From Carnival to the Carribean in one Week. Take that, February!

We've basically been doing nothing but celebrating this week.  For starters, I'm deeming us all healthy--or as healthy as a collective body of people with runny noses can be.  This alone could be reason to pop open some bubbly, but instead, Carnival popped up and surprised us for the first time this year.  I haven't given much thought to celebrating the last day before lent with excessive amounts of donuts and silly costumes before, but that is how the Austrians roll...at least that's how the under-five-year-old set rolls.  Audrey had a party at school which we were supposed to bring donuts to, so I headed out to the bakery at 6:30am like a good mother to pick up some fresh ones. You could've knocked me over with a feather as I walked through the door at our Felber; there were so many donuts (krapfen) in the case, they were literally flowing out of it.  I might have let out a giddy laugh before ordering our half dozen.  And let it be known, I was not the only one there at the crack of dawn for donuts.  These people know how to party.

From what I hear, Audrey's school party was a romping success, complete with dancing and a buffet of sugary treats  Her teachers said she was really getting into the dancing, and I believe it--she's been busting out some killer moves at our bedroom dance parties.  

Since big sister got to trot off to school in a fancy princess dress, Bailey would not be left out.  She spent the entire day in her Rapunzel gown and was actually in her element amidst the other fairy princesses and bumble bees at her music class.  I didn't want B to be entirely left out of the festivities, so I surprised the girls with some Carnival cakes and noise-makers when we got home for the day.  These mini-sacher tortes were topped with Carnival characters that absolutely cracked me up.  We got one scurvy pirate and what I can only guess is the impression Austrians have of a Mexican sheriff; it was so racist it couldn't possibly be anything but funny.   

The girls and I had a really fun time whiling away the afternoon, eating cakes, tooting party horns and making valentines...because this was just the beginning of the celebrating!

Audrey's school had a little mailbox set up in the entry way so kids could drop off Valentines.  To my understanding, they had been working on making some cards in class and although they don't send out class lists like we do in the States, they encouraged kids to bring Valentines for anyone they wanted to.

Now, I should probably explain that, while this is an actual acknowledged holiday here, it is not, by any means, the same commercial, guilt-ridden holiday that we experience in the US.  Think: less mandatory participation, more fleeting acknowledgement.  So, there are no stores rolling out isles of pre-made children's valentines as soon as the new year turns and there are also no pinterest-addicted mothers with perfect hand-made valentines to contend with.  We spent a few afternoons cutting hearts out of construction paper, sticking random stickers on them and writing messages to Audrey's classmates about her undying love for them.  It was actually pretty cute.

Meanwhile, my bitter old heart has come around to actually enjoying this holiday. I took some time the night before to decorate the dining room and even presented my lovies with a festive breakfast including apples with heart cut-out centers and heart-shaped bacon.  It feels a lot less cheesy and a lot more fun when you're doing it for children instead of a skeeved-out significant other.  So, we sent Audrey off to school with her stack of charmingly authentic Valentines, come to find out she was one of the only kids who made ANY Valentines...and, moreover, that her heart-felt sentiments of love combined with adorable dog and cat stickers had basically won over the entire class.  The kid was fairly BUSTING at the seams to tell me how her friends reacted to their Valentines.  She didn't even notice that she didn't get one from anyone else; she was just so excited to have been the one to bring everyone else joy.

That is what I want to be when I grow up.

This is now "standard picture-taking face" mode

We spent the rest of Valentine's Day hanging out at Papa's work and preparing a fantastic feast for dinner.  I made steak and shrimp (or "surf n' turf" as John repeatedly demanded I phrase it) with actual mashed potatoes. (this is kind of a big deal around here) John brought home a bottle of swanky Italian wine and we made a night of it.  This was one time we were grateful that our girls are generally happy to linger endlessly at the dinner table.  It was a fantastic evening.

I think I can safely say this has been my favorite Valentines Day ever.  It's not much of a stretch since it didn't involve rubbing my fingers raw, tying latex balloons for my parent's flower shop or denying the day's general existence in response to the aforementioned balloon-related emotional scarring. (at least they also let me eat ridiculous amounts of chocolate)

Anyway, come the 15th, I was not ready for February to swallow my festive spirit.  Generally, I hate February; I hate the endless cold, the bleak outlook for Spring, the seeming impossibility that the sun will ever return--so after a day or two of moping, I decided to fight back the only way I knew how: if I couldn't take a tropical vacation, then I'd be damned if I wasn't going to bring the tropics here.

Enter:  Pina Colada's, strawberry daquiri's, island-themed dinners and tropical fruits out the wazoo.  (thank you, Naschmarkt).  I even downloaded an entire album of steel guitar Hawaiian music.   The girls have even been coming home covered in sand; (I issued a temporary lift on the sand-pit embargo) and we've been spending a lot of time at the playground, listening to the birds and digging in the dirt. 

Same shirt, different day...same level of enthusiasm for sugary treats

To say things have been looking up since we decided to go into island-life mode would be an understatement.  We've been kind of busting at the seams, finding joy and contentment in the simple things--taking the time to enjoy nature, however frozen and stark she may seem.  I still hate February, but I'm willing to let this one slide...on a river of delicious rum beverages and dreams of sand between my toes.  

Cabin Fever

The girls and I have been actively trying NOT to leave the house for over a week now. We've officially fallen victim to a pretty nasty cold and it hit the littles hard. In reality, it has actually been nice to allow ourselves the luxury of letting each day ebb and flow at it's own pace with nothing other than the occasional trip to the grocery store pulling us out into the real world. Our days have been filled with quiet games of pretend, hours spent leafing through books and arranging puzzle pieces, snuggles upon snuggles upon sleepy, feverish snuggles. And John has been a rock star, beginning with his absolute refusal to fall in with our pathetic, sniffling lot. While I've been battling this bug with vitamin c and essential oils, he has utilized nothing but an unwavering stubborn will...and it seems to be working out so far. He has been our steady rock--our supply officer, bringing home everything a sick kiddo could want from the commissary.

All in all, even though I worry like any other Mama about breaking high fevers or making sure the babes are breathing peacefully as they sleep, it's not all bad. I enjoy the snuggly movie marathon days it merits. I love being with my kids...until they start to get better, that is. Then there is this indeterminate amount of time it will take them to transition from "living in the movie-filled style they're suddenly accustomed to" to "reality". 

So, our week was punctuated by kids who could somehow spend two hours at the dinner table without finishing half of their meal, a Bear who decided to cry for me from her bed fifteen times in one hour, only to demand that I leave her alone once I appeared...and another kid who, despite all her assurances that she had a very full tummy, vomited at an ungodly early hour because she chugged water on an empty stomach.

These are the days that find me trying to stop recalling memories I thought had been successfully repressed from our days living in parenting survival mode. They also bring me an extra measure of gratitude that this behavior is out of the norm for our girls--the knowledge that, God-willing, we'll be able to put our heads down and barrel through the transition back to "normal".
  
So, although I'm usually cool with remaining housebound and I had already run through the aforementioned silver linings to the situation, all it took was one more meal in which Audrey took the smallest bites known to man (or possibly any species--still waiting to hear back on that study) and Bailey managed to hold food in her mouth longer than it would naturally take someone's saliva to completely break down any substance...by this point I fairly sprinted out of the house for my coffee break. I remorselessly left John behind, repressing the urge to yell something juvenile like: "Later, SUCKAH!!", and heard him tell Bailey for the three-hundred-and-ninety-fourth time to chew the food in her mouth as I closed the door behind me.  I did a little jig and then the enormous bag of trash I was taking out ripped open on the stairs.

Kharma, you say? Well, she was being kind. You could've heard me whistling Dixie while I scooped coffee grounds off the steps with my bare hands. Best coffee break ever.  (get it?! get it?! *nudge* *nudge*)

Don't judge me. Bad puns are a well known side effect of being slowly driven crazy by demanding not-really-still-sick children.

Our Sweetly Surprising February

These two do NOT belong on the slopes

Tall and gangly as we are, John and I have always been a bit too clumsy to seriously consider winter sports.  As big as it is for every other Viennese resident, hitting the slopes is really out of the question for us (ambulances and crutches come to mind) and I only wish the alternative--a fantastic tropical vacation--was on the books. We've been taking it easy this winter.  In truth, I was apprehensive about this. Most Februaries find me sullen and grumbling about the unlikelihood that the sun will ever return.  I tend to shirk any duties around the house that aren't vital for human survival and John starts avoiding eye contact.  Luckily, though, this year my little family has seemed to be a true elixir to the winter doldrums.  I won't rule out the fact that I'm eating better, exercising, and just generally living a more relaxed lifestyle, but I've been able to find true joy this year in nothing simpler than spending time with my family. 

Part of this is why we've made the decision to pull Audrey from her preschool to pursue homeschooling this Spring.  More so, though, Audrey is starting to show genuine interest in learning how to write and learn her numbers--this is stuff that Austrian schools won't even begin to address until children are six years old.  And since Audrey will be nearly six (I start hyperventilating even writing that) when we return to the States, we figured we might as well take advantage of her interest.  It helps that my girls prefer to spend every moment--waking or sleeping--with each other.  And I prefer to spend all my time with them as well.  So, traditional school is out and we've stepped our unconventional way of living up a notch.

I know that homeschooling is fairly prevalent in the States, but here in Europe it is a rarity (it's even illegal in Germany).  So, we've encountered a LOT of confusion when trying to explain this to our peers here.  I've been asked if I'm a certified teacher or if we plan on hiring tutors.  In all fairness, though, I have had a few friends express interest and even one mama with three kids in Austrian schools who professed to be jealous of our ability to homeschool.  As a family, we're really looking forward to it.  I've always doubted my ability to teach my kids while retaining my sanity, but now that Audrey is on board, this prospect seems so much more promising. 

And that brings us back to just how much we like spending time together.  I've been reading The Red Tent by Anita Diamant--a novel narrated in the voice of Leah's (one of Jacob's four wives) daughter Dinah.  I'm finding myself able to relate with these women more than I had anticipated (outside of the sister-wife thing), but especially how Leah conveyed the joy she felt during her "fallow years"--when she was allowed to let her body rest from growing and nursing babies: "Leah remembered her fallow years as a time of great contentment.  She held the fullness of every day in her hands, numbering the sweetness of children, the pleasure of work." 

I haven't found anything that speaks so truly to how I feel during this season of my life.  That seemingly insatiable baby fever that once consumed me is now a thing of the past and we are certainly out of the trenches of infancy.  I hold the fullness of each day in my hands now.  I don't need ski vacations or preschools to give me a break in my mothering.  I enjoy the work there is do be done in my home and, especially, the time I can take every day to number the sweetness of my children.  We aren't doing anything but numbering the days spent together this winter, but still, life feels so full.  Once the weather turns, we'll surely be off on day trips and will hardly spend two waking hours together in the house, but for now we are basking in the sweetness of a simple life.

B's Third Birthday

This year, Bailey's birthday felt a little like Christmas.  It was the first year she really knew what was coming and in her typical fashion, she was so charmingly excited that she was actually going to get to celebrate her own birthday.  Perhaps the longest, most complete sentence she has ever said to me was last week when she announced: "Mama, I want cupcakes on my birthday."  What, now?  Who replaced my two-year-old with a big kid?  Needless to say, cupcakes became top priority...especially since there are really only two places in the entire city that specifically make cupcakes...and my muffin tins are in The States.  So, a few days before Bailey's birthday, we went on a pilgrimage to Cupcakes Wien to ensure their confections would be fit for our Bear's celebration. If I could've bottled the happiness oozing out of that kid when she realized she was about to eat a cupcake...well, we could probably create world peace is what I'm saying.  My red velvet cupcake could've tasted like saw dust (far from it!) and I still would've considered it the best cupcake I've ever had in my life.  

The next day our big project was making sure the house was turned out for our festivities.  This included a lot less cleaning than usual and a lot more pulling paper lanterns out of their storage space and hanging movie posters and twinkle lights on the walls.  Our place was rocking.  I'm sure anyone fortunate enough to pass on the street was jealous of whatever fantastic party was about to go down.

We were all giddy when we went to sleep, reminding Bailey that she'd be three when she woke up in the morning and that there would be lots of birthday treats.  The big day didn't disappoint.  We were up bright and early eating birthday cake pancakes (Complete with an entire bottle of sprinkles dumped in the batter--what kid doesn't want permission to do that?) lots of berries and bacon and free-flowing refills on the orange juice (the likes of which never are permitted by this stick-in-the-mud mama).  After getting ready and picking out birthday dresses (a must!) we were out the door to go visit Bailey's horses.  The good people at the Hofburg Palace are good enough to house the Lipizzaners in the royal stables for her.  We had tickets to view their morning exercises...and since no one under the age of three is permitted to do this, we figured it was a fitting right-of-passage for our horse-loving girl.  In the end, the morning exercises were really just that--horses being exercised.  But it was really cool to see how fancy their arena was (there was no picture-taking allowed) and to spend some time chatting about all the different horses, the charming noises they make and the giggle-inducing way they are trained to "tip toe".  

The day outside was snowy and really cold, so we decided to warm ourselves up at Cafe Mozart--a fancy old-school cafe just around the corner from the Sacher Hotel.  Bailey got some hot chocolate while sister sipped on hand-squeezed orange juice and we all lingered about our second breakfast like minor royalty.  Bailey only spilled a little hot chocolate on her dirndl (and even more on her papa), but it was a really nice break to sit and enjoy a little Viennese opulence.  After that, it was back to the cold on our quest for more cupcakes to celebrate with that evening...and a tour through the ice skating rink outside city hall, which had conveniently opened on Bailey's birthday.  

After schmoozing with the polar bears at the ice rink, we were pretty well frozen and decided it was time to defrost in front of a new movie Bailey had gotten for her birthday; Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was a big hit with the girls, but not so much with their father who I'm pretty sure fell asleep out of self-preservation half way through.

After our lazy afternoon, it was time to gear up for some more celebrating.  We invited Bailey's friend, Jack, over for pizza and he brought his mom and baby brother...who coincidentally are really awesome too.  I'm amazed we got any pizza into those kids.  They were so excited to see each other that they ran non-stop laps around the house for twenty minutes.  That did mean the adults got to sit and eat their own food without pausing every few seconds to answer questions or demands, so in the end it worked out for everyone but our downstairs neighbor.  

The cupcakes did not disappoint for the second time and the Bear was in absolute awe that it was her turn to blow out the birthday candles.  Everyone enjoyed what would be fantastic cupcakes by any country's standards and then we adjourned to the living room where the rest of the night was spent in a parade of kids through the ball pit tent we got Bailey for her birthday.    A top day in any book.  

And as an encore, Bailey spent the entirety of her first day being a three-year-old....in her pajamas.  Meaning, the first time she changed clothes that day was to get into different pajamas for the night.  

Something tells me she'll be spending this year living the dream.  

To the Bear on Her Third Birthday

Dear Bailey,

Dear Lord...where do I even start?  This has been such a big year for you.  I cannot comprehend how you've come so far, my little girl.  Not only have you moved from one continent to another,  but you've grown from a rough-and-tumble toddler to a boisterous little girl. You're learning patience and how to master those great big emotions that are a part of who you are. You've taken to demanding I braid your long hair like your big sister's and your fashion sense defies anything I've ever seen on a kid before.  You own it, though, sister.  You own everything you do.  You stand strong in your choices and only the stubborn will of your mama can make you back down.

You love your family so much, you sweet thing, but most of all, you love your sister; you emulate everything she does too.  The two of you carry on around the house in amazing games of make-believe, hollering spells (Wingardium Leviosa!!) hosting weddings and saving tigers in distress. 

You overwhelm me every day with depths of the love you possess; the passion that encompasses every aspect of your life--both the good and the bad. You somehow effortlessly embody the unprejudiced acceptance that Christ showed for others and I often find myself jealous of how you can get people from every walk of life to open up to you--to melt and fall in love with your smile and those happy eyes--to accept hand shakes, high-fives and hugs as tokens of your affection wherever you go.  It is an amazing and a humbling thing.   

You are so full of life, child.  When I look at you, I know what it is to see someone who is a bringer of light.  I am so thankful that God chose us as your family--that your Papa and sister and I get to be in the glow of His light shining through you every day.  I hold you close now, knowing you are meant to eventually go out into the world.  You might only be three years old, baby, but if you wanted to rock this world, I believe you could do it...and you'd do it with a skip in your step and a glint in your eye.

With all the love in my bursting heart,
Mama Gigi

New Year's the Viennese Way

Much like the rest of the city, I feel like I'm just now pulling myself out of vacation mode.  It has been well over a week since New Year's and I'm just starting to pull my head out of the fog. A few weeks ago, our friends (also known as "Tiana's parent's") generously offered to take our girls so we could experience a Viennese New Year's Celebration.  They've been here for three years and were keen to spend the night in...so they bravely hosted a sleepover for four girls under the age of five.  I dropped the girls off around 4pm (although I stuck around for an hour "trying to leave"...I'm such a wuss) before heading home.

Cheers!

Obviously, there were no festivities starting yet...well, there were plenty of people around the city setting off fireworks...but compared to what happened at midnight, these piddly things did not denote an actual celebration.  John and I sat around in the apartment for a few minutes...mostly in shock that there were no children running around and that we could leave the house if we wanted to...so we did.  We wandered around the first district and basked in how wonderful it is to be able to walk at one's own pace.  For me, this is a big thing.  The main streets and walkways downtown were already starting to overflow.  There were booths selling glueckschwein (lucky pig) paraphernalia all over the city, waltzing lessons in the middle of Graben and more than a few bottles of champagne that had already been opened.  The two of us had entertained grabbing a coffee at one of my favorite hole-in-the-walls, but even they were filled to the brim. So, we wandered back to our home turf--to Chang's (a restaurant literally around the corner from our place) where we leisurely ate gyoza and drank prosecco with specks of confetti flitting along with the bubbles.  It was really lovely and it could've been enough...but the night was still young!  These were just the preliminaries.

Outside the Rathaus

We spent most of the evening with friends, eating great pizza and nasching on olives...making toasts to Winston Churchill (doesn't everyone?) before winding our way downtown.  Where, Holy-Dear-God-In-Heaven I've never seen such masses.  Never in my life have I seen that many people (and I'm not claiming innocence here) all drunk and celebrating the new year.  We were outside City Hall where a DJ serenaded us with that old-school pop that only the Germans and Austrians still seem able to appreciate.  (I'm just glad David Hasselhoff didn't make an appearance...)  John supplied us with Cuban cigars and we hollered and smooched with the booming crowds as the clock struck midnight.

Nothing but people...as far as the eye can see

Our subsequent 'walk' to the U-bahn was possibly the most enlightening experience, though. The great hoard of bodies between us and public transportation was overwhelming...not to mention the distraction of one last mug of punsch before the stands disappeared or the opportunity to stop and dance to one of the many cheesy songs being blasted from stages throughout the city...it was madness.  Eventually, John and I broke ranks with the rest of our group and booked it to the train.  Along the way, we encountered so much broken glass that a person with open shoes wouldn't have stood a chance of escaping unscathed.  there were mounds of discarded champagne bottles and beer cans.  I cannot possibly paint an accurate picture to do the scene justice.  Mostly, I was glad to have my six-foot-seven body guard with me to barrel through crowds...to hold hands on the train and to help me wake up our sweet sleeping babes to bring them home.

In our last days of vacation

New Year's Day was just another day of vacation for us.  We did a little more organizing and purging than usual, but it was mostly just a day to relax--to be thankful that even though I hadn't made it to the stores before they closed for the holiday, I at least know how to make bread and scrape together something out of nothing when my kitchen shelves are looking bare.

And that was it; eventually, it came: the routine.  We're finally back in it.  Work, preschool, playgrounds, grocery shopping, play dates...we're back into that old rhythm again.  It feels a little different, though.  I feel better rested...not spread too thin, as mama's so often tend to be.  Outside of that first day of the year, we're eating a lot better and most of us are already seeing the benefits of a diet focused on lots of  nourishing foods.

John just received confirmation that he has been approved for a second year in his position, so we're heading into 2013 knowing most of it will be spent in Vienna.  We're looking forward to the promise of home leave, but until John's other two coworkers are replaced (they're both leaving in the next few months), we won't have any input about possible travel dates.  I do feel confident, however, promising we'll be stateside sometime in the next 12 months.

Who says I don't have this bureaucracy thing figured out?

The Best Staycation Ever

I haven't posted anything until recently about our actual Christmas celebration, because I've been on vacation.  One would think, given our convenient geographic location, that John and I would've bustled the girls around to any one of a hundred fabulous destinations within Europe during our Christmas vacation...

nope.

Dude.  We live in Vienna.  We spent Christmas in Vienna and we spent the rest of our vacation here too.

Not that we were out sightseeing.

No, the days following Christmas were spent in glorious lazy succession.  Big breakfasts that take up half the morning, followed by lots of lazing around the house, attending tea parties and grand balls held in the girls' bedroom.  Eventually each day we'd realize we should probably unlock the front door and venture out into the fresh air...so we'd ask the girls what they wanted to do.  This usually landed us in a big park or walking around downtown to find horses.  We'd stay out until the girls started to get tired and then bring them home, where every toy was suddenly new all over again.

wash. rinse. repeat. 

It has been one of the better vacations we've ever taken. 

Meanwhile, I've been putting together a new blog that you are all welcome to follow.  I won't be promoting it or posting updates on Facebook, but I will hopefully be writing regularly.  In lieu of New Years resolutions (which I never make anyway), I'm starting a bit of an adventure that steers out of the realm of the narrative family focus I try (and often fail) to maintain here.  (The link for this new blog is: 12monthsofchrist.blogspot.com.)  The reason for the separate space and the furtive attitude is that I am uncomfortable drawing attention to the ways I'm trying to better myself.  Luckily, I can give most of the credit for anything good happening in my life to the Big Guy Upstairs, hence the birth of this new space. 


Now, I plan to go back to stealing as many glorious lazy family vacation moments I can.  "Blessed" does not even begin to describe it.