The Prater is a park of about 6,000,000 square meters in Vienna.  It’s made up of 2 completely different parts — one is a wild, crazy, slightly cheesy amusement park, and the other part is the “green Prater”, which is a huge, forested recreation area.  (It’s kind of Vienna’s version of Central Park.)

Last year, we visited the amusement park, and although it was interesting, it wasn’t quite the right fit for the boys — Liam, in particular, was big enough to want to try everything but too little to actually do so.  (It was also shortly after we arrived, so we were probably more chicken to try new stuff than we are now.  We should go back and check it out again.)

The other day, Liam and I went on an expedition to explore the green part of the Prater — something I’d not done with any particular thoroughness.  We walked for over an hour, mostly down the “Hauptallee” (main path) that runs down the middle.

From the depths of the park, you’d have no idea you were in the center of a major city.  It is green, lush and very quiet (cars aren’t permitted).  We saw dogs, horses, bikes, walkers, runners, trees and open spaces.  There were paved paths (very stroller friendly) as well as wood chip covered running/bridle paths.  Most importantly (given how warm it was here t his week) there was lots of shade and plenty of cool breezes.

We’ve been back 3 days this week to walk or run.  It’s a very peaceful break from the bustle of the city, made more surprising by the fact that it’s about halfway home from dropping Benjamin off at school.  We really enjoyed it, and I think we’ll be visiting often.

For each of my boys’ first few haircuts, I did them myself.  Although I worried about cutting them, cutting myself, or mangling their beautiful hair, nothing horrible happened.  Even so, I know that although I have many skills and talents, doing decent hair cutting is beyond me.  (Liam’s, since it’s curly, is a little easier — which I didn’t expect — so I’ll probably be able to do his for a little while yet.)  After those first few, we turned Benjamin over a to a professional.

Here, in Austria, the results have been very uneven . . . . sometimes literally.  (We had much better luck in the States.)  Part of it is a communication issue, to be sure (our meager German doesn’t extend to many haircutting terms, and since most tourists don’t get their hair cut on vacation, the hair stylists don’t always speak a lot of English) and part of it is that I like to keep B’s hair long, and that isn’t the predominant style for little boys here.  So, when I ask them to leave it long, they either take me too literally (did he even have a hair cut?), leave parts of it too long (frighteningly close to a mullet) or kind of ignore our requests and do something long-ish but also kind of non-specific.

Benjamin was due for a hair cut again (funny how that keeps happening) but I realized, this time, that he’s old enough to decide for himself what his hair should look like.  But, how do you ask a 3 year old how he wants his hair?  I tried talking to him about it, but when I asked him, “What do you want your hair to look like?” he said, “Like this” (meaning, the way it already looks), and when I asked him how he wanted his hair cut, he lifted up some of the hair on the top of his head and mimed cutting it, while giving me a look that said, “Is this a trick question?”

So, then I asked him to look at the other kids at school and tell us if he wanted his hair to look like any of theirs.  There’s a wide variety represented, most on the short side, but none of them appealed to him.  So, then Dan (in a moment of brilliant inspiration) Googled images of “little boys hair styles” and let B look through until he found one that he liked.  They showed the picture to the stylist, and although she left it a little longer than the picture (which Mommy is grateful for), it turned out great, and B is very happy.

He’s 3.  He’s still SO little, but he really is big enough to start making some of his own choices.  In addition to picking out his t-shirt every morning, I figure hair style is a good place to start.  No matter what he decides, it’s temporary and it will grow out.  He can experiment with different things, and express himself.  I like his hair long, but I want him to be able to look however he likes, and I want him to have the experience of having the freedom to choose — which will lead to sometimes making decisions he doesn’t like, and then having the opportunity to make different choice next time.

This is the shortest his hair has ever been (not counting his first year when it was just wispy baby hair).  Just looking at it in a picture, I never would have chosen this haircut for him, but now that he’s got it, I love it and I think it’s perfect for him.  It suits him nicely and he’s all ready for summer.  And the smile he gets when I tell him he did a great job picking his hair style is pretty wonderful, too.

A couple of weeks ago, Benjamin’s whole school went on a big end-of-the-year trip.  From the descriptions and the pictures, it seems like they had a great time.  (There were pony rides!)  Alas, B wasn’t able to go — he was way too sick that week.

He’s been a little sad about it ever since.  Not constantly or anything, but he’s asked several times if “today” is the day of the field trip (to which I remind him that it already happened) and has commented a few times that he didn’t get to go because he wasn’t feeling too well.

Poor guy.  I know how disappointing it is to miss out on something you were looking forward to, even for a good reason.

before

Yesterday, though, he got to go on a field trip with his class, to a nearby botanical garden.  And he was SO happy about it.

It does sound like a fun day.  They took the bus and the train (he got a seat both times, which was apparently worthy of note).  He dug in a sandbox, played soccer and played on the slide (he climbed up the slide part and then slid down, rather than climbing up the ladder — that was pretty fun, since I usually discourage that).  They played in a maze, saw lots of animals and got to watch bees making honey.

He had a fantastic time.  He came home worn out and happy.

after

I’m so glad he got to go.  It was a highlight of his educational experience so far.  The best part, though?  Having lunch with his friends.  (Usually, we pick him up at noon, which is before lunch is served.  Yesterday, they were out until 3:00, which means he got to join everyone for lunchtime.)  Back in September, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see a day when staying longer at school would be a good thing.  I’m so happy he’s having such a good time.

I love being outside, and Vienna gives me lots of beautiful reasons to get outdoors and explore.  Since I’ve seen a lot of the city most immediately around where we live (although, as I learned last week, there’s still plenty more to find) I’m always looking for new places to check out.  That can be tricky, though, since I’m usually exploring with at least one child (and typically a stroller) and I almost always have a fairly tight time limit.  It’s much easier to be relaxed about exploring a new place when you aren’t worried that a wrong turn (which might tack an hour onto your trip) will ruin your schedule for the day, and it can be really daunting to enthusiastically venture out only to discover that my chosen destination is completely stroller unfriendly.

This morning, Liam and I set out to explore.  We left early, before it got too hot, and took the 38 tram from Schottentor (right by our house) all the way out to Grinzing.  I looked all around online, and couldn’t find a good description of how to reach the hiking trail from the center of Grinzing, so I just looked it up on Google Maps, and it didn’t seem too bad — just 2 long blocks (or so) from the center of town to join up with the path.  No problem.

Turns out, though, that the first block was STRAIGHT UPHILL.  I’m not really exaggerating all that much.  It was reminiscent of San Francisco — that kind of hill.  Yikes.  But, I trudged up the hill, with its cobblestoned sidewalks, pushing my now sleeping child, only to find that the second block was made of . . . . stairs.  Steep, stone stairs, right back down.  Below me, at the bottom of the hill, I could see the trail, but I couldn’t get to it.  So, I pulled up Google Maps again, and went for plan B.

I didn’t have to go back down the hill (which was good — I at least felt like I’d accomplished SOMETHING) but I had to walk all through a residential neighborhood to go back around to meet up with the trail.  I failed twice more (once due to more stairs, once due to a street with lots of traffic and no sidewalks) to meet up with trail, but finally (almost 40 minutes later) I managed it.  Whew.

Once I found the right place, it was beautiful.  The path wound between the backs of the vineyards (the properties mostly back up to each other, it seems).  The track was wide and paved (if a little steep in places) — perfect for walking with a stroller (or jogging, or biking).  Some of the vineyards we passed were small, just backyards converted for growing grapes, and some were massive farms that disappeared over the crest of the hill.  I saw some beautiful views, a few gorgeous houses, and I really got a feeling of being out in the country (while still in Vienna).  It was pretty much exactly what I was hoping it would be.

But, after my 40 minute hike TO the trail, I was tired, it was getting hot, and the walk was pretty much entirely uphill.

And, since vineyards are pretty much just big farms that grow grapes, it was pretty isolated.

During the course of my walk, I only passed about 6-8 people, and they were all men.  It took me a while, but that started to seem weird to me.  I’m used to running in to all sorts of people when I’m out walking — men and women, young and old.  People are always out walking their dogs, jogging, pushing strollers, out with their families.  After about 20 minutes, I started to feel my distance from civilization and my rusty US-born self-preservation instinct kicked in.  I turned around.

As soon as I headed back, I passed 3 women — one walking (alone), one jogging (alone) and one blind woman (white cane and all) walking with her two dogs.  I think I was being a little paranoid (but I really was in the middle of nowhere, and I trust those instincts, even if they get a lot less exercise here).

With my lessons learned from my overly long trip to the trail,l I managed to make it back to Grinzing in less than 15 minutes (but how did it manage to be mostly uphill on the way back, too?!?).  My walk ended up a bit longer than I’d intended, but it was still a success.  The path itself was great, and definitely stroller friendly.  I wasn’t able to find a really easy way to get to the trail with the stroller, though.

(For anyone trying to reach City Hiking Trail 1 from Grinzing with a stroller, I recommend taking Langackergasse east away from the center of Grinzing.  Take your first major left on to Schreiberweg and your first right onto Arlethgasse.  Right now, the sidewalks on Arlethgasse are under construction, but it’s a quiet street with little traffic.  At the end of Arlethgasse, turn right onto Unterer Schreibergasse — the street ends almost immediately, but there’s a paved path at the end that slopes downwards and will bypass the lower part of Langeckergasse which is impassable with a stroller due to steep stairs on one side, no sidewalk on the other and very fast traffic on a very narrow road.  The path will take you to Kahlenberger Strasse.  Turn left and follow it to Wildgrubgasse.  At the corner of Kahlenberger and Wildgrubgasse, you’re actually on the City Hiking Trail, but to get to the good views, turn left on Wildgrubgasse and continue past the Friedhof Heiligenstadt.)

For myself, in the future, I’ll keep looking for another path.  This one was pretty, but I think I’ll save it for the weekends when I have Dan with me, or at least, the rest of Vienna out exploring the countryside.

I should know better.  I know how my mind works (kind of) and I’m really starting to be aware of my limitations.  (I’d like to be aware of them in time to do something about it, but that’s still a work in progress.)  The last two nights, combined, I’ve gotten less than 8 hours of sleep.  Today, I was busy from the time I woke up this morning until just now, after I put Liam down to bed.  I went straight from being with the kids all day to finishing up our taxes to dinner to bathtime to bedtime with hardly a moment to catch my breath (the overlaps in nap time lasted 14 minutes today — that was my total time to myself).

During bathtime, Liam was refusing to sit down, turning the water on again and again, splashing everything and everyone.  He then launched himself at Benjamin, scratching his chest pretty badly, and I didn’t handle it gracefully.  He was too much for me, in that moment.  So, I took him out, dried him off, announced to Dan that Liam was “being a monster” and told Benjamin I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to continue to give them baths any more since they wouldn’t listen (which was altogether unfair, because although Benjamin was laughing at and encouraging Liam right up until the scratching, he really was being pretty well behaved).  That made him cry.

Liam then proceeded to pee on the floor (come on, like you didn’t see THAT coming), which was followed by me snapping at Dan for putting the “wrong shirt” on Liam, repeating that Liam was a monster and growling at Dan for something else before realizing I truly did not have a handle on myself.  I excused myself for a few minutes, got myself together enough to read a few stories, say a pleasant “good night” to Benjamin, apologize for acting horribly, and put Liam down to sleep.

Yes, I know it could have been much worse.  But I hate it when normal mom stuff gets to me.  It’s one thing when I’ve had an extraordinarily difficult day — if the kids are sick, I’m sick, we’re jet lagged, or something out of the ordinary and stressful is happening, I can give myself a break — but today was just a normal day.  Actually, it was a really pleasant day (until about 8:30 this evening).

I’m upset with myself for making it “all about me” in that moment, for focusing on the fact that *I* was overwhelmed, tired and grouchy.  It really isn’t all about me, and I hate knowing that I upset, worried, and maybe even scared my kids out of selfishly indulging myself in a moment of “Oh, yeah, well Mommy is having a hard day, too!”  I hope they can understand that these moments happen because of a deficiency in ME, not because of anything they’ve done (but that isn’t how it works, and they’ll almost certainly take it very personally).

I’ve been through this before.  I know I can’t go for 16 hours without taking a few minutes for myself (even if I don’t have any time *by* myself, I can turn on some TV for the kids, have a cup of coffee, stare at the walls and pretend I don’t hear anything that doesn’t sound emergency room worthy for 15 minutes).  Why can’t I remember that BEFORE I fall apart?

I got a ton of stuff done today.  Well, whoop-dee-doo, since the overall consequence is that I fell apart as a mom this evening.  Ugh.  Seriously, I have to get better at this.

Today was “Family Fest” at Benjamin’s school.  It was basically an “end of the year” (not quite, because it’s preschool and actually goes all year) party/social/open house for the kids and their families.  As with pretty much everything we experience here, we really didn’t know what to expect.  We were excited, though — Benjamin’s only remaining regret about school is that we don’t all get to attend with him, and today, we got to join him.  So that, in itself, was something to look forward to.

Family Fest was awesome.  The teachers had set up 9 “stations” around the school, scattered throughout the different classrooms and the garden, all set up around this year’s theme (water).  Even though it was chilly and drizzly today, we had a fantastic time.  Everything was very interactive, and encouraged the kids to play (and, often, the grown ups to play with them).

I got to paint Benjamin’s and Liam’s faces (the results were significantly better on Benjamin since he held still and didn’t immediately try to wipe the paint off).  We got to “fish” (magnetic fish and magnetic poles).  Benjamin got to throw water balloons — actually, Liam did, too, but that was less official (and we were glad we had put him in a raincoat).  B got to knock stuff over with a spray bottle of water.  We went fishing for floating ducks.  Benjamin and Liam did some bowling.  We did a treasure hunt for candy in a box full of seashells (that was probably the most difficult one — I’m not sure B really believed there was anything worth finding in the box, and he lost interest until Mommy came to the rescue and uncovered the candy).  We made a paper boat.  We had a snack (cake, juice and coffee — no coffee for the kids).  B put out a “fire” — he knocked over plastic bottles decorated as fire with a hose while I pumped the water.  The boys had ice cream.  We went home.

Good times were had by all.

Family Fest was wonderful, and fun (if a little exhausting) and I feel so lucky that we all got to be there.  (Not all the kids had family to be there.  There was one room where the kids whose families weren’t there were all playing together.  They really did look like they were having a good time, and the teachers who were in there seemed to be making it fun.  But I don’t care how fun it was, that had to be hard.)  We are so lucky.  I got to be there.  Liam got to play.  Dan was able to take the afternoon off of work and be there (and because he was there, Benjamin got some great time and attention from each of us today — wrangling both kids would have made that much harder).  I feel so grateful that the teachers and the school put their hearts into making such a fun day for all of us.  And I feel so fortunate that we could all be there.

We had such a wonderful time.  I loved watching Benjamin talk to his friends and his teachers.  I loved watching him play, and getting to play with him.  I loved watching Liam alternate between enthusiastic play and attempts at enthusiastic destruction.  It was, in all seriousness, probably my single most favorite thing that we’ve done since we’ve been here.

My kids are two entirely different people.  Of course.  But somehow, I’m still surprised and amused when I notice the different ways they approach the world.

Benjamin, who is nearly 4 (although I have no idea how that is possibly true) handles most of his frustrations by either gnashing his teeth and throwing things or bursting in to tears (pretty predictable for a 3 year old . . . and occasionally for me).  I’ve worked a lot, over the years, on more constructive methods of conflict resolution, whether it’s talking about a problem (asking for a toy, offering a trade, taking turns), asking an adult for help (particularly when he comes across an overly difficult physical task) or calmly assessing the situation and formulating a solution (once in a blue moon that last one actually happens . . . and it’s pretty cool when it does).

Liam, on the other hand, deals with a problem very directly — with overwhelming force, acceptance or by immediately asking for help.  The times when he gets frustrated to the point of crying are almost 0 (and only then when he’s exhausted) and he never grits his teeth, growls and stomps around.  He either forces the solution, gives up and moves on (happily) or sits where he is, calling, “Help, help!”

Both approaches have their merits.  Although Benjamin ends up more regularly frustrated, I admire his persistence.  On the other hand, there is something very functional about Liam’s approach — he’s going to MAKE it happen, accept things as they are, or call in the cavalry — all choices which keep him pretty peaceful.

I love my boys, and I love how much they ARE who they are.  Everything seems to get to Benjamin — but that includes the good and the bad.  I think he feels the wonderful, amazing, loving, magical parts of life every bit as strongly as he feels the frustrating and overwhelming things.  Liam seems more independent and resilient . . . except when he needs, “Help, help!”  In either case, my boys impress me.  And I’m happy to help, help them both, with whatever they need.

I started running again in December, after a long hiatus.  Even years ago, when was first running, it was hard to keep up with it, but now that “going for a run” involves me, both kids, and a jogging stroller that doesn’t really fit in our elevator, I really struggle to find the time and motivation to run regularly.

For me, at least, running is one of those things that goes so much better when I can set up a schedule and stick with it.  When I’m constantly getting interrupted in my routine, I’m constantly having to “start over” — I have to go back to walking for a week or so, then ramp back up through the run/walk intervals until I can jog a solid 20+ minutes at a stretch, which is when it really starts to be enjoyable for me again (enjoyable being a relative term — I’ve often said that I actually don’t like running, I just like how I feel when I have run).

Just over a month ago, I started up again, and instead of going in the afternoons or evenings with both kids, I started going in the mornings when I just have Liam.  It’s one less person to worry about — two less, if you count Dan — and then I get it out of the way first thing (which is good — that’s when I have the most energy and motivation).  So, my routine was to drop B off at school, go home, change, and then go out and run.  Unfortunately, by the time I do all that, Liam was often asleep, or he would fall asleep shortly after I started my run.  The problem with that is that the only “jogging” stroller I have is the aforementioned double with doesn’t really fit in our elevator, so part of the bonus of going with just Liam was to just take our “regular” stroller.  I don’t mind running with Liam in the regular stroller, but not when he’s sleeping (I worry that his head bounces around way too much as he dozes).

I know what my solution to this would be in the US.  I’d get dressed for my run, drop B off at school, and run immediately after.  A mom in workout clothes at preschool drop off is a non-event in the US.  But it’s not what they do here.  I’ve never seen anyone drop their child off for kindergarten in exercise clothes.  Not once.  I usually feel underdressed because I don’t have “work” clothes on — just jeans and a sweater or something.

I don’t want to embarrass my child.  I don’t want to be culturally inappropriate and embarrass myself, either.  And, if I’m honest, some of my discomfort comes from the fact that I haven’t seen a heavy person (even as heavy as me) in workout clothes in Vienna . . . ever.  (Apparently only people who are already fit exercise here — outdoors, at least.)  So, I’m already self-conscious about being the chubby girl in workout clothes, and adding to that the fact that I’m apparently supposed to dress up for kindergarten drop off has kept me well-dressed and made up for my mornings so far.

But, honestly, I’d rather get my run in and be embarrassing to my 3 year old (who, I realize, doesn’t care one bit — I’m completely projecting my insecurity on to him as an excuse) than not get a chance to do it.  So, today, I wore workout clothes to school.  And I got to run before Liam fell asleep.  And I’ll do it again tomorrow.  And, I’m going to keep doing it, because it’s SO MUCH MORE important that I do what I need to than it is to “look right” when I drop B off at school  He doesn’t care, and a year from now I’ll live on a whole different continent than all of these people, anyway.

Since before Liam was born, Benjamin has loved him.  Of course, while I was pregnant with Liam, Benjamin didn’t really know what it would be like to have a little brother, but he was happy about the idea from the beginning.  He was so excited to meet Liam when he was born . . . and then, Liam’s birth didn’t go at all as planned and Benjamin’s experience of meeting him wasn’t able to be anything like what we prepared him for.

Benjamin’s first view of Liam was through the window of the NICU, and even though I think that was a little weird and confusing for him, it didn’t dampen his enthusiasm.  We were nervous to see how B would react when we first brought Liam home, but there was no need — Benjamin sat on the floor, looked at Liam, and said, “So cute!”

For as long as we’ve had both boys in the house, we’ve had tons of cuddles, kisses, hugs and “I love yous” between them.  Benjamin loves to help Liam when he needs it, and (usually) wants Liam to join in on whatever he’s doing.  (Of course, we also have plenty of pushing, snatching away of toys (B to Liam) and hitting (Liam to B) — it can be hard to have a brother sometimes, especially when super-mean Mommy tries to make you share or take turns.)

But mostly, there’s just a lot of love between the two of them, and it is wonderful to watch them together.  Lately, there have been lots and lots of cuddles in our house.  Mostly because Liam is starting to catch up to Benjamin in terms of initiating the affection (and he does it in a classically Liam style — mostly, it looks like a tackle).

Just this week, some good friends of ours had their second baby, a girl, and we were talking about what it’s like to be a big brother, and how exciting it must be for their oldest son to have a new baby sister.  Out of curiosity, I asked the boys if they’d like to have a little sister one day (don’t get excited — this is something we haven’t even decided ourselves, I was just wondering what their take on it would be).  They both said no, which surprised me a little.  But then Benjamin added, “But another little brother would be ok.”

That, I think, is the best compliment Liam could get from his big brother.