Shaking it off: Clark W. Griswold is Back!

Anyone who's been in contact with me lately knows in no uncertain terms that I have been sick *moan, whine, pout*  The thing is, I'm usually the one gloating over the rest of my sick family as they suffer, taking deep satisfaction in the knowledge that I have a superior immune system.  But immune systems don't pay much attention to migraines or food poisoning...both of which I had the pleasure of experiencing last week.  I haven't cast up my accounts with such frequency in nearly a decade.  So, what I'm trying to get around to is that between the mound of laundry I found waiting for me and Bailey's most recent decision to monopolize my person every waking moment of the day (or night), my Christmas spirit has taken something of a hit.  (Let's not even get started with the conflicting emotions I have over getting food poisoning from something at a Christmas market...the humanity!!)

So, after four days trying to regain my health, abstaining from sugar, caffeine, and alcohol and shirking chores around the house to give The Bear the attention she is so desperately craving, I cried: Enough!!  Even though the cold weather sends Bailey into screaming fits as soon as she steps out the door, we were off.  I was done trying to scrape together Christmas cheer with what was around our house when VIENNA was just one screaming toddler away.  So, I bundled Bailey up like Ralphie's little brother and we headed downtown to see Christmas.

Photo credit

I haven't done a very good job of explaining yet, but Christmas in Vienna isn't just about the nineteen Christmas markets. (Although the smell of punsch wafting through the city does add a festive feeling to the season.) For starters, it's cold. Everyone and their old bitty aunt is wearing fur--I never fully realized that this was socially acceptable, much less a status symbol until now.  As a kid, watching the oh-so-fabulous movie American Dreamer, I used to laugh at the character Rebecca Ryan until I realized THESE PEOPLE ALL LOOK LIKE THAT!!! (minus the gun...as far as I know)  So.  Fur.  Very much part of a Viennese Christmas.  Just try not to laugh--they could be armed.  

photo credit

Also, lights.  Lights everywhere; dripping chandeliers down Graben, curtains of twinkle lights above Kohlmarkt, Hooped lanterns at Am Hof...and even though they're more than lights, the enormous red balls down Rotenturmstrasse just make my heart go pitter-patter.

Bailey's favorite tree

And as if the lights and the fur, the punsch and the pony rides weren't enough to get you in the festive spirit, now the trees are FINALLY here.  I've been dying a little inside, not having our own Christmas tree yet.  Like everything else, the Viennese are very particular about their Christmas trees.  They take great pride that two-thirds of the population purchase fresh trees from over a hundred stands throughout the city.  All of these stands are supposed to carry trees exclusively from Lower Austria; there have been articles in the paper for weeks, warning people to look for tags and signs indicating a quality tree...God forbid something from Switzerland should slip into a good Viennese home.

Just know that while you all have been pulling your pre-lit trees out of the closet or taking fun road trips to a tree farm in The States, I've been sitting around looking at your happy Christmas pictures, grumbling under my breath like the Grinch.  And I'll still be grumbling until the tree stand in our neighborhood opens.  I send John daily emails with updates about where the closest open tree lots are and which co-worker he should unwittingly trap into helping him carry a tree all the way to our apartment.  (While I wait comfortably on my sofa with a kid who is not screaming from the cold.)

I hear irrationality is a side effect of sugar withdrawals.  

Randy Parker and her BFF

Where were we, now?  Oh, right.  Downtown Vienna--where there are now BLOCKS full of Christmas trees for sale.  These are not the short skimpy trees I've been seeing around neighborhoods--these are the trees that make you drool and wonder if you should advise your husband to instead enlist three unwitting coworkers to bring the suckers home. Right. Now.  As I was wandering along, eyes ogling the rows of lush green branches...and, let's be honest, trying to avoid drooling on my coat, I realized: I'm back!!  This is exactly how Clark W. Griswold would feel walking down Graben! I don't care if these things wouldn't fit in our living room (this is saying something) I want to wrestle one home and spend the next three days removing tree sap from my person.  I would've clicked my heels and high-fived a fur-coated bitty if I weren't worried I'd find myself at gunpoint.  Instead, Bailey and I stopped to give her favorite bear some loving and then popped into the Demel for some Cocoa.  If that doesn't sound like Christmas Cheer, I don't know what does.  Mostly, I'm just happy to be (yet again...) shaking off the Grinchy attitude.  Bring on the Christmas Cheer!  And the Christmas tree, for that matter.

...I'm still waiting on my couch.        

Keeping it Jolly: Celebrating St. Nick

Wow.  You guys, this was our second year celebrating Saint Nicholas Day and I'm blown away.  Let's start with the small stuff--the rituals, the things that are starting to form tradition.  For starters, the girls and I spent the afternoon before Saint Nicholas Day packing bags for our neighbors full of fruit, nuts and chocolates.  We didn't need to include a note explaining what St. Nicholas Day is all about because everyone here already celebrates it. So instead, we added a simple greeting on the outside of the bags, wishing them a happy day.  I made some belly-filling chicken pot pie for dinner and the girls got all dudded up in their jammies before we donned boots and jackets (the stairways here are freezing) and headed out to deliver our gifts.

The trick with this was trying to keep Bailey quiet; the staircases in most buildings are the stuff of dreams for a kid who likes to test acoustics and, unfortunately, there are a few concepts that my rambunctious bear refuses to accept.  I'm just glad that "stop peeing on the floor." came before "whisper, please!".  Since stealth wasn't exactly on our side, we went with speed.  Those bags were delivered to their doorstops lickety-split and we were back home for hot chocolate before we knew it.  We settled in with our cocoa and read our Saint Nicholas story (which is NOT historically accurate, but it hits the high points we're trying to get across.  Audrey will probably be really mad with me about this in a few years.)

I was actually thrilled when we thought we were wrapping the night up, but Audrey just kept the questions coming.  She is not ok with her current grasp on this whole Santa issue.  At her preschool, they're working the concept of magic Saint Nicholas--even more so the idea that you have to be good to get presents (we've never brought this up). At home we're just telling her the dude was real once, but people dress up like him to celebrate now.  Even so, she refused to go to sleep until she knew in no uncertain terms that: a) no one was coming into the house while she was sleeping. b) there are no chimneys in the apartment. c) no one would be dropping off gifts at the door. and d) that the presents she would find in her stocking were already, in fact, in the house.  I basically dropped all pretense with the kid and told her that after she went to bed I was going to go put presents in her stocking for her to find in the morning--and moreover that Santa is not real.  She seemed to finally accept that explanation--and, thus, I have officially let my four-year-old know that the Jolly guy is a myth. I'm more concerned with her sleeping at night than her future therapy bills at the moment, I suppose. 

As always, it was such giddy fun to watch the girls open their stockings in the morning.  We've gone grotesquely all-out with their Christmas gifts, so we kept things low-key with stockings this year.  They always get new jammies as well as the same gifts of fruit, etc. that we give to others.  Audrey, in particular, was excited that she got a candy cane and a rainbow lolly pop (while Bailey joyously smashed hers together until they were pulverized).  We got the girls a new movie each and threw in some headbands and fancy pink slippers to boot.  Nothing spectacular, just a sweet and happy Saint Nicholas morning.  After the girls modeled their new duds, we went on with our normal routine--there was still preschool and work and play dates to be had.

Nevertheless, our day was still filled with the joy of giving to others.  The girls had a few small things they did today that were new to our tradition.  There were some things that we just do every day to emphasize the joy of giving.  Either way, I think Saint Nicholas Day is becoming a favorite of mine. Especially since this was the first year I took on some projects of my own. For a lot of reasons I don't want to go into much detail, but I do want to state for the record that God can make a lot of really awesome things happen with seemingly little effort.  I struggled with ideas for my projects basically for the last six months and God met me here this month--and He showed me how good it is to give...especially when it's not for our own glory.  He is good.  So, I hope every day I will wake up, overflowing with His grace and love, ready to roll on that tide to make each day a Saint Nicholas Day.

Time Travel and Turkeys

Remember how I was so firmly resolved not to gloss over anything significant for my girls?  Well, feel free to label me a hypocrite for the five hundred and seventy-sixth time (I’m guesstimating)   Because our Thanksgiving was wonderful and aside from my whacked-out passionate plea to help me help people, there have mostly been crickets around these here parts.  So, let's do a bit of time travel, shall we?  Everyone call up Doc Brown and remember to buckle yourselves up tight in the Delorean when he gets there to pick you up.  

For starters, we had our thanksgiving a few days late. On the actual day you Yanks were stuffing your bellies and moaning over distended bellies, I had been alone with the girls for the fourth consecutive day (I know—we’re whiner babies) and ordered delivery pizza with some friends…which ended up being an hour late…while the children dissolved into hypoglycemic puddles because there was no room in my fridge full of defrosting turkey for things like “real food”.  It was lovely.  One for the scrapbook.  Luckily, John rode in on his white stallion the next day and we eventually held a Thanksgiving feast that would make any American proud. (There was a recording of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade playing in the background for Pete’s sake)  

As a part of the Schweighardt clan, we have become used to the festive insanity that thrity-something bodies in one place can create during the holidays and while our gathering was a bit smaller (my oven, God bless it, could never have survived the load of a Schweighardt thanksgiving) was every bit as lovely and joy-inducing as any other family holiday we’ve had.  And that says something—my people celebrate Pie Day, after all. 

On Saturday, while most of you were decorating your trees or recovering from Black Friday shopping, we had several people from John’s work over and some good friends of ours who we *shockingly* actually didn't meet through the UN were also able to join us.  In the end, my countertops were groaning from the load of delicious food and the walls were bouncing with happy conversation and raucous laughter.  The girls were spoiled beyond belief and our friend, Dave, was actually able to perform the miraculous feat of getting Audrey to voluntarily leave the sofa to play with him. Meanwhile, Bailey ran amok with her Best buddy, “Tiana” (also known by her parents as Ilana) and fell in love with anyone who tried to tickle her or hang her upside down by the ankles.   There was wine and cookies and pie...Dave and Tia donned matching aprons and did the dishes.  (I didn't want to let them leave...ever.) As the night waned, Audrey came out of her shell and asked to sit with Marcy while Bailey propped herself on the lap of Marcy’s husband, Nathan, to give him the full experience of watching football with a two-year-old ("Who's the bad guys??")  It was a top night with great people.  

 

See why I pulled out the flux capacitor to make sure that didn't get lost in the Christmas madness? I guess I did save a little respect for the Turkey after all...

p.s. photo credit for the first two pictures goes to the Ashers--also known as Tiana's parents.  They both know how to work some magic behind a camera.  

Asking for Help

If I've learned nothing else from my efforts to live simply and love others deeply, it's when I find myself in need, I often already have the resources to fill that need...It's just not conventionally sitting right in front of my nose.  Most often I see this in the contents of my kitchen--I don't actually need to go to the store for those ten things when the fifty sitting on my shelf will do quite nicely for the day.  Or even something so simple as wanting a nativity set for the girls: Don't have one?  Can't find one?  So, we made one using their dolls (and maybe three hedgehogs wearing tiaras sitting on boxes of 'pixie dust' to represent the three wise men...why we own three hedgehogs, I'll never know) But the point is, I usually find a great sense of satisfaction when I identify a need/want and realize I've already got it.  It brings such a resonating peace that I am being provided for--without even realizing it.  Provision comes in so many creative forms.  And all this has led to an overflowing of praise--a desire to help act as the hands of God to provide for others.

Now, let me be clear:  I am no philanthropist.  We don't have buckets of money to throw at people.  No one's Christmas dreams are coming through on my meager penny.  But, this month, specifically, we're trying much harder to give.  Giving is a very complicated, multi-faceted thing.  I give euros to the homeless.  I'm sure this doesn't do much more than help me feel better about myself for a few fleeting minutes.  So, until I become more comfortable starting a conversation with these people, creating relationships with them, asking them what their needs are and trying to help fill them, these are the projects I've got going.

Saint Nicholas Day is coming.  I hadn't planned to post anything about what I'm doing for it this year, other than encouraging the girls to give, but I'm overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with how relatively little I have to share.  Turns out, I'm not actually Santa.  There are individuals and families that I feel a deep-seated NEED to help...but I find myself at a loss.  This doesn't happen often; I'm the kind of gal who looks at the square peg and the round hole and says: "We can make this work."

And after praying and at least thinking about fasting...and praying some more, I've come up with: you.  There are lots of you.  Yes: YOU. People can so easily become shrouded in the anonymity the internet provides.  It is so easy to receive the information that something is needed and even easier to push back from the desk or lay down your phone and think: "That's not me."  So, let's get this out of the way:  if you're reading this...if you hold enough affection for me to check this odd little space with any regularity, if you stumbled here on a a random google search for Lou Ferrigno (this is shockingly often), or if you pop in out of boredom to help pass the work week...I'M TALKING TO YOU. 

I need your help.

A few months back I sent a general inquiry on a small group page, asking if anyone needed help or knew anyone needing help this Christmas.  Well, this started out as a few people who were struggling to make ends meet and could use a bit of a lift...and has snowballed into an affliction:  I cannot read anything or browse any media source without becoming overwhelmed by the NEED I see everywhere.  And the realization that I don't have the resources to help in the way I want is shocking.  Because I'm used to figuring out how to fit the round peg in the square hole.  I should be able to do this too.

And I’ve decided I’m not going to concede defeat and apathetically accept that some people just have crap lives.  I can do this. (read: HE can)  even if it only starts out in a small way...and YOU are going to help me.  If a general blog post doesn't work, I'm likely going to start sending out personal emails, so if you'd like to stay off the mailing list, here's the small slice:

The biggest project I've undertaken this year is for a large family in need.  It's the usual story around Christmas; kids need clothes, mom needs supplies for their home and if there were any way to get them a *want* instead of a need, they'd likely expire from shock.  I know this is not unique, but this family is weighing on my heart and I’ve (somewhat secretly) committed to helping them.

Something that has come up recently and is entirely unconnected with Christmas is a family I do know well--a family that has all their basic needs met and can feed the kids just fine.  Brittany and Josh have four amazing, vibrant, frighteningly brilliant kids.  And they want more.  They know they have been gifted with the ability to provide a loving, nurturing home and they have felt moved to lift the weight of the tragedy that befalls so many institutionalized orphans...even if it means bringing them home one at a time.  If you're unmoved by that, go read this and then come back.

But now they need help too.  Adoption is no easy process and the amount it takes to bring one of these babies into a loving home is staggering.  YOU can help.

You can go to their smarty pig account here and make a donation.  If it's only five dollars, donate it and know every penny is given to people who ask humbly and feel great depths of gratitude.  Josh and Brittany are also raffling off an iPad mini in the hopes of raising some money for a goal that needs to be met soon.  They're selling tickets for ten dollars or three for twenty-five.  Shoot them a payment on paypal at:  BrittanyHansen00@gmail.com to enter the raffle or just email Brittany (or me) and ask how you can help...she's also one of the elves helping me provide for the family I mentioned before.

Despite how distant the internet can make us feel--being able to pick up and put down other people's troubles at our leisure...these people need help.  It's not really so much, but it's more than I can do alone.  All I ask is that reading this would create some kind of action--whether you donate to one of these families or make the decision to help someone in your immediate sphere of influence. This post is a prayer that we could be witnesses to each other--to prove that in a world focused on serving ourselves first, there is a portion striving to deviate from that horrible norm.

Now go--do good.  And love each other.

Christmas is on Like Donkey Kong

Concerning most things in our little family, I am usually the staunch voice of reason.  No, we cannot travel to Bern, Switzerland to adopt a Bernese Mountain Dog.  No, we are not eating peanut butter and jelly for breakfast, lunch and dinner…and almost always I am the one poo-pooing Christmas excess.  Every year, like Charlie Brown, I spout off about the true joy in giving, keeping Christ in Christmas and the ever-present need to keep striving to live simply.  This year, though, feel free to tell me I’m full of crap, because I’m not holding back on our first Viennese Christmas.  Which means my Clark W. Griswold-esque husband has also been given free reign.  You should feel fortunate you’re likely separated from us by an ocean at this point because our Christmas is going to be magically nauseating to the casual observer.  And how can we help it?!?  We live in Vienna.  When the gorgeous days of Summer are gone and the last of the Autumn Sturm has been drunk, there’s nothing left to do but Celebrate Christmas for the next two months.  

Now, you know in the states how everybody has an opinion about the proper time to decorate the tree and start listening to Christmas music?  (Or how my husband regulates my egg nog consumption...) It usually has something to do with respecting the Turkey—saving some celebration for our nation’s tradition of giving thanks for the harvest…or for a day off from work and the opportunity to watch football.  Either way, most people are quick to point out to anyone exhibiting early Christmas cheer that Thanksgiving comes first.  

But not here.  Obviously.  The Austrians could care less about our ‘interesting’ relationship with the Natives and how happy those pilgrims were to have a chance of survival in a foreign land.  Forget the turkey.  Christmas here starts in November and no one is going to give you a hard time about it. 

The city that I have come to know and love is starting to change.  Most outdoor cafes have finally called it quits.  Green garlands, twinkle lights, Saint Nicholas and the devilish Krampus have all been out in full force since the end of October.  And now, those delightful wooden booths are starting to crowd together all over the city in preparation for what Vienna does best:  Christmas.  There are nineteen Christmas markets in the city that are all opening within the last two weeks of November and I’m determined to visit them all.  Luckily, I also have a good friend here of the same mindset, who is crazy enough to accompany me.  Sometimes being a stay-at-home mom has perks…like getting to drink Glühwein while perusing the stalls of Viennese Christmas Markets.  

I’ve been to three markets so far this weekend and I’m absolutely charmed.  By far the largest and most well-known market is at the Rathaus (city hall) and we joined the masses Saturday night to celebrate the opening ceremony.  Our group was made up of three families with six kids all-together and it was an absolute madhouse.   I am glad we got to see the impressive display of lights (each enormous tree in the park had it’s own themed lights; hot air balloons, hearts, traditional lights as big as my head) not to mention the plumed ponies and the 120 year-old spruce Christmas tree that was finally lit after an hour-long ceremony.  Obviously, this was a big affair…and a fair bit of Vienna turned out for it.  In an effort to escape the smothering crowds, our group wound up in a back alley (behind the booths) eating wurst, drinking punsch and letting the kids run circles before we found a patch of grass to let them loose in.  Despite the crush, it was honestly an absolutely lovely evening.  All those people we jostled against on our way to find punsch were there to see something that was just legitimately good and to join in the festive spirit of Christmas.  For our part, we got our fill of holiday cheer and a chance to spend time with good people and kids the girls love—Christmas Market season started out as well as one could hope.

And this is just the start of the magic, folks.  Not only are there a ridiculous number of markets left to visit, but I have plans to turn our home into a disgusting display of Holiday cheer.  Sneaky schemes for Saint Nicholas Day are coming together and we’ve already gotten the girls a disturbing number of presents (to my taste—for all I know this could be how normal parents do Christmas)…and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.  

So, I'm sorry, my fellow Americans.  I'm not just disrespecting the turkey this year, I'm throwing him under the ever-loving bus. If you were here, you'd do it too...it's worth it for the punsch.  

Jolly Old...Saint...Martin?

We've become accustomed to quite a few cultural differences since moving abroad, but now that we are coming into the holiday season, I'm beginning to realize that we Americans have got nothing on the way things are celebrated over here.  In the States, I've become used to the sudden and brief hubbub that is Halloween, then come lots of people grumbling about respecting the Turkey and once our Thanksgiving feasts are over, as a whole, we seem to leap wholeheartedly into Christmas or *insert appropriate December holiday here* in a fit of consumerism and holiday parties.

Now that we are in Europe, and more importantly, are close to people from a wealth of different cultures, there seems to be a new holiday we're nearly missing every day.  I attribute much of this to Austria's primarily Catholic population and the simple fact that the history here is older and richer than our comparably young nation.

Take for instance today; the 11th of November is Martinstag, or the feast day of  St. Martin--a Christian, when such a thing went against the grain of common society, and a Roman soldier stationed in Gaul, this saint is most notorious for one legend in which he came upon a beggar freezing in the cold and cut his military cloak in two to share with the man, thus saving him from death.  Later St. Martin dreamed the beggar was, in reality, Jesus who said of him: "Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is not baptized; he has clad me."  Saint Martin's Day is typically celebrated with a feast, as it is meant to mark the beginning of the original 40 days of fasting for the advent period (which was later shortened to begin the fourth Sunday before Christmas). Dizzying isn't it?  Many festivities begin at the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour--complete with bonfires, a lantern procession and the singing of songs for St. Martin.

Queen of the lanterns...or something like it

Now, we haven't seen masses parading down the street with paper lanterns here, but there has been a lot of subtle celebration going on.  All week we've seen school kids around the city carrying their lanterns and a few of the shops on our street have been leaving lanterns outside their doors.  At Audrey's school they hosted a lantern celebration--a full-on show by the kids, touting their own lanterns...with real candles.  Just for the record, handing flaming lanterns to sixty kids is fairly brave in my book.  Luckily, everyone made it through with their eyebrows intact and poor Audrey survived what was, I'm sure, a future therapy session in the making.  Afterwards, all the kids met together in the garden and shared bread and oranges to commemorate St. Martin sharing his cloak.  That part at least could be categorized as fun.  Audrey shared her food with her friend, Coen, an absolutely charming little boy from Australia, and they even held hands all the way home on the train.  While we won't be making any bonfires or feasting on anything but leftovers tonight, we still had fun celebrating in our little way.    I'll keep you posted on the next holiday to pop up and bite me.  The advent season is chock-a-block full of them.  

Hallo-What, Now?

John and I have never really done a stand-up job of celebrating Halloween with the girls.  If anything, the holiday tends to pop up and smack us in the face.  We are usually ill-prepared and really only go through the motions so the girls will have some thread of a memory to recall when they're grown.  So, imagine how hard it is for us to get in the festive spirit when Austrians really don't even celebrate Halloween.  I spent four hours out of the house on the 31st. The only people I saw in costume were kids and teachers at Audrey's English preschool and the only jack-o-lanterns I spied were on signs at the grocery store announcing a one-day sale.  Boo! Austria!

In their defense, the pumpkin is indigenous to North America...the original Halloween festivities celebrated in Great Britain used carved turnips as lanterns...so I can understand not wanting to hop on that bandwagon.  Add in a healthy dose of disdain for American consumerism and I'm starting to nod my head--yes.  Of course these people don't celebrate Halloween.  But, that doesn't mean our family bowed out of the festivities.

First things first; Audrey's preschool was hosting a costume party...or as the Brits say a 'fancy dress' party.  Luckily, Audrey was both in costume and a fancy dress.  After much deliberation between Tinkerbell and Sleeping Beauty, the Princess won out.  Both Bailey and John were sick on Halloween (not that it stopped The Bear from running about the apartment in her Rapunzel dress for the bulk of the day) so I had the honor of dropping off Audrey at preschool.  As soon as we walked into her classroom, she was mobbed--MOBBED by little girls dressed as witches.  There had to be at least six of them and they all wanted to hold Audrey's hand.  She looked mortified, poor girl.  I knew she was making friends, but I had no idea she was inadvertently becoming popular.  This must be painful for her.  Apparently there was a big party and then lots of dancing in the gym.  Audrey said she danced with a boy named Kimo (don't tell John) and the teachers said she actually had a lot of fun and even smiled for some pictures.  So, being popular can't be all bad.

Our day was fairly tame after I picked Audrey up from school.  She was excited to be home where she could take care of the resident sickies and we eventually got around to carving some small 'pumpkins'. (they're really just squash, but they turned out lovely)  Luckily, John was on the ball with making sure the girls had some halloween candy (he is chief head in charge of purchasing sweets) and we all indulged a bit after dinner.  I think the only way we could've had a more tame Halloween would've been if we were all wearing sweater vests and discussing the weather.

I have to say one of the rare moments when I absolutely love the internets, though, was the next morning when I got to scroll through pictures of all the kids I wish were ringing my doorbell in their fantastic costumes.  I'm sure their mothers put more than 20 minutes into 'em at least. Happy (late/lame) Halloween! Eat some of your kids' candy for me, eh?