Simply Thankful...and not much else

Most nights putting the girls to sleep follows a very consistent pattern; socks (yes, we’re OCD around here) story, prayer, song, hugs, kisses and sleep.  Most nights even our prayers follow much the same pattern; Thank you, help others, help us…and by the way, thanks again.  But tonight was different.  I just couldn’t move past the “thank you’s”…there was so much to be thankful for.  And for today that was enough.  No soul searching, no prayers to be changed and stretched and shown new ways to love…just thanks.  We are living an amazing life right now--not without it’s questions or trials or frustrations--but it is so beautiful, I simply couldn’t bring myself to move past being thankful.

 

Today would’ve been a typical day in our book…aside from the fact that we’re getting used to our Emma and Grandma being gone again.  The girls woke up late, while John and I were already eating breakfast…and they shuffled out into the dining room, each with their signature blanket and lovie in hand, ready for the best hugs of the day—the ones where I realize how much I miss the smell of their heads while they’re sleeping.  Those first smiles of the day are the best…especially when Bailey is actually smiling, because she could just as easily dissolve in a heap on the floor and whine for the next three hours.  But it was a smiley morning. The best.

Somehow getting everyone bathed and dressed and hair-dried took so long that we had waltzed right past any hope I had of getting real school work done.  Mentally throwing my hands up, I decided to rush through a shower so we would have enough time, instead, to stop and enjoy second breakfast in the grass next to the bakery.  There I sipped my coffee while the girls ate crumbly muffins and kept a weather eye out for the raven across the way.  Once I was down to just foam in my latte, we were off to music class where there were friends we haven’t seen in weeks…Bailey was in danger of bursting out of her skin with joy (read: trouble) while Audrey made brave steps in her internal battle to be comfortable in a crowd.  She’s working so hard, that kid…just showing up is half the battle.   

After class, we hit up the market where the girls helped me decide what was for dinner.  Audrey decided we needed to take home the biggest zucchini and that we better buy some more broccoli because it’s her favorite.  Bailey talked me into slipping two smoothies into our basket and without further ado, we walked through town to Stadtpark, practicing the art of staying safe on the sidewalk without mom’s hands all the way.  

Finally at the park, we picked out the perfect bench where we sat and ate and talked about everything from the scenery to a bulleted list of reasons why a person could lose a leg (note: not all of them by means of a light saber).  We practiced our math, our storytelling and dance skills—we talked about why ducks can swim while pigeons only get to take bird baths and even had a nature lesson thanks to an industrious spider who had caught a bevy of little flies in it’s web.  

On our way to the playground, we announced the color of every flower in our path.  Then there was blessed swinging and sliding, climbing and playing house, digging in the sand, getting hit in the head and even witnessing a kid puke from riding too long on the merry-go-round.  

We wasted an entire day away in the sunshine with each other before we meandered back home where tickle fights and make-believe awaited.  Add in an evening spent with the one-and-only Papa--the best Mad Hatter-er in the world--and it's no wonder I couldn't find the time to move past being thankful. Some days it's so overwhelming, there just isn't room for anything else. 
 

Emma and Grandma's Surprise Visit

Mid-March my mom called me on Skype...actually, first, she messaged John and told him she needed to talk to me...John then relayed the message in a way that sounded urgent and I spent the next ten minutes trying to get over the adrenaline rush and near-heart attack that encompass a family member expressing the need to speak to me urgently.  Most of the time, my mom just wants to let me know that she's thinking about learning how to do something like tanning leather or that she is sure she could make a fish whistle out of clay...so URGENT seems positively frightening in my book. It turns out, all heart-palpitating aside, it was good news. Really good news. My mom and sister, who check airline prices to Vienna as a hobby, had discovered a (relatively) inexpensive direct flight into Vienna from Maryland...and they wanted to know if we would be free for them to come visit.  *cue angel's chorus and another, albeit more joyous, adrenaline rush*

I was ecstatic...if not still trying to make sure no one had been in a horrible car accident.  We had four weeks to wait until Mom and Emily arrived and the time flew by.  The weather all month was horrible, but their eminent arrival was my silver lining.  God knew what he was doing when He sent my mom and sister to me--looking forward to their visit buoyed me through what were the most difficult weeks of this past year for me.

Turning into hypoglycemic, impatient goo

The morning Mom and Emily got here, I woke the girls super early to make sure we made it to the airport in time to meet them.  Instead of our usual meat and egg breakfast, I let the girls grab a pastry from the bakery for the sake of time management.  So, they were jazzed--pumped up on a sugar high, waiting for Emma and Grandma to walk through the arrivals gate.  Unfortunatley, It took forever for them to progress from "landed" to "hey, we've got our luggage and we're here".  So, the girls had enough time to come down off their blood sugar spike and ended up slinking onto the floor next to a railing, moaning; "Why is it taking so long to get their baaaggggsss?!"

Why, yes, I have done a bit of modeling...why do you ask?

But, praise the Lord, eventually they came through that ever-loving gate and there was much celebration.  We all made it, bags and children in tow, to our apartment and settled in for a tea party, complete with welcome shortbread for the VIP's.  Emma even brought an entire loaf of coconut bread...just because she's Emma and she could.  Although there was no dearth of presents over the days that followed, the first one mom produced then was a set of six headbands she had made for the girls, complete with beautiful bows from her new spring ribbon shipment.  These headbands ended up lingering around the dinner table over the next few weeks; They would most often be produced during tea time or lunch, but soon Audrey started hosting exclusive parties in which only individuals donning a fabulous headband could be admitted. (Luckily, Papa was awarded the chic black-and-white headband, which we deemed most masculine)

And this was just the beginning.

Neither one of us knew what the other was doing-SISTERS!!

It's easy to fall into a comfortable routine with my mom and sister.  Although Emily possesses a more aggressive drive to procure gelato and cake (likely because she only had a week to get her fill), we all pretty much roll right along with the same priorities.  Playgrounds being number one.  Cake and gelato would come in second, with movies (and alternatively nap time) bringing in the rear. Eventually the "what's for dinner" conversation would come up and the girls quickly got used to having someone to snuggle with while their Mama (and a sous chef) were busy chopping and cooking.

At the Musiksverein

We didn't keep things too domestic, though.  I had the privilege of introducing them to my beloved farmer's market, showing them the beautiful Belvedere Palace, there was cocoa at The Demel and we even managed the Grand Tour of the rooms at Schönbrunn Palace with my rowdy lot in tow.  But, best of all, was our very Viennese girl's night out. The three of us had tickets to see the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra perform in the Musiksverein (reportedly one of the best musical venues in the city).

Sacher torte!

We all got gussied up a bit, leaving Audrey and Bailey to spend their own special date night with their Papa and headed downtown to the concert hall.  I will admit to being impressed...which is kind of hard for someone who doesn't place much value in riches and grandeur.  The Musiksverein was absolutely gorgeous and listening to the orchestra there has become one of the most delightful things I've experienced in Vienna so far.  After the concert, we adjourned to Cafe Sacher...which is one of the cafe's on my notorious list that I hadn't yet checked off.  Now it has been given the old check with quite a bit of flare; the three of us ordered sparkling wine, sacher torte, apple strudel and topfen strudel and whiled away an hour or so basking in the loveliness of the evening.  I think that might have been my first and last visit to the Sacher Cafe...I just can't imagine topping off a better oh-so-Viennese night with anyone else, anywhere else. 

Second breakfast--it's what we do best

Life feels good and right and simple with my mom and sister around.  The biggest reason they were here was to spend time with the girls and our activities reflected that.  In fact, their visit really signaled a turning point...both in the seasons and in the way we've been patterning our days ever since.  We were bummed when our Emma had to leave a mere six days after arriving, but we settled into a comfortable routine with Grandma G over the next week--spending our days at the park, mostly.  Enjoying the sunshine and wandering about the city without a care in the world.  Those weeks with my mom and sister were just the best.

love!

Being away from my family (and close friends who might as well be family) has certainly been the most difficult part of living abroad.  But, I cannot express how uplifting and joyous this visit was for all of us.  The concept of love this past year has been stretched and reformed so many times in my mind, I can't count the forms I've seen it take. Aside from the shocking arrival of fifteen pounds of peanut butter in the post, I can say, this was my favorite.

Hitting the Bottom at Winter's End

It’d be a lie if I said this winter has been easy, especially while most accounts around here seem to point towards absolute familial bliss.  But in the interest of remaining transparent, I feel I wouldn’t do this season in our lives justice if I didn’t point out the underlying struggle we (read: I) have faced these past months.  To begin with, I openly suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Most years it’s something we make light of—a temporary funk that is breezed over with humor and a grain of salt, but this is the real reason I hate February—because generally, it’s the hardest month of the year for me to get through.  Living in the Tri-Cities the past four years was a blessing for someone who craves the sunlight—300 sunny days a year made for easy winters—I still got grumpy on those 65 overcast days, but it was kid stuff, really. 

Because we were coming from that sunny extreme, I knew this winter in Vienna would be much more difficult. So, in true optimist fashion, I psyched myself up (and upped my vitamin D intake).  I took my typical, stubborn Willian approach and dared Winter to bring it on.  Since the Viennese celebrate Christmas for three months, the days leading up to Christmas and New Years were a piece of cake.  Snow was charming, lights were twinkling—absolute magic.  Through the rest of those cold months I planned to cling to every birthday and holiday in between like a string of life preservers leading me towards Spring.  I laid the smack down on Feburary, discovering the joys of Carnival and actually celebrating Valentine’s Day.  When the festive spirit died down, I invented reasons to celebrate and mentally whisked my little family away to the tropics. 

Apparently I let my guard down in March, because between John’s birthday and planning a holiday in the mountains I kind of expected the weather to take a turn towards the sunny side.  Instead, we got more snow…on top of frigid whipping winds and more. Snow.  It was easy to see the fluffy white stuff as charming (even on Easter) while we were in quaint St. Gilgen…and then we came home…I had muscled through February and clawed my way out of March...now it was April.  And it was still. Snowing. 

And that was it.  My little SAD breaking point.  I had willed myself into cheery submission for nearly five months.  All it took was that last straw in the form of a very Viennese (although the adjectives I used at the time were much more colorful) waiter when I was trying to seek some solace in a solo coffee break.  It felt like turning the other cheek--every day, all day--for months had culminated in my interaction with this Herr Ober on a power trip...and I lost it.  I am not one to weep or claim hysterics, but as vicious little snowflakes stabbed me in the eyes on the way home from that cafe…I arrived.  At that place where I might as well have been on my knees screaming: “Enough!  Coach, I am DONE!” 

To at least a small part of my brain’s credit, I did realize that this feeling of running on empty was totally ridiculous.  My mind was racing to think of all the people being pelted in the face with snow who didn’t have a warm apartment with cute healthy kids to go home to…people who were at that very moment carrying their worldly possessions on their back, peddling for change to buy some booze to numb themselves through the day for a bit longer.  I thought of orphaned babies, human trafficking victims and Mamas wondering how they would feed their babies.

And it didn’t work.  

I was stuck in a selfish downward spiral where even wailing and unattractively slobbering on my husband didn’t make a dent. The part of my brain that acknowledges and accepts basic logic had been overrun by the crazy part of my brain that could not stop screaming about how the sun would never return and that the sky would continue to rain down demon-eye-poking snow for. EVER. 

I wish I could say that I found some way to snap out of it…that I dug deep and decided to channel my self-pity into acts of service for people who actually have a rough life…or that my logical brain laid the smack down on the mess of crazy that was running rampant…that I found some asinine reason to celebrate a new day…but all I felt was the sensation of falling backwards into the abyss.  (Yes, this is accommodating the crazy factor) and at the bottom—a place I haven’t let myself look at, much less feel, for a very long time—He was there.  He didn’t miraculously fix me.  He didn’t make the crazy erratic thoughts go away.  He was just there.  At the bottom.  With Me.  Emmanuel.  God with us. And suddenly, that meant more to me than all the sobering thoughts of human injustice in this world.

I’m still a little off today, but I’m grounded.  Humbled.  Loved.  And unfathomably blessed…even if the sun ceased to shine, I’d still be all those things.  This little trip to the bottom of my barrel hasn’t sucked any of the joy out of those joyful events that helped buoy me through the darkness.    

St. Gilgen

We decided after our trip to Salzburg, way back in the Fall, that we wouldn’t drag the girls around on any big trips over the winter.  Traveling with kids is difficult to begin with, but when you add in freezing temperatures, things take a turn towards impossible quickly.  Luckily, Vienna has plenty of diversions to offer even the under-five set over the blustering winter and as an added boon, we all like each other quite a lot.

Nevertheless, it was time.  Even if Spring weather wasn’t showing it’s face, a holiday was agreed upon as a necessity.  Mostly, because we (read : John…I am more than happy to stay home under my blankets) were struck with a healthy dose of Wanderlust. And, perhaps the most pressing factor behind an Easter weekend getaway was that the last JPO working with John is about to begin her out-processing.   Meaning, John will soon be more or less shackled to his responsibilities at work with no one to fill in for him until the newest pair of JPO’s make their way to Vienna.  This could be months (and that’s optimism speaking) so, in all certainty, we decided to get out of town. 

Deciding where this fantastic holiday should take place took a bit of brainstorming, but we eventually eschewed any other fantastic European cities in favor of Austria’s lakes in the Salzkammergut.  These country mice needed to get back to their roots, so we booked an apartment in lovely little St. Gilgen on Lake Wolfgang and headed out a few days before Easter.

As always, travel with kids is a bit more hectic and stressful, if not just because there’s more luggage and more herding of little people involved.  Audrey was recovering from a cold and Bailey was starting to catch it herself, but both of the girls were troopers; they are becoming well-seasoned and patient travelers…even when we got them lost on the way to our rental in St. Gilgen and wound up taking the scenic route to our apartment. (along with a chorus of "Mama, when are we going to beee there!?!")

Luckily, the woman meeting us to hand off keys was incredibly sweet and helpful and the apartment, for all sakes, was perfect for our little family of four.  The views up the mountains and down towards the lake were so refreshing and it wasn’t long before we found ourselves out in it all. 

Lake Wolfgang is one of seventy-six in Austria’s Salzkammergut and is situated only 45 minutes (by bus) south of Salzburg.  Along the shores of this lake are several small hamlets as well as the towns of St. Gilgen and St. Wolfgang.  We chose St. Gilgen because it was smaller and less touristy than St. Wolfgang...and perhaps, more importantly, because it had a reputation for having a particularly fun playground near the lake. 

We knew the weather in St. Gilgen would likely be a bit colder and damper than what we had been experiencing in Vienna, and our attitude towards the weather reflected that; sun, snow, rain or wind--we were out in it all.  The girls even took a crack at that cold and muddy playground a few times; those two know no barriers to a chance at swinging. The town of St. Gilgen proved to be absolutely charming; there were enough small shops and buildings of interest to make a walk about town entertaining, but mostly, the walking paths along the lake were what called to us--a chance to romp around freely in the gorgeous scenery.  

We spent plenty of time taking in the town, but also leaped at the chance to take the ferry boat around the lake to St. Wolfgang.  This was likely Bailey's favorite part of the trip--being out on the water, watching the snow fall into the lake while being served apple juice (Mama and Papa got to indulge in some cappuccino en route).  When we got to St. Wolfgang, we realized that it wasn't so much snowing as it was slushing--a joyous discovery for the girls who proceeded to shuffle their boots through the mucky wet stuff for over an hour as we took in this town that, for all it's quaint buildings and churches, seemed to pale in comparison to our lovely St. Gilgen.  Around this time, we discovered that Audrey and Bailey's winter boots weren't nearly as water-proof as we had imagined and that their poor little toes were soaked and freezing from all that slush-sloshing.  So, we booked it to a cozy restaurant on the lake where the girls got to eat schnitzel and drink strawberry juice...there was even time for dessert while we let their shoes and socks finish drying by the radiator.  

Sometimes it's the happy accidents that are the best. 

Our last day in town we encountered yet another one of these accidents--we took off on a hike around the lake with an unspecified end in mind.  It was absolutely gorgeous trekking around the lakeside, peeking at little hamlets along the way.  Before we knew it, though, we realized we were so far from St. Gilgen that our two strong little hikers probably wouldn't be able make it back on their own.  We were considering where we might be able to take a long break or whether we would have to carry them back on the three miles we had already walked when we realized we were coming up on one of the lake's ferry stops.  It was also about that time that the ferry came into view, beat us to the stop and took off minutes before we arrived.  Oh, it could have been disastrous.  But, imagine our relief to find a cozy Gasthaus situated down the lane from that ferry stop.  The time between boats meant we had just enough time to stop for some lunch and rest our feet before hitching a ride back to St. Gilgen.

But that wasn't the only happy surprise; this Gasthaus served the best food we had eaten all weekend.  John had some incredible lamb, my chicken tasted better than any chicken I've eaten before...and the girls had schnitzel for the thrity-sixth time on the trip. (at least this time it was served with a little plastic sea plane to keep them amused as we lingered at the table) We ended up catching the next ferry which took us back to St. Gilgen on a ride that lasted a mere seven minutes...we spent all of them outside on the deck of the boat, wind whipping our hair while the girls screamed and bounced from one railing to the other like a pair of pin balls.  In hindsight, that ferry ride was probably the best money we spent on the trip.  

Once we were back in our little town, we stopped at Cafe Nanerl (named after Mozart's sister, who lived in St. Gilgen briefly) where we ate cake and sipped coffee before heading back to our cozy apartment.  Overall, it was a really enjoyable trip; an excellent change of scenery from our big snowy concrete jungle; a fantastic escape to focus on each other and do nothing but enjoy the days together.