I am not a “crafty” mom.  I have friends who do daily arts & crafts projects with their kids and who have closets overflowing with glue, stencils, glitter and construction paper.  I mostly get it together enough to do art projects with the kids only around holidays.  Today, we did a Halloween project.  Although I do this rarely, and it almost never goes how I expect, I’m almost always optimistic and enthusiastic.  I started out, after nap time, assembling paper, crayons, scissors and glue to make pumpkins, bats and ghosts to decorate our windows.

And, when B got up, he was excited to get started, so we commenced with cutting out the shapes, since that was a task I was only planning for B & I, anyway.  We started, and the frustration set in almost immediately.  B uses scissors at school “all the time”, but we’d never done it together before.  The scissors were (by necessity) pretty dull, the paper was a little floppy, and he kept turning the scissors sideways, so I would turn the paper, and it ended (after about 2 minutes) with my fingers pinched a few times and B grumpy and unwilling to continue.  Oops.  Fail.

No question, I had asked him to do too much.  And this point, i looked up “how to help your child learn to use scissors” and realized I was WAY off on what was reasonable.  I tried again, with simpler, smaller tasks, but the “I can’t do it” mentality had already set in, and, regardless of the fact that I’m the adult and I even realized that I had created the frustration in the first place, his unwillingness to “just try again” started to really irritate me.  So, I got snippy, and unsurprisingly, this did not motivate him to want to continue.

So, I switched into pitiful mom mode — “ok, fine, if you don’t want to help me, I guess I’ll just do it all myself . . .”.  At this point, unable to tell which of us was the four year old, Liam woke up and groggily joined our merry crew.

I was able to salvage my mood, hoping that maybe Liam’s general enthusiasm for art projects would inspire B.  I got B started on an age-appropriate scissor task (which he could do, and which seemed to buoy his confidence) and set up Liam with some coloring.  I just *knew* we were going to have a great time at this point!

Liam, shockingly, showed no interest in coloring, but he did decide to try to eat the glow-in-the-dark crayons.  Sigh.  B ran out of paper to cut up, Liam ran off, crayon in hand, giggling, and I decided I had had it, and we were just going to give up and put everything away if no one cared.  Fine.  (Hmph!)  So, I scooped up all the paper, the scissors, the glue and the crayons, and started to put everything away.

And, the kids didn’t care one bit.  They didn’t want to do this project anyway, and they had no interest.  But, truthfully, I did.  So, I took a few breaths, and thought about it.  Who is it I want to be in this moment?  What do I really want to get out of this?  Do I really not care?  If we don’t do it, will I be disappointed?  And, I realized, I *do* want to do it, even if they don’t.  In a perfect world, they’d be excited to join me, and we’d all do it together, smiling and happy.  In a less than perfect world, we’d all do it together, less than perfectly, but it’d be fun anyway.  And in this world, the one I had in front of me today, I wanted to color pumpkins and bats and ghosts.  And I wanted my kids to want to do it, but they didn’t.  And I would have been disappointed if I hadn’t done it — especially if I had quit in an effort to guilt them into wanting to do it.  I don’t want to be morose, I don’t want to be angry, and I certainly don’t want to be a martyr, glumly cutting out pumpkins all by myself.

So, I chose not to be any of those people.  I sat down, got out the crayons, told Liam he could color if he wanted, but he couldn’t eat the crayons, invited B to join us, and I started coloring — all by myself.  It took half a ghost before Liam sat down to help me, and by the time we’d finished a ghost, two bats and a pumpkin, B had joined us, too.  (Although, admittedly, I think part of B’s enthusiasm came from the fact that when he asked, I told him we were doing an art project, and that therefore the Wii, the iPhone and the iPad were not coming out until it was finished.)  B modelled a few of his grumpier “I can’t do the scissors” faces as inspiration for the jack-o-lantern designs, and he did the glue for the pumpkin stems entirely on his own.  Both boys were giggling and jumping up and down with enthusiasm when the time came to actually put our work up on the windows.  (At which point, Dan came home, and I looked like super mom with happy kids and pumpkins for the windows.)

It was a good day.  I’m not a crafty mom, but I really wanted to decorate for Halloween, and I wanted the kids to join me.  I’m embarrassed to admit how hard it was for me to avoid being dramatic, irritated or manipulatively emotional — all for the sake of paper pumpkins.  But, even though we took some detours down those paths, I’m glad I was able to get it together, and focus on what I really wanted.  We all benefitted, and, I was surprised to discover, it actually got us where I wanted to go.

Liam is at the age where his vocabulary and his ability to communicate are exploding.  He adds new words and phrases to his repertoire every single day, and it can be hard to keep up.  It often happens that we suddenly understand something he says, and realize that he’s been saying that same thing for days, with an increasing level of frustration on his part, since he’s talking and we’re not getting it.

Today, we had another one of those.  The boys were playing together this afternoon, and Benjamin looked over and said, “Liam, I love you”, to which Liam replied, “I too!”  Oh my goodness.  I was in mommy swoon overdrive when I realized he was saying, “I love you, too” in Liam-ese (and that I’m pretty sure I’ve heard him say it before, I just hadn’t made the connection).  I wanted to be sure, though, so (good scientist that I am) I tested it — I asked B to say it again.  Same response.  We did this a few times (B loved it) and it worked, every time.  By the time we’d been through this a few times, we were all giggling, smiling and hugging.  It was super awesome.

And, of course, I wanted to hear it for myself, too!  So, I tried:  “Liam, I love you”.  Nothing.  Tried again.  Nothing.  Hmm.

B wanted to help, so he said, “Liam, do you love Mommy?”  No response.  Hmm.  Ok, no problem.  Part of me selfishly wanted my own expression of Liam love, but I can’t deny that it’s pretty darn sweet that his first dozen or so declarations of “I love you, too!” were set aside solely for Benjamin.  So, it was ok.

But then, B tried, “Liam, do you love Daddy?” to which we got an enthusiastic nod.  Hey!  Wait a minute!  He wasn’t even THERE.  He was at work, being all productive and stuff.  And there I was, sitting on the floor, trying to not be jealous and failing miserably (and feeling pretty silly and selfish for actually feeling jealous, which I was . . . a little).

It was ok, though — throughout the rest of the afternoon, I was treated to the, “Liam, I love you” from Benjamin followed by, “I too!” which certainly made my day about 1,000,000 times over.

Then Dan got home, and he tried.  “Liam, I love you!”  “I too!”  Hey!!!

But then, this evening, after dinner, I tried again, and finally got my own, “I too!”  (Happy mommy.)

We’re all very excited — later this month, my sister, Jo, is coming to stay with us. It was supposed to be this week, but dealing with visa issues (including maddening parts of the Austrian bureaucracy which remind us so much of our first month here) has pushed the date back.

She’s coming for a few reasons — to visit us, to check out how great Vienna is, to get a taste of living abroad, and to help us out with the kids. So, she’s going to kind of be our au pair (but without the inevitable stress and weirdness of having a stranger stay in your house). I’m excited. For me, it’s pretty much all up side — I get to hang out with Jo, have some regular conversation with another adult, and have an extra set of hands when wrangling the kids . . . and maybe even have a little bit of free time sometimes. Maybe even DURING THE DAY. Sounds AWESOME.

I’m hoping that it’ll be fun for her, too. We’re pretty good company, the kids are super wonderful, and we’ll give her a safe base from which to explore a bit. (And, if she’s ever wondered how tedious yet fantastic it is to be a stay-at-home mom, she’ll have an idea. It’ll be like a parenting internship and mental birth control, all rolled up in one!) She’ll get to be here for Halloween and Christmas, too, and Christmas is really special in Vienna.

I imagine, though, that there will also be days where we both wonder what we were thinking when we came up with this plan. But, hopefully those will be rare, and we’ll all get a lot out of sharing this part our adventure together. Her visa, once acquired, will allow her to stay for up to 6 months (but my feelings won’t be hurt if she decides to go home sooner than that).  She’ll have to go through homesickness, culture shock and a bossy older sister, but I think she’ll be ok. It’s actually pretty great here.

I’m impressed with her. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to try this at 21 (I almost wasn’t brave enough to try it at 34). I’m looking forward to her arrival, and to getting to share this experience with her.

I hate it when my kids are sick.  I absolutely hate it.  I feel helpless, and often scared, and incredibly indecisive.  I never know if I’m doing the right thing, whether or not things have progressed to the point where I should be calling the doctor — and then, if I decide to call, I worry that I’m being an obnoxious over worrier, and if I decide not to call, I worry that I’m not taking good enough care of my boys.

Two nights ago, Liam suddenly got a very high fever and became completely miserable.  It felt like he went from well to sick in an instant.  The Ibuprofen we gave him worked, but it took several hours, and it wore off well before he was due for another dose.  I didn’t want to torment him overly, so we only took his temperature with a forehead thermometer.  I don’t know exactly how warm he got, but our thermometer read 103 (and a bit higher) several times — he was pretty sick.  The pattern has continued since then — high fever, miserable boy, medicine that takes an hour or more to kick in and which wears off hours before he can have more, which means he only has about 3 hours of relief from every dose of medication.  When he lays down to sleep, he gets congested and can’t breathe, and it seems like he has a sore throat.  For the second day in a row, he decided it was time to go to bed about 2 hours earlier than usual, and led us into his room to put him in his crib.  He’s one sickly little guy.

After 12 hours of this, I called the doctor, and she says that all of his symptoms are “very consistent with a viral infection that’s going around”, and that we should just keep him hydrated and watch him.  He’s doing a great job of drinking lots of water, but he’s awfully uncomfortable.  I hate watching him be so unhappy.  And I worry, constantly.  Is he getting worse?  Is his fever too high?  Is he really just sick with a virus, or is it something worse?  And then, in the few minutes when he’s feeling well, he climbs down off the couch and runs off, and I worry that I’m setting him back by letting him play.

I hold him as often as he wants, I fix him lots of things to drink and play his favorite shows on tv.  Benjamin has even offered him one of his own favorite trucks to play with and hold while he’s not feeling well.  But I feel woefully ineffectual.  I tell him, over and over, that he’ll feel better soon, and that he just needs to rest so that his body can heal.

But in the midst of holding a sick Liam for hours and hours, feeling his fevery body and yearning myself for more than a few hours of consecutive sleep, I am so grateful that this is temporary.  I know that when I tell Liam he’ll be better soon that he will be.  This will pass, and he’ll be ok.  I have no magic powers or potions to speed his recovery, but I know that his body will do the work it takes to feel good again.  I don’t know if it will happen while he sleeps tonight, or after he wakes up in the morning, or maybe not even for a few more days, but he’ll get better, and then, in a blink, he’ll be playing and running and climbing and happy again.  While we’re living this, it seems so hard, and so grueling, but it’s really just a quick few moments of our lives.

I’ve been a mom for over 4 years, and the mom of two for more than 2. I’ve gotten good at lots of things. I can change a messy diaper, get stains out of anything, catch stuff I never actually saw falling and sing about 2 dozen verses of “Old McDonald”. I can pack two suitcases for a 17 day trip, travel by bus, train or plane, and keep track of everyone’s shoe sizes, clothes sizes and favorite colors.

But I have never mastered taking a shower. I know it sounds silly, but I can’t shower when it’s just me and the kids. 99% of the time I take a shower before Dan goes to work, because it’s the only way I know how to get it done without losing my mind. I know moms who do it every day. Their husbands work, or travel a lot, or aren’t around, and these moms manage to get themselves clean on a regular basis. I just have no idea how they do it.

I’ve tried bringing the kids into the bathroom with me, trying to keep them entertained by popping my head out every 25 seconds, only to have them dismantle the bathroom, start sobbing about something, or try to climb in with me. I’ve tried leaving them in the living room, watching tv, sometimes strapped into a high hair, but then I’m so worried that something awful is going to befall them that I end up getting out, halfway through, soaking wet, to make sure they’re ok.

So, what’s the secret? How is it done? And why does everyone other than me seem to know?

Last summer, Benjamin rode on zebras and bears, dinosaurs and pandas.  (Liam tried once or twice, but he was too nervous and mostly skipped it.)  He could go on a ride for a few Euros, and he absolutely loved it.  It was one of our favorite indulgences last summer.

But, we didn’t manage to go this year.  The Donau Park is only one stop on the U-Bahn beyond B’s school and Dan’s work, but we just didn’t ever get out that way.  I’m pretty sure they don’t run the animals in the winter or spring, and I’m not sure how long into the fall they’re kept going.  We meant to go before our trip to the UK, and we meant to go last weekend, but didn’t. I was worried we’d missed them entirely this year, but we went yesterday for one more try.

They were out!  They were going!  Hooray!

After a stop to jump on the trampolines, the boys mounted up on a Triceratops, together, for a ride, and then took a ride on a bear.  (I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything cuter than my kids riding double on a Triceratops.)  The smiled and giggled, and steered all around.

We capped our trip with a visit to the playground and some massive slides, (the kind I’ve never seen in the US) but the animals were the highlight.  I’m glad we got to see them again before they hibernate for the winter.

Months ago, when we were running 3 days a week, Dan & i decided to sign up for the Vienna Night Run, a 5k run, at night, here in Vienna.  Back in July, we were running 4k or so every time we went running, so committing to a 5k that we had months to prepare for seemed like no big deal.

Of course, neither of us has run at all since we went to the beach in July . . . but still, it’s only a 5k, so with absolutely no recent training, we did it anyway.

Yesterday, Liam and i went to pick up our numbers, chips, and extra goodies, and that was a challenge in itself — had to wait in 5 different lines, talk to 5 people in Germenglish, and get all the relevant stuff and info.  I got everything we needed, and we were all set, so after dinner tonight, we loaded the boys into the double stroller and walked over to the Rathaus to start the race.

We actually had a great time.  It was cool and drizzly out, so we put the kids under the rain cover.  We were slow, but not the slowest (we were passed by at least 5 Nordic walkers who started at least 5 minutes behind us, though).  There were lots of people out cheering for the runners, and having the stroller got us lots of attention (we only saw one other).  The music along the course helped with our motivation, too — I think we heard “Eye of the Tiger” at LEAST 3 different times.

We had a great time.  The boys were a big fussy as we waited for our starting group, but once we got going, they were happy (Liam slept through at least half of the race).  After we finished, B asked excitedly, “Did we cross the finish line???  What place did we get???”  His enthusiasm was wonderful, and he really seemed to enjoy it.  I’m really glad we did it, unprepared and everything . . . although we’ll see how I feel about it tomorrow