Sh^$*#(t!

No really. This isn't about swear words.

It isn't about getting on a half hour hay ride after an hour of waiting in line and then having your four-year-old announce he has to go peepee. (Not ours. Although German daddy did exactly what ran through my mind when his kid made the announcement!)

This is about cleaning the bathroom for guests. (Because with two four-year-old boys you DO want to clean up before your friends with two and three year olds come over.)

This is about cleaning up the bathroom for guests and then finding one of those guests on her hands and knees in front of the toilet wiping up the suspicious-looking liquid from the floor, toilet seat, walls and....well, anything in reach.

Lori had offered to clean my toilet for me when I was nine months pregnant with the twins (that and Erika offering to donate her AND her husband's blood when my platelet count was dropping are still two of the nicest things people have ever offered to do for me) but it still wasn't gratifying to actually have her do it four years later.

"What the heck happened here?" I asked.

There was a step stool pulled over to the toilet, 7 boys in the house, 4 of them under the age of four, and so anything was possible.

Oh well. The floor HAD been clean only two hours before.

It got better the following week when I was picking up the boys' room in preparation for Damon's surprise party. 11 kids expected. And some parents. I was still picking things up off the floor when Anita arrived and followed me in. Unfortunately, she and I were having such a good time talking that I forgot to pick up that suspicious little brown thing on the carpet next to the boys' mattress.

"Oh, what is that?" I asked, not at all embarrassed by now. After all, I'd already had Lori cleaning up my bathroom the week before.

Anita laughed.

About twenty minutes later her 3 year old daughter, Hannah, came out to join us on the balcony. She was accompanied by a rather strong smell. A trail of dark brown footprints followed her from the boys' room to the balcony.

Oh. I suddenly remembered what I'd forgotten to pick up.

Pour everyone some more wine and begin next to the bed with cleanup. The kids found it fascinating.

"What you doin'"

"What's it look like?

"What is that?

"Once again, what does it look like?"

The kids couldn't believe noone was getting in trouble.

The adults continued to enjoy themselves out on the balcony.

Reminding me, yet again, that it isn't about perfection.

It's about how you deal with imperfection.

Reminding me, too, that I don't need a perfect house in order to invite friends over.

Heck, it only takes one errant stream of urine to turn my clean bathroom into a flood zone anyway.

I believe it was Erma Bombeck who said, "cleaning the house while you have children in it is like shovelling the driveway while it's still snowing."

If only it were that pretty!

Paying It Forward

I'll be the first to admit we were annoyed at how little the bed sold for on Ebay.

It's like everyone is expecting us to give this stuff away for free.

And we DO need to get rid of it, but honestly, is noone thinking about how much money we are going to need to finance a move to Australia?

Answer: No. Certainly not on Ebay. Where they don't know us and where the name of the game is, fair and square, to try and bid at the last second and get it for as little as possible.

And then we meet the families and are thrilled to be able to help someone else with young children, or a new baby (or two!) on the way. We end up throwing extra stuff in the car as they pull away. Especially people from the American military base.

"Hey. Can you use this rug? Not sure? Well, lookie here, it fits right in your trunk next to the naked Barbie dolls and plastic pistols I threw in. Don't worry, if you don't like it when you get home, just chuck it in the dumpster on base."

So that it really IS working both ways.

Sure, we were hoping to get a bit more for some of the stuff. But only because everyone else kept telling us to ask for it. Truth is, people want bargains. And we need to get it off our hands. So that helping others - and working on generosity as a state of mind - is making up for the difference in price.

Take the Ebay buyers. We'd been selling most things through the American military base. It's a mobile culture. Folks are friendly. And we figured we'd be dealing with less haggling. (And it has been so much fun to reconnect with the Americans; my goodness, we know all about you people within two minutes of meeting you!)

And then the Swabians came for the bed. For their five year old daughter. Who was so thrilled to be able to have the same one (Lo series bunkbed, white) as her younger brother. Because they were a little tight on cash since the third baby came. Aw.

And the cutest little German/Italian couple, pregnant with their first child, glowing and proud, a little shy at our exuberance, but oh so darling as they start their family.

The Schwabs gave us a bottle of Sekt (champagne) as a thank-you gift. The Italians gave us oil and vinegar from Sardinia. Yesterday someone brought small presents for the kids. We have yet to meet a German at the door who isn't carrying a small token of their thanks - for BUYING our stuff.

HOW NICE IS THAT?!

It honestly isn't about the gifts themselves at all. Although we were dancing for joy in the kitchen at the smell of the authentic oil and vinegar.

Someone else was grateful. For something we did for them.

And they thought of us.

I am trying to let go of the fear; the fear of not having enough. I am thrilled to be living with less. And I am happy to be helping others.

So that, while we do try to get a little something for the larger pieces, I am also happy to give as much as I can away to friends. And strangers.

Selling our car reminded me of when we bought one from a soldier on base over four years ago. We were the first to see the ad, drive it, and offered to buy it on the spot. (It's all luck and timing.) Hand-shake deal til registration opened on Monday. On Monday the owner informed us that he had been offered $500 more over the weekend than the $2000 he had advertised. And still sold it to us for the $2000. Because of a handshake and a sense of fairness. (Another guy gave us our money back on the first truck we bought because the truck broke down in the first week.)

We had to sell our new car within a month when we found out baby four was following a little earlier than planned - 12 minutes after baby number three - but that was easy too. I'm telling you, if you want fair, deal with the soldiers on base. (I'm not always a big fan of the U.S GOVERNMENT and I absolutely CANNOT work with the military bureaucracy - as if that surprises any of you who know me - but it did surprise me at how much I like, REALLY LIKE, the individual soldiers and families I have met here. I'm a hippy by nature. So far to the left that I have swung around to connect with the right, as I like to say!)

This weekend we are honoring a same handshake agreement until Monday. What goes around comes around. And vice versa. Maybe this is why good things happen to good people. If not karma, a sense of peace knowing you are doing what is right.

And, let's face it, we are paid in other ways as well. Our twin stroller is going to a lovely young lady pregnant with her first TWO children. She also bought the Baby Bjorn style baby carriers, complete with comedy video on how to use them. Even after seeing the photo of me TRYING to use them.

I made her pose with Aidan and Matthew - and the stroller - before we put it in the trunk.

No amount of money is as valuable as being able to say good-bye to a part of your life - and know it is going on to enrich the lives of someone else.

Beavis and Butthead

"Poopy."

"Poopy poopy."

heh heh heh heh heh

"Poopy head."

heh heh heh

"Poopy ON your head."

heh heh heh heh heh heh heh

The problem is that this is a private conversation. Aidan and Matthew are quietly playing together in their room. They aren't doing anything wrong. They aren't fighting, bothering anyone, or using inappropriate language, really.

I DON'T like them to use that word in public, and I don't like them to use it repeatedly as a dumb joke.

But, I'm not in the room.

They find this conversation totally fascinating.

"Head on your poopy."

heh heh heh he heh heh

The weird thing is that I now finally get Beavis and Butthead.

Great. My boys laugh like Beavis and Butthead.

With the same classy sense of humor.

I don't get it.

But they've got a rapt audience in eachother.

And most of the 3 to 4 year old viewing audience.

Girls too, at this stage.

While I don't get the comedy, I do get a kick out of watching them delight and amuse one another. They are bonding.

Male-bonding.

I don't get it at my age. Why should it be any different at theirs?!

heh heh heh heh heh

Playgroup Family

Okay, to the REST of the world we make sure to call ourselves the ENGLISH GROUP. It's not a playgroup, we tell ourselves. We are here to make sure our children- children growing up here in Germany with at least one native-English speaker in the house - learn and feel comfortable with OUR language. (And we use the term native-speaker fairly loosely, to include South Africans, Americans and even New Zealanders! Note:: I got one of each in the shot of Anita, Cindy and Ursula at this past year's Christmas party.)

But, to most of us, it is family as well.

I joined the group five years ago. They, more than any family across the Atlantic could, supported me through a twin pregnancy, years one and two with twins, the total exhaustion at the end of year two, several miscarriages, lots of personal quirks and foibles, and the recovery that has brought me back today.

All I got is mush and melodrama. They were here for the good, the bad, the ugly and all the silliness and fun in between.

Spent today at Killesberg Park in Stuttgart, one of our optional summer group activities. Sob.

And so....a kitschy photo story about summers with my family.

A bunch of us at the water park in Sindelfingen, August 2007. A row of strollers. We'd all had babies within a few months of eachother. We sent Sue and Ursula out for KFC and spent the day in the sun.

Lynette as I will always remember her. She is now living on a goat farm in western Canada. And yes, she DID have a fourth child, so STOP ASKING!

Lori and Sue

Sue, Sherry and Lynette with strollers (and kids) in Killesberg Park, 2007. They make it look good!

Sophie and a LARGE glass of Fanta, Killesberg Park, 2009

Johanna and Lucy. Oh yeah, and the kids.

Love this shot! Lucy wondering how she ended up with everyone's kids! If this isn't family, I don't know what is!

Still making it look good! Lori, Lucy and Liesl this time.

Sarah and Cindy today at Killesberg.

I'm happy to be moving on, but happy too, that I am sad to leave some things behind.

I honestly don't know where I'd be today without this family.

The other residents at the hospital in Calw Hirsau - where I spent two weeks in psychiatic care two years ago - had a joke that when anybody with an accent called it was for Christine. English. American. New Zealand. South African. Whatever. They considered those calls my family.

I don't know that I was any less crazy than the folks I left behind at the hospital. Or that any of us is. The biggest difference I had - the biggest advantage and the biggest incentive to GET THE HELL OUT - was that I had somewhere else to be. I had family waiting.

Thank you guys. (I warned you it was kitschy!)

"The" Plan!

I've been writing this blog for almost 18 months now.

And, I'll be honest, I do it for me.

Getting it off my chest is saving us loads in psychotherapy.

But things are changing and it might be time for more than first-draft ramblings of whatever comes into my head.

I feel I can do better.

And you may be feeling you deserve better too.

1. I'd like to devote Fridays to an ESL blog. Which is going to be a LOT easier said than done. Because it requires forethought and editing. More than one draft of what comes off the top of my head. I do it for two reasons. One is as an exercise for myself. I can do better. And I do it for my German-speaking friends who keep expressing an interest in the blog, but find it too confusing to read regularly. Sure, I find myself witty as all hell....but, if you are trying to figure out the idioms....it isn't nearly as much fun. Most of my friends do read English and they would like to keep in touch as I drag my brood halfway around the globe. So...I will attempt to catch everyone up, and work on all of our English skills at the same time.

2. I've thought of Mondays as a general update on events in our family. Because, again, we are leaving....and because some of you are curious as heck to hear how it all works out. I've never found family narratives very entertaining myself but.....well, we will do our best to amuse and entertain! (Looking at Jim's blog over the weekend I realize that adding some photos might liven up the updates!)

3. But I know you'd all miss my revelations on life, personal growth and the universe as I know it.....

4. I will also have all four kids home as of August. And spending time on our education. And getting rid of all our stuff. Which is NOT as easy to do in Germany as one might suspect. (What? Poor people in Germany won't take a used kitchen table? Well the Red Cross might not so...they never have a choice.) SO that my writing - and this blog - may suffer from the time I put in elsewhere. My goal will be a weekly family update and also progress on our home-schooling experiment. What I learn. Oh yeah - what the kids learn too. Although I'm betting I learn as much - or more - than they do. Typical.

4. Somehow I hope to merge into a travellog too. The crazy German-American in Australia. I think this COULD be interesting - and funny- as hell. All the assumptions that are wrong. All the expectations going topsy-turvy. Preconceptions out the window. Obviously, I'll still be writing from the viewpoint of a parent - and a person - so it should just be a new perspective on an old journey.

In between, I have to figure out how to work from a new computer, with a different email system. And maybe where to get laundry done. And find edible food. In France. (Hmmmm- isn't McDonald's a hot spot?!) Or Stuttgart. Or...oh honestly, please don't try to pin me down on autumn housing plans at the moment! And make sure the kids don't run wild in the streets and get caught by the home-schooling police! So that my whole tiny, ordered, neat, predictable day-to-day routine will be shattered. (Have I EVER had an ordered, neat, predictable day-to-day routine! Let's just work with me on this one, shall we?!)

So...Monday updates, Wednesdays personal views on life as I try to understand it, and Fridays English as a Second Language. And somewhere in between...the beginnings of a German-American viewpoint on Australia.

Or something like that.

Let the games begin!

Push-Ups

I've discovered - and succumbed to - a new disease. It's not writer's block. I am writing like crazy, every chance I get. Notebook at the ready. Rewrites not being rewritten. New stories and ideas. Old stories with new twists. The creativity is all there, spewing out....unfiltered, unedited, partially processed.

Man, have I got GREAT ideas to share. I got stuff you just GOTTA hear.

Except...well...I'm going to call it EDITOR'S block.

Don't you, the reader, deserve MORE than my unedited stream of consciousness? Do you REALLy want to know how I feel about the school system in Germany? Is my view on the nature of life and change REALLY something you need to hear? Shouldn't I try to pull it together a bit more, tighten it up, make some connections, wait for something REALLY and truly witty or insightful?

Do you really want to read unprocessed ME?

Thank goodness I have the cure for this disease too. Monthly Writers' Group in Stuttgart. Phew.

"So, what's up with the blog lately, Christine? You doing any writing?"

"Well yeah, but.....see above paragraph."

"Oh. That's you thinking like an editor, Christine." says Jim. (And he should know!)

Jim then proceeds to tell me about creative push-ups, the work we need to put into anything, the preparation, the PROCESS...just the sheer act of getting it down on paper, snapping a photo, sitting to an instrument and playing what sometimes amounts to sheer crap, in order to buff ourselves up for the good stuff.

The thing is you don't need to show anyone this stuff, but you do need to keep on doing it.

And POSTING the blog makes me keep on writing.

So that this is what you get; the good, the bad, the ugly, the irrelevent, the uninteresting....oh and every now and then, if we are lucky, the seeds of something really good.

So that my job is to write.....

It probably is a similar thing to writer's block, this fear of posting. Even ten years ago you just didn't write it if it sucked. Now you can post anything on the Internet in seconds flat. With no discrimination as to value.

So that I can panic and try to present a perfect finished piece....and hence, never post anything. Or let you all see the worst of it and decide for yourself what to keep and what to throw out.

Funny thing there is, and I believe this is where an editor and an audience comes in, is that some of the stuff I am most truly embarrassed of (honestly, did you REALLY want to hear about the town hall meeting in ALTDORF?!)is some of the stuff that people really want to hear. (Answer: yes!)

My blog is process. My main character is myself. (I don't believe I ever even pretended it was about the kids. It was about me learning from the kids.) I learn as I write: about writing, about what people like to read, and about myself.

And it turns out I'm a fairly interesting and likeable character...or at least a character that keeps 'em guessing and talking!

Is my novel out there? I've started three this year.

Do you deserve better than my ramblings? Sure.

But unless I do these pushups, and do them regularly....the stories won't be written. I want to write fiction. I want funny, witty, characters people will relate to. And I want them to say something about the human condition - without actually coming out and hitting you over the head with it.

Until I get there thanks for helping me count the pushups.

Moving Issues

The problems aren't at all what you'd imagine.

It was easy to get rid of the sandbox. "We can't take all that sand with us on the airplane, now can we?" I reasoned.

"Where are we going?" they asked.

"To the beach." I replied.

"In Australia!" they chimed back.

Well-drilled. They have no idea what such a move really means - but they're looking forward to it as much as Christmas. It's all in the telling, folks. It's all in the attitude.

The spiders are an issue. We taught Andrew about the pressure wrap and practiced dialing "000" but he's still leary. Snakes too.

Aidan was just in hysterics over the small, German spider that he found on his leg. No amount of reasoning and looking at it under the insect scope was going to reassure him.

In retrospect, also not good things to be teaching him when the bite of the funnel spider in Sydney can kill you in under four hours. ("C'mon mates" they reassure you in the tourist books "you've got FOUR HOURS to get to a hospital.)

Maybe the bug kit complete with net and tweezers wasn't the best choice of a birthday present this year. Maybe fears of spiders should stay fears of spiders.

"Pressure wrap, boys. Put a pressure wrap on it."

It's become a bit of a family motto in the last year.

"What about all those sharks and jelly fish?" the other parents from Andrew's class asked us around the campfire on Friday. The box jelly CAN kill you quickly. Mostly because the paralysis - and sheer pain - causes you to drown.

"Shhh. We haven't told them about those yet." I replied.

We like swimming. And it's going to stay that way.

Aidan would like a bicycle. I believe they have those there too. Andrew wants an Ipod. Switching continents isn't going to stop them from growing up.

Ryan just wants a Brumby. (Any horse will do though.)

We've discovered American military families are happy to relieve us of our possessions. The rest can go to the Red Cross.

So that it's really all a lot easier than you'd think.

I'm not saying it's as easy as throwing on a pack-bag with flashlight, sunscreen, bugspray, water and a change of underwear and heading off for the weekend on your bicycle as a Peace Corps volunteer in Haiti.

Then again - sounds like the sunscreen and bugspray will come in handy in Australia too!

And honestly - the important things don't fit in a suitcase anyway!