Aussie B'days - Strange New World

We've celebrated childrens' birthdays in four countries by now and there are certain comparisons to be made.

The cake is a hit worldwide.

I don't think anyone will argue that birthday parties have gotten out of hand in countries like the USA where parents are expected to invite the entire class of 25 to 30 kids, have a themed party with clowns and jumping castle, or take the kids hot-air ballooning, anything to beat LAST year's party and keep up with the other 25- 30 parties your kid has been invited to attend.

When we were in Geneva, my best friend's daughter attended an exclusive international private school - as only Geneva can do - and not only were parents expected to fork out 40 to 50 dollars in a gift for the birthday child but often also had to invest in an elaborate princess costume or other themed outfit for the party.

I used to wonder how children like this would ever face up to reality but then realized that children growing up in such bubbles of privilege seldom ever have to.  With such wealth, the American expats - usually seen as figures of privilege in other countries - were having a hard time explaining to their kids why they couldn't have the 300 dollar jeans their classmates - European royalty and Arab oil money - were wearing.

But Aussies don't need fancy table settings.

So that practical Germany was really a relief.  Our only surprise came when - at Ryan's 5th birthday party - the girls we'd invited demanded to know the schedule of events I had planned for them.  Schedule of events?  Yes, and an art project being apparently obligatory as well.  In France we'd just fed everyone cake and mums had chatted while the kids played.  In Germany - and to be fair, the kids were getting older - kids expected choreographed entertainment. 

I managed to come up with some Christmas cookies and candy in the kitchen and led the kids in making little gingerbread houses out of crysallized sugar and M and Ms.  And, having grown up in Germany myself, I had no problem getting out the blindfold, wooden spoon and kitchen pot and having the kids bach around our living room blindfolded hunting for treats.

Once the twins were born, things got ugly.  How were we going to watch two infants and still amuse 8 older children in a small apartment?

We had to get creative, ask friends for help, and spend a little more money to take the kids out somewhere.  Ryan pushed her party back to June a couple of times to allow us to take a FEW best friends horseback riding and to the pool.  Another time we paid for a trip to a camel farm.  A little more money, and I had to find a friend to help drive, but it was worth it to have the kids amused by someone else while Damon stayed home and watched the two babies.

Uh.  Guys.  That was SUPPOSED to be a BASEBALL tee.

Andrew's bday - April 1 - allowed us to invite the dozens of friends whose bdays HE'D been invited to to a barbeque.  In retrospect we should have had people drop their kids off at the park, but part of the agreement in Germany seems to be that you take the kids off their parents hands so that they have the afternoon free for your child's bday - so one year we made my parents help drive while they were visiting.  Desperate measures, my friends.  (The first year after the twins were born we begged a few close friends to come and man the fire while I chased after the 9 month olds.  It was fun.  But most adults begged off ever doing it again.  Bday parties are NOT fun in Germany.  They are obligations.  You are obligated to entertain THEIR kids on YOUR kid's bday and they promise to take yours off your hands in return.)

Last year we took everyone on a train to a bowling center.  A nightmare, but Andrew wanted something other than a barbeque for once.

The twins were young and we were able to do a thing at the pool with family friends.  Last year, since they had started kindergarten, we had to jump in and invite kindi friends.  We had a nice group of about 5 kids who played together, whose parents we got along with and it was actually a nice season - a bunch of bday parties in June and July, a group of moms hanging around and helping out and a generally good time eating cake while the kids played.

By then I'd also learned that you CAN do your own thing and get away with it.  One friend had about four different kinds of fantastic, home-made German cakes for all the adults.  Right away, I let everyone know they would be having my standard vanilla cake only.  Another friend did have a huge Disney theme complete with monogrammed T-shirts my boys still wear today.  She was upset when the kids wouldn't stop playing in the bedroom to come and properly eat cake and drink tea.   Formalities must be observed.  (I, on the other hand, am just thrilled when the kids amuse themselves and leave well enough alone!)

It was a nice group of people.  The boys WANTED to have THEIR party IN our apartment, mostly IN their playroom so they could have all of their best friends in their room playing with their toys at the same time.  I would have preferred a park but it was their party.  We opened gifts, had cake and - prearranged with this group by now - fed everyone some quick chicken fingers for dinner so that noone had to worry about it that evening.

One mom left in a huff because HER idea had been for us to take the kids bike-riding at the track near our home and couldn't understand that Matthew and Aidan wanted THEIR party inside.  But that was her choice - it was about HER child - and the rest of us continued with chicken fingers and mini pizzas.

Just to let folks know that there are MELLOW and HELPFUL and genuinely kind and caring people in Germany.  This was a NICE group of mums I really regretted leaving.  (I should mention the previous parties for the twins with their German godmother and her four kids - thats enough - and the pool and bowling parties with Anita, Maria, Lori, Kristy- English speakers all who just wanted to help me celebrate the milestones with the twins and came to support and be there for me, not to judge.  Thanks guys.  I miss you all.)

BMX mean green machine.  Thanks grandparents.

The other thing I liked about Germany was the PRACTICALITY of it all.  No nonsense, the hassle eliminated from gift-giving.  You asked people what their child might like and, expecting at first a vague idea of likes and dislikes - got a detailed list of what YOU were down for.  As in  "Heidi  is picking up the soccer ball and will share that gift with Julian and Luka.  You are down for the educational boardgame but Jan's mom will get that and you will owe her 8.74."

What was nice that - since I could often not be relied upon to get the required item, opting in my American-like way for something I was able to find in the first store I went to rather than hunt down the other thing all over town - I often only had to fork over some cash to another, more dependable mom.

I downright refused to buy the pencil case or the travel cosmetic bag one mom asked for.  Nice lady but way too practical for my taste.  ( I still remember having to explain to an American mom that the gift her child had received - a set of mongrammed bath towels - was NOT a lame, rude and lazy gift but something I happened to know the German mother had been very excited to spend the time to go and personally order.)

The problem came when it was MY turn to crank out a gift list.  The stress of planning THAT sucked.

Uh.  Not EXACTLY what I asked for.

The other thought that DID pop into my head - and pops in often now - is that this planned and strategized gift-giving rather took the joy and the well, GIFT-GIVING, out of gift-giving.  I am having SUCH a blast just going into the stores here and picking out something I know MY boys would enjoy - some Legos, or some cars or something small, plastic and completely UNPRACTICAL.  I AM German, so it will never be junk, but what fun just to go and pick out a GIFT, rather than a pre-ordained requirement that might not meet expectations and then have to be returned.

My most German gift here so far was a gardening set for a self-professed gardener in Ryan's class.  But I think she liked it.  And it was SO MUCH FUN to shop around for something I WANTED TO GIVE rather than something I had been told to purchase.

Gifts aren't even considered obligatory here. 

Mums stayed to hang out WILLINGLY at Andrew's party.  DADS TOO!

And the kids had fun amusing themselves.

THERE IT IS!  (A cricket bat, for all you Americans.)

There is a down side.  Bday parties seem to be a FAMILY thing - a barbeque at the park with family and just a few classmates.  The upside is that the pressure to entertain the kids is off.  The adults barbeque and enjoy being together and the kids run around and do the same.  Mixed ages, mixed sexes, everyone just enjoying the day and being together.  EASY!

Our problem is that we HAVE no family here and MY KIDS want to invite their friends.  It is what they are used to: their day, their friends.  So that Andrew was very disappointed when the majority of the kids he invited didn't RSVP (NOT an Aussie thing at all to RSVP!  Funny enough, wasn't a French thing either!)  and didn't show.  (We'd had the same problem with Ryan's bday in January  - 2 out of 8 responses.)

All in expectations.  We DO have close friends already and some of them have five kids alone - so that whipping up a gathering will be no problem now that we know how it is done.

A relief really, to give up the expectations and the stress of entertaining everyone else's kids just to show your kid that they are special.  Instead, we can enjoy a traditional barbeque with close family friends and show the kids that they matter by spending time together as a family.

We also won't feel obligated to invite the dozens of kids who have invited ours.

Odd Aussie concept that - no themed costumes and intricate art projects, no expectations and obligations.

Give up the annual kids birthday party?!  HOW CRAZY IS THAT?!  But how will they know we love them?  How will we prove they are as good as everyone else?  How will we repay the people who have had us to theirs?

It's like giving up the annual Christmas cards to relatives on your husband's side who have never liked you to begin with.

Liberating.

Different.

It's a strange, new world.  (And no, you don't have to wear a costume or bring a gift to enter it!)

One Road Rule to Live By

Baseball (T-ball) T, cricket bat and whiffle ball.  Matthew makes up his own rules.

I keep going on about the great Australian spirit; the friendliness, the thinking of others, the general 'joie-de-vivre' that makes everyday life that much less stressful and more fun.

I can illustrate in no better way than in traffic.

They might have road rage in Sydney, I don't know, but I certainly haven't seen anything but patience and good humor out our way.

Take it from me; I've been driving on the left hand side of the road- from the right side of the car - for only a few weeks now.  And while I do have it down MOST of the time, there is a LOT of construction going on because of flood damage to roads and bridges.  And while I can drive on the left, take a traffic circle to the left and all sorts of other oddities, they DO throw me a curve ball (which is an AMERICAN analogy, deal with it!) whenever they throw in construction and have us switch into the right lane or turn right or do anything out of the normal here that I have been TRYING hard to convince my brain is NOT okay to do anymore.

Andrew's new b'day bike.

I have the construction crews in stitches sometimes.

"Hey love," said one guy as he came over and asked me to roll down my window, '"technically you're still supposed to go AROUND the ENTIRE traffic circle before turning right."  The sign saying , RIGHT TURN ONLY, didn't make that clear to ME but I guess I should have known.  Instead of disdain and condescension though, which I would have gotten in Germany, I just got a "No worries, love" , a friendly smile and a wave through.

At the NEXT stop, another guy asked me to roll down the window and if I knew where I was going.  "Well, no actually," I said.  "It's my first time here.  I'm looking for a soccer field though."

"Big green thing on your left." the guy answered.  But laughing so hard that the kids in the back seat were in stitches as well.

True story.  Road tolerance and comedy instead of road rage.

Teaching my kids about authority figures.

You notice it when you accidentally try to start in third gear and miss the traffic light.  People behind you laughing and waving out the window instead of cursing at you.  Because people here seem to realize that there are worse things than waiting for a traffic light. 

Or when cars stop to let you finish crossing the street with the kids.  Instead of coming as close as they can because YOU WERE TOO SLOW and YOU MISSED YOUR CHANCE.  (Or honking at you because they want your parking space and you are too slow strapping your two kids into their car seats and putting the stroller in the trunk.  Really.  Never happened to me but apparently a common occurrence in Germany.)

Here people make room for you on the sidewalk.  Or thank you for letting THEM cross the street when YOU are in the car, instead of arrogantly walking across without making eye contact.  Because they have their RIGHTS you know.  (People are REALLY big on THEIR RIGHTS in Germany.)

It's not about the rules and the rights - Germans DO have that down - but its about realizing that it all works better when we think about others besides ourselves.  The roads are safer when we all watch out for eachother.  And less stressful too.

Controlled chaos.

I still think of that guy in Ludwigsburg who refused to relinquish his position in the CENTER of the sidewalk as my four kids tried to find ways around him.  What was the point of all that?  That breeders are inferior?  That he had his right to the sidewalk?

Wouldn't his day - and his life - have been better too if he had smiled at the kids, said hello to the parents, and enjoyed the camaraderie of another group of people out enjoying the same sunshine and greenery that he was?

How much better could his life be if he stopped worrying so much about himself and thought about the needs of others?

The Tao states, more eloquently than I, that rules and rights are poor substitions for the True Way. 

Sometimes rules make no sense.

"Joy to the World."  And stop worrying about who has the right of way.

Soccer Mom

You learn things about yourself in a new culture that you wouldn't necessarily notice back in your old one.

The next generation: Matthew, Callum and Aidan

I am the only one who remembers to sign in at the weekly women's group I have been going to recently.  Today they laughed.  "Oh, Christine, how do you remember to do it?"

Remember?  How could you FORGET?  I had to admit that it didn't even occur to me to NOT sign in.  We Germans are a pretty bureaucratic bunch.  You punch in, you follow the rules.

It had never occurred to me that I had become so methodical.

Like the 10 step list I sent to our school principal, Tracy, distinctly outlining the rules for buying lunch bags with your meals at the Tuck Shop.  She condensed it into a nice two lines gently reminding people to include an extra 5 cents with the meal price. 

Aussies are pretty relaxed.  I love it but I'm still coming down off the German rules.

And here I thought I had avoided being sucked in by them all the time I was there!  It's insidous.  I can only hope the Aussie mentality creeps into my subconscious in the same way.

Andrew in goal.  Again.

Andrew began soccer season a few weeks ago too.  I tried telling the coach, a good friend of ours, that I really just wanted him to enjoy the game, learn a few positions outside of goal-keeper, and have a good time with new friends.  Our friend, whose daughter plays goalie for the 12 and unders and who has seen Andrew play, promptly stuck him in goal and asked the scout for the traveling team to take a look at him. 

"I need that kid for goal-keeper" the scout said to my friend, unaware that I was the mother.

Two keepers using their feet!

Did my heart swell with pride?  Of course it did.  On the other hand, I was grieving that he had never had a chance to become a high-scoring forward.  (Watching him play though, where he preferably played defense even in the field, and was actually unintentionally in the goalie's way, subconsciously playing goal even when he wasn't officially in the position, I had to admit that Andrew was a defense guy.)

And even worse, a goalie.

"Sorry about that" said my friend.  "It's alright," I replied.  "As long as Andrew likes playing goal and you think he belongs there.  HE doesn't get stressed playing goal.   I get stressed watching it."

Andrew warms up for goal.

"Don't worry" my friend reassured me "we work with them carefully in practice so that they know how not to get hurt in a game."

Get hurt in a game?  GET HURT IN A GAME?  I had to admit that the thought had never occured to me.  "I'm worried about him letting a ball THROUGH,"  I sheepishly admitted,  "not about him diving after it and getting kicked in the face."

Which I believe was the most competitive thing my friend had ever heard from a soccer mom!

Me?  ME?  I want to save the world, I want everyone to work together, I want us all to live together, peacefully, as members of one great, all-encompassing human-kind.

Now it occurs to me that maybe I just want us all to be equal so that I won't be last.  A 1:1 tie means nobody wins, but it also means that nobody loses!

"Whose that little guy playing keeper?"  I heard this Saturday.  "I don't know, but I heard they found a really excellent kid."  I introduced myself immediately so the parents wouldn't be embarrassed by any remarks made in my presence later.  "Yeah, that's my kid Andrew.  I keep telling everyone he's too short to play goal, but they insist he's alright."  The fact that he finally lost 3 teeth last week - making him look like a 6 year old - didn't help his intimidation factor.   My guess is they look at his dad, and count on a growth spurt in a few years to bring him up to keeper height.

But, after several dives and saves, including one where he raced the offensive player down the goal line and threw himself on the ball as the kid kicked him in the ribs, we all had to admit he belonged in goal.  I got to cheer for the two forwards - one of whom is a girl - and the entire team played well. 

The little guy in goal.  With team support this time around.  (Don't they all look HUGE?!)

It was way more fun than his team in Altdorf who didn't listen, didn't pass, didn't follow positions, and left it a game of Andrew as goalie versus dozens of shots by the opposing team.

He did get a LOT of practice, but it was painful to watch.

Here, the mums and dads pulled up chairs and cheered.  There they resented being there and pulled out a paper.  And Andrew told me later that the kid who (unintentionally) kicked him in the ribs actually helped him up and told him "good save" after apologizing for the kick.  (He WAS going for the ball and Andrew was on top of it!  GO Andrew!  We can fix your teeth later!)

It makes you wonder if that 2:1 Australia win over Germany last week was more than a fluke.  (It DID break my heart; I LOVE my boys!)  The attitude - team spirit, cooperation, working together - in Australia is so much healthier than the competitive, every-man-for-himself attitude fostered in Germany. 

And it makes me question myself yet again.  Do I want Andrew to play for Germany?  Or am I rooting for the Aussies to move up into the final three?  (Let's face it, the USA is just happy to get there at all!)

Still Deutschland and proud. Matthew.

I don't hate Germany.  I love her.  I am so disappointed in her because I do love her.  Do I want 'MY BOYS' to win?   Yeah, I do.  I want Germans to have the same love of life, the same joy of living, the same happiness to think of and help others, that Australians take for granted.  Let the Germans win at soccer, for crying out loud.  The Aussies have everything else.

Forgive me.  I am methodical, pedantic, competitive....and German.  I am so critical of Germany because I AM German, and because I know that if I can change, then so can anyone.  They CAN do better, because I can do better.

Aidan with Deutschland shirt, American baseball hat and South African ball.  In Australia.

All of which I never would have known if I didn't come to Australia!

On Being German - So NOT 'Done With It.'

I've done you the favor of NOT posting my last three blogs on what I REALLY think.

Offending everyone is not going to get my message across.

Technically in the Czech Republic.

But my friend's comment this morning in Prep School showed me, once again, that something IS wrong with Germany's attitude of their role in WWI and especially WWII and what I personally think SHOULD be shared collective guilt for the Holocaust.

It started when Aidan brought home this week's school library book on Monday.  The story was about a young Australian soldier rescuing an injured sparrow from the no-man's land between the Australian and the German front during WWI.  On Christmas Day. 

It was well done.  (I SHOULD have gotten the title.  Sorry.)  There wasn't a lot of blood and gore - but the trenches and the front was depicted.  The young soldier raises the white silk scarf he received that day from his family as a Christmas present as a flag of truce and bravely heads out to rescue the bird.  The German snipers watch warily.  There is no blame placed on either side - just the sadness that is war - but as the bird flies free, the soldier says "Merry Christmas Little Bird."  And the sniper, who you only realize NOW for sure is actually German, says "Frohe Weihnachten Digger."  (What the Aussies and New Zealanders were known as after digging in at Gallipolli against the Turks.)  And then the Germans start to sing "Stille Nacht" on their side.  And the page flips to the Aussies continuing the verse in English.

Of course I cried.

And when I told the teacher this morning that I actually thought it was a GOOD book for children, she told me she had had misgivings when Aidan brought it to her to check out.  Especially with his German background.  I explained that my children were aware of my feelings about war - that I am essentially a pacifist - and that they need to KNOW about the horrors of war in order to prevent them.  They've seen Dresden.  (They do have a slight preoccupation with building up towns and then knocking them down - the bombs came, Mom, they tell me - but other than that no harm done.)

Andrew in Stuttgart

They know that they are lucky and safe from harm.  But they also know that evil has happened - even when we were living in a country it happened in - and that it continues to happen to children today.

How are we going to STOP evil if we don't teach our children what it is?

My friend - who is German, living in Australia 10 years - overheard my conversation with the teacher and said, "Oh that.  I heard it three times in school.  I am so sick of hearing about it.  I am done with that."

I didn't say anything.  Conspiracy of silence?  Well, other than that I didn't think a heated discussion on German collective guilt was appropriate in a Prep School classroom at 8:30 in the morning as the kids were coming in, she is my friend, the only friend here I have from Germany.   I like her and I don't want to lose her.  Conspiracy of silence then, yes.

But I do feel I owe it to my country - Germany - to speak out. 

My new goal is going to try to do that without anger and without offense.

Because the German education system obviously isn't getting the message through even to these younger generations.  Possibly because the kids are being taught by adults who don't really feel the guilt and shame themselves.  So that they are being hit over the head with it (once they are older, this  is not appropriate material for younger kids) but not really seeing WHY it is important to acknowledge it.  The majority of Germans do tell me they are sick and tired of hearing about it.  That they had all that crap in school and would now like folks to get over it and move on please.

If you can sit through lessons on the Holocaust three times (over and over and over the Germans tell me) and not feel any remorse and sadness, then those lessons are not being taught properly.

I am not blaming my friend for the Holocaust.  But I am blaming Germans as a nation for not teaching their children to grieve for that broken past.  Germans, as a nation, are still looking for excuses for themselves, they are still talking about the good things that Hitler did for them , still telling us we don't understand and still reminding us about Schiller and Goethe and Mozart, still comparing their actions to the US atom bombs in Japan. 

Ryan in Heidelberg

When I hear this latest nuclear crisis in Japan declared the worst since WWII I can't help but feel guilt that MY NATION, America, dropped atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Uh yeah, other countries have done wrong too.

But German attitude reminds me of a spoiled (possibly autistic?) child trying to get away with something.  Because that kid over there did this and that too.  And because I didn't really.  And because......

I am trying to teach my children right from wrong.  I am trying to teach them to take responsibility for their actions when they do wrong.  Only when they take responsibility - admit to themselves that they even did something they shouldn't have - can they change their actions in the future and move forward.

I don't place blame for imperfect behavior.  We are all of us human.  But I do get beside myself when the kids won't acknowledge and correct it.  THAT is when the $#*$& hits the fan in MY house.  (And then I have to apologize to the kids for my inappropriate behavior later!)

Maybe because I am part of a nation that hasn't taught its children to accept responsibility.

German-American-Australian kids

"I am so done with that."  Over and over and over again from adults in Germany. 

I grieve FOR Germany, because they cannot grieve for themselves.  They will never ever be truly 'done with that' until they stop being Hitler's Germany.  (Another essay I need to 'desensify' which argues that Hitler has won until Germany admits its collective guilt.)

My children are learning (age appropriately) that great evil not only occurs, but that it has been done by people who are no different than they are.  Our only defense against evil is teaching our children about it, pointing out where it exists (or existed), explaining why it is evil, and encouraging them to abhore it in all forms.

It doesn't mean placing blame on generations that weren't alive when the evil occurred, but it does mean acknowledging that the evil occurred in the first place.  (And not talk about Hitler's damn Autobahns and about how they didn't know and.......excuses Leute, you will not be let out of the corner and back into the classroom until you know what you have done.)

Moving to Australia won't change the past or make you any less German.

I can grieve for the Holocaust's 10 million innocent victims.

And I can grieve for Germany.  Because you not only lost the war Leute (something which still pisses many of you off more than the Holocaust) but you are still letting Hitler win every single time you don't open your hearts and realize that, no, you are not 'so done with it.'

Hiding

My Mommy worries when I don't blog.  Like there is something I am hiding from her.

Well yes, Mom, I am hiding a lot lately, thanks for asking.

Which is why I write about koala poop and today thought I'd mention our 5:45 AM capture of the Huntsman spider the kids found in their bedroom.  (Piece of cake, by the way.  Doesn't even faze us anymore.)

What the Huntsman is covering up is 3 blogs on Ego and Taoism, mushy pieces of self-discovery and personal growth that I really didn't feel the need to burden everyone with.  (Although, I suppressed the Ego, tried to remember that it was NOT all about me, followed the path of least resistance and had the satisfaction of it following the path I had wanted all along, WITHOUT my Ego pushing it.  See why I saved you the trouble of reading it?!)

The Huntsman is also covering up 4 blogs on German collective guilt and shame.  One of which I will post this week.  Again, not sure I need to go there publicly, but hiding it hasn't been making it go away either.

One of my friends has a son undergoing a second round of chemotherapy and bone marrow transplant for childhood leukemia, on Friday one of my best friends here ended up in the hospital with a brain anuerysm and yesterday my mom told me she was going back in for surgery and chemotherapy for metastasis to the liver from her colorectal cancer 6 months ago.

Which really puts the cough and fever that has laid me out flat for the last two weeks in perspective, doesn't it?! 

And makes the blog I have been researching on the Burke and Wills exploration and what it says about the Australian spirit seem fairly trivial.

I find myself completely unable to deal with Japan and natural disasters.

And then they throw Libya in the mix.

All of which brings up my belief in karma and reincarnation and makes me question again why the Christians did away with such an intuitive concept.

Making it hard to focus on the blog about Andrew being selected as goal-keeper for the travel team in soccer. 

By which I mean to say that things are business as usual around here. 

I have a hard time hiding anything from my Mommy.  Probably made her wish she hadn't asked though, didn't I?!

POOP!

We had koala poop outside our front door this morning! 

Identified by the kids.

Kinda makes up for the 3:45 AM cockatoo wake-up calls.  With the kookaburra laughing his head off.

Although to be honest, that still hasn't gotten old either.

Ambition and Sick Kids

Aidan had to stay home LAST week.  He fell asleep with 'Big Ted' a friend from Prep.

So I got the kids in school for six hours a day.  Tennis lessons Monday mornings.  Sports Wednesdays and Thursdays (depending on which kid and which sport) until 4:30.  Music and clubs at school.  The pool just outside the door.  Easy shopping at the mall.

I really don't know what my American friends are complaining about.

This is EASY!  (Compare to having the kids at home at noon for a warm meal, no programs at school, really inconvenient shopping with NO selection AND NO pool, just ice and snow, outside your door.)

So much time!  And NOT to clean the windows and sweep the front steps either.

Besides volunteering at the school (really, they LET you do that here!), heading over to the library, and quite frankly, taking it easy at home, I've been looking at places to move (this place is nice, but small and temporary) and considering work. Really, they LET me DO that here.  (Once my VISA goes through and I'm not just hanging out on a really expensive tourist visa.)  We are right near Brisbane, and the University HAS a vet program.  So tempting.  The private practices are always looking.  And then there are the wildlife programs, the koala rescue, the bird rehab....oh look, citizens working FOR their community instead of expecting something from it.  The RSPCA would probably fit me perfectly.  Because finding a nice cushy government job - doing public health and quarantine - would really be asking for miracles.  20 to 30 hours a week.  So that I can be home at 3:30.  And do I get a company car with that too?!

And I'll be able to do it.  (I've got my eyes on a lovely young neighbor with a baby who is looking for a way to stay home...would minding my four children from 3:30 to 6:00 help out?!) 

So I make my plans.

And then a kid - or two - gets sick.

I'm sure there are ways around it.  (Once again, would my lovely young neighbor like to take my snotty kid to her baby play-group with her?!)

But it gets hard. 

I've heard employers are really good about that here.  (As opposed to the USA.  Try working for the US military while your kids are with a German Tagesmutter who won't take a kid with a runny nose because SHE doesn't want to catch a cold!  Try explaining that to an American boss.)
Grown-ups get sent home sick too.  (Which was appalling at first.   German men catch a sniffle and stay home for a week.)  But isn't it nice that your employer would send you home by taxi from Brisbane because you are too sick to drive?!  Again, in the US, if you aren't missing a limb, there are at least 300 to 400 people quite ready to take over for you.  Permanently.  Vomit in the bathroom.  Pop as many pills as you like.  But I don't remember ANYONE ever taking a day off sick.

Matthew was home the week before.  Don't know if the cold cloth helped his fever any, but it made ME feel better!

But no matter how many high-power ideas I get in my head: koala rescue, Brisbane U, public health and safety officer, when my kids get sick I just want to stay home with them.

I don't know if this is copping out or not.

If I could get my #($*% together and write my novel, I'd have the best of BOTH worlds!