Category Archives: Kids and Parenting

What are THOSE?!?

Posted on by
Reply

Raising kids abroad is full of funny experiences.  There are so many ways in which their world view and mine differ fundamentally, because they are growing up in a different time, country and culture than I did.  And so many times, I don’t even realize how differently we see things until one of them points it out.  Language is one of the places that this is the most obvious — just this morning on the way to school, Liam noticed that “someone dropped their ‘schnuller’ on the ground”.  Yes, they had — a ‘schnuller’ is a pacifier.  Although, back when he was using them, we called them pacifiers or binkies, but he doesn’t remember that.  He knows the word from the kids at school who still have them, and it’s become his only word for it.  When Benjamin asked what Liam had said, I responded with, “Someone dropped their pacifier” and Liam got very angry at me for telling Benjamin the wrong thing.  He literally has no idea what “pacifier” means.  That kind of thing happens every so often — I say something, and they respond with a blank stare while I rewind what I said in my head and realize that I just used an English word for something we usually say in German (like pacifier, fire department, grocery store or playground).  We’re developing quite the odd little Germenglish patois around here.

But there are other funny ways that the cultural divide within my own house comes out.  Just before Easter, I was preparing eggs to dye.  Then we were interrupted by calamity, which is why I forgot to tell this particular story back then.  But once everything calmed down and we got ready to color our eggs, the boys happily climbed up to the table, took one look at the cartons of eggs I had boiled for them, and looked at me in disgust and surprise.

“WHAT are THOSE?!?” asked Benjamin.

“They’re eggs.”

“But . . . why are they WHITE?”

Yep, although I was completely unaware of it, it seems that my kids have been 3+ years without seeing a white egg.  This was the first year that we found white eggs available at the supermarket, special for coloring for Easter.  (It’s the only time I’ve ever seen them, and they no longer have any — it really was just for Easter.)  I was so excited to buy them, because I’d always wanted to find white eggs to dye for Easter, but (as Benjamin demonstrated) white eggs are not the norm here.

And thus, I discovered another way in which I am raising poor, confused American-Austrian children who didn’t know that eggs come in white.

Things you never thought you’d say 3

Posted on by
Reply

I haven’t done one of these in a while, so today, in honor of Mother’s Day, I present another installment of “Things I never thought I’d say.”  Because motherhood is full of surprises and unexpected circumstances!

Every one of these things I’ve said, out loud, at some point over the past few months:

No children in the luggage rack.  You can go in time out on the top of a mountain, too.  Take your feet off the wall.  Standard karate doesn’t actually have lasers.  No missile launchers while snuggling.  Keep your spaghetti to yourself.  No grabbing your brother’s bum!  We don’t point death rays at people.  We’re not going to put pretzels into the radiator.  No driving on the walls.  Guys, faces off the television.  Stop, stop, stop — you’re sitting on your pizza!  Don’t axe the dog!  No, ladybugs don’t usually drive.  Stop chewing on the furniture.  Bees don’t usually travel by bus.  You can’t actually get into the popcorn bowl.  Use the fork, Benjamin.  Please get down from the table before removing your clothes.  Not even Batman gets to jump on the couch!  Stop chewing on your pants!  Stop hitting your brother in the head with that quesadilla!  It’s nap time — you can get up and fight about the train later.  We don’t put things that we plan to eat between our toes.  Anything that requires you to say “watch this” first is probably not something you should be doing when you’re sick.  Stop chewing on your pants (said that one a second time in the past few months, so I’m including it again).  Stop putting your underwear on your face.

Until next time . . .

Stadtwanderweg 1

Posted on by
1

074I’d been out there before, several times.  Enough that I no longer really remember the chronology.  I know that the first time, I couldn’t quite get from where I started to the trail with the stroller, so I spent an hour or so trying to find a way around.  And then when I finally figured it out, it was time to go back home again.  I know I went out there at least once when Jo was with us.  And I’m pretty sure I’ve been at least one other time, but that’s where my memory is less clear.  I could have sworn I’d been out there at least once with Dan and both of the kids, but he says he’d never been before.  I’m not sure.  But I do know that each of the times I’ve been before I’ve basically walked back and forth over the same mile of the 7 mile loop.  I’ve walked just far enough to arrive at the first of the vineyards, and then turned around.  Each successive time, I’ve actually made it one vineyard further along the trail before I turned around, but I’ve never made it very far.

079I love to walk and to hike.  I love to explore and to see a place on foot.  (On horseback is even better, but I haven’t had that chance for a few years now.)  It’s truly something I enjoy.  And Vienna understands me.  The city has 11 signed and maintained hiking/walking trails throughout the most scenic parts of the city.  Each is 6-10 miles long, none is completely stroller friendly, and since they are in scenic places, they also tend towards being quite isolated, so I’ve never gone far on one alone.  So, though these are exactly the kind of thing I’d love to explore, we’ve only done little pieces of 3 of the trails.

088This past Sunday was my turn to choose a family activity, so I decided to try for another piece of the Stadtwanderweg 1 (city hiking trail 1) — the one I’ve visited most often.  I had no illusions that we’d complete the whole thing, as it’s about 7 miles long.  The purpose wasn’t to complete the loop, but to go further than I had before.  We put on our sunscreen and our sturdy shoes, packed a picnic and headed out.

It was a lovely walk, with (as I’d seen before) some lovely views of the vineyards of Grinzing.  The kids were fascinated, at first, by every flower and bug, but after the first mile they became fixated on lunch instead (though it wasn’t yet 11).  It turns out that the section of trail I had chosen was almost entirely uphill, unfortunately.  We hiked a couple of miles before finding a suitable picnic spot, and the tentative plan was to turn around after that and head home.  I had covered 089almost a mile of new trail, the kids were happy to have had a picnic, and we all still had a bit of energy left.

Looking up the bus routes on my phone, though, we realized that it would be a much shorter, though more uphill, walk to the bus to continue along the trail.  And it also looked like there might be a restaurant up ahead, which might serve the ice cream Liam was really hoping for.  So we continued.  And though the walk got lovelier, and very shaded as we went truly into the woods (except for one section where there had been some logging), it also got steeper and rougher.  Less than an hour later, hot and grouchy, we did eventually pop out of the woods.  We found ourselves right at a bus stop (closer than the one on my map) AND at the foot of a driveway to a restaurant which served ice cream.  So, after our 4.3 mile trek, and over 2 hours of walking, we headed home.  It was a tough adventure, but a good one.

090

093And now, for next time, we know exactly which bus stop to head for in order to pick up the trail for the next (almost entirely downhill) section.  We may complete the first trail one day after all.

(As a note, though we did fine, I wouldn’t really recommend this part of the trail — clockwise around from Nußdorf to Sulzwiese — to families with small kids unless you have a very sturdy stroller or are prepared to carry the kids a lot.  We carried our boys most of the way.  It’s not an unpleasant walk at all, but it is long and truly almost entirely uphill.)

Kindergarten or first grade?

Posted on by
6

We didn’t expect to be here so long.  We thought that by now, we’d be home already, or at least headed home.  Consequently, all of our plans for “real” school for the kids started with “Well, we’ll be home by then …”

When we left the US, our plan was to be in Austria for 1-2 years.  We’ve now been here more than 3, and although we’re psychologically ready to move home, we don’t yet have the opportunity to do so.  Last year, when we were going through the process of deciding whether to stay for this third year, the boys’ educational experience factored heavily.  I liked the idea if B completing preschool (“Kindergarten”, here) with his friends, and I loved the idea of Liam getting to join him at that school for a year.  The fact that this year of preschool, for both boys, would be free to us only heightened its appeal.  Their opportunity for school this past year is a large part of why we’re here now.  It was too good to pass up, and I feel like it was definitely the right decision.  B has really flourished at school this year, found his confidence, become nearly fluent in German and begun to discover which bits of school most ignite his enthusiasm for learning.  Liam has had a fantastic first experience with school, getting to follow in B’s footsteps and hold his hand along the way.

It’s good that we stayed.  I’m glad we did.

But our plan has ALWAYS been to have B home before “real” school started.  This year of school here, called “Vorschule”, is like half-day US kindergarten.  I had hoped to enroll him in full-day kindergarten in the US next fall, giving him a year to adjust to full-day school and to recover from our relocation.  Besides, he’d get to start right along with his classmates and be one of the oldest in his class instead of one of the youngest (he has a mid-July birthday).  So even though he’s definitely bright enough to handle first grade, I was thinking that kindergarten in the US would be right for him next year, and I was hoping that it would be easy to set that up.

But we aren’t in the US.  And however much we miss everyone, we realized a few months ago that without having found work in the US for Dan, we might be staying here a bit longer.  And if we might find ourselves still here this coming August, we need to have a plan for school next year for B.  (Liam can stay right where he is, thankfully, because I think we got the kids into one of the best preschools in Vienna, entirely by good luck.)

When we realized we needed a plan for the fall, we also realized we were entirely behind.  Parents of some of B’s friends had turned in applications to private schools in Vienna as early as last September.  We’d been assuming that we didn’t need to, because we expected that we’d already be home … so we hadn’t done anything.  Not a thing.  We didn’t even know which school we wanted him to attend.

We’re fortunate to have several good options to choose from.  The automatic path would be for B to go from his Viennese preschool straight into first grade in a Viennese primary school.  The instruction would be entirely in German, and, following that path, he would have quickly become completely fluent and bilingual.  The state schools are free (or maybe very nearly so) but, attractive as all of that is, we opted against this, except as a fallback plan.  Our sole objection was a big one — *our* German is insufficient to keep us abreast of the goings on, even at the preschool.  As B advances in his education, I don’t want to be entirely shut out of the process.  Besides, if our eventual plan is to return to the US and enroll him in school there, I think he might get a stronger base for that by learning in English.  I worry a bit that the holes in his ability to understand or communicate in German might prevent him from learning as much as he could, or could lead to frustration as he moves forward.

That decision narrowed our options to the two major English-speaking international schools in Vienna (yep, two) — the Vienna International School and the American International School.

All of this was really weird to me.  First, I honestly never imagined that either of the kids would attend elementary school outside of the US.  It was part of our fundamental thinking from the very beginning of deciding to live abroad — that we were going with enough time to come back before elementary school.  It was part of the PLAN (and oh, how I love a plan)!  Secondly, I absolutely never envisioned my kids attending private school at all.  I was fortunate enough to grow up in an area with some of the best public schools in the US, and, before we moved, we were raising our kids in an area with an equally impressive public school system.  Private school was never really on my radar.  And then, we moved here, and the Vienna public preschool that we got our kids into is amazing.  I just never considered private school.  So I’ve been left to ponder, whether I am really prepared to send my child, who will be just barely 6 years old, to a private school that costs nearly as much per year as college?  (Fortunately for us, the IAEA reimburses most of the expense.)  It’s not at all something I ever imagined we’d be doing.  Yet here we are.

As I’ve said, we were way behind in the process, and initially Benjamin was wait-listed for next year.  A few weeks ago, though, we heard he’d gotten a place for next year for first grade.  And we are beyond thrilled about it.  I truly believe that it’s the right place for him if we’re in the “still in Vienna” situation.

Through the entire admissions process, it was simply assumed that he’d attend first grade next year, based on his age and the fact that we and his teachers raised no concerns that would preclude his placement in first grade.  After all, if he were going to Austrian school next year, he’d go to first grade, and other than his German (which isn’t an issue in an English-speaking school) he’s at a comparable academic, intellectual and emotional level to his peers.  So, first grade.

But, after the admissions hurdle was cleared, I started really thinking about that for the first time — was first grade really the right place for him next year?  Is he ready to go from a half-day Vorschule program to full day first grade?  The kids who are currently attending kindergarten at the international school (the kids who would be his classmates next year) are in full day kindergarten now, but he’s not.  He’ll be one of the youngest and smallest in his class, and, if he’s in first grade, then at whatever point in the next 12 months we get the chance to move back home (Dan’s contract expires next April, so it’ll happen sometime this year) he’ll have to transition from first grade at the international school to first grade in the US.  Wouldn’t that whole transition, which already means 2 new schools in 1 year, be a whole lot easier done in kindergarten than in first grade?  Add to that the fact that B’s best friend, who will also be attending the same school next year, will be in kindergarten next year (he has a November birthday, so his placement in kindergarten was as automatic as B’s was into first grade).  I think it really might be nice for him to make the switch with a friend or two.

These are the questions that I’ve been running around in my head for the past few weeks.

On the other hand . . . do I really want to be one of THOSE parents?  Do I really want to start hovering before my poor kid has even gotten hs foot in the door?  I mean, how typically American can I be?  Besides, he’s a bright kid, and he might be bored in kindergarten.  Maybe it’s time for him to be challenged a little more.  Am I really prepared to start meddling ALREADY?

Apparently I am.  We contacted the admissions counselor at the school and asked whether they would consider switching B’s placement for next year to kindergarten.  And I feel good about the decision.  I do think I’m being a bit meddling and overbearing.  But I also think it’s the right thing for him (I only wish I’d thought of it before we’d gone through the admissions process, because I get the impression it would have been a non-issue if I’d raised it at the beginning).

We don’t know their decision yet.  There’s a meeting of the admissions board next week, and they’re going to discuss it then.  I don’t know if this is a formality or not.  I have no sense of which way the decision is going to go.  But we’ve decided we’re going to fully and happily accept whatever they decide.  We wholeheartedly feel that this school IS the right place for him for next year (if we’re here), and we trust their judgement.  They do this all the time. This school, perhaps more than any other, is thoroughly experienced and well prepared to place a child in the right spot.  They are used to assimilating kids from all over the world and a wide variety of educational backgrounds, from the US and Japan, from Finland and Kenya.  They’re used to kids who speak different languages, who have only been home-schooled previously, kids with different learning challenges, and kids who have collected pieces of education in a variety of countries around the world.  We are going to trust their decision, and whatever they choose, we’ll go with it.

Student Humans

Posted on by
Reply

I’ve often seen service dogs, or dogs that are in training, wearing little vests that tell people they encounter what they’re up to.  They ask people not to pet them, or to give them some space, or other things that save their handlers having to make explanations 20 times a day about why you can’t pet their dog, or why they are, in fact, allowed to take their dog into a place that otherwise wouldn’t allow them.  They’re kind of like the “Student Driver” signs on cars — they let everyone know that the erratic driving they might witness is for a good reason and they might want to put their patient pants on for 5 minutes.  They’re different ways of kindly saying, “Important stuff is happening here. Try not to freak out.”

I’m thinking of inventing the same thing for my kids.  Little vests that they could wear which would remind people, “I’m learning to be a grown up human, but I haven’t finished my training yet. Please be patient with me.”  Or, “I’m just being a kid, please leave me be.”  Because I think we all forget.  I think we spend a lot of effort trying to get our kids to “behave” or “quiet down” or “settle down”, when they’re just being kids.  Don’t get me wrong — part of learning to be a grown up human includes practicing sitting still on the bus, waiting patiently in line and being quiet in a restaurant.  They should be working on those things.  But they’re just practicing and learning, and we adults, I think sometimes we forget.

So I think I’ll invent little vests, or maybe hats, that remind the people they encounter to remember that they need a little more space, a little more patience, and sometimes some special consideration.  I could use the reminder, too, since my kids hear “Hush!”, and “Sit still!” more from me than from the rest of the world combined.

Happy Easter 2014!

Posted on by
Reply

Happy Easter 2014!

Our Easter celebration this year started, as it always does, with the boys finding the treats that the Easter Bunny had hidden.  (He did a good job to avoid Benjamin, who was on high alert overnight to catch Herr Bunny this year.)  The boys were up bright and early to search the house.  The Easter Bunny left treats, toys, and a few impressively colored eggs around the house and even out on the terrace (which was a little unfortunate, because it rained overnight).  With a little help, the boys managed to find everything.  And after only a little encouragement, they decided they were again willing to share their collected treasures (the Easter Bunny did leave a note encouraging them to share) which prevented Liam getting 2 stuffed lambs with B having 2 giant Kindereggs.

20140425-162550.jpg

After a breakfast of French Toast (which had seemed like a good idea but was, in fact, just more sugar added to the equation) we decided to get out of the house and enjoy the beautiful spring day.  I’ve always enjoyed spending at least a little bit of time outside on Easter, and this was a perfect spring day to celebrate.  We spent a little time at the playground, but when I suggested a stroll through the rest of the Rathaus park, both boys collapsed into miserable piles of “I can’t walk!” unhappiness.  We overcame this malady by discovering a very cool crane being used to assemble pieces of a giant stage in front of the Rathaus.

20140425-164357.jpg

After returning home, and having a nap, I made my first attempt at homemade macaroni & cheese (which I saved from near-disaster halfway through).  We also had a “ham in an egg of bread”, which I think is an Austrian thing (it was tasty but difficult to cut and serve) followed by a cake MADE BY DAN (his first ever).  We finished up our day by Skyping some of our family at home.  As always, being away from our loved ones is the hardest part of holidays far from home, but getting to talk to some of them was a huge help.  We’ve definitely gotten the hang of celebrating festivities far from home, but our experience does nothing to lessen how much we’d like to see them and be together.  (Liam insisted we go to Grandma’s house for Easter dinner and explained exactly how we’d get there.)

It was another successful Calle family Austrian Easter.  We had a great day and the Easter Bunny was good to us.  A happy Easter all around.

Schönbrunn Easter Market 2014

Posted on by
Reply

20140424-145912.jpgThe Easter markets in Vienna are not nearly so plentiful as the Christmas markets.  I only know of 2 — the one near our house at the Freyung, and the bigger one at Schönbrunn.  We try to make it to both every year.  The Freyung market is quieter and very charming, and the focus is on the massive display of decorated eggs.  Schönbrunn is much bigger and has much more of a party feel, plus many, many busloads of tourists.  There’s a lot more food and a lot more to do at Schönbrunn (especially for kids), which makes it an easier place for a longer visit.

We didn’t make it out there this year until the day before Easter, and it was, predictably, a bit of a zoo.  But we had a great time.  The boys played quite a few games (like tabletop hockey . . . with chickens) and participated in some fun activities (walking on stilts), we all ate a little lunch, I visited the shop stall of my favorite Austrian folk artist, Lisl (who remembers me every time) and we all enjoyed a beautiful afternoon at the market.  (By contrast, last year it was rainy and cold the day we went to the Schönbrunn market, but still lots of fun.)

20140424-145938.jpg

It was fun and festive, and good times were had all around.  It was a fun way to spend part of Easter weekend, and to enjoy a little of early spring in Vienna.

20140424-145952.jpg

20140424-150025.jpg

20140424-150039.jpg

20140424-150107.jpg

B even took on an adult in chicken hockey

20140424-150136.jpg

20140424-150155.jpg20140424-150220.jpg

20140424-150246.jpg

20140424-150329.jpg20140424-150404.jpg

All in a day’s work

Posted on by
1

As I’ve expressed before, I usually don’t feel like I have things very much together.  I often feel like I’m just barely managing the frenetic and delicate choreography of life with kids, and I think I’m usually the least likely mom to pull off something difficult with grace and ease.  Which makes it all the more impressive when I actually manage to.

Easter in Austria always means a long weekend for us.  Dan gets Good Friday and Easter Monday off of work (the latter is also a school holiday) so we get a four day weekend to color eggs, be festive for Easter and enjoy spring.  Our plans for last Friday were to color eggs and to finish up the few last-minute Easter preparations still to be taken care of.  I hadn’t been able to find the egg dye we’d used so successfully last year, but I found another type.  For this kind, the eggs needed to still be warm from boiling while being dyed, so Friday morning I set about boiling 20 eggs while Dan took the boys out to the courtyard downstairs to run off some steam.  (We figured they’d do better at not having egg-dyeing meltdowns if they weren’t too keyed up.)

20140423-152644.jpg

The egg dye I was able to find this year

All was well, and the water was just about to boil, when Dan came in with both boys amidst a bunch of commotion.  Liam was very upset, as was Benjamin.  It turns out that while outside playing, Liam had managed to put a rock up his nose, and he was (understandably) not happy that it was not as easy to get out as it had been to get in.

Even after 5 1/2 years as parents, this was our first something-in-the-nose experience.  Dan assured me he had things under control as I attempted to figure out whether to try and save the eggs or to ditch them and take over with Liam.  I called out advice from the kitchen while Dan came up with a series of ideas about how to remove the rock.  (My main advice was, “I think he needs to see the doctor”, while Dan was sure he could address the problem at home.)  I left the eggs on the stove, set a timer, and tried to help . . . mostly at first by reiterating that I thought it was time for a professional.  Our regular pediatrician is (of course) out of town, but after a few minutes I persuaded Dan to call the backup doctor, just to find out what she suggested.  No answer.  I vetoed Dan’s ideas of using tweezers to remove it (sticking something ELSE in his nose did not seem like the solution to me) and I was on the verge of making a command decision that it was time for a trip to the ER when we decided to settle our debate the modern way . . . with the internet!

Liam's nose rock and a coin for perspective (a 2 cent Euro coin is about the size of a US penny)

Liam’s nose rock and a coin for perspective (a 2 cent Euro coin is about the size of a US penny)

We looked up how to remove a rock from a child’s nose and found this.  (Don’t read it if you’ll be bothered by being a little grossed out.)  We decided that we would try it, and if it failed, we would take the trip to the hospital.  So, although Liam was NOT into the idea, we held him down, and I . . . fixed the problem.  It actually worked!  Liam was a bit shaken from the whole experience, but otherwise completely well, and with a good life lesson learned.  I gave him a big snuggle and reassured him that he would be fine.  He recovered quickly, and went right back to playing.  (When I looked up the link, I was looking at my phone, so I didn’t see the suggestion of actually performing the procedure AT the hospital.  I’m really glad everything turned out ok.)

And I got back to the eggs before the timer went off.

I have to say that I kind of felt like a kickass mom.  Rock taken out of the nose and eggs boiled for dyeing, all at the same time.  We went on to have a fun and festive Friday, everyone was well, and I pretty much felt like I saved the day.

20140423-152819.jpg

Freyung Easter Market . . . yet again

Posted on by
1

167The Freyung Easter market holds a very special place in our hearts.  Not only was it our first holiday market experience when we moved to Vienna, but it ended up being literally across the street from our home here, but we had no way of knowing that it would be the first time we visited it.  I love the Easter markets and the Christmas markets in Vienna.  I love how festive and fun they are, the feeling of neighborhood and community, the yummy treats and the sights, sounds and smells.  I’ve been completely won over by the whole experience.

We have learned, however, that for the kids, it’s not always as much fun as it seems like it should be.  There’s a lot 179to see, but so much that they aren’t allowed to touch.  There are lots of snacks and treats, but even though we try to say yes when we can, they end up hearing “no” a lot.  It’s usually pretty crowded, so they can’t run off and be free.  It’s fun for them, but not for as long as it’s fun for us.  We’ve learned that trips with the kids need to be short and sweet, and that if we adults want to go back and browse, we need to do it another time.

We made a quick family trip to the Freyung Easter market the weekend before Easter.  We looked at the amazing displays of painted, carved and beaded eggs (real eggs!), listened to some live 022music, visited the bunnies (Benjamin has decided that the black and white one IS the Easter Bunny) and ate some roasted almonds.  It was a short trip, but a fun one.  Visiting the Freyung Easter market truly feels like a celebration not just of spring and of Easter, but also of our Vienna anniversary.  I made another trip back later in the week to do some more thorough shopping, but we had a great time, all of us, just stopping by for a quick visit.

192

Judgypants — My Messy Beautiful

Posted on by
6

We’ve been living abroad, here in Vienna, Austria, for 3 years now, but there are still SO MANY little day-to-day things that can be a challenge.  It’s these little everyday things that can trip me up the most.  My mom has always told me, “You don’t trip over Mt. Everest”, and she’s right — I am usually prepared to handle big things, but the little things can easily make or break my day.

I think, as with so much that I’ve learned while living abroad, this has always been true, I’m just more aware of it now.  These days, we so often get by on little kindnesses — someone being patient with our awkward German or smiling at us as we blunder through an unfamiliar social interaction — and our fragile comfort zone can be so easily damaged by the opposite — impatience, unkindness or a lack of understanding.

Last April, I had one of these not-so-great interactions with an Austrian.  (Though most of our interactions with the locals here have been overwhelmingly positive.)  I had just taken the kids to get their latest set of vaccines.  We’d had to skip nap time to make the appointment, and I was happily surprised and quite relieved that both boys had handled themselves so well.  We were on the tram, headed home, and enjoying the ride — talking to each other, commenting on what we saw out the window, asking and answering questions.  Normal mom stuff with a 2 year old and a 4 year old.  I was truly present in the moment, enjoying my kids, and we were all happy to be headed home.

Here they are, waiting for the tram. So sweet!

And then, quite suddenly, an older man near the front of the tram car stood up and started shouting at us.  It would have been unsettling regardless, but since Austrians are typically exceedingly quiet on trams and trains, it was particularly shocking.  The entire tram car fell silent and stared as he told us off, in irate German (extra angry-sounding points for that) for making entirely too much noise, before departing the train at the next stop, shouting as he went.

I was mortified.  I was also genuinely surprised and immediately defensive.  My kids had not been particularly loud (seriously, by American standards we were using almost library volume voices) and this man had been sitting dozens of feet away from us.  What was his problem?!?  My fellow tram riders gave me sympathetic looks and glared after him in commiseration, but still, behind my embarrassment and bruised ego, I felt entirely defeated.  Here, in this moment which I’d thought had been going so well, I felt suddenly reminded of how out of place we were, of how easy it was for us to be inappropriate, and of how poorly we were fitting in.  I felt so judged, and like such a failure.

In truth, I was also pretty pissed.  My kids were behaving, being happy, and no louder than the ambient noise on the strassenbahn, which creaks and squeaks as it makes its way through the streets.  If my German had been better, I would have told HIM off in return.  (So there!)  How dare he!  He doesn’t know us or our situation.  I immediately started creating dramatic scenarios we could be suffering through (but weren’t) that fueled my feelings of indignation.  What if this were my first time out with my kids alone ever?  What if one of us suffered from agoraphobia or social anxiety and just being on the strassenbahn was a victory?  What if we had suffered some kind of trauma or loss and it was our first happy conversation in months?  None of those things are true in our case, but it IS true that being out with both kids, on public transportation, in a country where I am an outsider and have trouble communicating is a major challenge.  Keeping both kids relatively quiet and happy is a major achievement, and he had just crapped on it.  I was hurt, I was angry, and I was instantly critical him for not being more thoughtful before he opened his big, angry mouth.  I put on a brave face for the kids, who were looking to me to see how to react.  I shrugged it off and went back to discussing things outside the window, but in my head, I fantasized about all of the nasty things I wished I could have said.

And then, as I obsessed over it, I was suddenly struck by a realization – I was judging him, too.  Maybe *he* has trouble being out in public.  Maybe *he* recently suffered a loss.  Maybe he is old and bitter and alone and the sound of children laughing is like nails on a chalkboard to him.  Maybe he once lost a child, or a grandchild, and my children being happy was painful for him.  Or maybe not.  Maybe he was having a bad day.  Maybe he got some bad news, or was in bad health, or was exhausted from taking care of someone or stressed about his finances.  I don’t know.  Any or all of those could be true.  (Or he could just be a big, old, Austrian grumpypants.)

Regardless, it’s no more my place to judge him or to lash out in anger than it was appropriate for him to shush us out of his own personal frustrations or issues.  And yet . . . I pass judgement on others all the time (both good and bad):  I like her hair, I think he’s fat, I wonder what she was thinking when she put that outfit on this morning, I think that dad is clueless because he’s letting his kid get away with something.  I judge, ALL THE TIME.

I don’t know anyone else’s situation.  And, sitting on that tram, I realized that not only is passing judgement on others thoughtless and unkind, it absolutely bounces back and ends up hurting me, too.  When I judge someone else positively, I will feel (today, or one day in the future, maybe on a day when I don’t have it all together … like most of the days) like I don’t measure up to that standard I judged them against.  When I judge someone harshly, I will feel inadequate and ashamed later when I find myself failing to live up to that same standard.  Even the judgements I feel the most entitled to don’t serve any good purpose in my life.  We all have tough days.  MANY of my days over the past 3 years have been tough, and I’ve failed against all kinds of personal standards in ways I thought I would never allow to happen.  Things change.  Life is hard.  Nobody is perfect.

I think it’s part of why I carry so much guilt as a parent — because before I was a parent, I passed judgements about other parents.  I *knew* what I would do or say or how I would handle certain situations or behaviors.  I would *never* do this, that, or the other and would *always* do something else.  And then, when it was my turn, and ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WENT HOW I EXPECTED, I constantly heard my own voice echoing in my head, judging and criticizing my choices.  And I naturally assume that everyone else is constantly thinking those things too.

Parenting is hard.  Nothing in my life has taken me so quickly off of my high horse of “always” and “never” than having a child (except maybe for having the second one).  Living in a foreign country is hard, too.  And people ARE judging me.  I get stuff wrong all the time.  As a parent, as an expat, as a human being.  I make mistakes ALL THE TIME.  Like EVERY day.  And what I’ve learned in 5+ years as a parent and 3+ years as an expat is that every single thing I do is going to be “wrong” in someone’s eyes.  EVERY SINGLE THING.  People didn’t like that we used disposable diapers and others wouldn’t have liked it if we’d used cloth diapers.  To some people, it was wrong for me to breastfeed my kids in public and to others it was wrong when I would choose not to (it’s also wrong to not cover up and wrong if I did).  There are people who think that moving abroad was the best choice ever and people who think we’re heartlessly selfish for subjecting our kids to this.  Everything I do, from what I feed my kids to what I dress them in to what time I put them to bed to what I let them watch (or don’t) on tv will be wrong to someone.  I have gotten crap for taking my kids shopping in the stroller because it makes the store too crowded, but if I don’t bring the stroller, someone will be upset because one of the kids touched something they shouldn’t have or sat down in the aisle and refused to walk another step.  People roll their eyes when one of my kids is crying on the train and they roll their eyes when I give them a cracker to stave off the crying.  There is just no way to “win” the judgement game, except to choose not to play.

And, like the grumpy guy on the strassenbhan, the judgements people pass on me are ALWAYS a reflection of their own personal story, not of mine.  So, thanks, angry strassenbahn man from a year ago.  You gave me some much needed perspective.  It was an unexpected gift that I’m not sure you meant to give.  (Thanks anyway, though.)

 

This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, CLICK HERE!

untitled