Dan and Em's Blog

Thursday being Thanksgiving, Dan took Thursday and Friday off (like we used to do at home) so that we could take a long holiday weekend and enjoy the beginning of the Christmas season (even here in Vienna, today is the first Sunday of Advent, so Thanksgiving or no, it’s Christmastime now).  It was a great idea, but, as often happens with these lofty and overly rosy images I have of time off as a family, we’re at the end of the weekend, exhausted, off our schedule and a little grumpy.

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Advent calendars are big in Vienna — they’re in many shop windows:  card shops, paper shops, toy stores, candy stores, book stores — even one tobacco shop seems to sell them.  Everyone seems to sell Advent calendars this time of year.  I’ve always loved them.  I have very fond memories from when I was younger of sitting on the floor of the Cricket Book Shopin Ashton and selecting my very favorite.  As I was about so many things (pumpkins, Christmas trees, Easter eggs) I was very particular (I always liked it best if the pictures in the windows told some sort of story, or were related to the exterior of the advent calendar — like opening up windows onto a scene inside of a house, rather than just random pictures of cute Christmas things) so the process of selecting one took a while, and I would secretly lament that I couldn’t bring home several.  Now that I’m a mom, I get to do just that . . . one for Benjamin, one for Liam and one for me (and Dan can share, too)!

The Rathaus (city hall) here apparently decorates one of its actual windows every day of advent — I can’t wait to take the boys over to check that out each day.  It’ll be like a real life advent calendar!

I sent my parents and siblings Advent calendar Christmas cards this year, so we could all open them together, even though we’re far apart.  I’m really excited about this tradition — familiar for me, new for my boys, shared with my family, and different here in Vienna.  It’s almost time, and we’re all looking forward to it.

Yesterday, our stroller died.  Trying to lift it up into the restaurant where we went for dinner, the whole top section, including the handle and the place where the top of the canopy attaches, snapped off.  As frustrating as it was for that to be the beginning of our “Thanksgiving” dinner, I was immensely grateful that it broke in such benign circumstances, not while crossing the street, getting onto or off of a train, or while being carried up or down stairs — all of which are daily occurrences here.  We had that stroller for over 3 years, it carried both of our children on two continents, and it served us very well.  I’m very sad to see it go.  But, much as it’s too bad to be without our daily stroller (and it made getting home last night a little tricky) it really could have been much worse.

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My iPhone suffered a tragedy last month at the hands of Liam (in the form of a very cracked screen).  It actually had handled dozens of worrying tumbles, onto restaurant floors, out of the stroller, and even once onto a cobbled stone pathway, with little to no damage.  The one that finally got it didn’t seem worse than the others — in fact, I was shocked to find, after recovering it from the floor, that the screen had been shattered.  Liam had batted it out of my hand onto our hardwood floor, and I had expected it to survive, but it didn’t.

Well, after a month of “refurbishing” (which actually came out in our favor, they either couldn’t or didn’t actually refurbish it, apparently I got an all new one) and the addition of a new, expensive and very tough case, I have it back.

I don’t think I’ve ever become so dependent on any kind of technology so quickly.  I had already become accustomed to being able to check my email while holding a sleeping baby, check the weather on my way out the door, navigate anywhere from anywhere else, translate anything I needed to and always have a camera in my pocket.  It’s a miracle I survived the month without it.

I am so glad to have it back.

Walking to pick Benjamin up from school today, I got to experience my first snow in Vienna.  It wasn’t much — just enough to put a thin coating on the grassy areas and fallen leaves, but I got excited anyway.  I love the snow.  I love how it covers everything over with a sparkling white blanket, making even familiar landscapes magical.  I love how sounds change when there’s snow on the ground, or when it’s falling — everything is a little more quiet.  And I guess I still associate snow with getting to have an unexpected break in my normal routine — even though I haven’t had a real “snow day” in years, I tend to treat very snowy days a little differently, as days to play more than I work, to drink hot chocolate and read a book, to not worry about whether everything gets done.

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I thought sick kids were supposed to be sleepy?  Not mine, at least not today.  Both of my boys are a little under the weather — Liam much more so than Benjamin (who has the sniffles but still went to school today).  After a morning of wrestling with a fussy, snotty Liam and an afternoon that started similarly but with the addition of a slightly-more-whiny-than-usual Benjamin, I was really, really ready for nap time.

But, no luck.  B went into his room without complaint, but asked me if it was time to get up every 10 minutes.  Liam didn’t even pretend — he didn’t close his eyes, nor did he cease in flailing and crying.  After about an hour, I gave up and let them get up.  We Skyped with Grandma, and then (per Benjamin’s request) we watched the first part of Cars.

Other than ending the day completely worn out, we all really had a pretty good day.  We watched a movie, we cuddled, we played trucks.  Which is all pretty impressive.  When I think back to the limits I’ve been stretched to, mentally and emotionally, since we’ve been here, I realize it’s a big accomplishment to have a day like this, where the boys are sick, no one naps, and I don’t freak out — not even a little.

I’m hoping tomorrow goes a little more smoothly, that the kids are feeling better (or, if they’re not, that they sleep, at least) but today I’m appreciating being able to handle it, however it goes.

Before we moved here, we asked people who lived here already what we should make sure to bring — not the obvious stuff, but the things we wouldn’t think of on our own but would kick ourselves that we hadn’t brought along.  One of the top answers was clothes, especially for kids.  This made no sense to us — we weren’t moving to the north slope of Everest — surely there would be plentiful clothing in Vienna?  Even not totally understanding, we stocked up anyway — we tried to anticipate which things we would need the most and bought some extras.  I went crazy at the end-of-winter sales last spring.  But, of course, there were things we couldn’t get.

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When I was younger, my dad made sure I knew how to do certain things around the house — hammer a nail properly, use general household tools, measure twice, cut once, that kind of thing.  I’ve always been glad I knew how to do that kind of stuff (and other useful things, like change the oil in my car, or change a tire on my own) but I’m not really that good at being “handy” around my own house.  It’s easy to be intimidated by household fix-it projects – I’m usually worried I’m going to make the problem worse or electrocute myself, so I generally avoid doing anything more complex than changing light bulbs, flipping fuse switches and cleaning the lint filter in the dryer.

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I love to sing.  In high school and in college, I sang a lot, but there’s less of a market for it as an adult.  I still would sing along with songs in the car, and at a very occassional karaoke opportunity, but that was it.  I miss it, especially around the holidays — Christmas music is my favorite.

I have found two new fans, though:  my boys love for me to sing to them.  As little babies, of course, there’s plenty of opportunity to sing them pretty much whatever comes to mind, but even as they’re getting bigger, I’m grateful that they’re remaining enthusiastic.  A few weeks ago, I started singing Christmas songs to the boys while they were in the bath, and they LOVED it.  Liam smiles, transfixed, or giggles.  Benjamin starts to learn the words (and even the melodies) almost immediately — he now has a favorites list (and if I vary the words at all, he notices — I can never remember whether Santa Claus knows who’s “naughty or nice” or “naughty and nice” and he calls me on it every time I switch it, and when I finally looked up the last line of the first verse of “Good King Wenceslas” he corrected me because it was supposed to be “la la la la la la la la la la la la la la”).

I love catching Benjamin singing little pieces of the songs I’ve been singing to him — this evening, he kept singing the 8th day of Christmas, over and over.  I am really enjoying singing for them.  It’s nice to have an outlet for that part of me, and it really adds to the feeling of Christmas.

When you become a parent, you know you’re going to end up saying things like, “Finish eating dinner or you aren’t getting dessert”, or “If you guys can’t settle down, we’re going straight home”, or “If you throw that one more time, I’m not going to pick it up again”.

But there are a whole host of other things you hear coming out of your mouth that, upon further reflection (if not at the moment) are pretty funny.  This is a selection that I’ve caught myself saying over the past 6 months or so:

Stop bludgeoning your brother with that bread.  You’re getting chocolate on the radiator!  That snake is not a weapon.  Power cords are not good toys for babies.  If you run over the dog one more time with your bike, I’m not going to let you ride it in the house anymore.  Please don’t put your foot in your brother’s ice cream.  Do not run over your brother with that piano!  No pull-ups on the oven door!  Stop hitting your brother with that cow.  Don’t use the hammer on the dog.  No throwing computers at anyone’s head!  Don’t sit on your brother’s head.  No, space shuttles don’t crash in to dogs.  Stop trying to get your brother to eat his Halloween costume.  Don’t crash that plane into his head.

Seriously, I’ve said all of those things.  Recently.  Parenthood is a wild ride.