the ugly face of a mother's love

My relationship with my first-born daughter Lee has been giving me nightmares.

I hate it when my fear whispers into my dreams, wrapping its fingers around my neck, pulling me out into entirely too early morning hours to remind me, as I awake with a gasp, that sh** is out of balance.

Last night, I dreamed that I had yet another argument with Lee, who is now 18 years old. She can vote, she could start her own, independent life, but she is far from it. She is, at heart and in essence, still a child. I don't know what we argued about, but I remember that, once again, I walked away exasperated, recognizing that the only solution to the problem would be for me to care less.

"You know what's the best part about life?" she asked as I walked away.
"What?" I asked with a tone.
"Death,"  she said, effectively taking a hammer to my heart.

I imagine, this dialogue sprang from my fears over thoughts of hopelessness Lee shared when she was deep in depression a few months earlier.

I am not sure whether caring less would be a viable solution.
Aren't we always afraid for the lives of our children?
How can the average mother ever discard the care for her child? Kids become adults, but mothers remain mothers. The problem is that mothers don't usually express their concerns for the well-being of their children with picture book examples of "care taking". Their true love and worry for their kid is often manifested via compulsive micromanagement and an ongoing guilt-trip commentary. I know it from my own mother, who surely loves me more than anything. So why does a mother's care assume this ugly form of condescension and continuous critique?

Even though I know my disapproval of pretty much every one of my teenager's actions isn't helping, the words still leave my mouth, sometimes creating havoc, sometimes disdain, but definitely always - discontent and, probably, a dented self-confidence as I have yet again established that I am superior in my ways of thinking. Forget that my ways may actually be better sometimes (e.g. "yes -- you do, in fact, need to eat real food and can't just have a toddler sized meal once a day and assume that will do in terms of nutrition.") -- it's not the point.

I don't know how to let go. The only way to disengage from this un-motherly behavior would be not to care at all.
The fact that my daughter seems to have issues with food (one can count the things she eats on two hands) is a permanently lodged thorn of concern. She also doesn't regulate her sleep, her electronics use, her insane work load from school, or the general need for physical activity and sun-light. As a result of the mismanagement of all these variables, she often dips back into anxiety and depression.

Maybe she just has to go through all of this to understand the importance of self-care. Maybe she has to hit rock-bottom and pull herself out on her own to learn how to live a good life. But it is hard to simply bare silent witness to this learning process - and if we are lucky, it will be a learning process. The fear in my head not allowing me to STFU is based on all the scary stories out there, how depression can lead to suicide, skipping (or discarding, rather) the whole part of learning and process.

In my dream last night, I didn't respond with care or compassion. I, as in real life, expressed my worry in the form of anger and what I said came out as a dismissive and furious guilt-trip.
Well, if you're going to kill yourself, then I hope you're aware that you are going to be taking not only a sister from your sibling, but also a mother. So you'd be taking at least three lives, not one.

Maybe my nightmare was only a portent of what was to come.
My daughter had been feeling so much better after almost a year and a half of an ever growing anxiety and depression. Finally she seemed to have come out and back into the light. She wasn't scratching her face anymore, she reconnected with her friends, she made us laugh with her bubbly personality every day, and she regained her appetite. But when she returned from her father's house later that day, I realized my dream had been a premonition, or perhaps just an intuitive connection to my child's well-being. She had changed during the few days she spent at her Dad's. She was exhausted and not feeling well. Not feeling well in the way she does when she is dipping deeper into a dark mood. Four days of sitting inside the house doing nothing but stare at a screen did immediate damage to her fragile and only recently recovered well-being.

Now it is up to me to make sure she eats a few nutritious and balanced meals, gets enough sleep, and goes out for social contact and some sun. But, it can't always be me. I have to figure out how to let go and she has to figure out how to take over.

if you want your kids to remember you one day, be a monster (apparently)

This evening, as I sat with my daughters at the dining room table, engaged in post-dinner conversation, with the occasional interjected order of mine toward the older one to eat her vegetables, the question arose about how faulty human memory can be.

Do you have any memories from your younger years? Maybe around the time you were four or five or so?  I asked my second-born, Nini, who just turned 13. She shook her head, pulling her face into a clueless expression.
I remember something! Lee exclaimed, pushing away the carrots I had heaped on her plate.

I was excited to go down memory lane with her, when she revealed that the only vivid memory she seemed to be able to produce was when I supposedly almost choked her as a 6-year-old. I was mortified! I did no such thing! I practically shouted. Nini chimed in, apparently making the mnemonic connection immediately, from just hearing that one sentence. They both then recounted the story of how I once decided that Lee, the eternal "meal-refuser",  needed to eat the ravioli I had prepared, not via any stern or demanding commands, but by apparently grabbing her mouth and practically forcing a piece of ravioli into it. I found that hard to believe. I was that worked up about ravioli?! Knowing myself, that thing was not something I slaved over by hours of dough-making or whatever it is one needs to do when making ravioli from scratch. It probably came out of a can. Not exactly a meal to be proud of. No nutritional loss on my child's side here. In fact, probably would have been a good thing not to serve them this stuff in the first place.
But, my kids insisted that I lost it over those raviolis. They were crying tears from laughter at this point, embellishing the story with probably imaginary details. I, on the other hand, was almost in tears about how monstrous this act seemed to me in hindsight. I apologized profusely and explained to them that I do not recommend exposing oneself to motherhood of small children and working full time without help. Living with little kids is like living with tiny schizophrenia patients. But, sometimes, it can be mom who just goes crazy from stress and exhaustion. .... Just make sure you have an adult (!) partner and the proverbial village, I lectured as I fumbled for another excuse which would, perhaps more successfully, make me feel better.

After a minute or so, though, I wondered --- so, you are telling me .... that you don't remember ANYTHING from your childhood ... the thousands of times I exercised patience when you wouldn't eat your food, or would tell me the meal I just slaved over for an hour tastes like curtain, ... THAT composure you don't remember? Or the fact that I laid down with you every night to read and sing to you and often wait until you fell asleep. You don't remember that? Or the weekly outings to the park or the family art projects, .... all the endless spoiling basically ... for nothing? So .. THE ONLY REASON you remember that it was, in fact, ME who raised you so far, is because I once stuffed ravioli down your throat?! If I hadn't given you this one horrible memory, you may as well have been raised by someone else cuz clearly I could be anyone. Just swap me out.

The kids could not stop laughing. And instead of producing one nice, balancing memory, they thought of another incident, when I apparently chased them into the room so I could spank Lee on the bum for whatever reason (knowing Lee, there probably was a reason, but that's beside the point).

Anyway ... so now I'm really wondering... wth was it all for,  if they seem to only remember the bad stuff? What's the point of trying to be a good mother?!!

The bad moments are certainly outweighed at 99% by good or normal/non-traumatic regular family stuff. And, even if it is just at 80%, it is still a pretty darn good childhood they're getting. But apparently, all my efforts won't matter, because what they will walk away with, is the memory of that one time when I force-fed Lee a piece of canned pasta.

i changed my mind

We had a really nice and relaxed summer. Hanging out with the kids has been pretty nice, for they are now old enough that you can actually have real conversations with them, and - more importantly - ignore them without any hurt feelings, doing your own thing while they do theirs. This lull and realization that they're growing up has brought me to the romantic thought of wanting another baby. Never mind the fact that there is no man present to reproduce with, let alone raise a child with. Or the fact that I hated being pregnant and taking care of babies and toddlers is more work than one can ever have. But anyway, I changed my mind real quick after the first week of classes.

***

The beginning of the school year came down on me with all its anticipated but still underestimated weight causing desperately stressed outbursts toward my kids as well as - semi-silently hissed under breath - short cursing episodes toward uncollaborative good-for-nothing computer and underperforming self. (uncollaborative - apparently not a word.)

Today, I should have had the afternoon to continue work, which I should have done more of in the morning. Instead, I spent it trying to guide my 10-year-old through a tribute poster on 911. Since the kid wasn't even born during the tragedy of September 11, it is difficult to get her to understand the gravity of this day without showing her horrifying footage of planes crashing into buildings and people jumping off them, which I refuse to do. In fact, I myself have avoided any and all 9/11 images since 9/11. I didn't see the point. All it did was make me cry and shift me into some sort of PTSD state. I remember exactly what happened and, I suppose, these awful memories will never go away.

On to a lighter topic.

.. nope.. I don't have anything light to talk about tonight. I'm frustrated... which is why I am writing.

The Hawaii after-school program

this is a mini entry....just to remember something I don't want to forget.

we signed MLee up at an after-school program at the YMCA, which we (and everyone else) always refers to just as "the Y".
How was it at the Y today?
Do they do homework with you at the Y?
etc.

anyway, MLee seems to have misunderstood and now constantly refers to the Y as "Hawaii".
and she won't let me correct her. ;)

- Mom, am I going to Hawaii today after school?
-You really won't be going to Hawaii honey, but you'll be going to THE Y! It's called "the Y".
- NO, it is called Hawaii. TRUST ME!

she's driving me nuts with this latest line, btw. "trust me!" ... where does she get that from??

PS: you know, I've been trying to make this blog a little more anonymous by changing the names lately...but what the hell is the point of doing that if I keep on tagging my entries with the old (full) tags. ;) ....so, in case you haven't figured it out, yet, MLee stands for Maia.

how will this go on?

I've decided I need to get back to my roots with this blog.
It's become way too serious and way too depressive. And OMG, the drama (btw. I am not pregnant...HALLELUJA, Thank you GOD!)

anyway, what do I mean with roots?
I mean light-hearted daily anekdotes and completely irrelevant thought processes.

today. let's do a "MLee sez" (MLee is my 5-year old and I used to write down a lot of all the funny stuff she said).

ML: Mami, ...can God hear everything we say?
me: yes.
ML: even in the car?
me: yes.
ML: why?
me: uhm.....be-cauuuse... God is everywhere.
ML: everywhere? even inside my body?
me: yeah, somehow. it's kind of hard to describe. God is everywhere because he made everything. He made you and me, and the plants, the planets, the universe ... or at least, he initiated other processes to make these things happen. anyway, main thing to remember is that God loves you... he loves everyone and everything he created...
ML: even Jupiter?
me: ehm...yes..in a way, I suppose. ......and....all he asks of us is to try to be good people. and that's not always going to be easy. sometimes doing the right thing is really hard. but all he asks is that we try... as hard as we can.
ML: are you thinking what I'm thinking?
me: what are you thinking?
ML: I am thinking that I will try to be a really good person.
me: great idea. :)
ML: God is invisible, right?
me: yes. but you can feel God.
ML: I can see God, you know.
me: oh, really?
ML: yes, he is sitting right next to me.
me: (thinking: so God is a 'he', hm?) what does he look like?
ML: he is wearing a red shirt, white pants, a green hat, and silver shoes.
me: hmm..... sounds like God is lacking a sense of style. (worrying whether this counts as blasphemy I add): I sure hope God has a sense of humor. .... well, I guess, he must have...considering how ironic and funny life can be sometimes.
......
ML: you know, I figured out where God lives.
me: really?
ML: yes, he lives in a big, big, big, big, big, big, big, big, (burp), big, big mountain. and there is a door in it.
me: aha. so what does he do there all day?
ML: I don't know what he does but that's where he lives.

-------------
ahh, it feels good to pass on some good thoughts, attitudes, and beliefs about life and God on to your offspring. reality, self-questioning, and God doubts will come soon enough ..and then they'll need some foundation to work with. I just think, ....it's good to believe in God. Combine it with a healthy sense of science, rationality, and doubt and you've got something to work with.
I am not a big fan of religion or any kinds of groupings for that matter but I feel that some sort of faith, spirituality, or belief in something more and higher than our lives is essential.

(does it sound like my last sentence is missing something? could be. I am just drawing a total blank right now. and it's actually early... still I am sleep-deprived.... well, hope to be back with more trivial entries soon. after all, if I were to write about what is really going on in my life at the moment, I'd probably have some sort of nervous-breakdown. somehow, I don't feel like I should be writing about these so deeply personal things on a blog anymore. no matter how anonymous I try to make this thing.)

back in nyc

i am sitting here. in my mother in law's house. not separated or divorced, yet.
we are still sleeping on a full-sized bed (the four of us) and I am dying to sleep in a position in which my feet are not sticking out half way over the edge of the mattress.
well, at least our boxes have arrived and we have begun to unpack. maybe we can even move into our place this weekend. let's see.
the last week i have spent playing terminator...no wait...exterminator... the condition these dead-beat tenants have left our place in has really been unimaginably filthy.
besides going to war with the roaches I have been busy researching schooling options for MLee.
Rosa convinced me to get her tested for one of those Gifted and Talented Programs, for which she needs to score with an IQ of 120 and over to be accepted. At first I was a bit sceptical but after visiting the school for a tour I lost my doubts. It would be great for her to go to school there. Let's see how she does on that test.
I also like our neighborhood schools. Unfortunately, we are not zoned for them so we are going to have to move, for there is no way I am sending my kid to the school we are zoned for. I'd rather home-school her then.
I would love to just send her to that public school nearby. It is such a friendly place and I think MLee would do just fine there.
Is it wrong to consider convenience when picking schools? That darn Gifted and Talented program is quite a drive from where we live. ...well, 15 min. but still....do that every morning...with traffic...and after that drop off Nini...I won't be able to have a job...

ugh. my writing sucks today.
i gotta get back into the habit.

farewell ....and excerpt of my letter to Maia

this will be my last post here. farewell to my readers and thanks for the ones who always came back. problem is that - even though there are 80 million blogs out there, mine seems to - repeatedly - be found and identified by people I know and if you have been reading my blog for a while then you know that I would like to remain anonymous. after all, this is a vent for all my bitch energy...and I don't want it to affect any of the people mentioned in it - namely, Dario (as much as he drives me crazy sometimes). so,..thanks for checking in. there is plenty of old stuff to read (the first entry on this blog even refers to my very first blog - ...i see a pattern here..).
well, chances are I would have started to repeat myself now anyway.

here now my last post. maia is all recovered now, btw. (she/we spent two weeks in the hospital)

wrote this in the hospital. it is part of an ongoing letter I am writing to Maia (whenever I have time). Maia is turning five
January 7, 2007 1:30am

I am sitting here next to you while you are sleeping. We are in the hospital because you have pneumonia and weren’t able to keep down the prescribed antibiotics. Every time we administered them you threw it back up (together with the little food you had eaten.) By the end of the day (Friday – before yesterday) you were so weak, your grandfather (the doctor in the family) ordered us to take you to the hospital immediately. You were brought back to your strength with an IV (full of nutrition) but you had to stay here to receive the antibiotics intravenously, as well. I stayed the night and the morning while your dad came for the afternoon into the early evening. Nayla is not allowed on this floor because you are in the infectious disease ward for kids – nice, huh? ;)

Anyway, this is your second night. If we were in the US right now this would probably cost us thousands of Dollars – but we are still here in Austria and it is all part of the free health insurance.
However, as great as the social net might be here (education is free, too…that’s gonna hurt once you go to college – and you BETTER go to college!;) ) we are still planning to return to New York City. It’s a long story but to make it short: I have no more job (first I quit, took it back, but then we actually separated in consensual terms), the tenants in our NY apartment are still not paying, and we are out of options (i.e. money).
We were in NY for a few days over x-mas (you and I), for I had to go to court because of the tenant issue (unfortunately, the judge dismissed the case due to a formality and we have to start all over again, trying to get these people, who are feeding off of our savings, out of our house.) Anyway, you loved being back at your old school and seeing your old friends, so I think (hope) you’ll be happier growing up in the U.S.

Just do me one favor, darling …. Please, please don’t become one of them. What do I mean by that? I mean, please don’t become a statistic. Please don’t become the "average"(?) teenage girl, driven by superficiality and the pressure of what other kids might think of her; who gives sex as if it doesn’t matter at all, who has no self-esteem and doesn’t consider oral sex – well, sex, who cuts herself, tries any drug because everyone else is or who lies as if it were an athletic discipline.

I highly doubt that you will be any of these things, for you are already very defined in who you will be – a strong, sweet, very smart and independent woman. However, I did want to bring to your attention of what fears I carry around with me already (and you are not even five, yet). What I have to remember, and you, too, is also that…NO MATTER WHAT….I will always love you. But, I tell you one thing: honesty is one of my most highly valued principles and that will really always win you the big plus points.

I am probably not supposed to tell you this (especially, since I have no idea when I will be giving you this letter) but just so that you know, I have also been young once and I have learned some things the hard way (or sometimes, I just got lucky….and not everyone can be lucky all the time, so I’d prefer you’d be smarter than I).
One of the worst things I probably ever did was to have unprotected sex. “Just got carried away in the moment” (and mind you, I was 19 already, when I lost my virginity).
Giving in because there is no condom available at the moment is probably THE DUMBEST thing you could do, for the consequences are life-changing. I realized this afterwards, when I was scared to death about pregnancy (your grandmother got pregnant when she was 15 - granted she was a hippie, too...you know...free love and all - but I always was under the impression she felt like she missed out on her youth. Heck, I feel like I missed out and I got pregnant at 26…intentionally! ;)). Anyway, what scared me even more, of course was the fear of having caught AIDS. I was lucky but I didn’t forget those months of fear and that horrible week of waiting for my blood results.
One night is enough. And I could have thrown it all away in that one night.

Ach, it all sounds so dry and cliché when I am writing it down like this and, I guess, you have to learn a lot from your own experiences but just USE your brain and always try to THINK AHEAD, when you do questionable things.

I probably don’t have to tell you about any of these things, for you are a lot like me (careful, thoughtful, never forgetting what you have learned or are being warned of). Unfortunately, growing up without my mother, there were a lot of things I wasn’t warned of, so I had to figure that out by myself. Men and boys for example. A whole story to itself. [I wonder, if my mother has figured that out herself, actually...]

Other things most teenagers think about (but the smart ones hopefully will not consider seriously, for it’s almost as dumb as having unprotected sex):
> suicide (there was a brief time in my life when I thought that would be the easiest way out (until I lived through the suicides of several other friends and realized how sad it would be to throw a life away, which surely won’t always be this dreadful and bad).

> running away (I had whole trips completely planned out – my favorite escape route lead to Canada).

> dropping out of school (I was sixteen when I fought my dad about that issue – I wanted to become either an auto mechanic or a carpenter – HA!) ….

Things I (thankfully) wasn’t ever weak enough to get into: any drugs other than a bit of pot (never got drunk, never took a trip, nothing…and no, I am not a lame prude. Well, what can I say - I am a control-freak, which I am sure you know by now. ;) ….Losing control of my body and mind, would just have been a nightmare for me.
(so, if you ever think you have to do any of this sh*t – make sure you do your research and don’t do it alone….but I prefer, you DON’t …and I can tell you loads of stories why you shouldn’t and why I ultimately didn’t do it…. But to give you a quick glimpse: I once knew a guy who walked around talking to his darts…and all he had done is taken one trip that just messed up his brain somehow…and he kept on having flash-backs.) But given the fact of how much of a control freak you are already (at the tender age of 4), I think, I might not have to fear you going into this stuff either.

So, now that I’ve gotten some of the sex and drugs (I am leaving out Rock n’ Roll) talk into this letter, I guess, I am going to have to give this thing a PG rating. I wonder what this will have to be. Judging from all the stories I hear it would have to be a PG-13, as much as I would like it to be a PG-17….or let’s be honest, a PG-21. ;)

And just so you know where this is all coming from right now: I have been like a sponge about teenage girlhood ever since you were born. Books and movies that have unsettled me: “Thirteen” (movie), “Queen bees and Wannabees” (book – and “Mean Girls”, the movie it was turned into), “The Tenth Circle” (book, I just finished), and countless articles, stories from friends and colleagues, and real-life encounters with today’s teenage kind. ;)

So, dare to be different, baby. Be who you are and not who others expect you to be.

Love you. Love you. Love you.
(and for now – at this moment – get well, so that I can take you home!)
PS: can you give that whole (unprotected) sex, drugs, and other stupidities section to your sister, too? I might copy it over to her letter later but right now it is getting really late and my eyes are falling shut (the doc is going to wake us in a few hours – to give you the next antibiotic shot).

heart-stopping saturday

Today I actually wanted to write down how our Pisa and Florence Trip went last week but then Nayla drank some sort of poisonous oil and Maia got lost at one of the biggest markets of the year.

It all started relatively well. I woke up late, although not too smoothly,which always gets me cranky no matter how long I sleep. D took me out of a dream, which seemed to address my current self-reflection attempts. Just as I was about to figure out why I had to crawl through that tiny, stony, dark, and claustrophia-triggering tunnel to get to that huge (ancient) beautiful room (more like a temple-hall), Dario woke me up to get some. And he got some, alright. A piece of my mind, is what he got. "The ONE time the kids decide to leave me alone in the morning so I can sleep a little longer, you really had to decide to take their place and wake me?!?!"
I got breakfast in bed and that shut me up.
After a short heart-attack about Nayla having pulled out all the keys of my laptop's keyboard, I made a huge cup of coffee, which I just didn't get to and then proceeded to get the kids ready for our lunch invitation at my friend Sabi's house.
The meal was great, we had a nice time, decided to move on quickly to all go the big market in our village together. Apparently this is a yearly event and draws people from all over the state and even across the borders (Germany and Switzerland).
Before we left (and Sabi was on a tight schedule) I asked for just one cup of coffee. I had one sip before Nayla (now 2.5 yrs. old) appeared next to me with her mouth wide open and a certain guilty look on her face.
I saw a trace of brown above her lip and decided to smell her mouth. It reeked of some pungent volatile (essential) oil. The stuff you put in a tray over a candle.
I looked around and found a small, half-empty bottle on the floor. When I read the label, I tried not to panic .... which meant not to show it to Dario, who really is the one who always panics about stuff like that.
Keep away from children!
health-hazardous.
can cause lung-damage when ingested.
do not induce vomiting!
contains cassia-oils, which can cause allergic reactions.
etc.
I made her drink water, wiped her mouth with a wet towel, called my father (a doc), who wasn't home; we called Sabi's neighbor then (also a doc), who thank God was home and who finally advised us to call poison control.
I am not used to these kind of worries. Maia stopped taking choking hazards into her mouth when she was two (she understood ....or let's say...she adhered to the rules), and we were glad if she drank or ate anything at all. Nayla on the other hand - a great eater, which we are endlessly happy about - really does try anything, and that means everything. She is one of those kids you don't have to force to drink her medicine (when needed) and who you are going to have to keep the cleaning agents away from, for she will probably try it. The other day she traded a piece of candy for an olive. The girl is special, I tell you. ;)
Anyway, the lady from the poison-control hotline was very helpful and gave me a list of things to watch out for, none of which seemed to appear, thank GOD.
So we continued with our afternoon plans of hitting the market, leaving my full but now cold coffee cup sitting on the kitchen table. (This whole coffee skipping routine today got me to make myself a cup right now. ...probably not the smartest thing, given that it is after 10pm.)

We finally made it to the market around 3:30pm. Our little village looked like Chinatown today. Buzzing with people. We had a good time walking around, mingling, looking at all the stands, letting the girls ride on the kiddie-train and going up with the fire-engine's ladder ..or crane..whatever it is called. It was damn high, I tell you but the kids loved it.
After an hour or so we said Goodbye to Sabi and her family and decided to continue strolling for a last round before heading home up the hill.
Just after D bought his newspaper-rolled funnel full of hot chestnuts, Maia disappeared.
What followed was a search going from casual, to more intense, to near panic at the end.
I called so many people to help find Maia's whereabouts. I had neighbors go on a search around our house to see if she had gone home (by herself). I asked one of the many Djs to call her out missing. I left my number at the icecream parlor at the center of town, in case someone dropped her off (per instructions from the DJ's announcement). I squeezed through the masses, up and down and across, over and over again. I asked vendors to look out for her and to catch her if she walked by. I told Dario to stop calling me, for my battery was blinking low and I was waiting on call backs. He finally left the stroller on the side of the street and joined in the search, with Nayla on his shoulders.
After about an hour of searching without success I started to lose my cool. As I felt the tears well up, I took a deep breath and reminded myself of where I was: This is not a problem. This is freakin' Vorarlberg. Kids get lost and returned here all the time.
But the little paranoid mom in me kept on reminding me that this was still the 21st century and anything can happen anywhere. The likeliness isn't as high here and with this thought I decided to stick. It worked. I didn't lose it.
I walked through the bustling market one more time and then pulled out my phone to call the cops. Just as I was going to ask someone of the Austrian equivalent of 911, I received a phonecall from someone telling me that my daughter was waiting in front of the electronics shop....just a few feet from where she was lost.
I thanked whoever that was and bolted over there.
The couple (with a group of friends) who I found standing with her had apparently waited with her for the past 45 minutes and were just about to go to the police themselves.
I was so relieved I wanted to hug and slap that kid at the same time. I went with the hug and told her how much she had scared me.
I was told that Maia had approached the woman and had told her that she can't find us anymore. When she was asked where she lived, Maia apparently answered "in a cave". (whatever the heck that is supposed to mean.) and when asked where her father worked, she responded "in a cave, too." ;) ...hmmm maybe it's the way you get to our house...or maybe the fact that our apartment is very shady.....but I sure don't hope it's because of the fact that Dario has been super-lazy with taking them out these past two weeks. (I've been complaining about that already.)

Anyway, I am glad as I can be that she was o.k. ...and I gotta teach that child our phonenumber and address!!!! My neighbor recommended to write the kids' phonenumbers on their arms with a marker when going out to such places (full of people).

I told Maia, later in the evening, that she was going to have to remember our number and this way, if she ever would get lost, she would know.
"But I don't have a phone," she dryly said. ;)

missing Rosa (and vice versa)

one of those weeks. not much time to blog....so here one of my e-mail exchanges:

--------On 10/24/06, Rosa wrote:
I'm awake don't ask, so worried about new job. I start on Monday, so crazy. Come home, I miss you more. So lonely right now. Depressed, if you can believe it, although no one can tell.
I agree about the kids, Lucas is soooo big, fresh too, arrgh I don't like 5 year olds, can't wait for 6 (I still like him but it's mostly from past experience.)

I also burned Lucky Slevin and Shop girl, hope you didn't see them, but you probably did.
I've kicked Rick out of my life and am going through withdrawal, this too shall pass. By the way he says of course you can crash here, it's still not painted, but you might have to live with him and not me. I'm not very popular with him right now ( you know kicking him out and all).

Anyway, my goal right now is to kick ass at my new job, so I can get a promotion and raise so I can afford to send one of the twins to college. I'm so panicked about that... Yet, what the hell am I going to do, grin and bear it - bear it and grin ; ) What did I forget, oh shit forgot to pay Dario, will put into your account tomorrow without fail, so sorry. What's happening with the deportee??? Apostille, etc. Will soon be too busy to even write you a short note.

Kiss those girls for me and show them the one picture of me over and over again so they don't forget me. I show your family picture to Lucas everyday, it's on the fridge. Sometimes he gets sad and says "why is Maia so far away" or "Let's go see Maia".
I'm blabbering. Much love and kisses,Rosa

-------on 10/27/06 sisi wrote:
oh, it is so good to hear you talk (even if it is just in writing). can't believe YOU can get depressed. is that even possible? you are like my idol in positive outlook and living your life right, so you gotta keep that up ...otherwise my world comes crashing down. ;)

>> arrgh I don't like 5 year olds, can't wait for 6 (I still like him but it's mostly
from past experience.)

LOL ;D. that's hilarious. really, he's bad right now? maybe the whole laissez-faire montessori approach isn't the right way, after all (just kiddin'). I am surprised, because Maia is at a very good stage lately (4,5 is kind to us). She is pretty reasonable, very independent, and very enduring (can hold up even when she has a hard time doing it....e.g. at hiking, which she seems to dislike as much as I used to;)

>>so worried about new job. I start on Monday, so crazy.

why would you be worried? you rock and they are lucky to have somebody like u come in.
not only do you kick ass and got your act together, but you are also absolutely loveable....so they are getting a full package. :)
...and ...oh no....you are starting on Monday?!! ...so much for the Apostille. Did you get Dario's document, by the way? I had one of my co-workers Fed-ex or UPS it to you from Boston (or Seattle) or whereeverthehell they went. To save time (mailing from Austria and all)...
But, of course, ..you would still need instructions on how to get the Apostille. ... Well, I guess, tell me when you have a couple of hours to spare one of these days...
(Hopefully they won't deport him by then....although, that would save us in ticket costs, specially if we are coming back.)

Spoke to Susanne (our tenant) yesterday. She still is convinced she will be giving us money on the first of November. She is taking her man to court, apparently. But even if she does... how would she catch up on what she owes us?
I can't even think about what this situation has cost us. It's devastating...
I told her to please look for another living arrangement...and regardless, to please be responsible enough to pay what she owes us, ...even if she is not going to be living in the apt. anymore.

I am horse-backriding twice a week now and the excercise is really doing me good. Loosens the chronic knots in my back. (Apparently, I have problems with my spinal disks. I had an exam.)

Maia is riding her bike without training wheels now. That pedalless bike really did wonders. Someone gave us a little regular bike and she can ride it without problems. She still doesn't know how to start pedaling from stand-still but she just started riding this thing yesterday.

Nayla is huge (i.e. tall), compared to Maia at that age, anyway. She is talking English and German all mixed up but she is throwing in full sentences now. She loves to cuddle, hug, and kiss ...but she also loves to whine, scream, and slam doors. (The time-outs have begun, although she hasn't had a temper tantrum, yet. ... I remember this stage with Maia and it was full with those scary tt-s). She (Nayla) has been fully potty-trained for a while now (since before the summer, I think), and she insists on getting dressed herself. ;) To think that until very recently I still had to dress Maia. I didn't know they could do that at this age (she's just at 2,5 y. now). I have learned my lesson.

So, Marta is leaving on Tuesday.
Oh, how I wish, you could get on that plane with her and come visit, too.
The fall has been gorgeous here, by the way. This month it rained maybe one or two days, the rest was fantastic. You really learn to appreciate the weather here. It is never to be taken for granted.

All in all I have been feeling better. (HEY, maybe it is the weather! ;) ..I am known to be a sun-dependent child.) Really, I don't care why I am feeling better... I just am happy that I AM. It has been a dark phase for me for quite a while now and I am so glad to be able to see the light again. :)

anyway, ..I gotta go now. Got up at 5am for work today. Was at the job until 5pm. Then got the kids for an hour and finally went to excercise the horse (which includes me, too) for an hour.
I am tiired. Still have to book a hostel, though. Did I tell you? When Marta and Michelle are coming, we are going to take a quick trip to Florence! We found a flight for 2 cents!! (0.02!)
With taxes that comes to about 25 bucks per flight.

alrighty now.
I'm goin'.
xoxoxoxoxxo
love, sisi
PS: xox also to the boys.
PPS: I am thinking of getting bangs. (Big mistake? Great change? We will find out soon.)

I think I'm one of them...

I just read this somewhere on parentcenter.com
"We middle class Americans are obsessed with academic achievement. It's become a sport for parents, who compete to have their children be the first to write, read, and perform other feats of precociousness at earlier and earlier ages. Before we know it, we'll be bummed out when they're not ready for a spelling bee by 12 months ("What's wrong with her? Am I a bad parent?"). With all due respect, so what if our toddlers aren't certified as "gifted" by 24 months and can't write their ABCs by 29 months? What we really need to be working on is social and emotional skills. The world doesn't need a new crop of neurotic overachievers. It needs more clear-headed and compassionate citizens who can navigate through the jungle of mixed messages, manipulations and, most important, fear and anger that characterize life in 21st century American society. Let's give them a leg up!"-- Conor & Liam's Dad

He's so right...but I think I am one of those "middle class Americans", he's talking about.....and I'm not even American. Sometimes I look at myself with pity for thinking this way but this behavior (as mentioned above) is contagious. It's not the competitiveness it's just the keeping up that got me. I mean, to ensure that Maia gets the best education (in the US, at least) I would have to play that f*in' game.
Here (in Austria - if you are new to the blog), I don't have to and the kindergarten teachers remind me every single time (when I ask if they won't let Maia do some letters, too), that they prefer if the kids focus on their social and emotional skills first. Reading and writing will come soon enough and they will all get it.

one of the neighbors shows a found cocoon to the kids


mine are Nayla (middle) and Maia (right)


Maia on her bike

anekdotes of the day

today's anekdotes:

- Maia is way too aware of what's in style and what's acceptable - for a 4 year old, I mean - I cut her bangs this morning .. with a not too successful outcome. When she looked into the mirror, she started crying.
Me: what are you crying about? it's not that bad.
Maia (sobbing): I look like a handsome prince. I don't want to look like a handsome prince!
Me (trying not to laugh): understandable. ...but you really look cute!
Maia: I don't want to look cute.
Me: sorry, I mean - pretty.
to which she moved to the kitchen to ask Dario's opinion of her new haircut.
Me (calling over): Dario! Tell her something positive about her bangs!
Dario: uhm...it'll grow back.
Me: thanks. really not helping here...

********
This afternoon at work, I found myself in a situation in which I had to finally take Dario's old and always rejected advice from past similar moments of finding myself without dental floss. (..oh my God, that sentence was bad...)
I was so desperate that I asked almost everyone in my department. Finally I left the office with a sigh: What is wrong with you people. Isn't anyone here concerned about their dental health?
The real reason for my need for dental floss (after every bite of food) is the fact that I have a crown, which is positioned with a too big gap from the tooth next to it. It drives me nuts, when there's anything stuck there. It's not visible but I can feel it.
Anyway, after looking for some old people in the building (without success. damn online jobs. all these healthy teethed youngsters. nobody with crowns.) I finally resorted to taking an old advice Dario has been trying to convince me of: using some strands of my hair.
Bad idea. - I got rid of the worst bother but instead I now had hair stuck inbetween my teeth, which - I tell you - is at least as annoying as a food particles.

no more sleep 'til sunday

I've decided that the only way to find time to take care of all the things on my before-we-leave-the-country-to-do-list is to omit any and all sleep until Sunday. Oh well, one can't have everything.

so, back to cleaning the house I go. then I need to shower and I really must get started on weeding through our filing cabinet. It's just gonna be me and my shredder for the night.

Red Bull here I come.

oh, but before I log off...I just wanted to jot down this one little conversation D overheard yesterday:
Lucas (Rosa's 4-year old son & Maia's best friend) to Maia: You know, you can't have any boys over at your house anymore. ..... Only me. .....You can have a hundred girls...but no boys.

Interesting, isn't it? Where is he getting this from? He doesn't watch TV like that. He has no such environment. Must really be in the male genetic make-up ...that whole possessive urge.
;)

beauty = power

this morning, as both kids are glued to me once again while I am trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep, I finally turn to Maia and ask half-frustratedly (if that's a word):
What is it with you girls that you have to stick to me like that? You have a perfectly good daddy right outside this door, much more awake and willing to help you than I am. ....Is it that you like me better, or what?
Maia: yes! :)
Me: Really? And why is that?
Maia: Because you're prettier than Daddy.

LOL. well, I sure am glad we're teaching the girl all the right values here. ;)

cruel honesty

so, I'm slaving in the kitchen for an hour, whining and crying kids hanging on my pantlegs, trying to prepare a half-way decent meal with one little hot-plate and the miniversion of the Foreman- grill (we still have no gas). Then I clean the table, prepare the kids' plates (cute arrangements, bite-sized cut meat, etc. - whatever one needs to endure to make one's children eat) and the first comment out of Maia's mouth is:
- Mo-oom.
- yes.
- ehm. the meat tastes like....curtain.

The analogy was so amusing to me that I really wasn't all that insulted. I was more curious about the origin of this comparison. "And how would you know? Ever tried curtain before?"
- "No," she said. "Then eat up," I ordered ...and then with a bit of reconsideration and pity: "You can have some ketchup if you would like to."