2 block walk home — the bus. L had recently been in the habit of collecting coins, and he saw a very cool Russian one on the floor of the bus, after we were already on and seated. Since we were already underway, and I’m not in the habit of letting the kids run around a moving bus, I told him that if it was still there when we were getting out, he could pick it up. He was very focused on it, and every time the bus so much as slowed down, he was poised to leap out of his seat and grab it.

My mind was on L and the coin, and preventing him from hurting or endangering himself trying to get it.

We finally arrived at our stop, the last one on the line, and L enthusiastically leapt down and retrieved his coin. Yay!!! We all got off the bus and made our way through a crowded flea market on our block. We got home, went upstairs and inside, and then realized we were without B’s backpack.

The buses from our stop run every 5 minutes, so, in the hope that we would be fast enough, we threw our shoes on again, ran out onto the landing, realized the elevator was in use, rushed down five flights of stairs, dashed back downstairs, through the courtyard and the flea market and back to the bus stop, where a bus was waiting. Though I was fairly certain, just by looking, that it was not our bus, we climbed aboard and checked anyway.

It was not our bus. Our bus, and the backpack, were gone. We were too late.

B, already panicky about having lost his backpack, was crushed.

We fought our way out again against the flow of embarking passengers. And then, at a loss for what else we could do, we sat on the step of the bakery near the bus stop and waited.

From having lost many previous items on public transportation (the unseen cost of commuting with kids by train, rather than by car, is the insane number of times hats and gloves must be replaced), we knew that theoretically the backpack would be found and turned in to the transit authority’s central lost and found. We also knew that despite the fact that Austrians are generally conscientious about getting things back to their owners (hanging up lost gloves and hats on the nearest fencepost is nearly a religion here) we had never before recovered anything that had been lost on public transportation.

The buses on that line run on a relatively short, 20 minute (ish) route through the center of the city. So, I figured that shortly, the bus (if not the backpack) would be back.

We waited. When the next bus pulled up, we hopped aboard behind the departing passengers to look for the backpack. The interior of the bus was the wrong color. Not it.

We waited some more. The next bus pulled up, and we hopped aboard. The driver scolded us for getting onto a bus that was not the next set to depart (the previous bus was still also waiting at the stop), and it was still not our bus. We were getting discouraged.

The next bus pulled up and we hopped aboard. Aha! It was the right color inside! And it had the same “One Direction” graffiti we’d had on our bus! It was our bus! But alas, when we climbed back to our seat, there was no bag. The driver, confused at our excitement and enthusiasm, watched us as we walked up to the front. “Bitte, hast du eine rucksack gefunden?”, Benjamin asked.

And, he had. With a quick but kind reminder that we might not be as lucky next time, he happily lifted the bag over his little divider and presented it to B.

Everything inside was accounted for, and we happily headed home, grateful for the kindness of strangers, and for the Austrian tendency to help lost items get back to their owners.

Student-led conference

Posted on August 27, 2015 by admin

Though I’ve parented on two continents, I’ve only parented school-aged children on one, and so I don’t have much perspective on whether the things I see here which are different from my experience are different because I’m in another country, or just because times have changed. (I get the feeling that it’s a little of both.) I get the sense that some things, like less time spent sitting formally in rows at desks, are more of a universal change and that some other things, like having two recesses each day, are more unique to the schools that my boys go to. And, they are currently at two different schools in two different school systems, so things are certainly not uniform even between their experiences.

Last fall, we had a fairly typical “back to school night” at B’s new school (though it wasn’t called that) which was comforting because it was something I expected and wanted from the school and from B’s teacher. The school was new to all of us, and I desperately wanted to find out as much as I could about the philosophies and practices of both the school and B’s teacher.

Then, shortly after the beginning of the school year, we had a parent/teacher conference with B’s teacher. And though I found the concept of a parent/teacher conference familiar, I found the timing strange — the kids had been in school only a month when we met for this conference, so I wondered exactly what we’d be talking about. As it turns out, it was less a “report card” on how B was doing (although there was a little bit of that) and more of an interactive, let’s talk about how things are going and how we want them to go, let’s check up on if we’re on the same page in terms of his strengths and weaknesses, let’s talk about what we’re going to focus on, and let’s talk about how we can each support each other in these goals, meeting. And though it wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I went into it, it was actually great. I got a lot of peace of mind from seeing how well B’s teacher “got” him, and by having her help in sharing some ideas about how we could help him do even better. That meeting was the beginning of me really trusting B’s teacher to guide him through his learning for the year, and I was able to finally relax about the whole thing because I understood exactly what was expected of him, and of us. It was great.

Oddly, though, it was the only parent/teacher conference we had all year. I expected that there would be more, as the year went along, so we could check up on his progress, but that’s not how they do things.

Instead, later on in the year (about 3/4 of the way through) the teachers and students put on a different kind of conference — a “student-led” conference. From this, I really had no idea what to expect, except that we vaguely understood that B would be leading the whole thing.

And that’s exactly what happened. It was a chance for the kids to walk their parents through some of their own work. There were 3 or 4 different stations around the room, and B took us from one to the next, demonstrating what he’d learned in different areas — writing, math(s), science. And then, B took us around the school, to the gym and then to the music room, to show us what he’d been working on there.

And if I hadn’t been there to experience it, I’m not sure I would have grasped how absolutely BRILLIANT this was.

Of course, as his mom, I think B is clever and talented and brilliant and I love to hear him tell me about what he does at school (though that almost never happens — “What did you do at school today?” “I don’t remember”). And, as his mom, of course I loved hearing about his work. And, I know that he loved having a few hours of our undivided attention.

But, more than that, there was an amazing amount of skill and learning demonstrated during the conference. First, the kids were responsible for guiding their parents through the process (which is a big responsibility for a 6 year old, but B had a very supportive audience) which meant they had to have been paying decent attention when the teachers taught them how to do this whole thing. (I imagine they practiced beforehand, too.) B was in charge. It was his job to explain how to do the whole thing and to make sure we did it relatively correctly.

In addition to that, he was basically giving a series of oral presentations/demonstrations, but again, to a very receptive audience. There was nothing slick or overly polished about the presentations, it was very conversational. But still, he had the responsibility to “present” each station to us, which he did, very comfortably.

And THEN (and this is the coolest part), he had to understand what he had learned well enough to explain it to us! And that is HUGE. Because anyone who has ever taught anyone anything will tell you that THAT is how you know they’ve really learned it. If you understand something well enough to teach it to someone else, you have a truly useful level of knowledge. I imagine tha the things he “showed” us during his presentation are concepts and skills that he will hold onto for a long time, because going through this process pretty well ensures that they’re stuck in his brain.

So though B thought he was just having us to his class to show us his work (which he was, and he did), he was really doing so much more. He was leading, he was presenting, and he was teaching. I know he thought it was pretty cool that we got to come to his class, and he got to tell us where to go and what to do, but I think what we got from him was way cooler.

Bailey

Posted on August 24, 2015 by admin

On March 3, we said goodbye to Bailey, our Welsh Corgi. We’d had him since he was a tiny cute ball of puppy fluff, way back in the fall of 2000. He was clever, patient, loving, forgiving, trusting, sweet, funny, fast, and, always, hungry. He was Dan’s wedding gift to me. He was our “kid” for a long time before we had kids — before we even knew we wanted to have kids. He was with us through ups and downs, 3 homes, 8 jobs, 2 babies and 2 continents. He was the best dog I have ever known. He was a member of our family. We all loved him very, very much.

In his younger years, Bailey had a constant reserve of energy. He would run around our apartment like crazy, snapping at imaginary butterflies and chasing his “tail”. He would walk (and even sometimes run) with me all around the neighborhood. In fact, he was my running companion when I first discovered running (we both have short legs, so it worked out). He was an excellent student to everything I tried to teach him, and he let me think it was my talent as a dog trainer that was behind it all. He chased sheep. He slept on my feet. He ate everything that didn’t move faster than he did.

As he got older, he slowed down a bit, but it was gradual. He still ran and played, but not for as long as he had before. And then we brought one, and then another, baby home. Bailey accepted them instantly. We were worried, since he was nearly 8 when B was born, and had had us to himself for a long time, that he would be jealous or inflexible. He was not. He would follow us around when we walked with the boys, he would sleep under their swings while they slept, he would urge me along if I was too slow to respond to their cries.

And he became an excellent playmate. Dan, who had a retriever as a child, tried unsuccessfully for years to teach Bailey to fetch. Bailey let B teach him, when B was not yet 2. Bailey endured over-enthusiastic petting, became the landing spot for a few early and awkward walking attempts, and learned to adeptly dodge poorly controlled tricycle, bicycle and scooter trajectories through the house.

He handled our transition here with ease. As an old dog (he was already 10), it could have been hard on him, but he was just happy to be here with us (though he never learned to love public transportation). He got to go with us more places than he had before, but not as much as we would have liked — he slowed down a lot and his health began to deteriorate after a few years here. First there was a heart condition, but good medication let him bounce back from that (though it would never go away completely), but then, in his last year, he began to lose the use of his back legs, and the strain began to show on his front legs as well. Eventually, though he never lost his kindness or patience, we knew he had been trying long enough.

Though we knew we were doing the best thing for him, the end was hard. Dan and I made the decision, along with our vet, that we had done all we could and that it was time. We waited for a few days to tell the kids, and I spent much of those days darting into the kitchen or hiding in the bathroom so they wouldn’t see me crying. I knew it was right. He was so, so tired. But my heart was broken.

When it came time to tell the boys, I didn’t know what to say. I had tried, but failed, to come up with a plan or script to work from. My brain wouldn’t process or hold on to the words I wanted to use, so I just opened up my mouth and spoke. I don’t know what I said. I know that I cried. And I know that I avoided the euphemisms that can scare kids — “put to sleep”, “going away”, “moving on”. I know I was clear. Bailey was going to die.

At first, B tried to come up with alternatives. Maybe there was another medicine. We could carry him everywhere. We could take him to the vet again. When he finally understood there were no more options, he broke down and sobbed.

And then the boys collected up all of their stuffed animals (starting with the dogs) and surrounded Bailey with them.

When Bailey had had enough of that (he was very patient) and wandered away, I heard a terrible scraping sound coming through the apartment. The boys had gone to get Bailey’s huge, plastic, air travel crate, and were dragging it into the dining room for Bailey. To protect him. After coercing him into the crate, they covered it with stuffed animals and got out their foam swords, so they could stand guard over him.

Those moments were very sad, but also very sweet. B told stories and memories of Bailey. He commented on how Bailey was “the only person he knew who was never, ever angry”. (He’s right.)

And then we finished up the emotional turmoil of the day with Liam bonking his head on a drawer knob and needing a trip to the ER. (Never a dull moment.)

We told the boys on a Saturday, and over the next few days many of Bailey’s friends came to see him. The boys decided that Bailey should have one last birthday party, and so they threw him one, complete with hats. Though we were always strict with Bailey about his diet (which is why he is one of the only Corgis I’ve ever known who was not fat), in his last few days we relaxed the rules. On his last evening, I shared a krapfen (like a doughnut) with him.

Though Bailey usually slept in his crate in our room (it was his preference), he spent his last few nights sleeping in with the boys, and on his last night, he slept in front of the boys’ door, all night.

The last day was surreal. We all knew what was happening, but I could not entirely accept it. I spent as much time as I could with him that last day, but it passed by so quickly.

We all went together with him to the vet, and we were all there when he died (we gave the boys the option of being there, and they wanted to be). It was awful, and it was crushingly sad, but it was peaceful. The vet was very kind, and she gave us all the time we needed to be with him.

We went home (where I almost immediately got another piece of devastating news) and it was immediately strange that he was gone. Over the days and weeks that followed, I gradually less often thought I heard or saw him. Less often jumped up in a panic thinking I’d forgotten to take him out. (Though, late at night, I still OFTEN think I hear him roll over in his crate. Make of that what you will.)

Shortly after losing Bailey, I read the phrase, “not all sacred moments are pleasant“. That pretty much sums it all up. This experience of saying goodbye to him was not pleasant. It was heartbreaking and unbelievably sad, but it did feel sacred. It was important, and heavy, and I think we did right by him.

His things are still where they were. Dan put his water dish away at one point, to try to tidy up the bathroom, but B asked that we put it back. A few months later, I heard about a dog that was up for adoption, and was surprised to find myself already excited about the idea of another dog. Dan was up for it, but the boys said it was too soon for them. (And I think they were right.)

From time to time, we still get sad. We miss him, though it is getting easier. At one point, when B and I were sharing a cry about it, L said, “I’m not sad. I think about Bailey, and all I think about is loving him, so I’m not sad.” I’m so glad that he feels that way, and as time goes on, I’m able to feel that way more and more. It’s amazing to me how quickly my mind is deleting the memories of him near the end — tired, hurting, unable to get around. I superimpose older memories, of him young, energetic, and enthusiastic onto more recent times. I have to constantly remind myself of how hard he had it near the end. But I’m glad that I remember him as happy and vibrant.

He would have been 15 years old today. I miss him tremendously. He is probably the best and most loved dog I will ever own. I told him, before he died, that he had ruined me for all other dogs, and I think that’s probably true. I do not regret a moment of the time I got to spend with him. But our time together was too short.

Finally Faschings, more or less correctly

Posted on August 21, 2015 by admin

Faschingsfest is one of those things that was entirely new to us when we got here. If you’re not from this part of the world, you most likely have no idea what Faschingsfest is (I even had one friend who thought, when she read it on my blog, that I was swearing particularly colorfully). It is the German name for a Carnivale or Mardi Gras celebration. It’s much more common and widespread here, but significantly less . . . rowdy . . . than a typical American Mardi Gras celebration. In fact, a lot of the celebration of Faschings is for children.

Since it was new to us when we arrived, it took us a while to “get” it. I really had no idea what was expected in terms of celebrating Faschings. I was told that kids dressed up in costumes — that it is a lot like Halloween back at home, but without trick-or-treating, and then everyone ate krapfen. Yeah . . . it’s not really like that.

I mean, it IS, in that kids DO dress up in costumes. But Faschings costumes are happy and bright, and not at all scary. Every Faschings costume I’ve ever seen is also store-bought, and usually directly based on a TV show or popular character. Butterflies, Spider-Man, pirates and princesses are very big (pirates were very, very popular this year), but ghosts and skeletons are a no go. Our first year, we had no idea what to do, but B solved that problem by being sick and missing his class party. Our second year, B dressed as an Ewok, which I thought would be perfect — cute, cuddly, not scary, suitably commercial and store-bought — ta da! Nope, it was a bit to esoteric for his school. The fact that no one knew exactly what he was made them look at us very oddly. The following year, L insisted on wearing B’s old Ewok costume (even though I knew it wouldn’t be quite right) but B dressed as a Brazilian soccer player, which had the advantage of being recognizable and very popular among kids his age, but the detriment of not being very costume-like. Still, we were getting close.

I think we got it this year. B’s school, being an international school, and not an Austrian school, did not celebrate Faschings at all (nor did they celebrate Halloween, which was a bummer), but for his own class celebration, L dressed as a knight, and I think it was just right. (He also brought a foam sword with him, and though we probably would have been severely chastised for bringing a “weapon” had we been in the US, it was not noteworthy here — when he got too enthusiastic with it, they simply put it away until it was time for him to go home.)

L was a charming and gallant knight for Faschings, and it seems that a good time was had by all. It’s nice to not feel quite so much like a fish out of water when it comes to these things — it’s only taken us 4 years to catch on!

Missing tooth

Posted on August 20, 2015 by admin

B’s first grade teacher is notoriously less than thrilled about wobbly teeth. Even less so when they actually fall out. (An unfortunate issue for a first grade teacher to have!) But, I imagine, that regardless of how much she doesn’t like it, it’s something she probably has to deal with fairly frequently. We added to the problem when one of B’s front teeth fell out at school one day in February. It was a surprise to pick up my little guy from school to find him looking significantly different than he had when I dropped him off!

B had already lost his two bottom front teeth last year, and it was vaguely traumatizing for both of us (for him because anytime part of you disconnects from your body, it’s a little weird; for me because how is it really possible that he’s big enough for that already?!?). But him losing his top front tooth (followed very shortly afterwards by him losing the other one, creating a perfect storm of little boy cuteness which lasted most of the summer) made me again all too aware of how quickly time is rushing past.

And then, there’s the fact that now, just a few short months later, he has two big, grown-up front teeth, and it’s stopped being strange to me that he does.

I love that B is growing up. I am so happy that he is strong and healthy and getting bigger every day, just as he should. But it’s all just happening SO FAST. I can’t believe how quickly my little guy is turning into a big guy.

Back at it

Posted on August 13, 2015 by admin

Getting back into the swing of things after a long vacation is always hard. We’ve just recently done it once (getting back from our summer vacation, which I have yet to write about) and we’re facing our next round of it (because school starts in less than 2 weeks, which is a bummer). But it’s worse when the whole family is battling jet lag, as we were after our trip home over Christmas. Making matters even worse was that we had a really short turn-around before getting back to our usual routine.

We had planned to have the boys skip school for the first two days after we got back, returning to Vienna on Wednesday but not sending the boys back to school until the following Monday. But B ended up sick for large parts of November and December, and he missed so much school that we were worried about him missing more than is allowed, so we lost the option of keeping him home for any extra days. So instead, we left the US on Tuesday, arrived in Vienna on Wednesday, and B went back to school on Thursday. (L, who is still in preschool, can miss pretty much as much as we want, so he did stay home until the following Monday.)

We were all exhausted and felt totally dysfunctional.

The frist night we were back, L woke up 3 times overnight. The first time, I had no idea where I was and was worried I was going to wake my mom . . . who was still awake, because she was at home in Maryland. At 1:10 in the morning, B got up, out of bed, on his own (which is odd for him in any circumstances — he usually waits for us to come and tell him it’s time to get up), went through the entirely dark house to the living room, turned on all the lights, scared himself with thoughts of a giant, sinister snowman, and came running into our room crying. It took 2 hours to get him back to sleep.

After that charming night’s sleep, I found I had forgotten how to do EVERYTHING. I couldn’t remember how to pack B’s snack for school. I couldn’t remember how to get the boys dressed and out the door in any reasonable kind of time. I couldn’t remember what time I needed to leave the house to pick B up on time. And I certainly couldn’t remember how to communicate in German. My first attempt at post-vacation German resulted in the coffee guy immediately failing over to English despite my continued attempts to communicate in German.

It’s always a bumpy road back to “normal” after a long trip away. And sleep deprivation never helped anyone adjust any faster. Next time, I will do whatever I can to NOT have us jump right back into things as soon as we get back!

A Mommy Abroad

Our big adventure, as a family of three.

Category Archives: Kids and Parenting