Small Town Sunday

I'm finally participating in Wendy's Small Town Sunday. To my knowledge I have never actually lived in a US small town BUT we did once vacation in Greer, Arizona, where I took I these pictures:

Mea not culpa any more

Last night my mom and I enjoyed a Chuck marathon with a bottle of wine. Chuck just gets better and better, and has introduced me to useful phrases like 'mammary cam' and 'man cake', although our evening was forcibly interrupted midway when L began throwing up violently.

It is a full week since K came home from the Ausflug with stomach flu. You know what this means, don't you? If the flu takes a week to incubate, K was NOT patient zero. Which also means that another mom knowingly sent her sick child on the Ausflug.

Can you believe that?? I don't know about you, but I consider that kind of inconsiderate.

I am so vindicated!!

Anyway, we got L settled comfortably again with fresh PJs and a clean t-shirt for me and I cleaned the sheets, walls, rug and my hair as best I could. There was one small but scary episode where my mom tried to warm up a cherry pit cat for L's tummy and somehow ended up making the microwave emit clouds of noxious smoke and not respond to the 'STOP' button. I'll leave you to imagine the scene of two panicked women, a crying child and a rogue microwave.

But this, too, passed and all was quiet again.

K was cool as a cucumber through it all, rolling away from L when she threw up in bed and falling right asleep again despite all of the yelling and excitement.

After the incident we went trooped back downstairs for more Chuck and red wine. We finished season 1 at 1AM and I fell into bed.

This morning I woke up at with two blessedly healthy children decorating me with sea shells and driving imaginary cars over me and parking them in my arm pit, which apparently makes a fine garage. I stumbled to the bathroom, peered blearily into the mirror and was gratified to see that L's vomit had dried my hair into a surprisingly attractive style.

I'm such a party animal.

Saving Chuck

Thanks for the heads up everyone - Chuck is in danger of being cancelled.

So, while I usually make impassioned pleas to stop idiots from building coal plants, I am now asking you to help me save Chuck.

Chuck is good for the environment because people watching Chuck are sitting at home in front of the TV rather than driving around in their SUVs. Chuck is also good for the economy because it helps manufacturers target their ads to people who don't watch reality TV - Chuck fans will buy more electronic gadgets, fast food and feminine products if Chuck stays on the air.

If this show dies we will soon have nothing to watch except mindless, cheap to produce (not to mention totally fake) reality shows and Hannah Montana. Is that what you want???

There's are several groups called 'Save Chuck' in Facebook. I believe you can also Twitter Chuck to safety.

Please join me in this important social media movement.

Thank you.

Is anything actually true?

I buy OK magazine every week because I like looking at pictures of Brad, Agelina, Jennifer Anniston and her former man ho John something-or-other. That's right, I divide my free time evenly between saving the world, offending my neighbors, watching Chuck and stalking celebs.

Like clockwork, one week Brad and Angie are on the brink of divorce, the next enjoying marital bliss again - and all using the same pictures from Oscar night. These articles are so clearly not based on any actual new information or facts.

Reality TV is also totally staged, just ask Lawyer Mom.

The media tried so hard to turn the swine flu into something newsworthy but too many people inconsiderately refused to die. You could almost hear the reporters high fiving each other when some poor person with chronic health problems died of the flu and they could write about it.

The economy is also fickle. One day all the indicators are bad, the next consumption is up again and we're headed back toward prosperity.

None of this is news, it's entertainment.

What is true, anyway? It's complicated because there's always more than one side, more than one interpretation, more than one apparent truth. A plausible case can be made for the lamest and most obviously made up arguments, as we've seen in recent years over the 'clean coal' debate.

As you know, I love coal and wish we had a coal burning stove in our living room because it's so clean.

Fortunately for truth seekers, things that aren't true make us physically uncomfortable, even if we don't know they aren't true. I wrote more about this here if you're interested.

I don't really have a point today (hence the picture of the waffle, get it?), I've just been struck lately by conflicting messages everywhere I look.

In the absence of a clear external truth the need for a reliable internal moral compass seems kind of important.

Where can I get one of those?

Chuck

I have a confession to make: We've heard of the top reality shows but don't watch any of them. Ralf prefers soccer and frankly, I'm more of a sci fi person.

Besides, I can see real people who can't sing very well at work. And at home. And in the mirror.

We have Apple TV so we can pick and choose our shows on demand with no commercials - Ralf hates American food commercials with all those dripping ketchup hamburger close ups.

The problem is, there aren't that many good shows out there once you cut out the totally staged reality TV.

Well. Last night my mom introduced me to a new show: Chuck.

The plot is this: Chuck got thrown out of school because his roommate framed him for stealing some tests and now he works at Buy More in tech support. Then his former roommate, a CIA agent, gets killed stealing some government secrets, which he then emails to Chuck. Go figure. Now Chuck has a head full of national secrets from three agency databases - the master database was destroyed so the consolidated data resides only in his brain - and begins to make organic data connections that help prevent bombings, capture arms dealers, etc. So he has a gorgeous CIA agent and a gruff NSA agent guarding him at all times while the government tries to figure out what to do with him.

Chuck is awesome. First of all, Chuck is fairly adorable if you like that type:

Next it has some of my favorite people in it - a few of them are getting on now but I'm a very loyal fan. In addition to a hilarious supporting cast of nerds, there are:

Bruce Boxleitner. Remember Bruce? He was in Scarecrow and Mrs. King for a few years, then he played the suave captain on Babylon 5. He married Melissa Gilbert from Little House on the Prarie and seems to have one of the few happy Hollywood marriages. I like Bruce.

Chevy Chase. I haven't seen him yet but my mom says he plays a real scary baddie in Season 2. OK he's a bit older than in his Caddyshack days but he's still the master.Adam Baldwin. I love Adam. Ralf has no idea. He was the bodyguard in My Bodyguard, then I don't know what he did until he suddenly appeared in Firefly, a cool sci fi cult show that Joss Whedon directed after Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then he showed up in the final season of Angel as a wittily sarcastic demon. And now he plays the NSA agent in Chuck. He has this great expression where his eyes just glow with suppressed outrage that totally resonates with me. I wish I could look like that.

Finally, I may have found a show to keep me going when Eureka is on hiatus.

Life is good.

Got Tim Tams?

I'm still getting the cold shoulder at the Kindergarten, not only for nosing around too bluntly about the Ausflug arrangements but also for the spirited barf fest that ensued after K (patient 0) left Friday. Miss Vanessa shows signs of thawing but the other moms don't like me any more.

On the bright side, Julia likes me again but she's only nine and our relationship is primarily financial.

When I was an outspoken second grader with unkempt hair (the kind who raises their hand and announces in a high, clear voice, 'Mrs. Dean, Justin didn't throw that spit wad, it was Doug,') I tended to get hunted by large gangs of my classmates after school. I learned to fight, run really fast, climb like Spiderman, hide, remain still for long periods of time, find food, divide and conquer enemies and, when other options ran out, find adult help.

I don't want to paint the wrong picture here. I was not a skinny, asthmatic, fearful child but a big, strong kid with a cocky attitude so we were pretty evenly matched. Sometimes it was even kind of fun.

This went on for about 3 years and then I was suddenly reasonably popular again, at which point I promptly dropped all running and climbing activities and focused on feathering my hair and getting my mascara straight.

Bit of a shame, really - I could shimmy drain pipes like a monkey but my hair never turned out that well.

Here's my point: There's always a bright side. Life isn't about the bad stuff that happens, it's about the good things that happen in between.

For example, this week I'm a little unpopular but on the bright side, no one's hunting me with sharp sticks and I have a package of Tim Tams, which my mother thoughtfully brought with her.

Friends come and go but Tim Tams are forever.

Money, Money, Money

What do you think of the larger font?

Germans are pretty well known for being ‘sparsam’, which doesn’t exactly mean cheap but really kind of does. Certainly the average German knows the value of a euro and is somewhat less eager than, say, the average American, to throw their hard-earned mula at stuff they don’t need (status symbols don't count) and you never just 'split the check' at a restaurant.

The most legendarily sparsam Germans of all are the Schwabians in the Stuttgart area. Ralf’s dad tells the story of a Schwabian colleague of his who, while pleasant and easy to work with in every respect unrelated to money, once stopped talking to him for several days because he (Ralf’s dad) forgot to give him about 10 cents change after buying drinks.

There is also a popular Schwabian joke that goes like this (excuse my spelling):

Geht ein Mann durch die Wald.
(Goes a man through the forest.)
Kommt der Roiber.
(Comes the robber.)
‘Geld oder Leben!’
(‘Your money or your life!’)
Aber der Mann hat leider kein Geld dabei gehabt.
(But the man unfortunately didn’t have any money on him.)
‘Dann gib mir deine Uhr.’
(‘Then give me your watch.’)
Aber der Mann hat auch keine Uhr dabei gehabt.
(But the man also didn’t have a watch.)
‘Dann trag mich halt ein Stuckle.’
(Then carry me for a little while.)

Now, let me just say that I’ve worked with Schwabians and found them most of them lovely but they are a fairly parsimonious, hard-negotiating bunch and I get a kick out of that joke.

Remember our neighbor’s child Julia who I recently stiffed after she hauled away some recycling for me? She clearly has some Schwabian relatives. I approached her the other day and apologized for not paying her for a job well done and asked how much she typically earned for her work.

I’m trying to make amends for last week, although I didn’t make much headway this morning in Kindergarten, where they are clearly still annoyed with me.

But that’s another story. Back to Julia, who was immediately all business. ‘Ein Euro,’ she told me with no hesitation.

I handed her some change that added up to a euro, which earned me a small frown. ‘For each of us,’ she added.

Ah. Her friend. I handed over the rest of the change in my hand, which added up to another euro, mostly in 10 cent coins.

Julia carefully counted out and distributed the money while her friend rolled her eyes and muttered, ‘Geez, Julia, don’t worry about it!’ Then I was smiled at and thanked professionally.

There was no hand shaking, although there could have been. She also didn't say that it was a pleasure doing business with me, although that too would not have been out of place. And I bet if I had asked for a receipt she could have produced one.

Please note that there is no criticism intended here. That girl will probably have enough money saved for college by the time she’s sixteen.

Most of it mine.

Mother's Day to the Max

Natalian of the marvelous baby feet photos has tagged me with a meme that was initiated by Catherine of Her Bad Mother and her friend David to find out if mothers around the world have similar or different perspectives when it comes to raising children. The challenge is to list 5 things one enjoys about motherhood and then tag 5 different mothers to do the same.

Here are five-ish things I enjoy about Motherhood:

1. The amazingly honest and uninhibited way my children react to the world.











2. The plump cheeks, the musky scent, the yummy knees, the chubby feet, the perfect tushies, the general deliciousness of small children.

3. The crazy little toy arrangements they leave everywhere.

4. Their wild jigs of pure delight when something small makes them happy.

5. The feeling of deep, deep love and belonging. There is no other feeling like it.

I also get a kick out of diluting the Master Race with mongrel genes, bwa ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!! Although I'm actually mostly German.

And finally, I find their unquenchable interest in my life both unexpected and gratifying. Every morning K says, 'Mommy, tell me a story.' They want to know me. They are interested in what has happened to me and how I lived before them.

Or maybe they just want to put off getting dressed in the morning. But I prefer to think of it as genuine interest.

This morning I told them the story of Max, who was a far better mother than I am. He never sat at his computer typing frantically and shushing me while I made increasingly obnoxious bids for his attention. He sat with me patiently for hours while I played with blocks, gently sniffing each one.

Max was a ginormous dog we had when I was a baby. He may have been part Doberman. He was my constant companion. He shared his dog biscuits with me and kept his mouth open when I grabbed his tongue, as I loved to do when he yawned. I have a picture of us together when I was about 9 months old and he's the size of a small pony. A gentle giant. My only memory from my first year of life is Max, always there in front of me while I played.

One day my mother took us all to the store and left me in the car with Max, as parents were wont to do back then. It's not like anyone would try to steal me with a big killer dog sitting right there. Max yawned and I reached into his mouth and grabbed his tongue, laughing hysterically while he tried to close his mouth without biting me.

As you can imagine, passerby's completely panicked at the sight of a hysterical baby with her hand in a huge dog's mouth. I gather that my mom had some explaining to do when she came back to the car a minute later.

They love that story.

They love me. I bask in it and hope I don't mess up too badly.

Now I'm supposed to tag 5 other global moms. If you comment on the original post you will be included in the roundup here.

I tag Bebe (have fun in Rome), R, G (get well soon), Patty and Naturelady. And Ladyfi.

And Tara, Lucy, Lawyer Mom, Carol, Maven, Jessica, Debbie and Emily, of course!

Is that 5?

Happy Mother's Day to all you wonderful moms.

And to my mom, too, who's arriving in Munich tomorrow.

Confessions of a paranoid cheapskate

Before I get into today's topic, I want to first say thanks to all of you for not rubbing it in that I sent my sick child off into the countryside with a bunch of healthy kids. K is top fit today, by the way, and polished off two plates of rigatoni with ketchup for lunch.

But rest assured that there is Justice in this world for I have been scolded twice in the last two days on other topics.

First by my husband, who got an earful from K's Kindergarten teacher about his crazy wife and her unfounded paranoia about children being left behind in the countryside.

OK, I deserved that.

And just now I was cut down to size by little Kaye from next door because I didn't give Julia any money for hauling away my to-be-recycled paper and plastic in her little wagon. She rang the doorbell, asked if I had anything to recycle, I gave it to her and off she went. OK, yeah, she said something about pocket money but I assumed she was taking it somewhere where you get money for recycling, like aluminum cans.

Although come to think of it, if there were a place that gave you cash for paper and plastic we would probably go there twice a week instead recycling for free.

What can I say, I wasn't really paying attention. I was trying to decide what to do about the tick repellent, remember?

Anyway, Kaye rang the bell today and asked if she could brush our rugs for money. She asked very sweetly, then suddenly fixed me with a stern, fishy eye and advised me that she would only do it if there was actually some sweet lucre to be made. 'I mean, you, like, totally stiffed Julia!'

Note that these were not her actual words but they do pretty well represent the general tone.

I managed not to burst out laughing until after I closed the door. Then I felt kind of bad and decided to be more open and trusting from now on and also pass out coins to small children.

In he meantime, I guess I owe Julia a Euro.

Mea culpa

Miss Vanessa called us this morning to tell us that K has stomach flu and Ralf went to pick her up. Still no fever, no aches, just general ickiness, so the good news is it's unlikely she's the second German swine flu victim.

I feel bad about this. First of all I hope no one else gets stomach flu, although the 'Warning - Stomach Flu' sign has been hanging on the Kindergarten door off and on since January so I'm thinking K was just the last one toget it. I made the wrong call yesterday but she was fine until this morning and I tried to make the best decision based on the information I had. So I'm not beating myself up too much.

OK, just a little.

But I really feel sorry for K. Not that her life is full of crushing disappointments and this was the one bright spot, but she was so excited about her 'big kids' overnight trip. And to totally rub in the misfortune, today's a gorgeous spring day full of special activities that she won't be able to enjoy with her friends.

It doesn't seem fair to get sick right on the super fun day, when there are so many boring regular days to get sick.

My poor little big girl. :-(

Any good tips on comforting a 5 year old after this sort of disappointment? I was thinking ice cream.

Ausflug jitters

Today K's Kindergarten is taking the older kids on a 3 day sleepover at a farm. It's called an 'Ausflug' in German, which means 'fly away.' K has been very excited about it and as near as I can tell, she's the only kid who doesn't have any heebie jeebies about sleeping away from home.

I've been more worried than she is. Not about the trip per se, I'm down with that.

But there's the ride home. She's driving home with another mom, which Ralf arranged but didn't' confirm. He doesn't believe that confirmation is necessary when he arranges something. I've seen this other mom several times this week but instead of simply asking her if she's still planning to bring K home Friday, I avoided the topic because I'm not sure whether to call her 'Sie' (formal) or 'Du' (informal).

I usually try to let the Germans take the lead on this but they are incredibly resourceful about avoiding the use of 'you' in conversation until the manner of address is clarified so most of the conversations with people I don't know that well end up being pretty stilted.

I'm not kidding. I have actually had this conversation, although not with Til Schweiger. I know I should just get over myself but I don't like to make grammatical mistakes.

Shocking, I know.

Anyway, instead of doing what any normal person would do and confirming K's ride home with this mom I instead asked one of K's teachers (who is definitely 'Sie') if the teachers would please make sure the kids all have rides home. She said, no, the parents had to arrange that.

At this point a rather long discussion ensued about how I expect teachers to not just jump in the car and head for home until all children are safely on their way while her eyes tracked around hopefully in search of a colleague to pass me off on.

Another worry has been K's anti-tick cream. Ralf was bitten by a tick when he was a kid and almost died so it's a sensitive topic. We did the FMSE vaccination and I packed tick repellant in K's bag. However, that stuff's poison and I don't want her and her 5-year-old posse playing with the stuff so I reminded her at least five times this morning to ask Miss Vanessa to help her with the tick cream.

Eyes glazed over with confusion, she nodded and said, 'OK, mommy.'

That wasn't quite enough commitment for me so I also asked Ralf about twenty times to speak with Miss Vanessa about this personally, which he promptly agreed to do without any snarky comments about annoyingly paranoid moms.

So far I've only been moderately (or, if you're Ralf or that teacher, extremely) irritating, but now I have a confession to make.

Here it is: K threw up last night. Twice. And I still sent her on the trip.

She had no fever, got herself dressed with no fuss and ate a reasonable excuse for breakfast and I figured that even if she has something, she probably got it from one of the other kids anyway.

Right?

If another mom sent her barfing offspring on a trip with my child they would probably find themselves on the wrong end of one of my rants (if I could get past whether to call them 'Sie' or 'Du'). I know that. But I just couldn't keep her home after so much build up and anticipation when she seemed perfectly fine this morning.

And believe me, I watched her like a hawk all morning and felt her forehead about fifty times.

Just out of curiosity, would you have done?

7 Year Itch

In the movies, they always show the beautiful woman in the convertable with her hair blowing artistically back as she drives along the coast.

They never show the hours spent later trying to get the tangles out, which I find it a little dishonest:

Ralf neatly sidesteps this problem with his GI haircut but I didn't feel that solution would work for me.Italy was wonderful. We stayed here in Asolo with old friends: Then after a stopover with more friends in Milan in their chic city apartment we visited the castle where we got married 7 years ago - there it is in the background:

Italians love food but they love talking about food even more. In Asolo we dined at a slow food restaurant where the owner sat with us for a few minutes with each course and regaled us with stories about how the cheese we were eating had been harvested from a very special yak in Normandy that ate only certain kinds of sea grass.

Our Milanese friends also did not disappoint, dazzling us with the latest results of their lifelong quest to procure the finest cheeses and salamis.

Needless to say, most of our time was spent killing time between meals with scenic wandering, conversation and sitting in cafes wondering if it was too soon to eat again.

I would do it all again in a heartbeat. . .