Dan and Em's Blog

When we first moved here, we found ourselves paralyzed when it came to language — the prospect of trying to communicate at all when we knew so little prevented us from even trying most of the time.  Shortly after arriving here, I had an experience of being so traumatized when it came to communication that I even had trouble speaking English to another native speaker.  One of Dan’s friends described the experience as “a language traffic jam in your head”.  That’s exactly what it’s like — the brain processes dealing with language become so overloaded that even simple communication becomes difficult, slow and stressful.

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Having house guests can be stressful.  It isn’t anyone’s fault — it’s just that adding on to an already busy “to do” list, while disrupting the rhythm and schedule of life, can cause chaos.  We’ve just had 10 days of house guests.  Our schedule was a disaster, the boundaries and rules with the kids were bent all over the place, we all shared a bathroom, we gave up our bedroom and slept in the living room, we stayed up too late every night.  I’m really glad they came to see us, but we are all exhausted now.

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I’ve wanted to go to a Heurigen since before we got here, and today we went.  They are Viennese wine taverns, which were, historically, run by vineyards to sell their new wine.  Now, they seem to have evolved as restaurants that sell “microbrew” wines, locally cultivated (many even within Vienna itself).  We first learned about it while watching the Rick Steves episode on Vienna (which we watched several times as our “homework” before moving here) and it seemed like it would be a very Viennese experience, so I’ve wanted to go ever since.

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After being here 3 months, Dan & I had our first opportunity to go out, just the two of us, last night.  We put the kids in bed, left Dan’s parents in charge and went out on our own.

We went to a cafe near our place, sat, and had a snack.  We were only out for an hour, but it was really nice to have a break . . . together.

Life is intense right now, and there has been very little time for anything beyond the bare essentials.  Everyone gets fed and cleaned every day — everything else is a bonus.  We’re just starting to get organized and relaxed enough for me to take a little (much needed) time for myself every week — time as a couple just hasn’t been in the cards (exacerbated by the fact that we don’t yet have child care here).

As the leader of this parade of craziness, it’s easy to live a lot of my life in a space of organizer/facilitator/dictator with Dan as chief-co-executor of my very well laid plans.  That’s great, and we definitely have developed some impressive skills in terms of making things work.  But it is good, every so often, to take off my “CEO of the Calle family” hat and just be together.  It’s important, at least, that we check in and make sure we still like each other.

So far, so good.

I am not cool.  I am not smooth, slick, suave or together.  I wish that I was:  not like the “cool kids” in high school . . . more like James Bond-ette with a diaper bag.  I want to smile at the right times, catch people’s meaning without them having to come right out and say it, always have what I need in my bag, be dressed for the occasion and do it all with a smile and without breaking a sweat.  Instead, I’m more likely to accidentally offend someone by laughing at the wrong moment, misinterpret directions and walk through an alarmed fire door and be pooped on by a bird (possibly all in the same afternoon).  I don’t know why this is, but it is.

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A friend of mine once told me that I have music in my heart.  He might be right:  music affects me pretty profoundly.  When I hear music that I connect with at all, I find it difficult to concentrate on other things — I think I’m one of the only people I know who has a hard time reading and listening to music at the same time.  I know I’m not alone in this, but even a piece of a song that means something to me can take me back to a moment or a feeling in an instant.

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It had been about a week since I’d had an hour “off”, so after I got the kids down for their naps today, and after Dan got home (he only worked a half day today to be able to spend extra time with his parents while they’re visiting) I grabbed my book and headed to Starbucks to have lunch all by myself.  It’s a good thing for me to do — even just having a little time off from the moment-to-moment demands of being a mom does wonders for my resiliency.  I got myself a sandwich and an iced tea, grabbed a seat at the very last outdoor table, and sat down to read.

A few minutes after I sat down, the threatening clouds gave way to a little drizzle and then a decent rain.  I scooted my table over a bit to be better covered by the umbrella and continued on with my lunch and my book.  Looking around a few minutes later, I realized that the packed outdoor seating area had been deserted by all but me and two others.  After a few minutes, the wet and the cold started to bother me a little, and I decided that I really needed a warm cup of coffee.  So, I grabbed my wallet, but arranged my book and bag to make it very obvious my seat was still taken — I wanted hot coffee, but not at the expense of my seat.

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Cookouts, fireworks, swimming pools, family and friends — all over the US, and most importantly, in a couple of specific places in Maryland and Virginia, that is what’s happening today. I’m really missing home — I’m really wishing I was there. July 4th is nothing other than the first Monday of July here, of course, and it’s a weird, lonely feeling — like everyone forgetting your birthday. Intellectually, of course, I completely understand, but emotionally, I really feel like I’m missing out. I also know that these are formative years in terms of my kids understanding and appreciating holidays, and I worry that they’re missing out, too.

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It was cold here today — not cool, cold.  Our high was 14 Celcius, it varied between rainy and drizzly all day, and the wind went from a strong breeze to “Oh dear, what was that?!?”  If you had been plopped down in Vienna today, you would absolutely have believed it was April if that’s what you’d been told.  (I was thrilled, actually — I think it’s beautiful weather, and a real treat to have in July, especially after the heat we’ve had lately . . . but I think it may have been a bit too much for our fair-weather-dwelling houseguests.)

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It’s official:  no more suitcases.  We spent a few hours working around the house this morning (thanks, in part, to Dan’s parents who watched B while Liam slept and we cleaned and organized) and got the suitcases unpacked.  We still have a lot to do, in terms of getting things organized, unpacked and cleaned up, but being out of suitcases is a major milestone (besides, there’s something kind of lame about having guests who are living out of their suitcases while the hosts are still doing the same).

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