Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed--and gazed--but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

(Thank you Maureen, for being the perfect English major and having an appropriate literary reference for all occasions)

Scenes from a silly, slow, solo-parenting Sunday

Wow. Today was a long day.

I knew that of this round of flying solo, today would be the longest.  Sundays in Germany are just a little bit slow.  Stores are required by law to be closed on Sundays, except for a few special days every year when they are allowed to be open for like 4 hours on a Sunday afternoon (and this is a BIG DEAL).  Can you imagine this in the U.S., where we demand 24 hours/day, 365 days/year? It kind of drove me nuts the first time I lived here and would suddenly get the urge to make something for dinner, until . . . DOH. Can't go get ingredients, because the stores are closed.  This time around, I kind of appreciate the fact that one day a week, you just sort of have to take a break from running around.  As long as I remember to check our diaper supply on Saturday, that is.

Sundays seem to be the days where families get together, cafes are full with late brunchers, biergartens in Bavaria are packed on nice days in warm weather, the hiking trails are full, people take leisurely walks in the parks, etc.  It's pretty idyllic, unless it's January and cold, cloudy, and damp, and you're alone with 2 small kids who are fairly vocal when their feet are cold, and don't really want to hang out in a cafe while you read a book.  Then it becomes kind of a slow, long day when you wish you had an errand to run or something.  So, we got a little stir-crazy. And silly.

It started at 6:30am with a fruit face.

Like most silly things, the fruit face started out as an accident a couple weeks ago when I was getting Elsa's fruit in the morning.  Like most silly things that happen as an accident with a 2 year old, it is now expected (that is, demanded) every morning. 

Elsa and I then decided to make a special treat to have later. She chose pudding.  So, we made some pudding from scratch.  This is an easy treat that requires only time and patience, making it the perfect task to do with a toddler. Ahem.  ("Is it ready yet?" Run back to room. "Is it ready yet?" Run back to room. "Is is ready yet?" You get the idea. Multiply x 20.)

When I emerged from this, I found this scene.  The animals were lined up to go to the city. Which city? Boston. By the way, the polar bear is the zebra's baby.  I'm not going to get into this one.



What do you do when everyone is done napping by 2:30? How long can I get them to hang out on my bed and play?

Answer: 5 minutes. 2:35.  Anyone in pain yet? Okay, that means time for a dance party.

Then it was time to get OUT for a bit.  I decided after last night's dinner fiasco (no one was hurt, and the food was edible, but it just got very loud for a bit), we deserved a dinner out.  This might be filed under the increasingly thick folder of Things That Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time.  If you have kids, you might be wincing in agreement.  Oh well.  We made it, got a crabby Clara to bed, ate our pudding, and had a special girl's night trying to watch part of a movie.  Finding Nemo was abandoned for its scary shark scenes, which happily led us to plan B, The Sound of Music.  A day that ends with this can't be that bad. 

Happy pudding face!





I can't WAIT to go grocery shopping and buy diapers tomorrow.Thank God It's (almost) Monday. Sorry!

Telephone angst

I can't say I have that much to write about this week, as we try to figure out the rhythm of our life here in Wiesbaden, which has been difficult to do with Erik popping in and out on trips back to the US.  But yesterday, I accomplished two things:  1) I got myself and the girls outside three times. That sounds super lame, but between hats, coats, shoes, naps, tantrums, meals, two flights of wind-y stairs, a big heavy door, 6 steps to bounce the stroller up and down, and a gate that doesn't want to stay open for me, it's big; 2) I made a phone call.  That sounds even lamer, but let me explain.  Speaking German on the phone makes me break out in a sweat.  When Erik and I lived in Munich, we used to have to stick our heads out the window to cool off after we had hung up the phone.  When learning a new language, I realize that we rely very heavily on body language or gestures to give context or subtly clarify what might otherwise go over our heads.  On the phone, all you get are the words.  Yikes. 

I have been staring at this slip of paper with a phone number on it for a week and keep coming up with an excuse to put it off.  I finally took the plunge and called the number to set up a little playdate for Elsa and her new friend Tim.  Yes, that was the huge scary thing I didn't want to do: set up a playdate with a 2 1/2 year old and his REALLY NICE mom who gave me her number.  I'm lame, but although my heart was racing, I didn't have to open the window.  I consider that progress.

Gettin' girly

Erik better hurry home before we're all wearing tiaras and lipstick. 

In reality, the pigtails and barrettes (on a 4 month old) are necessary fixes to tame some unruly manes.  Elsa's increasingly thick hair and swirly cowlick are starting to intimidate me to the point that I might need to seek a professional for the first time.  A pair of scissors, a DVD, and my amateur cutting skills (not much advanced beyond a bowl cut), might not be sufficient anymore. Then there's Clara, whose vision will soon be obscured by her bangs, and thus delay her motor developement and exploration of her environment and doom her forever. The pressure!  How do you cut an infant's hair? I was convinced not to cut Elsa's hair till she was one - something I regret every time I see her baby pictures and shudder at the 7-month-old mullet that reached her mid- back.

Well, the three of us ladies have been holding down the fort here in Wiesbaden while Erik is back in the US this week.  This is the longest I've gone solo since becoming a parent, and I'm pretty ready to have Erik back to handle some of the endless whys. (Why were you born in Minnesota? Why is this house old? Why is Grandpa your Daddy? Why is the light green? Why is it raining? Why are you putting me to bed at 5pm? Okay kidding, that last one didn't really  happen. But I was tempted. Bed time has been getting progressively earlier as the week wears on). 

Why are we both wearing polka dots? Why is it a coincidence but it's cute so you're taking a picture? Why don't I smile normally for the camera anymore?



So what have we been doing to keep ourselves occupied and sane this week? Exploring our neighborhood, taking lots of walks, painting pictures, "hiking" in the woods near our house, starting new play groups (one with the Lutherans, one with the Catholics.  We are a Reformation-neutral household), going out to dinner at the Afghani-Waffle restaurant (which was an awesome, albeit random combination.  If Afghan-Belgian fusion is common, it's the first time I've ever seen it.), playing putzfrau (sadly, our putzfrau from Wolfenbüttel thought I was joking when I asked her to live with us forever), grocery shopping, and checking out new playgrounds.  Playgrounds are like pick-up joints for stay-at-home-moms like me ("Hey, she looks nice! Maybe she wants to be my friend! Elsa go say hi to her kid!").  Of course, there has been plenty of time just hanging out and playing, especially on this rainy Thursday.

 Erik, watch out. Your glasses aren't safe anymore.

We look forward to Erik's return tomorrow morning, and will be busy all morning baking the welcome- home treat.  But, it's good to know we can pull this off. 



We did it! 

Willkommen in Wiesbaden!

Well, now that we've had some sun that has allowed us to get out and take some pictures, I thought I'd briefly introduce you to the city that will be our home for the next 5 1/2 months.  Elsa, Clara and I took Erik on a little tour yesterday to show him where he has "lived" for 2 weeks (but knows very little about).

Tour guide Elsa

I had planned to write a little overview of Wiesbaden that went beyond what I've observed or read in The Rough Guide to Germany (since that and Wikipedia are about all we knew about our new home prior to moving here), but I'm too tired. So, bear with me, here's what I know.  Wiesbaden is the capital of the state of Hessen, which also includes Frankfurt, and is actually connected to Frankfurt by commuter train (which allows for easy and convenient transport from the airport, potential visitors!).  It was settled by Romans back in . . . those Roman times . . . sorry, my historian is currently en route to the U.S. Oh, thank you Wikipedia- in about the 6th century.  It became somewhat important for some ducal residence stuff, but really became popular in the 19th and early 20th centuries because of its numerous thermal spas (to which I will be going, for an entire afternoon, after Erik returns) and attracted lots of rich European aristocrats.  These thermal springs pop up all over the town, giving it a slightly sulfuric, Yellowstone-y odor. Elsa is pictured standing in front of one of those springs with its yellowish sulfur deposits.   

So yes, Wiesbaden is a spa town, which makes it feel kind of fancy and grandiose.  It is also located along the Rhine, which means that it is in the heart of German wine country (the Rheingau region, if you are a fan of German wines) and surrounded by hills on three sides, which my Cambridge and Wolfenbüttel (and just plain out of shape) running legs feel no matter which direction I run from my house.  It is also home to a US Army base, which we discovered a few days before moving here. This means that there are around 14,000 Americans in this city of 275,000 people, and traces of this can be seen here and there (a lot more English signs, an American sports bar, etc).

Erik's institute is actually across the Rhine in Mainz, where we originally thought we would live but couldn't find an apartment. However, despite a rocky beginning, I think we're going to like it here.

Kurpark, which feels like a mini Central Park. A lot of duck feeding potential

Kurhaus- I'm still not totally sure what this building is for but it's on all the postcards. A casino maybe?

What we get these days when we say, "Elsa, smile!"



4 Months!

Four months already.  We suddenly have a little person with a personality on our hands.

I will probably perseverate on this forever, but I still can't believe how much has happened in her four months in this world.  She is now lives at her 4th address (where she will stay put for the longest stretch yet), but doesn't seem to mind the changes as long as she has her sister to make her laugh, a steady supply of food, and a place to sleep.  Sleep.  Ahem.  That's a hint, Clara.  I have become all too familiar with the term "4 month sleep regression," that we seem to have hit ahead of schedule.  What can I say? She is advanced.

As we enter her 5th month, I am reluctant to admit that I need start finding "big baby" things like a high chair.  It seems too soon, but she's going to be ready for some big steps before I know it. Definitely before I'm ready. 

NO, NO.  This is not a step that I was talking about.  She's not allowed to have caffeine until she's pulling all-nighters in college. But no wait, she's going to be like her dad, and never pull all-nighters in college because she's been keeping up with her work all along, rather than procrastinating those English papers . . . but wait.  If I can't handle the thought of her transitioning to one spoonful of rice mush every day, why am I talking about college? Happy 4 months, Mäuschen.

Grandpa and Grandma

It has come up a few times in the lifetime of this blog that we have great families. It's true. Germany in January is hardly a dream vacation spot for Minnesotans (or anyone really), but that didn't stop the Swanbergs. They were contemplating a trip here later in the month, but when it came up that Erik was going to be in Chicago shortly after our move here, suddenly a flight was booked with arrival on January 1.  Yes, I know that their desire to help me through yet another transition was part of it, but I think they maybe really wanted to see a couple of little girls . . . .

Well, as I mentioned, I don't know what I would have done without them here during those stormy first days in Wiesbaden.  They endured my sleep deprivation, my vegetarian cooking, nearly constant rain (including a storm that was referred to as a "hurricane" by the newspapers.), multiple daily walks up the hill to our house, and my newfound addiction to Bananagrams. 

If the many hours we spent hanging out at home bothered them, they didn't mention it.  As they said, "We're not going to see Europe. We're going to visit you, and you just happen to live in Europe."  So this is kind of what we did. 

Hmm. Guess who has started picking out her own clothes?

And a good time was had by all. (That one's for you, Dad.)

Reasons to smile

I have found them again. 

I'm not sure what happened back there last week . . . sorry about that.  It was one of the funkiest funks I have ever been in.  But here is why things are looking up, at least today:

I got to spend a week with my parents.  Erik is home. It didn't rain today.  I found a natural foods store that sells dried black beans and more tofu varieties than I have ever seen.  I got an hour of 2 napping kids which allowed me to do yoga.  My brother and sister-in-law sent us a package full of cookies.  I got a letter from a friend. I opened my journal and started writing in it again.  It didn't rain today.  Elsa started the day declaring, "I'm going to be a good girl today", and she was.  I got some sleep last night.  We fed ducks.  I like our new pediatrician and his English is perfect and he gave Elsa some gummi bears.  Clara got shots and was a trooper.  It didn't rain today.  I passed a Colombian vegetarian cafe. I think I am going to like Wiesbaden.  Both kids were asleep before 8 and I could talk to Erik. It didn't rain today.  Elsa found new jobs for wine cork Mary and Joseph and a place to perch clay blob Baby Jesus:

And of course, there are these two, who remind me of all there is to be happy about.

Growing pains

Ugh. Please pardon the extremely whiny tone. I'll suck it up soon.

I have been a boring and absent blogger for what feels like an eternity, but in reality has only been a week.  We have spent the past 7 days figuring out life here in Wiesbaden, which has been much more of a struggle than I had anticipated.  We are not in Wolfenbüttel anymore, Toto.  This will be a good thing in time, but I feel like we have made almost as big of a change within Germany as a person can make. Yeah, yeah, I'm sure moving from a village on the Baltic coast to fancy, glitzy, Munich would be more dramatic, but still.  I feel like I've been pushed from the warm, easy, familiar nest of WF to big, cold, rainy, anonymous Wiesbaden  There are advantages to its bigger size of course (like Indian and Thai food),  but I'm feeling a little overwhelmed and a little bit like a small fish in a big pond. 

It rains all the time.  Clara's sleep has been crap.  Erik is in Chicago.  I finally got my jeans back on for the first time the other day (yea!), then they ripped (boo!).  Our internet wasn't working.  I don't know a soul in Wiesbaden outside of my family. NO ONE.  I never realized what it felt like not to have a single point of contact in the place you live, but wow. It is intimidating.  The closest person I can consider a contact here is the woman who works in the registration office of the Lutheran family organization (wow, that sounds straight out of Lake Wobegon), who helped me navigate the playgroup options for Elsa.  I'm not sure she wants to hang out and be my friend, but at least she was nice.

I think I'm a little burned out from adjusting.

Sigh.  I sound pathetic.  It really is starting to get better, not in the least due to the fact that my parents are here to help with the transition yet again.  Their presence is what got me down from the ledge as I watched Erik walk down the street to the bus that would take him to the train that would take him to the airplane that would take him to Chicago which is very far from Wiesbaden which is where I am.   I like our funny old house, we have a washing machine in our bathroom, a forest with running paths 10 minutes' run from here, and four pizza places within walking distance.  (WF had one, and it wasn't very good).  Today, the sun came out long enough to create a huge rainbow right outside our window.  That has to mean something, right?

So, thanks for reading, friends.  Maybe sometime it will stop raining so I can take some pictures.  I really do think we will like it here, as soon as these growing pains subside. 

Back again soon, I hope!

Hi friends...
Just thought I'd say hi. We're having some technical difficulties with our internet connection (aka MY LIFELINE) that I think have left me with some bald patches where I've pulled out my hair.  I think (hope, pray, etc) that we are on the right track and I'll be back soon. 
Liebe Grüße aus Wiesbaden! (Which, by the way, is looking like a cool place to be.)