An American Mama in Berlin Moves To Chapel Hill Then to Brooklyn

Blogging over the years and remembrance of things in the not-so-distant past...

2008-09-26T14:37:00.005+01:00

my blog kinda sucks. i was just reading through some posts. funny stuff. kind of haha funny, kind of just plain old stupid funny. since my memory is shit (no, i did not do drugs in college!), it is kind of nice to have a little record of what i was doing a couple of years ago, where i lived when i started this blog, how i spent my time, what my mood was like. berlin. babies. breastfeeding. boobs. strollers. diapers. my dear girlfriends. baking. germans. it kinda looks like i did lots of cooking, and really got into it. i think i had a frickin' cooking blog.

boy oh boy, things have changed....

well, sort of. i still cook, but largely as a function of what i like to call, "the coop" in which Mama Jens lives in.

and speaking of things changing, old friends (hi liz!) who used to remark that even my dirty dishes looked clean, would be pleased (or disappointed?!!) to learn that i have let the slack out a little. instead of cleaning my dishes before i wash them, now i just don't fucking clean them. no, no... i do. but they do sometimes hang out in the sink for awhile collecting fruit flies and other things.

mid-life crisis plus having to work your dang brains out to earn a living here equals forgetting to do things like eat, much less clean. screw cleaning. who needs it anyways?

but back to the coop bit...

when the school year ended last year and summer started, and we were like "holy shit, you mean we have to take care of these kids all day?!" we did something very brilliant. we got a nanny.

perks for nanny: free room and board. a weekly stipend. no bills. getting to sleep-in late on most days because one child doesn't need to be picked up from school until 11. delicious hot meals every evening from mama jens (i'll get back to that cooking bit in a minute). hi-def tv. presents and incentives because mama jens is so happy that you are here that she can't contain her excitement. two friendly little girls to talk your ear off all day. new york city at your doorstep.

perks for us: live-in childcare while we work during the day, not costing too much more than a room. one on one entertainment for the insatiable little ladies. once a week or so getting to go out and rock the house all night and not have to pay 8 million dollars for a babysitter. all of your husbands' friends and everyone you work with and basically any random person you ever talk to asking if the nanny is hot, which provides us with hours and hours of conversational entertainment that we would never have had otherwise, friendly energy (she is from the south), and very good vibes.

so cooking.... i feel like i live in a coop. and you know what i fucking love about it? it brings out the hippy in me. we have three adults. two kids. we all take turns with morning duty (getting the kids up and ready and to school), night babysitting duty (all three of us really like to go out and party all night like rock stars), and even cleaning up around the house and cooking. it sounds like heaven, because it kinda is.

our nanny rocks. she is awesome. she likes us. we like her. she is amazing with the kids. she is very low maintenance. she is cool. she understands how crazy we are and laughs with us. she drinks beer and watches project runway with me.

okay, i know you are all wondering if she is hot. hehehe...

so back to the cooking. mama jens is still doing all the shopping. i whiz through a store with lightening speed and come out with the exact amount of food for a week's worth of meals, lunches, and breakfasts without forgetting anything! its amazing! and by the end of the week, holy empty fridge. so i don't really know what i want to say about cooking. oh, yes, we do it every night, but its after work and before bed and i'm not writing recipes or reinventing the wheel. its basic, practical, meat and three vegetables, wham, bam, eat! feeding the coop.

so what am i trying to say? i am at work and all these people keep interrupting me. geesh!

so yes, blog entries of past...cooking then vs. now...those dreamy times spent at home, in stay-at-home motherhood and high unemployment bliss in berlin with all my friends and kids' friends on afternoons after kita....cozy in the kitchen built by our friend or at a playground or cafe, coffee with steamed milk, fresh baked something, a plate of nice cheese, rosy-cheeked sweet toddlers running around in socks...ahhh...it seems faraway from the 9th floor of this building overlooking the hudson river, a photoshoot for a magazine happening in the next room, my kids at school, the nanny chillin' at home, the empty fridge on a friday, the traffic, all the windows with all the lights, no breastfeeding. no boobs either. how life has changed...

its amazing how we choose our paths. some decisions are obviously more formative/transformative than others. but i think about it all the time. how little decisions affect the course of things, how much is conscientious and considered, how much is emotionally driven, how much is chance or even unnoticed....

happy friday.

love,

mama jens

My Bloody Valentine vs Ears

2008-09-23T16:18:00.004+01:00

i am enjoying the quiet coming through my window this morning along with a little light fall wind, and trying to work through a speedy ear recovery from the aural abuse i took last night at the my bloody valentine show at roseland ballroom. having never been to one of their concerts, and apparently being an unsuspecting and naive, though solid fan, i wasn't prepared for it. well, i had earplugs, so in that way i was prepared, but i wasn't mentally prepared.

we stood through two relatively uninteresting opening bands, though j. mascis did make a stage appearance toward the end of the set of the second opener, and man that guy has some nice hair. we kept thinking, wow, we are in nyc, my bloody valentine could get anyone to open their set, we were hoping for our other favorites i think.

anyways, mbv delivered right away with loveless hits. beautiful, ecstatic, nostalgic, all the things one could ever want from a mbv show. by the third song, i felt ear damage. i looked around at the people around me and saw that they were all wearing earplugs already. mbv on earplugs felt like a really woozy, tranquilizer experience. maybe fun 10 years ago, but just annoying now. so the earplugs went in and out, based on what i wanted to hear vs how much ear damage i wanted to inflict. the strobe lights had my head down and eyes covered most of the time. unfortunate, because kevin shields was a nice thing to look at, as was belinda butcher.

a guy behind us had a seizure of some sort and had to be taken out, stiff as a board and eyes big and glassy.

the assault continued beautifully, and peaked with the 20+ minute head and heart crushing feedback fest that felt something like death by sound. knowing that they were going to do that at the end of the set, i wanted to get out of there about 2 minutes in. i sort of ran around the venue - to the bar, to the basement, around the sides, hoping to make it get quieter. no such luck. i finally left the building when i felt my chest and my heart seemed to be undulating weirdly under my ribcage.

holy jesus.

it took me a good hour to calm down. subway ride. a walk from the d train. in bed at 1 am my ears were pulsating. i was thinking about how crazy it is that you can hurt people with sound. sure its a well-known torture tactic, but i wasn't prepared for it indie rock style. i felt like i had been abused. an expensive, kind of beautiful abuse.

tonight is the low show at union hall's new venue on 3rd ave. i'll be screaming for more noise.

enjoy the beautiful, fall day.

-mama jens

Its been a long time...

2008-09-03T02:31:00.010+01:00

holy shit. its been almost a year since i have posted. my two devoted readers are probably long gone. and anyways, who can follow all the title anyways. what does all that mean? maybe i'll simplify at some point. in the meantime, the fact that i haven't posted seems to parallel the first year in the delightful big apple.

sometime around the one year anniversary of living here, i started to feel something like being human again. it was like, we moved to new york, we got excited and blown away by the prospects, then a wave came and has kept us under for months. drowning seems to be a decent analogy, so i'll stick with that.

but remind me to get back to the being human again part...

one of the words that i learned living in berlin, a concept that never occurred to me until i gave birth there two times and dealt with midwives and birth houses and pelvic floors was "constitution." i think when i first heard the term, i thought something like bowel movement. i think the fifty times i heard the term after that, i was still stuck on you eat well, you have a good constitution. who knew? americans don't understand constitution. but germans do.

anyways, fast forward to a couple of years later, you find yourself going nuts in a crazy fucking city, and the term resurfaces again. this time, it takes on a different meaning, or the real meaning. hmmm, the overall strength of the body?

okay, i'm not a big lady, but i'm a strong lady. sometime last month, i started questioning if i had it in me to live here, physically.

stress. its loud, its expensive, its hard to find work, going anywhere requires some hearty, uplifting subway travel, people coming going upstream downstream on sidewalks with (get this!) overwhelmingly, tall fucking buildings, pollution, an energy to shatter the most calmed soul, millions of entertainment options, countless old friends that have congregated, visitors up the wahzoo, brilliant people, beautiful people, excitement, alcohol, and did i mention that its expensive?

in the back of our believing minds has been a feeling of sticking it out a year. in the back of our lease, it says that if you don't stick it out a year, you fucking owe.

so here we are. my late-night encounter with questioning the strength of my own constitution (a couple of weeks ago) has remarkably, peacefully, luckily challenged me to stick it out longer. lucky only because i know i don't have the constitution to move somewhere else right now.

after a trip to maine (you gotta get out of here once in awhile) this summer, i have a sense of i know i can handle this if i put my mind to it. those days (long ago posts) of being baffled by the amount of people running in prospect park and the beyond packed classes of type-A yogis trying to find a place for their mats are making sense in a new way. i once heard that new yorkers are among the healthiest americans, but i tell you something: its not all the walking, its not that they are more enlightened or that they don't want to eat fast food, its that if they are gonna live here, they have to learn to sink or swim. you can come here healthy and sink quickly (drown under the wave), you can come here healthy and get lucky enough to catch a nice wave to ride (surfing), or you can come here healthy, start sinking, and figure out that you will simply drown if you don't do something different (take surfing lessons). if you come here unhealthy, you're fucked.

as it turns out, i feel more in the category three of this storm. i'm signing up. what's outrageous is that i haven't really had a flight response, no matter how weak my lovely non-bowel movement meaning constitution has become. sure, i ache sometimes for the lovely chapel hill house, but still, somehow, i still want to be here.

call me crazy.

maybe the second year is different. right here at the beginning of september, i'm banking on that. with all the moves in my life (this is the 15th), i have never had a problem adjusting. maybe new york is just different, i keep telling myself. its bigger, so it takes longer.

not only are there the basic living stresses of being here. the surface ones. the ones that actually don't matter all too much, but there are the psychological/quasi-spiritual stresses.

though i'm happy to report that i still have this weird ironic satisfied feeling after hauling my laundry to the laundry mat when i pay INSANE rent, there are other things that have lost their punk rock charm (i know, i know...nothing punk rock about paying INSANE rent...). ease in the daily living things that one has to deal with is something that exists elsewhere. i can embrace that. everything is a little bit more challenging. options are plenty, maps must be navigated, blocks must be walked, people must be dealt with constantly, and well, when you are tired and don't think you can walk another step, you can't flag down a taxi to save your life. extremes downs are met with extreme highs, when you find yourself face to face with julia roberts because your old friend from high school is a reporter for a major u.s. publication, assuming being face to face with julia roberts constitutes (ahem) an extreme high.

julia roberts is absolutely star striking. taller than average, sun-glassed, a jaw-line and a smile that makes you question biology and symmetry in general. a fear, a wealth, an ease from living, fame beyond comprehension. some kids, some acting skills, a constitution...

and then there is the issue of meaning. far more abstract and complicated than fresh laundry and stunning julia roberts. we all confront those issues in life no matter where we are or who we are, but if you ever find yourself wanting to jack up your mid-life crisis a little, move to nyc and let your head spin. good stuff.

okay. i don't know if any of that made any sense. just talking for now. goodnight to all the internet and non-internet souls out there.

love,

mama jens

The People Next to Me and Anton Corbijn's Control

2007-10-23T02:12:00.001+01:00

One of the most beautiful things about living in a place like NYC is people watching. To top it all off, I recently got my first, very own iPod shuffle (right here at the ripe age of 32), which makes the people-watching that much more dramatic and cinematic.

Last night, I went to see Anton Corbijn's Control, a biopic about the late Ian Curtis and Joy Division.

But first, let me tell you about the subway ride there:

Sitting next to me was a young couple speaking in sign language. They were in their own world completely, laughing (silently, it all seemed), and totally unaware of all the wandering, curious, fascinated eyes and slight smiles stealing glimpses of their silent love affair. At some point, they stopped signing and started examining each others' hands - something lovers do, but these were hands they obviously already knew, hands that spoke to them, that held the key to everything between them in a way far more fundamental than in the beauty of their lines and muscles. They then started playing with each others' hands. First, slow, soft movements, then jokes -playful twists and turns of the wrists. He was speaking, she was squeezing to make him be quiet. Their fingers wrestled and tugged in this alien, communicative, sensual experience that they were both clearly completely lost in. Every single person on the bench opposite them was enraptured. An old, hippie couple - clothed in grey hair and glasses - riveted, eyes pointed over the newspapers that opened against their chests. A man with a bible - letting his eyes pass equally back and forth between the bible and the couple without noticeable preference for one or the other (he could have been a minister marrying them in this silent, emotional film). Another woman, piles of bags beside her, hid nothing in her expression as she watched the two - without reserve, unembarrassed to stare, and staring hard, like the intensity of a keen television watcher. And then me, beside them, watching them as intensely as all the others, but through the reflection on the window opposite. I had the special vantage point of seeing the watchers and the watched at the same time, and then the melodic filter of the music playing through my headphones to keep me at a safe, disconnected, anonymous distance. I stole occassional glances to my right to see them in color. In the window reflection, everything lacks bright tones.

I landed, several stops from the theatre, and much too early. I was in the West Village, so I decided to check it out. I thought of Berlinbound, and how he and HH must know those streets so well. I wished I had him as a guide as I walked in circles without a map through the cozy, criss-crossed streets.

I got to the cinema two minutes before the film started and had to take the LAST seat available in the second row next to a 60-something gentleman who was very well-dressed (business man style) and was hushing the chatty people behind us even while just the movie previews were playing. Being so packed into a theatre in seats so small, it is hard not to be aware of the strangers sitting on either side of you in a sort of forced intimacy. You can smell them. You can hear them breathing when the loud surround-sound pauses. This man was breathing so quickly, that I was worried he was going to die on me. The movie began, and throughout the film, he was reacting quickly in these funny laughs that made me think again and again that he was actually one of the people depicted in the film, or else used to have some close relationship to Joy Division. I even caught him feigning chords with his left hand during the performance scenes. Anyways, I thought about striking up a conversation with him afterwards to get the real scoop on Joy Division, but instead, just watched him swagger in this akward, jerky, mechanical way (much like Ian Curtis on stage) into the night, his suit pants actually hemmed about a half a foot higher than normal.

So I get back onto the subway, super late. I sit down, and again, there is a couple next to me using sign language. This time, they were older, more settled and mature. They weren't sitting together, but directly across from one another. They, like the couple earlier, communicated in a world that didn't seem to associate with the rest of the people around them, in that there were no voices to engage.

This is not to include all of the other people I "interacted" with over the course of the evening....people I asked directions from, people I made eye contact with, the waitress with the English accent and big glasses in the West Village. The personalities that come through in these small moments are so full, so expressive, so unguarded in a quick moving city way where people seem to be surrounded by walls, but when interacted with, are very quick to let them all down as though they are starving for human contact.

As for the film, it was beautiful. Well, to be honest, it was one of the most depressing films I have ever seen....but I appreciated the long, quiet spaces which say more than words...something one doesn't see in films or real life much anymore.

Good night and good lovin',
Love Mama Jens

Supermarkets, Fillo Dough, Laundry, and School Updates

2007-10-16T03:11:00.000+01:00

A couple of discoveries this week....

Fairway. Ever since we moved here, it has been like a buzzword...and finally, this past weekend, I went to check it out. Its a supermarket in Red Hook - about two miles away. It is right on the water and there are cool things to look at there like the Statue of Liberty. It is a supermarket which blends everything - your normal-chock-full-of-preservatives and packaged food items, which, let's face it, you gotta have sometimes, plus all the trusted organic labels that they have at the lovely, very inexpensive, fascist coop plus a huge fresh fish and seafood selection plus all the deli items and cheese you could ever lay at a German breakfast table PLUS all the gourmet and imported food items that we oh-so-savvy world travelers must re-experience from time to time. As if that is not enough, they have fresh produce for days and a perfectly French selection of fresh (hot) bakery and bread items, and even a goddamn cafe. And the prices, still much cheaper than Whole Foods and even competitive with the coop (but not the cheeses). So I went nuts and spent a million dollars there and loaded everything up in my car and drove back home feeling like a responsible and satisfied mother hen who is doing more than providing only one or two edible items in the refrigerator each day.

You see, I still haven't gotten the German-shopping-everyday thing out of my system, so the fridge always looks kind of paltry....but that's just how we do. You know, buy the stuff and eat it, and so there isn't much else there. So, when I really go crazy and stock up, it feels pretty awesome.

And it came just in time for the cooler weather, which I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT. First, a couple of days ago, it rained. This was awesome, because then our car got washed. And then the wind and cooler temperatures finally showed their reluctant faces, and this made Mama Jens Very Happy. So now things like leafs swirling around in little whirlwinds are happening on the sidewalks, and Mama Jens is starting to bake, which is always a sign of fall.

Fall and Spring are basically perfect in my book. These are the months where I don't bitch so much about the weather.

So speaking of what's been cooking, I have discovered the joys and beauty of fillo dough. I am excited as hell about this discovery....the family, on the other hand at this point, is probably like, "Are you gonna wrap every single one of our meals in this shit?!" Fillo dough, as it is spelled on the package, but is probably more properly spelled "Phylo" (but I am too lazy to google it right now) is pretty frickin' awesome stuff. I am sure the rest of the world is very familiar with it, but Mama Jens just discovered it, so let me just bask in my Fillo glory for a minute.

Fillo dough is super papery thin dough. It comes wrapped carefully - lots and lots of sheets of it. You have to let it thaw overnight in the fridge and then when you unwrap it, put a wet cloth or paper towel over it because it dries out very quickly. Then you make what you want, wrap it all up and bake it. The coolest part is that it retains its papery shape and so it has the creases and crevices of crumpled paper, and it is very flaky French pastry style.

So far, I have filled it with spinach and feta, quiche style but with far fewer eggs and also with apples that are tossed like you would if you were making apple pie, with cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg and flour. Both turned out really nicely - delicious and also very pretty.

If you want recipes, just post a comment and I will share them with you.

And now time for the laundry update. I am still doing it weekly at the laundromat. Instead of breaking down and buying a machine, I have only come up with more reasons to keep doing it the hard way. One, a washer and dryer unit would take up a whole closet in our flat, which is Very Valuable Space. And two, I just realized tonight, is that it is a perfect time to call friends and family faraway. Load the washer. Call someone. Before you know it, the clothes are done. Load them into the dryer. Call someone else. Perfect. This is a good example of using your time wisely, my friends. Three, lately, there is an older woman from the West Indies who is watching over the place. I have enjoyed how she very unlovingly barks at everyone that comes in and innocently takes on the basically already unpleasant task of doing their weekly laundry. For whatever reason, she has taken a liking to me, and so I tipped her last week. And let me tell you, folks, tipping goes a long way in this country. So this week, she told me which were the best dryers, and this saved me HALF of my usual drying time. Plus, in between her freak outs on random people, I got to hear her life story. She has lived in this neighborhood for 43 years, and so scoffs (uncontrollably) at all the people who write her off as an "immigrant who can't speak the language" as she put it. At the end of her life story, she said, "This country is a loser!" And well, I gave her another tip, not necessarily for that, but because she didn't make my life double hell while I was out doing something I didn't want to do in the first place.

So laundry and food are all cool. Let's talk about schools.

So far, the preschool in Foxy Brown's neighborhood is turning out to be quite the gem. The teacher is awesome and our younger bundle of joy is excited about going there, which is all we really need for confirmation that it is a great place.

As for PS 321, well, it is everything you've read about and well, worth the insane INSANE INSANE rents. So, every month, as I write my rent check, instead of puking, I just remember that curriculum conference a couple of weeks back when the incredible teachers told us about what the children are learning this year and how, basically, they are teaching children to THINK. It is not about reading and writing and math, it is about thinking about those processes and problem solving and learning to love the process, and therefore loving to learn and learning more. It is also a place where they give the discipline guides in the form of "community codes." If you break one of them, you are responsible for solving the problem you created. Seems simple enough, but for a public school, I find it kind of revolutionary.

Good night and big kisses,
Love, Mama Jens

This is How We Roll vs. Park Slope Yoga

2007-10-09T04:06:00.000+01:00

These are my new wheels. Thank the Good Lord Jesus for my new wheels. They only cost $14 at Key Foods and not only are they insanely practical, they make me feel like I have truly assimilated into the Park Slope lifestyle (I am sure they are all over New York City, but I can't honestly say I have seen them navigating the streets of SoHo). Not only that, they have spared my upper back many a neck massage and my stretched out post-baby stomach muscles many a hernia. And I know that these are the kind of wheels that would normally fall under the Non-Hip-Accessory category, but since my cart is black, the dang thing even matches all of my Jewish Mama outfits. Fuck yeah!

I don't actually know the name of my new accessory, but I have heard it referred to as a "Granny Cart," which I personally find a little offensive, but I am willing to deal with that, because:

A. The thing handles curbs and broken sidewalks as though they were smooth as ice.
B. The handle is well designed, with this slidey sort of grippey plastic-y material that makes turning a dream.
C. Never before have I felt so light and carefree when hauling 4 loads of laundry or 10 bags of squashed groceries.

If you don't have one and you live in the city, you should go get one right away. If you live in Berlin and have noticed that they don't exist there, you should contact an American company that produces them and see if you can start exporting the lovely things and make a shitload of unexpected cash (I would have loved to have one of these things in Berlin). If you just enjoy the pain of all that muscle damage from hauling your shit all over the place, then I have something else for you....

Park Slope Yoga. This is the new place where I like to hangout when all the kids are at school, when I want to distract myself from getting a real job, and where I find peace and comfort in doing yoga to indie rock music. Go there, enjoy, stretch your brains out.

Good night and good lovin',
Mama Jens

Making Old Friends, Crisis, and Being a Jewish Mama

2007-09-21T01:28:00.000+01:00

The adjustment is going slowly but surely...its humid still which doesn't help and to be really honest, disillusionment sets in....

But first, let's discuss the business of making friends. I have the experience over and over of meeting the same kind of person. I move somewhere new, I meet someone right away, and they have so many similarities to the same person I've met right away in other new places I've lived that I am not sure if it is just a matter of certain kinds of people attracting other certain kinds of people, or if I am just totally fucking crazy and I haven't moved at all and have known the same person all my life.

To profile this person, she usually comes in the form of a single mother, young, pretty, and esoteric. She is into things like healing through intuitive powers, yoga, organic food, and basically anything non-traditional western medicine-ish. She is usually bisexual, intense, and is positive and great to talk to.

Anyways, I met her here...and within days of arrival. I always wonder how I end up with these people, given the fact that I am not super esoteric, nor bisexual, nor a single mother, nor convinced by the powers of healing in non-traditional ways. I can, however, understand how the laid back, open types are attracted to the darker, neurotic types and vice-versa.

So anyways, this girl just moved here too. I love her of course, she loves me. Instant friendship. She moved here because her intuition told her that she should move here, of course. I told her that, initally, when I considered the idea of moving here, that my intuition told me that it was a Very Bad Idea. She got chills at the thought that someone would blatantly ignore their intuition like that. But that is what I did, and well, since I am playing the part of the skeptical neurotic, none of that should matter, right?

So that brings us back to the disillusionment.

I spent my entire childhood, then adulthood (=my whole life) moving every couple of years, so place becomes this huge theme. It is easy for me to blame feeling down on place...but it isn't that straightforward, now is it?

So let us turn to other possible causes...

In the last two weeks, I have experienced, for the first time since I decided 7 years ago to begin populating the earth, days with Nothing to do while BOTH children were in school for the good part of the day. I am currently enjoying that distinct feeling of a crisis coming on again...or at least, the pressure to get cracking on some work or a project of some kind or I'll start to lose my flippin' mind. C'mon, Mama Jens, get off your lazy little ass and get to work.

Which is basically what my husband said to me the other day. I had dropped everyone off at school, then I come home and get right back in bed. What? Don't all mothers do that? My husband came in and said something about its time to get a job, to which I replied, "I plan on getting some mother fuckin' sleep first." Thank the Good Lord Jesus for school.

But let's talk about something else, speaking of the good Lord Jesus.

Like, how Mama Jens is seriously blending in with the Hasidic Jewish community these days. Well, there is nothing new about my outfit. I have the Mama Jens uniform, which consists of a long, black, A line skirt I have owned forever, A black shirt (I have about 50 black shirts to choose from), and my black converse sneakers. My hair is kind of straightish and mid-lengthish. As it turns out, here in Brooklyn, I have found my people. Get this: There are blocks and blocks of people dressed the same exact way! The only minor difference is that the ladies aren't wearing converse shoes, but rather some fancy patent leathery sorts of things or else some tennis shoes of the non-hip variety. Oh yeah, and I usually have two or three fewer children in tow.

Well, I thought, when I started getting stopped daily by the Hasidic Jewish men that they think I am one of them. They stop me and say, "Are you Jewish?" to which I always reply, "No," but one of these days I'm gonna say yes, because I really do want to know what my people have to say. After a couple of days of taking great pride in the fact that I am now a real Jewish woman, I realized that they are stopping everyone they see, not just old Jewish Mama Jens.

This past Saturday, we went ventured out to Long Beach for the day. When we got in the car, my husband looks over to me, and says, "Honey, we're going to the beach, not a funeral." I of course had my Mama Jens, Jewish get-up on, black sweater, skirt and all. But get this, when we got to the beach, all the Hasidic families were out walking, and again, I fit in, which is basically all I ever wanted to do in this life for goodness sake.

So, keep an eye out, Mama Jens has some fashion changes in store for this community. In a couple of years, Jewish Mamas everywhere will be sporting converse sneakers with holes in them for better water flow.

Okay, enough for today. Have a good and godly day.

Peace.

Starting Preschool, Street Cleaning Parking Protocol, and the Delightful Economics of a NYC Lifestyle

2007-09-12T02:20:00.000+01:00

I am happy to report that we survived the first week at PS 321. This place is something else, I tell you. I still haven't gotten used to the thousands of people who show up on time for school in the morning and then pick-up in the afternoon. It is like going to a party two times a day...you drop off your little homie in the lobby in the morning and hope he or she makes it to class without getting trampled, and then in the afternoon, you wait and try not to have an anxiety attack as all the little fish come swimming out of every door searching for their parents on the crowded, skinny sidewalks. Madness.

And now, a new week to survive, as my younger one starts preschool for the first time tomorrow. I thought I was a Seasoned Mama, and that sending my second child off to school for the first time would be no biggie, as I have already gone through all those emotions of letting go and trusting a stranger to take care of my child, etc. but It Just Doesn't Work That Way. For every little human being you bring into the world, be prepared to suffer all the complex emotional sways again and again. So, on that note, another bottle of wine, up late, fretting, making sure all the lunches are packed and extra pair of underwear properly labeled, and so on and so forth. I wish the school gave me the warm fuzzy vibe and was just around the corner, but so far it doesn't, and it doesn't seem to be moving any further south either. So for now, I will summon up the good energy and positive outlook and hope that it all goes smoothly and the first day will change my perceptions. If you are out cruising the streets in Brooklyn in your car, remember there are a lot of kids walking down sidewalks in a line to playgrounds and such. Drive attentively and slowly.

Speaking of driving slowly, parking is a real mother fucker here. During the summer, it was like big, wide spots open everywhere...but now that school is in session and everyone is back from their vacation homes in the Hamptons, parking spots come open about every 45 minutes of driving around all the surrounding blocks. And boy oh boy you'd better read those street cleaning signs before you park. Every street has a different day - and it is just one side of the street on that day. So, very punctually, at 8am, all the cars on the side of the street being cleaned, move over and double park on the opposite side of the street. That means those parked cars on the other side are blocked in until precisely 11 am when street cleaning is done and the cars can move back. No one bothers to honk if they are blocked in...they just all know what the hell is going on. Then all the different trucks pick up the piles and piles and piles and piles and piles of trash. It is AMAZING, and one of those funny, quirky things about the workings of this neighborhood that I have already come to love. I am not sure why I love it...if it is the fact that between 8-11am one day a week you can get away with doing something illegal (double parking), or if it is because between 8-11am one day a week if you weren't paying attention to what was happening on the other side of the street, you have a pretty good excuse for not being able to drive anywhere (some jackass double parked and you are blocked in), or if I just like seeing neatly filed rows of cars all up together side by side...whatever it is I just like it.

So that whole double parking extravaganza is the cool part about owning a car in NYC (that, and you can leave the city when you need a breath of fresh air, seriously). The not-so-cool part is that insurance goes up by 4 times. And this, my friends, is something we are truly In Denial about. We can't bring ourselves to register the damn thing and change the insurance. Yeah, yeah, I know we have to, and we will, but we plan on dragging this one out a little longer. Unfortunately, that 4x rule seems to apply pretty widely to things around here, we've noticed. Preschool, for example...holy fucking shit...you have to be a millionaire to send your kid to preschool around here...or maybe that is the norm in the U.S., and we are just still used to preschool in Berlin, which means Lots of Government Funding which means Dirt Cheap (as in you can almost find the change you need in your couch and that includes meals!!).

Which brings Mama Jens down Memory Lane. A beautiful, sunny Chapel Hill Sunday morning. We go to ACME in Carrboro for a lovely brunch. (The food is incredible here, by the way, so stop in if you are every in town...their French toast with fresh strawberries and cream is to die for.) We are sitting next to an older couple who thinks our two kids, jacked up on sugar from the french toast and climbing all over the chairs and pouring out the salt and pepper and so on, are just adorable. We strike up a conversation with them. It turns out they just moved from NYC and bought an amazing 1960's Cogswell house in one of the downtown Chapel Hill neighborhoods. It was even featured in a recent book about Chapel Hill architecture. Anywayz, we were telling them about our upcoming move to the big city and the guy said they decided to head south (much to the disapproval of their children and friends who were like, "You are moving WHERE?") because of the warmer weather and because, "in New Yowk, ya make a hundjred thowsan' dahlas an' yur nahthing, here, you make a hundjred thowsan' dahlas an' yura king." He was right.

Anyways, it is Mama Jens' bed time. Gotta get ready for preschool tomorrow, so more later.

Good night and no more terrorist attacks, please. Love, Mama Jens

Back to School, Tips for Survival in NYC, and A Laundry Update

2007-09-04T01:00:00.000+01:00

It is amazing that it has already been a whole year since I was last up late with a bottle of wine, butterflies in my stomach, and trying to get through the night-before-the-first-day-of-school jitters (well, the bottle of wine part happens a little more frequently than once a year). Judging by the bag of nerves that I am, you would think I was starting second grade tomorrow. We are all excited, ready for our early wake up call, and thankful (because, you know, the bottle of wine) that start time is an hour later than it was in Chapel Hill. We had the pleasure of meeting my daughter's teachers a couple of days ago and getting to go into the school, and could already feel the good vibes and the progressive approach. The teachers introduced themselves by their first names to my daughter, and one of them was wearing converse, which naturally immediately made my heart melt (Mama Jens' basic uniform includes dirty, old, black converse with holes on the sides so that my feet can bond a little with the water when it rains.) I think it will be a good year.

Wish me luck as I join the 1300 children and their parents who will descend upon 7th ave tomorrow morning. Holy Jesus. We heard that the ice cream trucks are lined up at 3pm when the crazy masses launch out of the building. Maybe I should invest in an ice cream truck.

So, we are figuring out big city living. It will take some time for sure, and every little step making it easier is just rockin'. Until this weekend, I was feeling a little disillusioned by the part of living here that insists that you are somewhere exciting. You live in this great, gigantic city...there are 8 million insanely incredible things to do everyday...but it is so big and so crowded, that it takes forever to get anywhere and you feel dirty and exhausted by the time you get anywhere, not to mention a little freaked and tweaked by the flourescent lights on the subway and the level of awareness you have to keep up should it be your turn to be mugged that night. Whew. But here is the thing, all it takes is careful planning. You can experience your beautiful neighborhood and all the city has to offer too, as opposed to deciding that it is all just craziness and you will have stay in your beautiful neighborhood. Planning, that's all. A couple of examples:

You want to go into Manhattan and do things with your kids? Just wait until it is Saturday morning, then you go over the Brooklyn Bridge, then up FDR drive along the river (in a car, yes) and enter Manhattan where you want. Voila! No walking forever to the subway, no schlepping all the strollers and kids up and down subway stairs, no watching dirty ass subway germs go from subway window to your child's mouth, no walking eight hundred blocks in the heat trying to figure out which way is north south east west. It can be painless, fast, traffic-free, and there you go, you've had yourself a lovely Manhattan afternoon in Central Park with your children. I don't mind doing all the aformentioned on my ownsome, but with kids, holy shit, its like torture and child abuse all at the same time.

Same with Target. You HAVE to go to Target once in awhile, ladies and gentlemen, let's just face it. And if your local Target is on Atlantic Ave and Flatbush, then let me tell you how it works best. You get up on Sunday morning at 7am and you get to Target when it opens at 8am. You park in the parking garage next to the entrance to the mall, smile at the security dude in the garage on your way in (and cash in on a little of your good kharma to assume he is actually a security dude), go in, and Voila! You have yourself almost a suburban version of Target. No people, no lines, lots of cheap stuff, heaven. If you can't get your lazy old ass out of bed until 10 am and then decide to go, you can count on there being 8 million other people there too with not much left on the shelves.

So let's rewind to Central Park. After we took a walk around and enjoyed the lovely scenery, we went to a playground in the park. This is what I saw: Not nannies, but real-life Mamas. And some mamas they were. One had this sort of tight, thong work out suit on, loosely covered by some sweat pants. She had her blonde curls piled high under her sports cap, and the botox-y face revealed a sort of how-in-the-hell-do-I-control-this-child expression. I couldn't keep my eyes off the thong thing...me, and all the other people at the playground were like, is that woman seriously running around a playground all thonged out like that? It was freaky. And then, there was this other Mama. Huge boobs (of the implant kind), perfect hair, make-up only a stylist could have done that morning, and again, a botox-y grin. I was in such another universe watching these people, that it was hard to keep track of my own children.

And now for an update on the laundry....here is another reason to find some principles that would involve not owning a washer/dryer...and Listen Up Ladies: When your husband sees you hauling trash bags of laundry a couple of blocks to the laundromat, he will OFFER TO DO IT THE FOLLOWING WEEK! I am not shitting you. Try it. Just make up an excuse to have to go to a laundromat..kick in your wash machine and break it or whatever...and you'll see that this works. Voila! Fresh, soft, warm laundry - piles of it - and it was done by someone else - and your husband to boot. Ahhhhh!!!!

Allright, time to get back to obsessing over going back to school. Good night and good lovin'.

Love,
Mama Jens

Mama's Park Slope Integration

2007-08-30T04:03:00.000+01:00

Hey look at this...two posts in less than a week! I am so proud of Mama Jens!!

So this is what I did tonight: Laundry. This is a big production these days. But first, let me rewind.

In Berlin, we had a wash machine that cycled for something like three hours for a couple of lonely pieces of clothing. Then we had to hang those guys out to dry. And when you are doing laundry for four, two of them always dirty, that means you are basically perpetually confronted with looking at a record-breaking size pile of laundry sitting in the bathroom everytime you pee, and well, you are always doing laundry. I am sure I have blogged about that before. Visiting family members from the U.S. were always in awe of my patience with that situation in Berlin, happy to go home to their SUV size washers and dryers.

Fast forward to Chapel Hill, and there I was in laundry heaven...new washer and dryer (SUV size of course) and I could clean a million large items in record time and never have a dirty towel hanging around. I enjoyed every minute of it.

And, now, we are here in our bajillion dollar a month apartment in Brooklyn, and with no wash machine in the apartment. So I have been hauling my laundry in trash bags to the local laundromat to sit and spin. I have done it every week so far- about two loads a week. I could get real and order a machine from Sears...but somehow, I am enjoying this right now because a.) it makes one think twice before throwing a perfectly clean item of clothing in the basket for the poor old Mama to haul later in the week b.) it gives me the opportunity to get out of the house and converse with the locals for about an hour c.) when I put a five dollar bill in the money changing machine and all those quarters fall out, I feel like I just won something and d.) When I lived in Chapel Hill, I always missed that feeling of "living" that I got from inconvenient experiences in Berlin, so I am indulging in them now again, just to remind myself that I am alive. Call me crazy.

So go ahead and start counting the days it takes me to break down and buy a washer and dryer.

And speaking of meeting the locals, we joined the Park Slope Food Coop this week too. This is an amazing, organic supermarket in the neighborhood where every one of the 14,000 members work 2.75 hours every four weeks to enjoy the benefits of shopping where food is marked up only 21% above cost. This means that the food is cheap, like half-the-price-of-Whole-Foods-Cheap! Very nice. The trade-off is that you have to work and this week, we both did our first shifts. I had originally hoped that I would get the job in the basement dividing large quantities of spices into bags and weighing them and pricing them, but that job was full, so I got the job checking people in at the front door, and boy oh boy is this an amazing experience in social analyzation. I enjoyed it totally...and I especially enjoyed sharing this job with a 60- something lesbian who was full of punk rock stories to pass the 2.75 hours time.

So it is exciting to feel like my Mundane Mama Jobs - shopping and laundry- are fully integrated into the social system here in Park Slope.

The children, to continue with the Mamaness of this post, are doing well. They seem to be adjusting well to city life...though we haven't gone into the city (Manhattan) with them much. Their world here is parametered by a few different playgrounds and Prospect Park, which we have had fun exploring with them. They start school next week - one in elementary and the other in preschool, and so now all my energies are directed toward getting them situated right now. I feel very good about the elementary school....it is much bigger than the one we were at in CH, but it is just around the corner and the zone is quite small, so I am sure we will see a lot of those children when we are out in the neighborhood, and I think this is wonderful. As for the preschool, it is in Foxy Brown's neighborhood, so a little further and a little more funky, but it seems like an awesome school, and if I can get over the fact that they will be walking the little guys to the playground a couple of blocks away, I think everything will be cool. I'll keep you posted there.

Otherwise, all is good. Time to sleep, but more soon. Good night and big kisses, love Mama Jens.

holy shit we moved again....

2007-08-22T05:43:00.000+01:00

i know it has been months since my last post...and i am always promising myself i will be consistent...but whatever...here i am and we live in park slope now.

sometime after my last post, another crisis hit, and we found ourselves packing again. sometimes, i think our only real goal in life is to experience as many realities as possible, all the while trying to keep our sanity and financial situation in tact.

so here we are. it went something like this:

1. convince friends and family that we aren't totally crazy.
2. find renters for our beautiful house and pretend it had no emotional effect.
3. find an apartment in park slope and pretend it had no financial effect.
4. go through another marathon of getting rid of things you don't need.
5. clean your heart out to make sure the house is ready for the new renters all the while wishing that someone was doing that for you in your new place, but knowing that wouldn't be the case.
6. rent a uhaul and drive north, singing sinatra's new york, new york.
7. unload the uhaul on the hottest day of the year. add a couple flights of stairs for extra pain.
8. sit in your apartment at 2am in a corner overlooking the piles of boxes while your sweet family sleeps and think, "holy fucking hell, what did we just do?"

and now it is three weeks later and sometime in the middle of the night and i am eating some chicken from two boots - a little cajun pizzeria around the corner that we have fallen in love with that has the most amazing, hearty meals (and very good pizza too). they give the kids pizza dough to play with and so that is basically all we need for now at this point in our lives.

it is wonderful wonderful wonderful to be back in the city again. i love having everything right at our doorstep and all the people in between. the dust from moving is settling and we are anxious to get back to living and exploring. there is something new to see everyday, and that is what has always been interesting about moving so much. and here i get the feeling it will take awhile to exhaust that benefit.

if you are still reading, i hope you are doing well. if you aren't still reading, i hope you are doing well too. big kisses from mama jens and hopefully i will get my shit together and post more in the coming days.

Park Slope, Babysitting, and Caterpillars

2007-04-14T03:31:00.000+01:00

Am I seriously working on two months here since my last post? What tha f#$%@?? If it weren't for the sweet reminders of Berinbound that I actually have a blog, I am not sure what I would do. Thank you, Berlinbound, for reeling the Crazy Ass Mama Jens back to her free time.

So here is what I have been up to:

Going to NYC. Hmmm...I think I did that for like the last five entries or something.

Okay, but first, let me tell you what I am doing at this very moment. Babysitting. That's right, babysitting. The last time I did this was seriously like 15 years ago or something. So I am sitting in this big, rambling house and the children of our dear friends (they have like a million kids) are all sweetly sleeping and I find myself with not much to do but blog really. And its perfect. And so tomorrow, they are going to babysit for us. Awesome, right? Instead of paying $50 plus to someone you don't know that well for a night on the town with your amazing husband, you can just befriend some wonderful people you know you can trust and do babysitting swapping with them. Its revolutionary, I tell you.

Bartering rocks. I have gotten my husband recording and mastering through photography work ...now I am working on a acquiring a hand made bag from a friend in exchange for doing his portfolio. And I might even manage to get a discount on a kitchen renovation from another job I just took on. Fuck money.

Okay, back to NYC. We spent last week in Park Slope. We found an apartment sublet on Craigslist and it worked out very well. The couple were totally cool and friendly and even had cozy things like soaps and good olive oil and toilet paper from the natural food store. The location was perfect for our scouting...8th ave and union. And let me tell you, we loved this neighborhood. It had such a village feeling, very down to earth and friendly, and even quiet. There were several nights where I was trying hard to use my Mama Jens math brain to figure out how it could be so quiet and only a 10 minute subway ride to lower Manhattan. We enjoyed the experience of "living" in the city again...waking up and walking a block to fresh bagels and coffee, going into an amazing deli for delicious cheese and hummus and fresh bread, walking to the playground in Prospect Park, and abandoning the existence of our car for several days (and hoping it didn't get towed or stolen). My older daughter kept saying how much she loved how it reminded her of Berlin. And it was very similar to Prenzlauer Berg in terms of the general feeling and of course all the children everywhere we went.

We spent a lot of time looking at apartments which didn't go as badly as we thought it would. For a bazillion dollars a month you could rent actually a pretty good sized place. We were thinking closets, but actually it was more like spaces the same size as our place in Berlin, and very nicely renovated too.

We went back to Chapel Hill thinking it was all a done deal. But we get back here, and unfortunately the whole damn town bloomed like crazy while we were gone and there are frickin' flowers everywhere, and our backyard turned into a gorgeous wonderland of leafy oaks and dogwoods and azaleas and crazy stuff like oregano and other weird things we didn't know we had since we weren't in our house last year this time. So the place is beautiful...and what else....the stress of making sure our children didn't run into traffic was suddenly lifted...it was warm and sunny (it snowed three times while we were in New York)....I go for a job and the client gets a call from her mom saying she had just been arrested for protesting...the kids are happy to dig in the dirt and run around outside like wild crazy humans...and well, there was a big, fat tax bill sitting in our mailbox.

So the urgency sort of just went away. It was like, this place is great too...and why all the rush...and we can enjoy this now and do that later or at least when we feel the timing is better. This could be as early as five months from now, or it could be next year...but right now, it isn't a magic fit.

The curse of being able to work from anywhere is the constant questioning. Why are we here? Where should we go?

I find myself at the same conversation I was having with a friend about a year and a half ago in a park in Prenzlauer Berg....people can be happy anywhere...you only live once, why not have an adventure....just make sure the feeling is right...

And so it goes...another good complicated mess. Let's just see where it all leads.

But let's just take a break from totally neurotic, obsessive compulsive brain freak outs and talk about caterpillars. I never knew this, but these guys obviously have a season, because they are suddenly everywhere. Huge nests in the trees yield hundreds of these guys and as I watch my children carefully inspect them and move them from leaf to leaf, I wonder if they will be vicious cashmere eating assholes, or gorgeous butterflies. I am guessing the latter, but not being the Nature Mama, you just never know.

I love babysitting. I just raided the pantry truly babysitter style. I wish I had a boyfriend to call long distance or something else terribly subversive, but I just don't.

Work has been awesome...there is another plus for playing out the Chapel Hill card a little longer. In Brooklyn, photographer upon photographer upon photographer sleep in each and every building. You throw a rock, you hit 20 of them. Here, it is more like academic upon academic upon indie rocker...you throw a rock and you can't find a photographer to save your life.

Okay, I'll just post this now. Good lovin', Mama Jens.

Craziness, Anonymity, The Joy of Sound, and the Tar Heels

2007-02-04T04:32:00.000Z

Some old-fashioned randomness....

When you have little ones (like babies) at home, you are so preoccupied with the baby-ness of life that thinking about your own mental state is pretty faraway. I can imagine a life of perpetually having babies to keep all that at bay, but since that is Just Not Gonna Happen, I am simply cursed with the mental state part of the equation. What this means is that when your kids are old enough to make their own breakfast (or at least the older one can make breakfast for the younger one), then you have enough free-floating mental space to either A) do something productive with your life or B) just get downright weird. My impulse it to go with the former, but lately it is looking more like the latter.

Another thing I have been thinking about is that city life (Berlin) gave me a nice neurotic balance, among other things. This is something akin to a speed freak taking speed to feel calm, if that makes any sense. When you have city craziness, or when I do, it is easier to feel focused. Maybe that doesn't make sense...but when it is chaos around you, it is like you find center because you just have to for survival. For me, here with all this space, it is like there is this vast, unfocused world in which finding a center is just an illusory game. For some people, I think it is perfect. Space yields concentration which yield productivity. But for me, it is more like space yields lack of focus which yields downright craziness.

A similar thing happens in terms of anonymity. For some people, the city means piles upon piles of people living on top of each other in this chaotic human grid of humanity, whereas a smaller town gives a sense of privacy and the ability to be alone. But for me, it is more like the city allows one total privacy in anonymity and the small town is like a nightmare of standing out.

Take today for example. I go to University Mall, our sweet little local mall with only a few struggling shops. In the course of about 1 hour, I run into half the people I know here. That means small talk, and Mama Jens hates small talk, let me tell you. They were all asking the same questions, like, "Are you here for the summer camp fair?" to which I kept ridiculously replying, "No, actually, I didn't know that was going on...I am just here to buy some Mars Mud for my daughter."

Mars Mud is this goopy, slimey stuff that my older daughter has had her mind on lately.

So back to today, I had a lovely day with the children...We spent the morning reading books in our playroom, sunshine streaming in the windows. My two year old is lately preoccupied with sound. Anytime she hears anything other than the normal clatter of the household, she perks up, widens her eyes (bugs them out actually) and says, "What's that sound?" My answer is either birds, plane, or firetruck, but usually just bird - and we hear all the interesting ones too, including owls and woodpeckers. It got me thinking about what she would be hearing in this phase if we were in the city...do you still hear birds in the city? I couldn't remember if we hear them in Berlin, but I am sure we did...they were just muffled by construction site bangings and hammerings and drillings, trams, cars, trucks, sirens, people talking, etc...you know the usual, peaceful stuff.

So then for lunch, we went to Franklin Street Pizza and Pasta. If you are in Chapel Hill or ever visit, be sure to go here. It is on the first block of houses on Franklin St., across from the university quad (where I always imagine my husband streaking...think Old School). The owner makes the sauce himself everyday. No one else knows the recipe. And it rocks totally. With garlic knots, on pizza, on pasta, on a meatball sub (my favorite there) or just plain out of a bowl. It is the best. Our girls love that place. It has become our new Punk Rock Pizza (in Berlin, I am sure I have written about that place). Except it isn't really Punk Rock. If you're going for rock and pizza, try Pepper's Pizza a few doors down, which is ten times more punk rock, but the food just isn't as good as Franklin St. Pizza and Pasta. And oddly enough, today, while eating there, my older daughter asked why all Italians are punk rockers.

Afterwards, we hit Morehead Planetarium for the Lego Palooza, which always makes me think of Lollapallooza and days of early college debauchery. But there was no debauchery there...just a ballroom filled with Lego exhibits and then in a corner a huge pile of legos surrounded by a huge pile of children who were building their own masterpieces. The place was so crowded, and having a two year old who likes to run wild and free and a six year old who is always asking me if she can take off her clothes, I was feeling a little stressed out.

Which got me thinking about Berlin playgrounds. Man oh man was I a royal mess on those couple of days a year when it was hot and the sun was shining and everyone from miles and miles around would ascend upon Kollwitz Platz. I would come with or meet friends and then proceed to have no conversation with them for two hours because I had to make sure I didn't lose track of my children among the sugar infested masses. This would stress me out totally - and I am talking in a way that only a stiff drink could help.

Which led me to think, if I can't find a sense of calm in this ballroom filled with legos in an itsy bitsy town, how in the @#$%& hell am I going to maneuver my sweet offspring through a city of like a hundred million people? Of course I immediately dismissed the thought, rationalizing that life in the big city would be more calm once settled and in a neighborhood, and things like going outside were purely optional. Hmmmm.....

And so on to the present since it is taking me eight frickin' years to write this entry. I know I could divide it into two or three or ten, but you know, whatever. Feel free to take a break and pee or just log out, whatever you need to do.

So this morning, my two year old comes to her mama and asks for a tissue to wipe her snotty nose. Out of all practicality (and a little bit of laziness not wanting to go upstairs and rummage through the closet to find a roll of toilet paper), I decide to just use the bottom of her shirt (it was dirty anyways and I was about to change it, I promise). Well, this freaked her out totally, and she told me all about it: Don't wipe my nose with my Tar Heels shirt. Get a tissue! Now, what suprized me in this conversation wasn't the fact that the two year old was putting the Lazy Ass Pothead Fokker Mama (minus the pot part of course) in check. It was that she referred to her shirt, which is just baby blue in color, as being a Tar Heels shirt. This all started one summer evening when we decided to take the girls to see the Tar Heels girls soccer game. The two year old was intensely fascinated with the cheering part of the experience. Everytime someone got close to a goal, every time the crowd would get a little louder, my daughter stood up and started yelling, "Taw Heeeeeews!!!!" This carried over to any situation where there was a crowd, such as at the John Edwards rally. Every time the crowd cheered or started clapping, there was my two year old shouting, "Taw Heeeewwws!! You say 'number' I say 'one'!" Plain craziness.

Okay, I'd better get some work done.

Love and Peace,
Mama Jens

2007-01-28T04:29:00.000Z

Its late. Sunday or Saturday or whatever. Mama Jens is totally obsessed now with moving to the city. Give me an idea and I just run with it. So I'm not getting many votes here, but we're going anyways. We just know its time. And in a couple of months, we'll be back in the chaos. Life is just so dang weird, I tell you.

Speaking of weird, my two year old is saying the word "weird," which is just total craziness. She rattles on about things in her half-understandable speech, and every now and then, punctuates it all by saying, "That's weird." And it is weird. Right on.

And so it is time for a couple of things. First, another get-rid-of-a-thon. If you followed my last one, then you know what I am talking about. Moving makes me want to get down to the basics - and by basics, I mean a couple of suitcases worth of belongings. Of course, this time we have furniture that we can just drive north, so that is a little less complicated, but still. I look around, and even though most people see something like an empty room, I see clutter. I get crazy over that. So now, with thoughts of moving, I feel the need to purge, even if we're just talking about thoughts.

And then there is the living-in-your-reality-as-you-are-experiencing-it problem. That means, everywhere I go, I think, "Take me to the big city." I have to work on that one...I have to accept the here and now and just appreciate it and enjoy the love and friendliness and good weather and slow pace. It is cozy here, for sure. And I appreciate how easy it is to do things, to get from Point A to Point B, etc.

And so I am trying...despite recent chemical imbalances and all kinds of other mental disturbance, I am trying very hard to exist, participate, and even enjoy.

So on that note, I'll tell you what we've been eating. Very Heathly Food. I am cooking fish like three nights a week, these days. Salmon, Tuna, Talapia...and the guys at Whole Foods never fail to give good and interesting cooking recommendations, down to suggested accompanying herbs and broiling times. Those guys rock totally and I only hope I can find them in the city too. And what have we been doing? Working, taking photos until our eyes pop out of our heads, and raking leaves. We live among some pretty dense and sky tall oak trees and several months ago, those things dropped all their beautiful foliage. We have done a lot of raking and blowing and even hand moving the frickin' things, but we are still swamped with them. A little kharmic leaf note: If you blow the stuff into the neighbors yard, it will just float on back when the wind blows. Don't even bother doing that.

So back to the city. Park Slope seems to be the location calling us. As we haven't actually been there, we don't know the general vibe. But we do know the basics, that A) it is next to a huge park where we can assure our children that grass and trees still exist and B) there is a very good elementary school there. And so being a Mama, you know, these are basically the driving factors. The downsides...well, from what I can tell reading about the place...A) it is popular because of my aforementioned attributes and therefore rent is AMAZINGLY high and B) it is perhaps overgentrified to an annoying degree. I can deal with some of that, but it can get pretty annoying too. That is what annoyed us about Prenzlauer Berg, as it related to other districts in Berlin. Not enough of a mix, you know. Hipster parents drinking their cafe lattes at the playground, more or less all wearing the same clothes like a freakish clone scene from a movie. We were characters too, I will admit. So when we go there, we can see for ourselves. Is it totally awesome and perfect for a family? Or is it so frickin' hip that we will curl with embarrassment? Whatever it is, it is in the city, and it is only a few stops from lower Manhattan, and it is not too far from mountains when we need an escape and the park sounds amazing, and there is so much more for us there with the kind of work we do, and and and....

Are we totally insane or what? Don't be afraid to answer yes.

Love,
Mama Jens

Mama Takes a Trip to the Big City and Wants to Move There

2007-01-23T02:26:00.000Z

It is impossible not to feel completely blown away the first time you land in the big city. The buildings, the scale is so much larger than life, that you have no choice but to feel overwhelmed stepping in, no matter how many times you have been there before.

My first glimpse of the city through the windows of the airport shuttle was going over the Williamsburg Bridge. Along the highway, one sees acres and acres of rolling hills covered with headstones. And behind that, like a much larger version of the same thing, the Manhattan skyline.

After that initial scale shock comes the near-death-by-taxi (or in this case, Airport Shuttle) experience - which I always have. You see your life flash before your eyes, then SLAM on the brakes, and the people cross over the crosswalk in something like slow motion before you.

I drop off my bags at the Chelsea Lodge (cute, very cute, and not super expensive) and then set out to aimlessly wander for about four hours. Plans escape me and maps become obsolete. In any and every direction, I walk blocks and blocks and absorb everything around me. At some point, I realize I've had nothing to eat all day and I have no idea where I am. I see a subway entrance and go down, still with no direction. I get on a train, go a few stops and realize I'm in Queens. It is quieter there, but I am not ready for that yet. I turn around and go back. Central Park. 70 degrees in January. There are lanes of runners and bikers and families and people covering every little part of each path. Get a grip, Mama Jens. Jump into a taxi. Back at my hotel. Eyes red. Head dizzy. I look like I've been smoking crack all afternoon. I wash my hands. I sit on the bed and try to stop spinning.

Day 2: I wake up at 7am. Eyes wide, heart thumping in my refreshing morning panic attack style. I find my way from bed to shower (if the bed were any closer, it would be in the shower). I squeeze inside and wonder how anyone with body fat would fit in there. Then I'm off to find coffee and 4 GB cards for my camera. People are amazingly friendly, and I wonder why NYC has a negative reputation in that respect. Everyone seems helpful and loveable. I want to kiss them all. I get all my photo stuff together and jump in another death taxi. I think that if I have to spend $200 in taxis on my trip, it will be money well spent. For a moment, I like going fast. I like seeing all the buildings and streets and districts rushing past me. Mama Jens loves taxis, and if you you don't get me killed, you get a big tip. I reel from the chaos and wondering if the people that live there ever experience it any differently. I spend all day taking photos up in the big park. It is good fun and I enjoy interacting with the other humans. When this is over, I head to Tribeca via tea in Greenwich Village for yoga at Kula Yoga. This is the first yoga class that kicks my ass totally. There are like sixty people crammed into a teeny, 100 degree room and the teacher is this awesome, energetic, guy with piles of dreadlocks who just walks in 20 minutes late and is like, "Let's do some fucking yoga!" The beautiful men and women enter a space unlike any other for something like 2 and a half hours and I think, "Oh, this is how they survive in the city." At the end, I am sweating as though I had just run up and down 8000 subway steps and I feel amazing. Another taxi and I am back in my room, passing out at 10pm.

Day 3: It is raining, so I can't take more photos like I had planned. I go back to Cafe Gitanes in Nolita where we went last time and have a croissant and some coffee. I wander around in the rain for awhile before I decide it isn't such a good idea with the equipment getting all wet. I do some shopping and then stop at beautiful Italian wine bar somewhere around Broadway in Soho (I wish I remembered the name) and have an incredible glass of wine in broad daylight. In the evening, I meet an old friend.

Day 4: An emotional morning. Feeling fully adjusted to city life again and it only took 4 days. I go to the same coffee shop. I feel the comforts of a neighborhood feeling around where I am staying. I am in love with this city. I go down to the World Trade Center site and take pictures of cranes and business men getting their shoes polished around Wall Street. I head back through China town, where I really enjoy the eye candy. I buy a fan for one of my daughters and a silk wallet for the other. I head back to Chelsea for a bowl of soup at a nondescript restaurant where I have eaten most of my meals. Then, I find the galleries. Blocks and blocks of old brick warehouses. Not much info on the outsides, apart from the occassional, discreet sign that clues you into the fact that there is something inside. I go in a few. Galleries upon galleries upon galleries. I wander for hours and find myself impressed and inspired by the paintings and photographs within. Then, I spend some time being a voyeur. It is dark now, and I can see right inside those beautiful houses, many of them single family homes. I see their light fixtures and staircases and wonder about their histories. At 7, it is time for the Emily Haines concert at the Hiro Ballroom. Beautiful, stylish New Yorkers file in and sit down. Nothing here feels down to earth. I enjoy the music, but reject the scene. I find my way back to my room, and go to sleep.

Day 5: Jet Blue back to Raleigh. Without you, we'd just be flying a bunch of TVs around the country. Jet Blue rocks totally.

Very nice to make a Mama Trip, but VERY hard to adjust to the reality of life again. Days later, I feel whole again.

And so here's what's happening here, we are seriously considering a move to the big city, folks. I realized there, but mostly when I came back, that I felt infinitely more comfortable in the urban jungle. To check for idealistic projections, we will make yet another trip beginning of April to check it out family style and see if that is ultimately where our adventure is leading us. We kind of saw it coming, but it happened sooner than we thought. We love it here too, and it was perfect for the transition from Berlin, but boy oh boy is the big city calling us. Cast your votes today for or against. And make your recommendations on neighborhoods. Think: schools, parks, love, rent.

In the meantime, we are just doing our research and enjoying and appreciating life here. Namely the quiet. It is sooooo quiet. Outside, quiet (apart from the occasional prancing feet of deer and a distant car on Franklin Street). Inside, quiet (no TV this week...a nice, refreshing experiment in creativity and imagination for our children). Metaphysically, quiet. Give us our neurosis back!!!!!

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Love, Mama Jens

John Edwards (Again) and NYC (Again)

2007-01-03T03:10:00.000Z

Here it is, less than a month after my last post and I am blogging. Productivity. Apart from feeling like my feet aren't touching the ground lately, things are going pretty well.

We saw John Edwards speak at Southern Village (remember - Truman Show, swingers club, sex toy parties, etc...?) over the weekend, which was pretty rockin'. I was proud of the old guy, with his big time, hometown turn-out. He was lookin' good out there, but you couldn't hear him too well, since he was being quietly fed into all the tv station vans framing the crowd. But what I am more interested in than politics and the entire fate of the universe, being the Obsessive-Compulsive Real Estate Mama that I am, is the 25,000 square foot house that he bought somewhere around here. I gotta find that dang thing. I hear it has multiple drive ways, depending on whether you plan to enter the living room first or the kitchen. The dude's got millions, nice hair, and maybe even a chance (it would be pretty awesome if the Prez was from Chapel Hill...would make me feel kinda even then since I lived in Austin when George W was governor...and I remember my husband, then boyfriend, saying, "Can you BELIEVE he was elected GOVERNOR???!!"). So there you go. Rock it, democrats.

And here it is now, 2007. My feet, yes, they are still hanging off the ground, and on that note...I will go to NYC this weekend. I know it is only a couple of blog entries since my last NYC trip...but maybe we will just start seeing a pattern here. Maybe I won't be content with 4 trips a year. Maybe it will be more like every other week, and then we will move there! :) I tell you something, I miss the city life. So there you are. I am going there. On my ownsome. I will go to yoga everyday. I will take photos. I will paint some pictures. I will wander. It is a real Mama Escape. And you will be so proud of me... being the Real Estate Voyeur that I am, I have even set up appointments to look at apartments. Now that I know everything about every house in Chapel Hill, I decided to move on to Manhattan.

And speaking of Manhattan, the book about NYC that my husband lovingly gave the old city freako for Christmas, really keeps talking more about Brooklyn. And so this time, I will check it out. I'll give you the full report.

Ah, a short entry. I have to sleep now. Good night and sweet dreams.

Love,
Mama Jens

2006-12-16T01:34:00.000Z

I am pretty sure no one is really reading this anymore, but that's cool. I haven't been the Most Consistent Blogging Mama in the Universe. Ever since school started, it has been like this whirlwind. The days are busy and short. And well, I've been experiencing some good old fashion depression lately. I can't imagine why, its sunnier than hell outside. The weather is perfect. The town is perfect. School and kids and everything else is pretty much perfect. So what is there to be depressed about...hmm...maybe its just the Mama Jens Darkside, which you wouldn't notice just looking at me.

Speaking of a darkside, I recently discovered that Southern Village (a Truman Show-esque neighborhood where the colorful houses stand in perfect rows on teeny tiny lots and there is a "downtown" and everyone looks groomed and cleaned and happy) has got some pretty rockin' stuff going on in there afterall. You see, when I go to this neighborhood (which has an awesome cinema and pediatrician), my main impulse is to take off all my clothes and run down the streets shouting "FUCKER!" Since I know how readily the Mama Jens Darkside wants to jump out of my skin in that neighborhood, I figure there must be some pretty weird people in there, or a collective darkside consciousness, or something of that nature. Well, anyways, I find out lately that there is a swingers club in that place! Can you imagine?!! And they have sex toy parties in there and everything. I am not into swinging, nor am I into sex toy parties, but you gotta hand it to those people.

It also turns out that there are a few other Chapel Hill gems worth noting:

Bonne Soiree: A beautiful, tiny, cozy French restaurant tucked away off Franklin St. A husband and wife team opened up over the summer, and judging by the difficulty in getting a reservation, it is doing fabulously. The place is like a salon, as in French living room, with baby blues and luxurious drapes, and cozy, lovely tea drinking feelings of love and money well spent. I think there are something like 9 tables in there, but the way they are arranged, it feels like you are the only ones. You get that feeling too when the owner comes over and talks to you about the meal and the wine choice you made and makes recommendations for other wines and even lets you sample some with dessert. The hand written menu and wine pairing service were two other nice touches. The food was incredible. The final bill was incredible too, but not too bad considering the time spent there, the pure enjoyment of the evening, and the beautiful, imaginative, and tasty food.

Lantern and Lantern Bar: I mentioned this in a previous blog entry, but it is worth repeating. Go to Lantern. It is awesome and the bar behind it is awesome. The food and combinations of ingredients will totally amaze you. The cocktails in the bar are incredible too.

Crooks Corner: Now we've tried this restaurant a couple of times. I haven't been amazingly impressed with the food, but probably because I am not a huge fan of southern cooking in general (think deep fried pickles and shrimp & grits). But what is very sweet here is simply the local impression this place leaves. You get the feeling that this is really a Chapel Hill establishment like no other and that the owner is very connected to this place and surrounding areas in terms of food and local ingredients. I love the outdoor heated porch too.

Whole Foods: I am sure I have mentioned this before and it isn't like it is some secret, but Whole Foods rocks completely. I go there nearly everyday (I haven't abandoned my daily shopping ritual) and love to buy fresh fish and meat there. The people are so friendly and helpful and knowledgeable too. You ask about fish, they tell you everything about the damn fish, up to what it ate yesterday. You ask about wine, they give you the best, most accurate recommendations you could get, you ask about cheese, they open the package right there and give you a hefty chunk (and eat one with you!) I could kiss them all. And the added bonus of all the hotties working there that I get to check out while I am choosing herbs and my children are helping themselves to the samples is not bad either.

So those are a few of the gems we have discovered. And now for a check of the weather...

The winter is short and bright. It is sunny with long shadows all day long. Its a little chilly in the morning - enough for a sweater and light coat, and then by noon it is getting warm, in the 60's, and the jackets and sweaters come off. The sunlight in the early morning (8 or so) and in late afternoon (4ish) is that kind of golden light that you want for your movies, or in my case, for my photos.

So, being familiar now with how light streams around every corner and through every tree and in every window in my house, I like to do my photos here and have my models come here. So my neighbors have been getting quite a show if they are looking out their windows when the sun becomes glittery.

Last night we went to the community center playground in sandals and t-shirts. It was dark by 5 pm which was are only indication of winter. The children swing swang swung and we had a blast.

Speaking of children, they are growing quickly. The little one is starting to talk now, and keeps us laughing most of the day. Yesterday, she insisted on putting on her shirt by herself. "No, I do that BY MY SAUWS!" After a few comical, stretchy twists she got her head and both arms in. The shirt was still bunched up around her chest, and she peered down at the enormous belly still sticking out and said, "Belly in that shirt!" with this look of "How in the world am I gonna get that belly in my shirt?!" Cuteness. And the older one, she's amazing. First grade rocks. She is reading and growing and becoming more aware of herself. She uses words like "vague" and we talk about how she isn't supposed to tell the others that Santa Claus is not real.

And now it is almost Christmas and I know that the commercial feeding frenzy is in high gear and I have been trying to avoid that. Luckily we have a sweet little mall down the road, filled with privately owned businesses (not the typical mall with chain stores) and so I have been working on my own kind of frenzy there.

And I do have to admit that I am impressed by the charity efforts I have seen here during this holiday time. Everywhere you turn, there is an opportunity to support some group or fund or buy items for people in the local nursing home or childrens' home. There is one place that even offers an alternative Christmas market where you can buy gifts of donations to various causes in other peoples' names as their present.

And so after Christmas we will go skiing in Maggie Valley, which is in western North Carolina. I am a little spoiled by the Alps now, so this could be hard, but I am excited about the log cabin in back ass North Carolina thing and just the anticipation of a Mama Jens heavenly skiing experience. Skiing is awesome. Even though it is a lot of work to get all the gear and get ready and get up to the top in your big ass fluffy suit, it is such an awesome, freeing feeling to be on the mountain and skiing like a mad woman. I like.

So I wish you a beautiful holiday season. Big kisses and warm thoughts of gingerbread houses and feelings of gratefulness.

Love, Mama Jens

New York City, Real Estate, and Nights Out

2006-10-28T02:23:00.000+01:00

Hello from a rainy, Halloweenish October night in Chapel Hill.

First things first: We survived our first trip away (to NYC) from the little ones (and they survived too). But more importantly, I am happy to report that we didn't totally freak out and decide we had to move there this very minute. It was totally fascinating and amazing and exciting and I wanted to look at real estate the whole time just out of curiousity, but I did not have the feeling I could live there with small children (unless I had bajillions of dollars and could afford to live on the Upper East Side next to Central Park where my children could play all day with the other children who had just jumped out of their bugaboos, French-cottonly clad, rosy-cheeked, and nanny flanked). I could totally imagine living in the more interesting parts of town (south Manhattan-ish), if I were in the young, sexy, wealthy, childless twenties...but, that is just not the here and now. With kids it would be a little like torture (for both parties). In those areas, it just made me sad to see the little ones all glazed over in their strollers from too much noise and stimulation.

But the NYC adventure totally rocked, in terms of having a little parents' time away. No being at home by 7:30 before story times and meltdowns, no walking at snail speed, no waking up at 6 am, no picking-up-the-fork-and-spoon-exercise routine at dinner. We took advantage of every minute of our time and, I swear, saw so much in three days....MOMA, Whitney, The John Stewart Show, every part of town imaginable (thought we regrettably/regretfully did not make it over to Brooklyn), an awesome little French cafe called Cafe Gitanes, Chinatown, near death by taxi driving, H&M, rows of brownstones that made me curl with curiousity about the layouts and inhabitants behind the facades, and so on. What an absolutely incredible, mind boggling place. I would love to live there when I am an old woman.

And speaking of the here and now, it is fall and beautiful. There is a pack of children in the neighborhood that collect and walk to school, and then later back home together. Seeing your neighbors everyday is amazing. I love them. The neighborhood vibe is pretty good here and so I decided it was time to start a poker club. I made some trashy, home-made flyers, and I passed them out, and then last weekend, we had our first poker night. As far as poker goes, it was kind of a lot of people, but had two tables going and then somewhere around 2am after about 1000 beers and lots of spilled neighborhood psychology, someone finally won and everyone went home. It made us feel very 50's-ish, as in 1950's, neighbors, card games, old fashioned fun, etc.

And speaking of old fashioned fun, I am totally obsessed with real estate. I probably mentioned that somewhere along the line in here, but I can't remember. I spend so much time searching for real estate online that I basically know every frickin' house here, when it was built, how much it sold for, etc. It is kind of scary actually. My memory is total shit, but when it comes to house info and floorplans, I am like Professional Real Estate Mama. So get this: the buyer's agent, who helped us sell this house, wants to hire me as his assistant! I am a photographer and mostly a Mama right now, but hey, why not, maybe it is time I start a career in realty. What do you think?

What else? Oh yeah...cooking. Its that time of year and Mama Jens starts getting her groove on in the kitchen. Not only do I feel the urge to organize poker nights, I want to plan a whole stretch of parties just so I can cook and bake. Crazy, right? I don't know, but it is something in the air this time of year. My Martha (of the Stewart variety) comes out in full force (but with a freakish twist, not that that lady doesn't have the most hugest dark side the most twisted person can imagine...). So that has been fun...caramel apples, fresh sweet potato pie, gingerbread with homemade whipped cream, etc. and so on. And I am so excited about this time of year in America. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas....after years of celebrating them sort of half-ass in another country, we are excited to see how it is done here, even if the commercial, Hallmark, economy-fueling aspect is a little intense-like.

And speaking of freakish twists, I am letting go of my early 90's indie rock obsession. I have seen some of those bands recently, namely Mojave 3 and Built to Spill, and though they were great, I decided that it is just time for this old Mama to move on. I love you guys, but I have to let go of the past. Time for something new. M Ward, for example. Great show.

On that note, we have been going out a lot here. Even though babysitters can be 50$ a pop, we still have been spoiling ourselves and going out to dinner and shows and movies quite a bit. I am still so amazed that we can leave our children with our babysitter and she can put them to sleep and they are cool about it. It makes us feel so accomplished.

And that brings me to Lantern, an amazing restaurant on Franklin St. that we have been too about 4 times now (partially because it is amazing, and partially because there aren't exactly millions of options here). www.lanternrestaurant.com If you are ever in Chapel Hill (unlikely), make sure to go there. They also have an awesome red-lit bar in the back that makes you feel like you could be anywhere in the world. Strange, but true.

So I think that is about all for tonight. Have a great weekend. Keep up the good work.

Love,
Mama Jens

PTA Meetings and Indie Rock Super Heroes

2006-09-07T02:13:00.000+01:00

I am just barely getting one entry a month in here...

School has started. I am officially a mother of a first grader! What a trip down memory lane this has been...blacktops and school lunches, pencil boxes and walking in single file line down the hall. Music class and art class. P.E. I don't think much has changed in the twenty five-ish or so years since I was a first grader. The night before the first day, I took it upon myself to collect all the energy of all the awkward children in the whole universe trying to get to sleep the night before the big day. This resulted in a pretty intense emotional break down...but I recovered, somewhere around 2 am in the bathroom, repeating affirmations that I would be positive and strong for my daughter the next day as she began this new phase of her life. And it worked. The next morning, cool as a cucumber, I walked our excited six year old to school, bags under eyes and coffee cup in hand. I was a nervous wreck most of the morning too, hoping she wouldn't feel too lost in the sea of 500+ children, hoping she would feel welcomed and cared for and safe... And I just felt so relieved when the bell dismissed the little fish, and I saw her come out of her classroom decorated with a huge, confident smile.

And being the new American Mama that I am, I went to the school's first PTA meeting. Oh lordy. So I go there and am shocked that A. Everyone is so nice to each other...as in no one really says how they feel or if they do it is couched in so much fancy smoochy moochy language that you have no idea which side of the fence they are trying to say they are on. This is a BIG change from our kita meetings in Berlin where someone inevitably went home with they feelings hurt, especially the sensitive Americanos like me. and B. The whole flippin' meeting was about money and fund raising...and we aren't talkin extra cash for a few rose bushes in the front yard, we are talkin money for the basics - for the teachers to buy supplies, for different programs to function with the proper materials, for computers and other equipment, etc. Holy craziness. I knew this was public school, but holy frickin' where's the tax money, baby? If they could just scoot one half of one percent of that war money this way, our kids would be so much better off. It just takes a little. So this was a shocker for me, coming from land of the government money everywhere. I-mazing.

And on a totally different note, last week, I went to see Shellac, who are my new super rock heroes. This was one of the best shows I have seen in ages. I saw them at the Cats Cradle, which is a good size club in Carrboro, and which, for such a small town, gets an amazing line-up of shows. For all two of you indie Mamas reading, here is what is coming up...Sufjan Stevens, Mojave 3 (makes me feel old), Lambchop, Portastatic, and M.Ward, Rogue Wave, and Built to Spill. Very exciting. So, Shellac, ahhh...I was in math rock heaven...

And speaking of music, while watching the VMA's last week, I wondered (seriously) if I was too old to start training to be a back up dancer for hip hop acts. Now lets be honest, those are some amazing movements that those ladies make, and I kinda want to do that.

What else? Oh, yeah, we are going to NYC soon!!!! It will be the first time we have gone away without the little ones and I can't wait to go there and imagine what it would be like to live there. I know I will have a crisis about it, but I will try to remain positive a la the first day of school and keep in mind the following: 1. I am not a millionaire, so life in NYC would be kinda rough. We would have to work our asses off to make ends meet, and spend a fortune on rent for a teeny tiny apartment in probably a shitty shiny part of town. 2. We have a big house. 3. We have a yard. 4. It is clean here. 5. The public schools are good, even if you have to sell wrapping paper to fund the French program and 6. We only live an hour from NYC and airplane tickets only cost about 150$ so we can go whenever we want to get a little city fix. Okay, I'm gonna write that down and put it in my wallet, so that when I am walking around the awesome city and I feel that gut wrenching pain to live there, I can find myself a nice spot in a cafe and pull out that list.

Time for some sleep. School gets us up at 6.30 these days. Ouch.

Love,
Mama Jens

Vacations, Birthdays, Nostalgia, and More

2006-08-10T19:42:00.000+01:00

Hello again from Chapel Hill!

We have been traveling a lot and entertaining visitors from Germany. Here is where we went:

Blowing Rock: A cute little mountain town in the Blue Ridge Mountains about two hours west of here. We were calling it the Garmisch of North Carolina, except that there are only 1400 residents as opposed to Garmisch's 26,000. And well, there were no Bavarian men with big beers and beards and no cows parading through town. The Blue Ridge Mountains were beautiful and the vistas from the winding hills, breathtaking. The vertigo I experienced the night after the winding was also quite breathtaking. It is always fun to hold onto the walls when trying to get your blind ass self to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Then we drove to Myrtle Beach, to show the Germans some REAL hard core American loveliness. And loveliness it was, I tell you. That little strip of old-school Myrtle Beach (which we kept calling the Altstadt much to everyone's amusement) was intense. Think Las Vegas meets redneck meets hip hop meets foreigners-working-in-a-beach-town-for-the-summer and you can start to get a sense of the place.

Then we headed north for a much more civilized beach vacation on the Outer Banks. This part of North Carolina is incredibly beautiful. When you drive out there, you get the feeling you are heading toward the end of the world, but a beautiful one...there is nothing out there...just signs saying "Beware of Bears," which is super comforting at 2 am with a quarter tank of gas and two sleeping bundles of joy in the back seat. But the car didn't break down, thank the good lord Jesus and soon we were seeing those cozy, comforting signs of humans again like Food Lions and outlet malls. We stayed for a week in Kitty Hawk in a big, old beach house. Sunning on the sand by day and playing poker at night...it was heaven on earth, I tell you.

And now we are back, safe and sound, in Chapel Hill. The Germans have gone back to Germany, and I find myself nostalgic for Berlin these days.

It came to me (the nostagia) on my older one's 6th birthday last week and hasn't really left. We had a birthday party with about ten kids. I didn't (and still don't) know what the protocol for childrens' birthday parties here is, but I always had in mind that they were to be lavish and include things like clowns, rented blow up entertainment (of the jumping-on variety), beautiful dresses, Martha Stewartish theme coordination and hors d'oeurves and general Chucky Cheese-like overthetopness. Well, we didn't do all that, except of course the Martha Stewart part, since I am, as you well know, kinda like that lady, except a little bit more punk rock and socialist. We kept it low key...a craft (which all the sweet little Montessori trained girls sat peacefully and did in almost frightening silence), some old fashioned bingo, and a pinata which, since it was a million degrees outside, had to be done inside and therefore was quite scary with the broom stick and all. The birthday cake rocked, so did the snacks. All was running smoothly until present opening time. My daughter started to open them...present after perfectly wrapped present...big ones, plastic ones, colorful ones, noise-making ones...it was better than any flippin' Christmas we have had to date, I tell you. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I turned to another mom and said, "Wow, this sure is different from our birthdays in Berlin...." to which she replied, "Welcome to America."

After everyone left, my husband and I were trying to decide what to do about the presents we had bought for her birthday...should we save them for Christmas, had she had enough...? We decided to break down and just give them to her. But, despite the excessiveness of earlier that day, she was thankfully still her same present opening self that she has always been...that is the kind that takes days to open everything because she has to carefully inspect and fully interact with each and everything which can be pretty intense for the impatient onlookers.

And that night, as I tucked her into bed, feeling so American, so excessive, so plastic, we talked about being happy for what we have and for the nice friends we have and have made since we have moved here and how we are rich because we have love. I don't know what you think about all that sappy Communist stuff, but at least it made me feel a little better.

What else??? Oh there are so many things....where do I start....

Lets start with the weather. I hope you don't think all I do is bitch about the weather...In Berlin, it was tooooooo cooooolllld. And here, well, I think it is usually great, but right now it is REALLY FUCKING HOT. Mama Jens is sweatin' her ass off taking care of all those kids. Today, after I watched my 22 month old strip down, grab a magazine, and sit on her blue, plastic potty and before I went nuts and took out all my anger on a line of fire ants hanging out around my sink, I locked the whole lot of us out of the house. Among other things, I learned that our house is actually extremely difficult to break into. With my husband out of town, and all my kids going apeshit in the yard, I walked around and inspected all the doors and windows. Yes, they were all locked, just as they should be. Then I imagined myself on a super long ladder checking to see if the upstairs windows were locked too. Next, I considered finally introducing myself to the neighbors. And then, I called a locksmith. He came over, and then we watched him try every trick in the book to break into our house, all the while sweating our dang heads off outside in the 100 degree weather. Very enjoyable, to say the least. 2 hours and 75 bucks later, we were in, air conditioned, and happy, new locks and all.

And my Berlin nostalgia...I miss urban life you can't imagine. And today, after talking to a couple of different German businesses (an optiker and a florist) on the phone, again in my broken German, again with my sense of self-defense, I kinda felt a pang of love for those old guys. I realized that after all those years, I actually did learn how to deal with those interactions (which were always painful) quite well. I learned how to work my way through the mazes of "nos" and "its not possibles" in the way I needed to, and it is comforting now to be so many millions of miles away and to still be able to deal with it.

But what I really miss, much much more than the German businesses, is the closeness of the friendships I had there, something I have yet to really achieve here, something that takes years to foster. And why do those relationships seem so far away, when something like the internet makes the world seem so small? We look forward to spending summers there, which we will start next summer. I know it will be different, but I am excited to see the changes.

Okay, there is always more to say, but I will save it for another entry. If you made it this far, rock on. If not, I totally understand. Good night and much love,

Mama Jens

Mama Jens Update

2006-06-09T03:10:00.000+01:00

I am not a very Good Mama Blogger lately. Are any of you still with me???

It is June and it has been over a month since my last post. I will preface this entry by saying: we are so happy we moved here. Despite the things we scoff at in all our objectivity, we appreciate everything about the way things turned out. Life is so different, but we know we made the right decision.

Randomness:

The space of transition remains cloud-like even three months later. Fundamental things are so different. Time, for example, totally different. Food, sense of self, routines, different. People adapt and there is this innate make-do function not unlike what happens with birth. In our memories, it is all rosy - everything from birth (painless) to tantrums (cute) because Mother Nature can't afford for us to think otherwise. Suckers. I think big transitions in life are similar. Something happens in our minds to make these situations (marriage, moving, new job, etc. and so forth) very exciting, whether they are or not because that is the only way we can cope, survive. I am not saying that my mind is tricking me into thinking that this is all just a good thing. It definitely is a good thing. See...I can't know about the Trick. And so it goes....

Whoa.

The other night, we watched Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Prices. That basically reaffirmed our plans to never shop our Wal-Mart=Evil Bastard. It also addresses the America we don't like, but that we are not alone in not liking.

Debt is so American. Never in my life have I felt the impulse to accrue debt as I do these days. There is some evil shit going on right here. Everyone is trying to sell you something. And, well, you can afford it, even if you can't because you have 12 months to pay it interest free and you have a coupon, and you would be missing a deal if you didn't and and and... We will not be suckers. No. No. No. We don't like.

Nature. We have a lot of it. If you are one of my old school Mama Jens Blog Readers, then you know that I am no fan of nature, by nature. But one can learn. Maybe it is possible to take the big city out of the girl. Or is it just that I am protecting my investment? Whatever it is, I have the undeniable urge to keep leaves and big sticks off my little lawn. I have found myself, almost daily, doing such natural things as planting flowers, paving garden paths, mulching, and communing with the unavoidable constants of our property (squirrels, chipmunks, deer, spiders, birds, and a million other bugs for which I will never know the names). I won't squash anything, because I am pretty sure it will come after me in another life. I invite you bugs and insects and other things to live happily out here. Breed. Chirp. Dig holes. Eat my flowers. I will not squash you. You like. Don't bite me.

Anonymity. Moving somewhere new affords one the privilege of anonymity. Nice. Part of me absolutely loves not knowing many people at all because there is so much time!! Wow! Time to paint, time to sew, time to do the dishes. It is amazing. And I am savoring it because I know that, in this small town, one is only two steps away from the next person. This won't last long.

On the other hand, being outside of a city is very isolationist in that you have a house, you stay in it. You have your own swingset, you don't go to the park anymore. You drive to the store, you nod to the cashier, and thats about all folks. No people, nowhere. It is so easy to disappear here. Right now, I like. But in a few months, I won't.

OK, sleepy. Good night and good lovin'. Love, Mama Jens

First, Cut Finger...Then, Buy House

2006-04-28T03:39:00.000+01:00

Good evening, ladies and gentlemens.

My first realization tonight is that I seriously should drink more. I am so busy all the time being a neurotic freako that I always forget to sit down and have a drink and just relax damn it. But after a little glass of bubbly, I realize that thinking clearly is actually possible. Instead of racing from point a to point b in my mind all the time like a wild damn turkey, I can actually coast there and savor the thought, ponder it, even change it. Amazing.

So here is what I did today: I bought a house. That's right. I bought a frickin' real bonafide two- storey, expensive-as-hell, adult, mature house with a yard and trees and driveway and mailbox and everything. Whoa. During the closing (lawyers, realtors, wooden oval table, signatures, clean clothes, paperwork), our sweet little sweetie kept busy trying to see what she could find inside my shirt. That was super fun. But it all worked. All three thousand million papers were signed, no one ran out screaming, and it was all cool. And now we are real, American homeowners. We like.

This is what else I did today: Cut my finger real bad. I actually went to the doctor at 8 am before the closing on the house to get stitches. There wasn't enough time, so I had to go back later, but I did get a nice band aid and some neosporin (sp?) for closing which was super friendly. Its all very psychological you see...nervous, brain elsewhere, thinking about how I will tie the color scheme in the childrens' room together, contemplating how I will breathe under this mountain of debt, making lunch for the five year old, cutting a big, german-style loaf of brick-like bread with a little ole steak knife, etc...the knife slips...and wham-o!... Big, deep cut right on the ole index. It took me a couple of minutes to register...blood, no pain really, blood, lots of moving and finger-using to do this weekend, more blood, deep, oh shit really deep... and there we were...all four of us...suddenly completely consumed by Mama Jens' cut finger. Closing on a house becomes less important (for just a second), getting the children dressed becomes totally optional, getting to school on time becomes a ridiculous requirement. It was all good. It helped. It broke tension. It distracted. I would certainly recommend it to any of you who might be buying a house any time soon.

So, America...it is still strange...but I think we are getting used to it. We had a little panic a couple of weeks ago. We almost totally freaked and moved to NYC. But then we came to, and realized that such a move within a move wouldn't be the smartest thing we have ever done...and well, we kinda like it here. It isn't the most amazing place in the entire universe, but it might be that we just need to meet some people. Still, we miss the urban, the contact with people, the movement, the opportunity....

Let's look at it this way...there is short term and long term....maybe we'll head up to the big city in a couple of years when our kids can walk without whining (or at least can whine a little less while walking) and we can afford something bigger than a closet (because I think we might need two closets) and we are so calm and balanced and refreshed and healthy that we are bored and need a good dose of craziness to set us straight.

Life is short! Move around!! Do things!!! Change your environment!! Quit your job! Take chances.

Ah....I feel better.

Time for another glass of champagne....

I hope you are having a lovely evening. Love and big kisses, Mama Jens.

Driving My Ass All Over Town

2006-04-05T15:36:00.000+01:00

Driving is a major, unavoidable, American past time. Cars are outfitted to that effect...with TVs, DVD players, computers, cup holders, little fridges, etc. You can drive-thru for food, banking, laundry, etc. We could live in the dang things. No problem. They are air-conditioned. They are cozy. You can keep your kids strapped down. Perfect.

And driving here is very different. It is a little like everything has been designed for giants, slow giants. The cars are BIG, the lanes are BIG, the freeways are WIDE, and the shoulders are WIDE. And everything moves SLOOOWWWWLY. No zipping at amazing speeds like I did Mama Taxi Driver style in the big city with all my kids crammed in a teeny car. No flying past the inferiors in the right lane on the autobahn.

First of all, there is no concept of right and left lane here. Trucks will pass you on the left which totally weirds me out. And nothing is zippy. Instead of entering the freeway ready to fly, you just get on there and you sort of float. The lanes are so big that you can even float around in your own lane just for fun if you want. And everyone is going so slowly that you have time to do things like file your nails, put on your make-up, and turn around to make sure your kids are entertained in the back seat, though I wouldn't recommend any of these things. The larger problem I am trying to overcome while driving is sleeping. As soon as I get in the car and start floating, I just want to sleep. I start yawning like crazy and have to slap myself on my cheeks and roll down the window to wake myself up a little. No neurosis there, ladies and gentlemen...I kinda like.

But here's a big problem with the floating - exercise. I can already tell by this lifestyle that Mama Jens' tiny little ass is gonna start growing if she don't get her exercise on. You go home. You sit. You eat. You walk to your car. You sit. You eat. You get out somewhere. You sit. You eat. There is absolutely no mystery as to why there is such a weight problem in the U.S. Sure the food in restaurants and fast food are awful (and taste like cardboard mixed with chemicals and fried in grease), but a huge part of it is the lifestyle and the lack of exercise. In Berlin, I probably lost five pounds every time I went to the bank because I had to haul two kids, groceries, and a stroller over broken sidewalks and obstacle-course-style construction sites just to get there. Everyday life keeps you fit there, no problem. But here, one has to make an effort.

And we are determined to stay fit, damn it.

And on that note, our coolest discovery here so far is that there is a series of paths through the woods that link all parts of the town. You can get around by walking if you want to. Some of the paths are paved and some of them are not. They wind up and down hills, and they are beautiful. We have gone on them a few times and I feel like a real Nature Mama out there. And they are busy...lots of people walking, roller blading, riding bikes. See, America can be cool.

There is also a bus system in town that is FREE. Holy progressive town! We haven't figured out the system yet, but I will and will let you know how it is.

Can we manage to keep our car parked and do the town on bus and foot, using our car only when we need to? Cast your votes today.

Happy Wednesday. Don't drive. Walk.

Love, Mama Jens

Our First Month as Americans

2006-04-02T17:53:00.000+01:00

We have survived our first month in America!!

It has been a busy month with people visiting and taking care of all the things that go with a move, so I haven't been able to blog...I hope you are all still out there!!!

Wow! Where do I begin?? This past month has been a strange mixture of culture shock at times and feeling totally at home and comfortable at other times. It is amazing how hard it is to conjure up life in Berlin...it is like my mind won't let me too much...I think the sunshine is too bright to think.

The emotions go something like this....exhaustion and recovery from the process of moving and leaving Germany, the feeling like we are just on a long vacation, a sensation of leaving it all behind and starting life new again escape-artist style, feeling like I have forgotten very basic things like how to cook or what I like to do with my time, etc. and so forth. The good news is that this cloud of total disorientation - possibility, excitement, confusion, loss, hope, obsession, fear, anticipation, relief, freedom - is beginning to subside. People are amazingly resilient.

I think we like it here.

So far, Chapel Hill is:

1. Amazingly small. Everyone you meet knows someone you've just met. This is both cozy and a little furreaky. It also might explain why everyone is so dang friendly. No one wants to offend anyone who might know someone you know and so on.

2. Cute. Cozy neighborhoods with winding, hilly roads. The vegetation is wild and overgrown (even pre-summer bloomin'). There are magnolia trees the size of the jolly green giant and wisteria hangs lazily off trees just as you would imagine from any proper southern town. Cherry blossoms and apple trees flower purple, white, and pink throughout the forests. As you know, I am not nature Mama, but I think I have already been converted. I will grow a garden.

3. Left. You don't even have to talk to anyone to see that Chapel Hill residents are very politically conscientious and liberally minded. We knew we loved the place when we saw a group of old folks hanging out on a street corner engaged in their own little protest, picket signs and all.

4. A big supporter of small businesses. There are no big, ugly chain stores within the city limits. That's right...none...no walmarts, targets, best buys, lowes, etc. and so on. Durham has them, but not Chapel Hill. Buying local is encouraged everywhere, and we get the feeling that Chapel Hill residents are willing to pay more (even much more) to keep those cute, small businesses from being swallowed by the ugly suck heads.

5. Organic. There is the Weaver Street Market - a community owned, organic, grocery store with a big front lawn that seems to be the sort of town center. They have live music and its basically just awesome. They also have a restaurant serving up locally grown meals. I like.

6. Healthy. The people are fit (I didn't expect this) and you actually see them out walking, running, and cycling (I didn't expect that either).

So, I think we'll feel at home here. We have certainly had our share of moments where we're like, holy cow, let's move to NYC before we sign any leases, but then we kick ourselves a little and remember that, for children (and neurotic mamas), big city life ain't no fun no way.

Which brings me to my next thought. What I really want to do is speak with a southern accent. I was very surpized to find that not many people here do. Instead, because of the university and research triangle, there is this total international mix. I haven't met anyone that is actually from here yet. Weirdness. I guess I'll have to keep my southern accent to the confines of my own home.

So I'll keep you posted on small town life. Its pretty rockin'. I hope you are all well and happy. More soon. Love, Mama Jens

Hello Chapel Hill!

2006-03-10T03:56:00.000Z

Working through the culture shock....wow!! I promise a post soon! Love, Mama Jens

Goodbye

2006-03-02T21:38:00.000Z

Goodbye Berlin...

Feeling Lighter

2006-02-28T20:37:00.000Z

Two more days...

Coping Strategies for the Last Days

2006-02-23T12:43:00.000Z

Today is our last day in our apartment. A week from today, we will be on the airplane heading toward our new home in Chapel Hill. Oly Sheet.

This has been an emotionally confusing time - the excitement highs and nostalgia lows, the bursts of confidence and waves of fear. Our apartment has been turned inside out and our taken-for-granted comforts have been slowly replaced by things like sleeping bags and paper plates (trust me, Mama Jens does not like camping). I have gone back and forth between feeling like I am doing a great job preparing the children emotionally for what is to come and at the same time feeling guilty for exposing them to a slow process of their world breaking down around them. The happy part here is that the moments of feeling totally crazy are usually balanced in the end by the Mama Jens intuition (very strong) that, despite the short term chaos and inconveniences, this is still the right decision. It is time to move on. People are resilient. Everything will be fine.

So, its nuts, its crazy, its paper plates, but we have to get through it...it is, in some ways, just a matter of time. In a couple of months we'll be settled on the other side of the pond (and hopefully not trying to figure out a way to get back to Berlin...eek!).

Coping strategies have included:

Eating. We went out last Friday to this amazing restaurant, tucked away on August str. between Große Hamburger and Rosenthaler called Al Contadino. For a decent price, you can have their five course menu...incredible. I highly recommend it...but make reservations, the place books out early.

Films. I have seen a couple in the last few weeks = good reality escape. Being Mainstream Mama when it comes to film, I saw Match Point and Walk The Line. I'd recommend both...but if you go to Match Point, take a friend along so that you have someone to talk to afterwards about how disturbed you feel and how you will NEVER cheat on your spouse.

Friends. I went to see a friend of mine sing, along with 175 other choir members, Bach's Mass in B Minor at the Marienkirche. This was amazing. After years of not going to church, I was amazed to find out that I still remember every line of the traditional Catholic liturgy. I guess if you say something 88 million times it is with you for good, Latin or no Latin. It was beautiful and peaceful.

Conducting Public Experiments. This is a fun one. This would be doing things like hiding one of your baby's shoes and counting how many strangers in a 15 minute period tell you that one of your baby's shoes is missing. Or driving your bike during the day with the light on, and counting those people, and so on. Counting cars and trams have a similar effect. When you're preoccupied with something like that, it is much more difficult to obsess over other things.

Watching the Olympics. This has been very entertaining, and the ice skating, very soothing. Of course my husband is always chattering in the background about how they should do an "all skate" and how for every event there should be just a normal guy that is included seriously in the competition (think Napolean Dynamite). After watching Sasha Cohen win the short program a couple of nights ago, I said, "When we get to the U.S. this is the girl that will be on the box of corn flakes." My husband replied, "Yeah unless she loses, then she'll be on the box of shit flakes." Now call me nuts, but this made me laugh my dang face off for about 30 minutes, and let me tell you, laughter is GOOD, even if it is a little hystericalish.

Packing. We have been doing a lot of this lately, but it is oddly soothing. Going through each and every item in your house and deciding whether or not it is worthy of going further with you in life takes time and emotional energy. The really important stuff gets the UPS treatment. This would be things like paintings, camera equipments, etc. And then there are the really, really important things that will stay even closer by being in our luggage...important documents, quilts my mom made, vases with my childrens' hand and foot prints... The other soothing thing about packing has been the mountains of bubble wrap. Whenever you hit a weak spot or a confused point about what to pack next, you can just pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Nice.

And here is my cute child story of the week...a couple of days ago, the five year old ran into the living room and said, "Mama Mama !!! We figured it out!!!" I said, "Figured what out??!!" She continued, "We figured out how to think about nothing! You just close your eyes and says mmmm..." Awesome! This is the same child who a couple of months back, when we asked HER to tell US a story, said, "Once upon a time, there was nothing. No people. No houses. No trees. No animals. No lights. No air. Nothing."

Have a lovely weekend. Love, Mama Jens

Trying to Get Perspective in A Confined Space

2006-02-07T19:20:00.000Z

Hello!

I am still hibernating. This has been such a long winter so far. I've spent so much time inside that I actually feel like I am experiencing the world with an objective eye and a fresh perspective when I do go out. That is a sure sign of lack of outside stimulation. I have, however, been trying to go out once a day, for "fresh air." This has for the most part been freezing, icy, snowy, and rainy, but the fresh air is pretty essential. It helps me to remember why I have been staying inside. And so the cycle goes...

So here is how we have been entertaining ourselves: packing, looking for houses online, watching the kids freak out dancing to the Backyardigans CD, watching downloaded episodes of the new season of Lost and The Office at night when we should be packing, recording new songs when we should be packing, planning photo shoots when we should be ..., and eating loads of candy bars. Ever since I read in a magazine that Tom Ford eats several candy bars a day, I've sort of made it my mission to do the same. This has given me a nice distraction from my total freak out baby while waiting in line near the register at Kaiser's. Snickers, Twix, Mars bars, Kit Kat. Man, no one ever told me how GOOD candy bars are, especially Snickers. I haven't been so much in the baking mood (apart from the Brownies yesterday), so the Candy Bars are a fine replacement for the storm I am usually baking up in the kitchen.

How is the move going? Well, pretty well. We have a nachmieter for the apartment. This was a fun experience of having 3 or 4 realtors going nuts showing the place weekend after weekend. We answered a lot of questions about sunlight in the apartment. Unfortunately, we could only offer them light as reflected off the library across the street coming into the windows. Hmmm.... A family that lives nearby ended up taking the place. It was cool to have met them. We now have faces to put with thoughts of our old apartment once it is officially our "old apartment." They also agreed to buy our kitchen and to spare us renovation, which officially makes them the coolest people on earth. Both of those things take quite a load of stress off right here at international move time. And we've been mailing boxes and doing a lot of ebaying as well. Fun, Fun, Fun. Only a couple more weeks, and we will move into a ferienwohnung for about a week while we finish all the last minute things, clean our apartment and say goodbye to all our friends. I can almost hear the airplane jets...

So, here are some things I will miss:
1. Our friends.
2. German Food (rotkohl, sauerbraten, potato dumplings, schnitzel, apfelstrudel mit vanillesoße, etc., etc. Are you getting hungry???)
3. How relaxed Germans are about very natural things...the naked body, breastfeeding, giving birth, illness, you know...those kinds of things...
4. How loyal Germans are in friendships (you don't mind the sweeping generalizations, do you?)
5. How naturally healthy and free of preservatives and genetic modification the food is.
6. The punk rock pizza place on schönhauser allee (if you don't know this place, it is the BEST pizza served by italian punks on earth)
7. The Prenzlauer Bergian children all over the place in the summer.
8. The Saturday market on Kollwitz Platz (note to self: buy one of those beautiful, handmade cutting boards before I go)
9. The built-in dependability in everything...things run on time, professionals know what they are doing, how to fix things, etc.
10. Small stores (and the lack of choice, which is actually a good thing as far as I'm concerned).
11. Being able to walk or take public transportation everywhere (not necessarily a Berlin thing...just a big city thing).
12. My 70's travel agent dude, my pornstar baker, my Kaiser's treueherzen collecting obsession.
13. The awesome little bioladens.

Things I won't miss:
1. You guessed the first one...the long, dark, icy, grey, foggy, dead winters.
2. The self imposed limitations of perfectly bright people because of a system that requires such and such certificate or education for every fucking little thing, and likewise, the sense of insecurity/big egos produced by an education system that separates the smart-university from the "dumb"-technical at such a young impressional age.
3. Big, Dirty, city living. Dog doo doo. Broken sidewalks. Random nasty things. Germs on public transportation.
4. A lack of a choice in breakfast cereals.
5. The Bureaucracy.
6. The limitations I experience linguistically.
7. Being an American in a world where Americans ain't the most popular kids on the block.

Things I look forward to:
1. A backyard.
2. Sunshine.
3. Speaking English.
4. A sense of possibility.
5. Spontenaiety.
6. Exploring a new place.
7. Coming back to Berlin in the summers.
8. A choice in breakfast cereals.
9. Driving to Ikea in Virginia.

Things I am sort of dreading:
1. Minivans.
2. SUVs.
3. Enormous stores that always incite the flight response in my poor anxious soul.
4. Malls.
5. Packaged, processed food (which I WILL NOT eat).
6. Fast food (which I WILL NOT eat, except for Chick Fil A).
7. Plastic, especially plastic toys.
8. The distances between things.

I am guessing all of these lists will change once we have moved and see what we are really in for. I will keep you posted.

Trying to keep my spirits up, my eyes focused (I can't focus on people when I talk to them anymore), and my children feeling secure through all of my freakout sessions.

Love,
Mama Jens

Still Packing and Freezing

2006-01-24T21:45:00.000Z

I spent most of today trying very, very hard not to completely lose my mind. That fine line between sanity and insanity or composure and nervous breakdown is coming into view more and more. Moving is stressful...there is no two ways about it. Even starting early, even being one of the most organized people on the planet, even when the circumstances are positive...I think I can I think I can...

As the days go by, there is less and less furniture around. The closets are gone, so the clothes are in suitcases. I am proud to say that I got all of mine in one suitcase, and there is still room. Now that is an achievement for any woman I tell you. But we will be maxed out on our luggage when we fly....that should be pretty fun. Schlepping two kids is a challenge for any sane and motivated person, much less 6 suitcases, a stroller, 2 carseats, and a travel crib. And we're mailing some boxes too. Toys, good cooking gear, journals, paintings, cds, etc. While sorting through all these boxes and boxes of every letter and card I have ever received, it dawned on me that people don't write letters anymore. I don't save every single email, why do I feel like I have to save every single letter? I don't know, but I do.

So, there is still a month to go and quite a lot to do. Only a little can be done each day. There is still work and children and cooking and cleaning....but we are getting there. I am having a hard time waiting...this limbo is a kind of hell. When some of the bigger logistical things are in place, I think I will sleep better at night.

And if you have been following the weather, you will know there is something pretty extraordinary going on right now outside. Today, with the windchill, it was minus 26 degrees c. It is supposed to get a little better tomorrow, but worse next week. Yesterday, when I willed myself to the grocery store with a baby who was emitting soft moans the whole way, I actually saw a woman with frost on her cheek and like these little icicles in her hair. That was fucking weird. Then later on in the day yesterday, a friend of mine actually said, "Wow, its beautiful today." She was talking about the sunshine. You see, we are so sun deprived, that we think it is beautiful out when the sun shines, regardless of whether or not it is minus 24 outside. Pure craziness.

Everytime I run into someone I know they say something about how it is too bad that we couldn't move a little earlier and spare ourselves this extreme weather. But my response is that I like it this way. It makes it much, MUCH, harder to have any regrets. If it were summer in Berlin right now, I think we'd be doubting ourselves over and over. Summer in Berlin is beautiful. The flip side to this equation is that I am not having much of a nostalgic parting. Instead of, "Oh I will miss such and such bakery, it is more like, "What the hell date is it and how many more days until I can leave?" Being the professional escapist that I am, the latter is much easier. But those moments will still come...emailing with friends and hearing about the births of their babies, unpacking boxes and remembering where the things were placed in our Berlin apartment, etc.

Time to get some sleep. Love to all, Mama Jens

Sleeping Well in No Man's Land

2006-01-11T11:56:00.000Z

We've really entered this weird limbo. It feels like one foot is already gone. People stop calling. The house might as well be empty. In my mind, I am already wearing skirts and drinking iced tea. It is very hard not to perceive every interacton or event in relation to the fact that we are leaving. If its good, I will miss it. If its bad, well, I won't have to deal with it much longer.

I wonder how my perceptions of life here will change once we get to Chapel Hill. Will it be so exciting to be getting things going in a new place that Berlin will be easily forgotten? Will everything be compared to how things were here? And how does it work with memory? How will reality now be seen five months, a year, two years from now? Will the memory be realistic? Will it be idealized or dismissed? Will it be exciting for a little while and then that itch to move will return again? That has more or less been the pattern our lives have followed up to this point. Having children in school might anchor us a little more...but you never know. Our escape plan involves NYC. That is, if we totally freak out about small town life, we will just head north after a short time. Somehow though, I don't think that will happen.

It is such a strange feeling to know that life will be so different, down to the air we breathe and the food we eat. At times it is a relief, at times it is scary. There are moments when I feel like a runaway or that I won the lottery or that I am going undercover...all of these kinds of situtions where there is a fresh start, a clean slate. It isn't easy of course, but it is amazing, and very humbling, to see how easily life can change if you want it to.

And its interesting to hear the reactions of people when we tell them we are moving to the U.S. I'd say that 8 times out of 10, the expression is something like: "Now, why in the hell would you wanna go and do that??!!" People are openly very critical of the U.S., which of course I can understand in many ways...but I also want to hear positivity, reassurance...hearing all the negative things, when I know in my heart this is the right decision, is oddly confusing or maybe just frustrating.

Still, life is here for now, and I am trying to stay aware of that. Less than two months to go.

A couple of random thoughts to close:

Do you think a child's cuteness is in direct proportion to his or her dependency on parents? Are older kids less cute to their parents? Are really old kids, like myself, totally uncute to their parents because they are more or less totally self-sufficient?

My husband did the infamous sleep program last week with our 15 month old. She went from self-service at the breast all night long to sleeping totally perfectly all night in her bed in three nights. Hats off to the papa.

In addition, we have begun to bribe the five year old so she'll stay in her bed too. So, now we have had a couple of nights of totally childfree, uninterrupted sleep, and MAN DOES IT FEEL GOOD! The last couple of nights in bed I have felt like I was on an island wellness retreat for one. Stretching out in those sheets any damn way I please and not having someone sucking on one breast and tweaking the other is GREAT! More rest=more energy=crazier mama. Wahoo!

That all for tonight. Good night. Love, Mama Jens

Happy New Year!

2006-01-05T12:57:00.000Z

It feels like ages since I last posted. But here I am. We were in Garmisch for Christmas - a beautiful, wintery, gingerbread town with icing on top. Skiing, huge meals, pajamas, Santa Claus...very cozy indeed. Skiing had to be one of the most liberating feelings in a long time. I hadn't been in years, so was a little worried about my ability. I wasn't so confident about my strength either since all I do is breastfeed basically. But, it came right back, bicycle style, and as for strength...I am one strong bitch I tell you. I might look like a stick, but I have muscles of steel. Must be from weight-lifting kids all day....not to mention schlepping strollers, groceries, etc. all around town like a friggin' madwoman. But back to skiing, (supermama moment), it was awesome. Its so Quiet up there on the mountain. And so beautiful. White. Apart from sharing ipod headphones with my brother on the t-bar (Krunk hits...eek!), it was a blissful couple of hours of silence. I dug it completey. I did not want to leave the mountain. I promised myself right then and there that next Christmas, I will con my parents into coming along for another ski holiday so they can do some babysitting action and I can ski much more than a couple of hours!!

Anyways, now we are back, and it is Count Down Time...57 days to be exact. We can't believe it. So much to do, and so little time...so what have have we been doing? Watching "Lost." You see, for Christmas, my brother gave us this show - 24 whole episodes. And now we're hooked. I am not a TV person...sitting still in front of the TV has never been one of my strong points...but this show has me running to the couch as soon as the kids are in bed. So now the packing is on hold until we finish this box set. Should take a couple of weeks. No, really, it is like therapy...the only way my mind is totally occupied by something other than the list of a million things I have to do.

Otherwise, the Berlin cold has set in in a big way. When I came inside just now with my two bundles of joy, my first thought, after "Holy Fucking Shit," was "Note to self: Never live in a cold place like this again." Berlin is not just cold. It is not, oh sweet, snowy wintery wonderland cold. It is not let's get cozy by the radiator hot chocolate cold. It is Moscow. It is East. It is ice on your cheeks, fire in your bones cold, grey, windy, and DARK. It makes you forget summer exists. It makes you sad that you have to give your children Vitamin D drops. If you think I'm joking, I dare you to spend a winter here.

So, anyways, I am happy to be inside right now. There is bread, milk, baked goods, coffee, and of course, Pringles. I'm not leaving now for another 24 hours.

And yesterday, we got our plane tickets!! That was a big one in the reality-check sort of way. The itinerary is so simple. We go. We stay. I like.

And so now, after we finish Lost, we have so much to do. The most challenging part is getting rid of our stuff - STILL. But I am very liberally going through closets and cupboards. Its amazing how little one needs when it comes down to it. And all the extra stuff...well, I've been sort of piling it in anticipation of another flea market day...but my husband has talked me out of it. (We've been debating it for weeks). He said my time (not to mention my health - hello, Cold!) is more valuable than the 250 euros or so I'd make in a day. So, look out Humana, here we come.

More later. Gotta go. Happy Thursday and Happy New Year. Love, Mama Jens

Stress and the City

2005-12-09T08:26:00.000Z

Its Friday and a photoshoot we had planned just got cancelled, so I am HAPPY and feeling more relaxed than I did this morning when I first woke up.

2 kids + move + work + city noise = lots of heart-thumping anxiety for Mama Jens. So here's what I did a couple of weeks ago in response: threw my back out. I was just taking out the trash, twisted my arm a funny way, and voila! my back has been hurting since. It is getting much better, but still feels very stiff in weird places.

Anyways, I have this awesome physical therapist who does physiotherapie and heileurtythmie. I went to him a couple of years ago too when I hurt my back. He's actually much more of a psychotherapist than anything, and I always leave feeling very calm and determined to do things for myself like take long baths and go on wellness retreats. He's excellent. He also does some pushing around on my spine and massage and these sort of esoteric exercises, but the kinds of questions he asks makes me realize that the pain in my back has everything to do with my level of stress. Physiologically, there is nothing wrong...I am just wound very tightly...

There is no wonder why when you consider that just getting across Prenzlauer Allee goes something like this: First come to bike lane, stop for high-speed bicyclists, then stop again for two lanes of speeding traffic coming from the left, then stop again for tram coming from left, then stop for tram coming from right, then cross two more lanes of car traffic coming from the right, stop, look again for bikers, cross bike lane...Whew! Made it to other side. Just doing this with a child in a stroller and a child on a bike is enough to give the clearest mind the feeling that they need to check into the nuthouse.

Then there is the noise. Both of my children have grown up so far hearing the clangs and bangs and drillings of the post-wall rebuilding in East Berlin. They have both danced to the rhymical sounds of jackhammers, bouncing up and down like their little musical souls tell them too. My little one falls asleep in her stroller the minute we hit the cold, fresh air. Then we pass a construction site and I clench my teeth. Then, I hold my breath and hope the whole dang thing doesn't fall down on my head (=paranoid). When we moved to this apartment, I made the realtor swear up and down that she didn't know anything about the old building next door and any plans for renovation. She swore she didn't. Well, a few months later, those scaffolding trucks rolled in, and for the next six months, everytime I was taking a shower, I half expected to be joined by a dusty man with a drill. We seriously thought our bathroom would cave in on us. I once asked our pediatrician what he thought about city living vs countryside living with regards to allergies and eczema. He said that in the countryside there is more to be allergic to in the way of trees, but the city is much worse because of the stress from the noise level.

I think moving to a much smaller city (well, I don't think I could actually call Chapel Hill a city with a straight face) will have wonderous effects on our stress levels. There will be no busy streets to cross with all these kids, because...well, people don't cross streets, they drive. The general pace and noise level will of course be totally different. I am looking forward to ice tea and porches swings. I wonder if we will really be able to slow down there, or if we will still find a way to be totally stressed and neurotic. The physiotherapist votes for the former. He always says he doesn't know how someone with my "constitution" can survive in this city.

Have a lovely, stress-free Friday. Get a massage! Go to the sauna! Look at a white wall for 20 minutes! Avoid busy streets and traffic jams! Breathe deeply.

Flea Market Ramblings

2005-12-04T20:42:00.000Z

Today I did something I've never done before: set up a stand at a flea market (Mauer Park). I can totally recommend it, if you have things you would like to get rid of among some pretty entertaining punk rock scenery. The best parts of the day were when two friends of mine stopped by to say hello and ask if I needed a coffee and when I saw a Santa Claus with an AC/DC hat walking around. But, the experience was super interesting for its psycho-economical aspects as well.

I learned a lot of really weird things about people and money. For one, people don't know how to respond at a flea market when they ask how much and you say, "Its free. Just take it." This played out over and over. The only people that didn't kind of freak out were children. They would just say, "Cool, thanks, and run off to join their parents." But in most cases, it was like, "Are you joking?" or "Can I at least give you a euro for it?" or "Okay, well, I'll pick a few other things and buy them all together." I tried really hard to unload extra things for free as little "bonus prizes" when someone bought something, but that proved challenging too.

Another interesting thing is that if its too cheap, people are immediately suspicious. They think that whatever it was, it must not work (waffle maker, scanner, mixer) or has a hole in it (blow up guitar). But, I really, really did not want to go home with the piles (of shit) I went there with. Therefore, the prices were cheap, dirt cheap.

Third, some people are totally into the flea market thing just for the bargaining process. They aren't interested in what it is or how much it costs. They just want to get you to lower your price and will do anything it takes for that to happen. Take the little basket thingy with lid I sold today. Asking price, 25 cents. The lady only wanted to give me 20 cents and that was firm. Holy flippin' cheapo. Can you imagine? And then there was the guy and the milk shake machine. I said 10, he said, 5, I said 8, he said 6, I said 7, he said no, 6, Í said no 7, and he walked away in a huff. 10 minutes later he comes back. How much? I said 7, he said 6, I said 7. He inspected it, he agonized, he took two, deep, loud breaths. Okay, he finally said. Then I gave it to him for 6. Geesh. Weirdo.

Also, the whole pricing thing is so arbitrary. It is totally a subjective question of worth. I make a price based on what the thing is worth to me, regardless of how much I paid for it. Then the buyer either just goes along with your judgement of its worth and gives you what you want for it, tries to bargain a little because they think that is what you are supposed to do, scoffs and walks away at your high prices, or, as in many cases with me, gives you more money because they think you are nuts and feel sorry for you.

And, the panning-for-gold-people were interesting too. These are the people that come to your stand and if there is a little bag full of small trinkets, they dig in there like there is no tomorrow looking for real treasures. They would come out with the totally weirdest things and I would be like, Was that in my house? What the hell is it anyways?

There were other interesting things, non psycho-economic, that I noticed about the whole flea market universe too. For example, people are totally hot on tupperware. I had a couple of pieces of what I would call tupperware, because that is what I call any plastic thing with a lid that you can save food in. But today, I learned that tupperware is a brand, not an object, and it is GOOD. I swear to you, like five people came over and asked me if I had tupperware. In all five cases, I showed them my inferior quality plastic storage boxes. They looked on the bottom, opened the lid, closed the lid, listened for some kind of snap or pop, opened the lid, closed the lid. I thought, what the hell is going on here? But no one wanted my boxes. I tried to give them away on numerous occasions, but still, no takers.

Also, you can totally predict what will interest someone when they walk up to your table. The guys went straight for the CDs. The women straight to the baby clothes. I can make more subtle stereotypes here too, but I guess I shouldn't. I won't. But they do exist. Either that or I am just psychic.

In general though, the more I stood in front of all this junk all day and watched people pick through it, the more I am aware of the burden of physical possessions. Just look at the time and energy I put into trying to get rid of it all. I feel like all I do in this life for lord's sake is move physical possessions around. In the house I pick up one thing here, put it down there. Pick up another thing there, put it down there.

What you've heard is true: One man's junk is another man's junk. The treasure part is a big old fashion illusion, I am so sorry to say. What those people are looking for in those bags is love, a tight hug, happiness. Oh lordy.

Going out, Falling in Love, and the Secret to a Happy Marriage

2005-11-28T20:50:00.000Z

Here's a little summary of my night life in the recent years with relationship to childbearing:

Pre-children: party party party concert concert party wahoo!

Baby Number One: Temporary party pause. Baby sleeps in own bed, is weaned from breast, mama can party on, wahoo! She can't go out with her husband anymore because one always has to be at home looking after the nest, but she can party nevertheless. Come home from party, take two showers to get rid of awful smoky smell, and drink water with two aspirin in the morning. Everything good.

Baby number two: Indefinite party pause. Mama no party. Papa no party. Even if baby is weaned and in own bed, Mama too tired to go out. Smoky clubs no fun. Standing at concerts no fun. Small talk waste of very, very precious time. Need to do laundry anyways.

But this is no good really. We mamas need a break. We need to go out. We need time ALONE with our husbands (if we're ever gonna get more children...hee...hee...just kiddin'). But this is hard to do. You need time, babysitters, ambition. Because going out requires all this extra organization and build up, the event has to be really flippin' important to make a big nest escape worthwhile. We go out alone sometimes, but together, almost never. It has only happened once with a paid babysitter, and that was for a photoshoot=work.

BUT, tomorrow, our second official escape with a paid babysitter guarding our flock will take place. That will be to see Mark Kozelek (of Red House Painters fame) play at the Knaack Club. Boy am I excited. Since we have listened to his music since about 92 or something, we will feel like old farts hearing a retrospective, but that is okay. I don't mind. At least we'll be out. Together. Drinking beer. I'll let you know how it goes.

And speaking of wild youth and never going out with your husband, here is something interesting that came up in the news yesterday:

ROME (Reuters) - Your heartbeat accelerates, you have butterflies in the stomach, you feel euphoric and a bit silly. It's all part of falling passionately in love -- and scientists now tell us the feeling won't last more than a year.

The powerful emotions that bowl over new lovers are triggered by a molecule known as nerve growth factor (NGF), according to Pavia University researchers.

The Italian scientists found far higher levels of NGF in the blood of 58 people who had recently fallen madly in love than in that of a group of singles and people in long-term relationships.
But after a year with the same lover, the quantity of the 'love molecule' in their blood had fallen to the same level as that of the other groups.

The Italian researchers, publishing their study in the journal Psychoneuroendocrinology, said it was not clear how falling in love triggers higher levels of NGF, but the molecule clearly has an important role in the "social chemistry" between people at the start of a relationship.

So, now we know why a lot of people can't seem to make it past that point in a relationship when the obsessive love craze part starts to die down and transform itself into something a little more...well, shall we say...settled?

And speaking of settled, we rented In Good Company the other night, with Dennis Quaid, Topher Grace, and Scarlett Johansonn. The best line of the film came from Quaid's character, when he was describing the secret of a happy marriage to the younger, Topher's character. "Pick the right person to be in the foxhole with you. Then, when you're out of the foxhole, keep your dick in your pants." That sounds about right.

Gotta go. There is a little baby fox sucking on my back.

Bugaboo Update, The Big Move, Closet Ambitions, and Friendly Omas

2005-11-23T23:21:00.000Z

I can't find much time to do some old fashion blogging. Free time is very limited in Mama Jens' world. During the day when the baby naps or at night when both sleep, there are millions of things to do. My husband doesn't understand why I don't take a nap during the day...hmmm...I wish I could. I really should actually. My little one is awake so much at night these days. She cries, nurses, cries, nurses, nurses, nurses. And I feel (and look) like a train wreck when I wake up from all that. Its a good damn thing she's cute.

A little update on the Bugaboo, or lack thereof... I am pleased to report that we bought the Chicco London stroller over the weekend. I recommended this one way back in another post, and I can recommend it again. It is navy blue, very lightweight, has a reclining seat and a little footrest that goes up for when the baby falls asleep, and a basket on the bottom for your groceries, rejected pieces of apple, small carpets you find on the sidewalk, etc. Another perk is that it folds up small enough to fit in a car that is filled to the brim with a bunch of other shit, so that is quite nice too. That was kind of always a pain with the Bugaboo. And, it was only 84 euros (only 69 $ in the U.S.). It handles the Berlin obstacle-course style sidewalks well, and I enjoy carrying it up and down ubahn stairs, as it only makes my back hurt a little.

As for the Bugaboo, we were pretty convinced we caught the Big Ass Thief. We found a Bugaboo on Ebay that went up the same night ours got stolen and it didn't come with all the stuff it should have. We followed up and it turns out it wasn't ours. But, beware, Thief, we are checking every black Bugaboo that comes up on Ebay. We filed a police report too, which was a surprizingly easy and pleasant process. My husband just filled out this online form, and the next morning we got a follow-up call from the police, telling us they had our report and that Herr So and So was assigned to our case. Amazing, eh?

So, today, I started the excavation process on our closet. Holy freakin' hell. I learned a couple of things: First, we wear about 1% of our clothes. Two, my husband does not buy new clothes. And three, we're gonna need a dumpster for this project. We seriously have the same articles of clothing in there with which we came to Germany over 8 years ago. Some of the things even pre-date that move, meaning college, early 90's. Because of that fact, they have earned the respected title of "nostalgic retro items" and have been placed in the memorabilia pile.

And three more items of furniture have found new homes. Boy is this place gonna be empty soon. Yeehoo! Though we are doing this because we are moving in March, I would recommend it just for fun as well.

And I am starting to compile my list of "things I will miss and things I won't miss" list. It is a very strange feeling to be approaching this space of being inbetween lives. It has been so long since we lived in the U.S. and we are, in many ways, not too sure what life will be like there. We are very scared that we will get there and realize we have made a terrible, no good, very bad mistake. So, when we have those moments, we just go through the reasons why we are deciding to do this again, and conclude that it will all be fine. I think if we were going to a big city (NY, LA, SF), we would be a little more confident. But instead, we have opted for a smallish, very liberalish, university town, thinking that for the children it will be a better setting in which to grow up. The dirty, busy, loud, grey city setting is super when you're young and single and free and can actually go out at night. But with kids, its just sometimes plain stressful, and that is being said in a city that is actually pretty good when it comes to being child-friendly.

Man, is this random today or what?

On that note, I have to say that I have a few closet ambitions. Well, these aren't really ambitions as much as things I know I'd be pretty good at. One is to be a short-order cook. I am Speedy Mama Jens when it comes to whipping up meals in 0 to 60 seconds, and I think I'd be pretty good at something like that. It is a genetic thing, I think. Our family likes to cook, cook fast, and plan the next meal before the one being eaten is finished. The other thing I know I'd be good at is driving a taxi. (I bet that one threw you off), putting aside sense of direction of course. I am Racecar Mama Jens, zipping around the city like a flippin' bunny rabbit. I would love something like a Smart car. And then there is the Mama Jens Realtor Extraordinaire. I have this little obssession I have when it comes to real estate. It doesn't help that we are moving and will be looking at houses. I love houses, apartmnents, living spaces of all kinds. I could look at real estate until the cows come home. When I go to a foreign city, all I really want to do is hook up with a realtor and go looking at apartments. And then there is the whole Martha Stewart thing. Let's face it, Martha rocks. I think am her sometimes. We even have the same haircut. Big difference though is that when I burn something I say, "Fucking hell!" whereas she might say something like "Whoopsie Daisy!" Though now that I think about it, she probably says "fucking hell" too. She is a first rate criminal afterall, so there must be a little punk rock deep down in there.

And speaking of Martha Stewart, yesterday, my older daughter and I went to a hobby shop around the corner to gather supplies to make rubber stamps. The little one was all bundled, sleeping in her stroller. There was an older woman hovering around her, with a non-specific expression on her face. I thought, "Oh lordy, here we go. I'm gonna get a lecture from this Oma since I am doing something wrong, as usual." My mind started doing its Catholic thing. Oh no, she is too bundled. The snow suit, hat, scarf, blanket, and wool sack are too much. She is hot. She is overheating. Look, her cheeks are all red. Is she breathing? But then, I thought, "Oh, screw her (the old lady, I mean). She can make whatever comment she wants, bee-atch." So, I kept to my rubber stamping, and tried to ignore the hovering, the leaning close in, the peering under the glasses. After I paid, and was on my way to the door, she approached me. I got ready for my retort. She tapped me on the shoulder. She looked me straight in the eye. She held up her hand with that pointer and middle finger to thumb gesture, and she said, very dramatically, "Belllllisssssimaa!!!" I responded with a look of shock and confusion followed by a big proud smile. She said it again, loudly and whole heartedly, "Bellllissssimaaaa!!!!" I wanted to hug her and tell her my people were from Sicily and invite her over for pasta.

Have a nice Wednesday!

Goodbye Bugaboo

2005-11-11T12:29:00.000Z

If you've been following my get-rid-of-a-thon, you'll like this one: Theft. Yeah, that's right, theft. Someone stole our Bugaboo stroller 2 nights ago. Can you imagine that? Now what kind of jackass steals someone's stroller? There I was, yesterday morning, crazy and totally sleep-deprived as usual. Had on the same dang clothes as usual (since clothes go from body to table by the wash machine and back to body the next day...sometimes they actually get a little spin in the wash machine for a change, but they certainly never make it from the drying rack to the closet, especially not in folded format) with a nice snot stain on the upper left corner near my shoulder where my little pride and joy's sweet little face rests. I am carrying bags, birthday presents, helmets, sticks, whatever, and its like 8:30 or something. I walk downstairs and the stroller is gone. GONE.

When something has been stolen like that, there is this whole psychological drama that gets played out. Of course there is the phantom idea...that it is still around - somewhere - and will return somehow (i.e., drop from the sky or the Big Ass Thief decides he/she can't take the guilt and returns it). Then there is the violation thing. Someone took my property...there were things under it in the little basket. Did the Big Ass Thief look through it and find any personal items, conjure up an image of his/her victim, or feel any sense of remorse? Then there's the sense-of-safety-and-security-suddenly-getting-called-into-question thing. My husband went out last night (bowling) and I was all whacked out in the apartment. Scared. Heebeejeebees. I thought that the Big Ass Thief must be hiding behind the curtains or under the bed or something and was just waiting to make his/her next move. I hid valuable items in strange places. And then there is the suspect issue. Now, suddenly, everyone that lives in this house is a suspect. I look at them all a little differently now, searching for something in their eyes, smiles, gestures that might suggest that the Big Ass Thief is actually closer than we think.

And then there's the more practical issue. Someone took my fucking stroller! That means that I have to figure out another way to haul all these dang kids from Point A to Point B. No easy task, I tell you. This morning, I put little darling on the bike seat, all bundled and helmetted. And big darling got on her own bike, also all bundled and helmetted. Then we drove the couple of kms to the kindergarten at about no miles per hour. Sloooooooooowwwwwwwww. OWWW! My legs hurt! My hat is covering my eyes! Ugh! My sock is slipping down in my boot! MOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!! You're going too fast! Holy flippin' hell.

And then there's the very sweet charitable side of me. This part says, oh dear...some poor soul couldn't pay rent this month, so he had to go out and find him a Bugaboo to sell on Ebay. Or...oh my, some poor couple just found out they are gonna have a little tyke, and they can't afford a stroller...so the woman sent her husband out in the middle of the night to get them a REALLY EXPENSIVE DESIGNER STROLLER. Someone must have been really desperate....

And then, there's the Mama Jens Classic...this is the side of me that feels lighter than air the moment any physical object leaves my space. This is the side of me my older one must know best, because she said, "That's great that someone took it, Mama, since we are moving and would have to get rid of it anyways." She got extra kisses for that one.

So, Bugaboo, wherever you are out there, I will miss you dearly. You drove like a cadillac. I will think about you this winter when I am clunking along on the ever-so-even Berlin sidewalks with your replacement. I hope you find a good home on Ebay. Love, Mama Jens

Gingerbread and Christmas Politics

2005-11-04T10:40:00.000Z

Happy Friday! Thanks to a little encouragement from Berlinbound
I will try not to be so Lazy with a capital Z this time and let my blog go abandoned. Just kidding about the lazy part, though. It is not an issue of laziness. It is an issue of not-being-able-to-sit-stillness. I am a freakin' nutball and doing something as stationary as blogging is very difficult. I feel the same way about television. Unless it is the MTV Music Awards (like last night!) or something very funny like Sacha Baron Cohen's Borat or Ali G or Dave Chapelle.

So if you check my blog and wonder where I am, I am racing around my house moving things from point a to point b much like a pacing, neurotic lion in a zoo, scrubbing little things here and there, wiping noses and asses, etc.

Here's what's been baking:

Gingerbread
1 1/2 cups flour
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup shortening
1/4 cup sugar or brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 cup light molasses

1. grease baking pan. combine flour, cinnamon, ginger, baking powder, and baking soda.
2. beat shortening. add sugar. beat until fluffy. add egg and molasses.
3. add dry mixture and 1/2 cup water alternately to beaten mixture. beat after each addition. pour into prepared pan.
4. bake at about 200 c (350f) for 30-40 min. or until toothpick comes out clean.
5. serve warm, with whipped cream of course.

Lordy is that gingerbread ever good. Make sure you bake it for company or something, otherwise you'll eat the whole dang pan yourself. :)

So, on my way back from Kaiser's this morning, after having beamed at how close I am to getting that free frying pan with my collected hearts, and before hearing that flippin' song "Beautiful" for the upteenth time flowing out of a bakery as I passed by, I started to think about Christmas.

Every year I grapple with the same issue: Feed the commercial Christmas Frenzy or not. This is a hard one, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. I can just imagine that the pressure in the U.S. is about 50 times worse than here when it comes to buying buying buying at Christmas time. Christmas shopping has always struck me as a horribly hollow event. Of course, it can be exciting in one way, especially if you've found the "perfect" gift for someone. But generally, it can feel like just buying to have something to give to someone who might (probably) either recycle it and give it to Aunt So and So for her birthday next year, or put it into one of those closets or drawers of miscellaneous objects...and this is where I can't cope. This isn't to mention the time (wandering aimlessly through flourescent lit stores...headache...panic attack) and expense (so many relatives and so many friends, so little money) involved. So I offer the following solution...or at least this is how I subvert and/or deal with the Frenzy: Homemade presents, but good ones! The key is to start early.

One year we actually succeeded. We made a video, "The Day in the Life of 'FirstBorn'." It was all fancy filmed and edited with music and the family loved it. Being so far away, everyone really enjoyed seeing what our typical day was like, especially the layers and layers and LAYERS we had to put on her to ride her to kindergarten on the back of the bike during the winter. The best part, in a way, was that we weren't contributing to the Frenzy.

2 Years ago, for all my friends, I went to Ikea and bought these big, open-mouthed vases and filled them with all different kinds of cookies (baked of course...this is fun for the kids to watch and participate in too...having bajillions of cookies in your kitchen can only be an awesome experience.) Wrapped really nicely in clear wrapping paper and tied with ribbon, they were pretty, yummy, inexpensive, homemade, and didn't contribute to the Frenzy.

This year, I have another idea up my sleeve...nothing new, just we are going to actually do it, instead of talking about it like we do every year!! I will have to tell you after Christmas though!

But when it comes to the children, is there a way to avoid the Frenzy? I guess my feeling here is that I just don't think its necessary to overdo it. Our older one has never been too wired out at Christmas, and I am very happy about that. She always takes her time opening presents and often gets distracted playing for awhile and forgets the rest of the pile. We have to stop ourselves from saying, "okay, moving right along...there are still 87 presents over here..." Just kidding about the 87 part. One year, it took 3 days for her to open her presents. You are probably thinking...that is actually something to be concerned about rather than proud of! I think she just likes to savor things. When she wakes up on Easter or Christmas, for example, she likes to take a bath, have breakfast, get dressed, read some books, etc. before going out to check if Fictional Character so and so has eaten his carrots and left her some presents. She enjoys the excitment. She does this with a lot of things, mail she receives, for example. So much so, that she often forgets to open the letter.

And here's another thing: the idea of Santa Claus. Just call me a big ole freakazoid, but I have never been comfortable with the idea of lying to my child about the idea of Santa Claus or Easter Bunny, and soon, the Tooth Fairy. I thought this one out long ago, when our little one was actually still little. We discussed and discussed, but came to the conclusion that we would spoil it for others if we were to let our daughter in on the Big Lie. We'd get calls from other parents saying, can't you damn Communists just play along? Just kidding about the Communist part. So, here it is, five years of lying, and I have to say, I feel just awful about it.

I remember distinctly being 6 years old, living in Georgia, and one day at school hearing that Santa Claus didn't exist and that actually the parents were the ones that left the presents under the tree. I remember first being in denial, then feeling devastated. Could it be fun anymore? I called a conference with my mom in the bathroom. I wanted to know the truth. She gave it to me. It was one of those milestones of growing up, like losing your first tooth, or getting your period. There is this mixture of excitement, sadness, fear, disappointment. But every big event is like that (I am thinking about moving now)...so do we create these little scenarios as much for the fun as for the easing the children into the harder things in life? Its a little like all those damn scary Disney movies. I am always shocked at how scary these movies are. But my husband defends them (not Disney of course, but the archetypes and the darker sides of the story).

Okay, enough on Christmas for now. Have a great Friday.

Happy Halloween!

2005-10-31T10:02:00.000Z

I have been serious Slacker Mama on the Blog Front lately! But I am still here...just been so super busy with moving logistics and business adventures and taking care of all these dang kids, and most recently, gathering supplies to make:

Caramel Lady Apples
(ok, I admit it...its from the Martha Stewart website...)
12 small apples
2 cups hazelnuts or almonds
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup dark corn syrup
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons butter

1. Wash and remove stems from apples. Insert sticks (from small branches or popsicle sticks). Chop nuts and set aside in a bowl.

2. Combine sugar, corn syrup, cream, and butter in a small saucepan. Bring mixture to boil over medium heat. Continue cooking 10 to 12 minutes. Fill large bowl with ice water. Remove pan from heat and plunge into ice water briefly to stop cooking.

3. Dip apples into caramel, coating the top and sides with a spoon. Roll bottom in nuts and set on wax paper or tray decorated with colorful leaves.

Now if you are in Germany, perhaps you have had the fun experience of going down to Kaiser's, like I did today, and searching the shelves (just to kill time) for corn syrup. I couldn't find any, though I was impressed by their assortment of sugar in various formats. So, if you have to improvise like I will have to, here are a couple of options...either make your own dang corn syrup (2 c. white sugar, 3/4 c. water, 1/4 tsp. cream of tartar, Dash of salt. Combine all ingredients in a heavy, large pan. Stir and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer and put cover on it for 3 minutes to get sugar crystals off the sides of the pan. Uncover and cook until it reaches soft ball stage. Stir often. Cool syrup and store in a covered container at room temperature. It will keep for about 2 months. Makes almost 2 cups.) or just buy a package of caramels and melt them over medium heat (ghetto, but that is what Mama Jens is gonna do).

So tonight my daughter and I will make these for Halloween and she can take them with her to the kita tomorrow for their Halloween party. These are super duper organic kids that eat sugar maybe three times a year so these caramel coated apples are gonna be a hit (if I can smuggle them past the teachers that is).

A couple of random things to catch up:

The fall...its amazing. Warm and sunny and this sparkling quality to the light.

The Getting Rid of Things Project is going well. A couple of pieces of furniture have made their way into different hands. I like. We sold our trusty blue Ikea couch on Ebay last night for €5,50. I am happy someone will come to our house and take it away themselves, but I have to admit I felt a rush of nostalgia (this was our first couch bought together as a married couple, this is the couch I liked to take naps with my first born on when she was just weeks old, this is the couch we sat on while watching the children play in the bathtub, etc.) as I watched the auction close on Ebay. Let it go. Just let it go. Gone.

Baby number two turned one a week ago. Of course she had no idea what was going on, but she enjoyed having Happy Birthday sung to her over and over and over. She also just discovered her nostrils, so that has been pretty entertaining. She doesn't pick, however, she just sticks her finger in there like it is a convenient little finger resting place.

The older one is reading!!!! I have been working with her on this pretty consistently, and I am pleased to say that it worked and it didn't take very long.

Okay, time to go collect sticks for my caramel lady apples.

Baby Magic Tricks and Other Ways to Clean House

2005-09-24T21:28:00.000+01:00

I'd say we are officially free of jet lag - finally! Its great that we're all sleeping through now, but I have to say, I will miss those middle of the night family parties in the living room. There was something about them that kind of fit very well with our personalities.

Anyways, the jet lag has been replaced by another mysterious phenomenon: the disappearance of important objects. It started yesterday. I was standing at the supermarket cash register, which, of course, is the baby's cue to start screaming her dang brains out. So I give her my cell phone to play with, and this distracts her long enough for me to pay, pack everything up and get out of the store. I walk around the corner (1 minute) to my apartment, get inside and realize that the phone is gone. I go nuts unpacking the grocery bags, looking in the fridge to see if I mistakingly put it in the egg tray with the eggs (something that wouldn't be totally un-Mama Jens), check all around the stroller, etc. Nowhere. So, I get the baby back in the stroller, and head out to retrace my steps to the supermarket. I walk out of the building and there's this suspicious dude standing right in front of the door with my handy. I say, Hey, great, you found my handy! He looks at me like I'm nuts, so I rephrase, "Did you by any chance find a handy?" No, he says, and puts it in his pocket. I get really irritated and say, "Well, that's funny (you asshole), because I just lost my handy and it looks JUST LIKE THAT!" I was of course banking on the very low odds that this would just be coincidental...that you lose your handy and five minutes later walk outside to look for it and a guy is standing there with the same handy as yours in his hand. Well, after I basically treated him like a first-rate criminal, he shows me his address book. The Fritz's, Harald's, and Stephan's just didn't match up with my Stephanie's, Angela's, and Jennifer's. So, I continued to retrace, heading toward the supermarket, and the phone is simply nowhere to be found. So I figure the dude found it and switched the card out for his. After all this, I call my husband on the regular phone, and he is consulting another friend and we all determine that if he had switched out the card, it wouldn't be ringing when we dialed the number. (E - could you confirm this?) So the dude was off the hook. We kept calling it so it would ring and I retraced my steps again. Nowhere. At that point, the thought actually crossed my mind that maybe my baby ate it. She did seem to be displaying signs of indigestion afterall. Okay, so I called Eplus and locked my card.

And then, today, we're out walking, and I give the baby my sunglasses case to play with. One crossed street and about four steps later, I realize its not in her hand anymore. I look down, behind, around, all over the place...no case. I go back across the street to the point where I gave it to her. No case. I look under every car within a fifty foot range. NO CASE! GONE! VANISHED! POOF! At this point, my husband starts questioning my mental health. Are you sure you gave her a sunglasses case to play with? And then he spells out my lesson: Never give her anything you want to keep anymore. Fair enough.

And on that note, I will consider those two objects the first in a loooooonnnng list of things to get rid of in the next couple of months before we jump the pond. Okay, I know they are small and wouldn't take up space, but still, they are officially symbolic of my personal "Getting Rid Of" launch party. Today was very productive in that regard, We took two rows of books from the bookshelf to St. George's English Bookstore. Then, we got a couple of bags of old Mama Jens winter clothes ready for another second hand store, AND, my older daughter and I set up a stand at a Kinder Trödel Markt at the church across the street. We sold some toys, and lots of children's clothes and it was fun playing "store" with her. I told her the money she earned will be for a new bike when we move to the states.

I already feel lighter.

We're Back!

2005-09-22T02:03:00.000+01:00

We're back from our three week trip to the U.S. now. I'm not sure I mentioned here that we were actually going. But anyways, we are back and trying to get settled back into a place I think we've already left in our minds. The jet lag is bad this time, very bad. We have been back for five days already and are all still completely whack.

For example: I woke up awhile ago, and, with my very bad eye sight, determined it was 4 AM. So I figured, okay, I'll just get up now, do some baking, get a head-start on the day, etc. But after I went nuts taking a shower, doing laundry, making coffee, I had another look at the clock, this time with my contacts (and pearl earrings and make-up) on. It was actually only 1:30 AM. Damnit frickin' jet lag! So, here's Mama Jens now, 2 AM, having lunch - a big bowl of pasta salad (which has sundried tomatos, green and red bell peppers, corn, green olives stuffed with feta, green onions, fusilli pasta, and my famous balsamic vinegar mixture. delish.)

I can't remember ever having jet lag quite this bad. The kids have it too. Maybe its the time of year? The length of the trip (from California)? Who knows...all I know is that this being awake in the middle of the night (at least the kids are actually asleep right now) is getting pretty wacky.

Oops. Spoke too soon. Husband and older daughter just came in. Well, at least the baby is still sleeping.

So, our trip, it was long. Ohio (for my brother's wedding), Las Vegas (which, as you probably guessed, I can't help but calling Veg Ass), L.A., and Santa Maria. Airplanes. Cars. Starbucks.

Here are a few of the highlights:

The hairdryer warmth and humidity of a real, American summer.

Seeing my little brother get married. The Mama Jens weeping fest during the exchange of vows reminded me of Ms. Calvert, my high school English teacher, who said that people cry at weddings not because they are moved, but because they are sad that the people standing at the altar are giving up their freedom. Hmmm...I guess that said a lot about her marriage.

Watching my brother sing the entire song, "Baby Got Back," to his new bride at a very fancy wedding reception while tailored guests looked on.

Gambling at the $4 roulette table at the ever-so-fancy Casino Royale (just kiddin' about the fancy part) in Vegas (Veg Ass) with my husband while my dear Maman watched over my little nest back at the hotel.

Walking into the Mandalay Bay hotel, having a free drink and winning $40 before walking back out. If only going out were always that profitable...

The salmon my dad barbequed on a cedar plank. Whoa.

The two cheeseburgers I had while in the U.S. Whoa. Whoa.

Breakfast at IHOP. Rooty Tooty Fresh n' Fruity.

Standing before the Baking Section of a big American supermarket with a BIG empty cart next to me.

Washing a load of laundry in an American wash machine (the size of a small car).

The aforementioned load only taking about an hour start to finish. (For those of you that aren't familiar with the wonders of doing laundry in Germany, it takes me about a day to wash a load of laundry here. You start with the teeny, "energy efficient" machine that runs in slow, intermittent cycles for about three hours, and end with all the little scrunched up pieces that have been hung to dry and are crispier than fresh saltine crackers.)

Taking pictures in the desert.

Realizing that people in America are pretty aware of the disturbing level of consumerism and waste.

I am sure there are many other noteworthy trip highlights, but it is 2 AM, so my brain isn't exactly operating at a level I would term "clear."

Okay, back online. More to come. More recipes. More fun.

Love from Berlin,
Mama Jens

Pizza, Book Reports, and Daily Happenings

2005-08-27T23:07:00.000+01:00

So here's what's cookin' tonight: Homemade Motherflippin' Pizza. I got this recipe for the crust from a friend. Delicious. Germans, you'll easily find quark. Americans, I am not sure what the equivalent is there...anyone know? Its like a mixture between cream cheese and yogurt, or just a thicker version of yogurt. Very nice.

While perusing my daughter's book collection the morning, I came across a couple books worth mentioning.

The first is Hat Pia einen Pipimax? by Thierry Lenain and Delphine Durand. This is an awesome story of a little boy, Paul, who learns that girls actually aren't missing anything (in a penis sort of way), but rather they just have something else. The book starts with: "Früher war für Paul alles einfach. Erstens: Es gibt die Mit-Pipimax. Zweitens: Es gibt die Ohne-Pipimax. Drittens: Die Mit-Pipimax sind viel stärker als die Ohne-Pipimax. Und warum? - Weil sie einen Pipimax haben." (Everything was easy for Paul before. First, there were the With-Pipimaxes. Second, there were the Without-Pipimaxes. Third, the WithPipimaxes are much stronger than the Without-Pipimaxes. And why? Because they have Pipimaxes.) Paul is happy he belongs to the Mit-Pipimax group. He feels sorry for the Ohne-Pipimaxes who are missing something and can't do anything about it. But, one day, a new student comes to their classroom who kind of shakes things up a little. Her name is Pia, and Paul is sure that, since she is clearly an Ohne-Pipimax,she only plays with dolls and draws flowers. But much to his surprize, he discovers that during drawing time, she is drawing only mammoths. "Was ist denn das für eine Mädchen?" (What kind of girl is this?) Not only does she not draw flowers, she climbs trees, and plays soccer, and even rides bikes. This had poor Paul totally confused. He concludes then that Pia must have something other girls don't. She must be an Ohne-Pipimax mit Pipimax. He starts to follow her everywhere to catch a glimpse of her Pipimax and therefore confirm his theory. He finally gets his chance at the beach when they've run all the way down to the water and realize they forgot their swim clothes. He was shocked at what he saw. No Pipimax!! Du...du...du hast gar keinen Pipimax?!" (You don't have a Pipimax?!) he stammers. "Nö..., ich habe eine Pipimaus!" she replies. From then on, the world is different for Paul. It was no longer the Mit-Pipimaxes and Ohne-Pipimaxes. Now there were the Mit-Pipimaxes and the Mit-Pipimauses (mice?). "Tja..., den Mädchen fehlt also doch nichts!" (Girls aren't missing something afterall!) Boys and girls are equal, but different.

The second book that we find highly entertaining is Von Kleinen Maulwurf, der wissen wollte, wer ihm auf den Kopf Gemacht hat by Werner Holzwarth and Wolf Erlbruch. Brace yourself for this. Its a book about a little mole who, when he sticks his head out of his hole one day, is rather unfortunately shat upon. The book is about his quest to find out who did it on his head. Walking around, with a big pile of shit on his head, he asks every animal he comes in contact with: Hast du mir auf den Kopf gemacht?" (Did you do it on my head?) Each animal - a bird, horse, rabbit, goat, cow, pig - denies having done it and then proceeds to prove it by showing the poor mole (and readers) what their poop looks like (sound affects accompany, by the way). Eventually, he comes across two flies - the shit experts! He invites them to an inspection. "Halt schön still" (hold still), they command while checking. Then they announce that it came from a dog. So he finds the perpetrator, Hans Heinerich, der Metzgerhund, climbs on his head, poops, then disappears back into his mole hole. What goes around comes around.

So, if you're looking to purchase a good read for your child, I would check out one or both of those!

What else? Oh yeah, remember the illegal cigarette ring that I thought was actually a drug ring? Well, I almost saw one of them get busted today. I was heading to the supermarket and I hear that polizei-over-a-microphone thing coming from a polizei van. I look over and he is addressing this young girl walking down the street. She looks over at him like, "Are you talking to me?" but then kept walking very steadily and innocently. The police van followed her a little while, and then decided to take off. She crossed the street and as I was passing her in the crosswalk, I thought: poor girl, she's getting harrassed for nothing. But then I turned around and she had taken off running! Then, later this afternoon, I saw her on the corner again with the one of those other guys...I guess it didn't scare her enough. Light neighborhood drama.

In other news, I collected 40 more hearts at Kaisers and now have 3 müsli bowls. Wahoo!

And I got my hair did (think Missy Elliott) today. I'm not gonna tell you how much it cost (since my husband might have a heart attack), I'll just say that, for the same price, I could have eaten at a five star restaurant (twice...eek!). I am lookin' FAN-CY! Yes I am. Yep. Yes-sir-ee. Allrighty. Righty-o.

I bought some chocolates to bring to my relations when I see them soon. Problem is, instead of locking them in a safety deposit box, like I should have, I put them on the freakin' counter. So, now they are almost gone. No need to bake when you have a stack of assorted milka bars sittin' in the kitchen. I highly recommend the trauben-nuss (with raisins and hazelnuts), by the way.

Okay, time to do some other things.

Winners and Losers

2005-08-21T08:37:00.000+01:00

Thanks to a great tip from Elemmaciltur down in Munich, I've added a link over on the right to the Mama Jens' Cookbook. That way you don't have to flip around through old blog entries if you want to bake a flippin' cake. Enjoy!

So this morning, we had some family fun and played a game of Blokus (which of course we like to call Block Ass). Its a game where you have little weird shaped puzzle-like, plastic pieces that look like giganitc pixels and you lay them on this grid in a tetris-like way, trying to block your opponents and getting rid of as many pieces as you can. Our five year old is brilliant at it (Bragging Mama) and its good for the mathematic chambers of the mind.

Well, the end of the game brought a couple of important sentiments and subsequent lessons. The first was gloating. Even after I blocked his ass here and blocked his ass there, Big Daddy won by one piece. Well, of course he started dancing all around the kitchen and was sticking out his tongue and shaking his booty. Not wanting to encourage a child who already gloats all over town, I said, "Well, that is nice that Daddy won, but he doesn't need to gloat about it." She already understands this concept and agreed. But then the next sentiment came in: anger and disappointment over losing (from the five year old of course...I was too busy laughing at the booty to feel all that sad). So then we started the discussion of the Good Sport. That is the person who lost, but who can still keep his or her chin up and say, well, I did my best and it is okay that I didn't win this time....I am happy, however, for the person who did win. Well, this is all fine and dandy in theory, but it still sucks to lose. So, while I was trying to bring up the spirits of the five year old, my husband continued his gloating, but in subtext while trying to explain the concept of the Good Sport: "Yeah, sweetie, it is okay that I won and Mama didn't, for example. She can just congratulate me since I won and she lost. She lost, but she still did a great job. And Papa did a great job too and that is why he won." So, after we explained these important concepts, our daughter left the room to move on to a new activity, and Gloating Papa broke out into his booty victory dance again in the kitchen, sticking out his tongue at me. I, of course, being the Good Sport Mama that I am, gave him The Finger.

Apple Cake and Sweetness

2005-08-20T08:09:00.000+01:00

Here's a trusty recipe from my sweet mama. It's a hit every time...and cakes just don't get any more moist.

Apple Cake
3 cups apples, peeled and chopped
1/2 cup oil or a stick of butter (I used the oil here, but its nice to have options in case you don't have one or the other)
1 1/2 cup brown sugar (white fine too)
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk (or 1/2 cup milk with 1 tsp lemon juice and 1/2 cup sour cream)
2 cups flour (wheat is of course nice here)
1/2 cup walnuts (or almonds)
1/2 cup raisins

This cake looks lovely in a bunt form. The apples kind of rise to the top and it looks very fluffy and loafy. And with the whole wheat, apples, and raisins, it is actually a pretty healthy cake for your kids (if you supress the fact that you put 1 1/2 cups sugar in it...or you could of course do something very un-Mama Jens and decrease the sugar by half).

So, its Saturday morning and I am in the same position as yesterday with the same cup for my coffee (but the coffee is fresh of course). The big one is playing games on the computer (educational ones, of course), and the little one is trying to find a hole on the remote control to fit a marker into, pausing every couple of minutes to try to eat the remote control. They are both so freakin' cute. I love my kids.

Big daddy is sleeping. He has amazingly good karma right now, which we are all experiencing the side benefits of. Its teaching me a thing or two about good energy.

Little baby is starting the hard core separation anxiety. If one of us walks out of the room (doesn't matter who), she breaks into tears. It is usually okay if we walk slowly though. It gives her a little time to process what is happening I guess.

Have a lovely Saturday.

Random Friday Morning Wonderings

2005-08-19T08:27:00.000+01:00

Its a Friday morning and beautiful outside today. Instead of saying something like, "I think summer has finally arrived," I'll just say, "It is a nice, warm, week." That way there is no confusion when suddenly, sure that "summer has arrived," you are fishing in your closet for a thick, wool sweater. Because it is so beautiful, I feel this extreme pressure to be outside right now. I will soon, after the baby's nap. Warmth. Sunshine. Vitamin D. Friendliness.

On this beautiful, Friday morning, I am wondering a couple of things:

What it is like as a young (sort of) adult living in America? How is the social climate, how do friendships work...? Here, we meet people so easily in the playgrounds. With more of a play-in-your-own-backyard culture in the U.S., I wonder where people meet each other. Through the schools, in the supermarkets? And what is the depth of the social interaction? Here, it is hard to become friends with Germans, but once you do, it is sort of like a long-term committment. With Americans, I get the feeling the friendships are easily made, but then easily left...more fluid-like. I wonder if that's true.

I am also wondering if we'll get to the states and think we made a very bad decision by moving. This is kind of scary. I don't think that will be the case, as we are very ready to leave here, but what if we do get there and are like, oh my god, what the hell were we thinking? It isn't like we can just pack up and go back. A couple of years ago, we would have never made a move like this. But now a couple of things have changed...the children and the school/cultural-educational situation for example. But another big one is simply that life is just too short. Because we are such "third culture kids," I don't think it is very likely that we will ever feel at home with any particular culture, and therefore, we may as well make it interesting and experience life in different places. Of course this isn't easy to do with children, but I think there are certain transitional windows where it works. And it is, of course, very enriching for them as well.

And are there places, apart from the more urban centers, where there is really this community feeling? Do people look out for one another? Are there places that feel like little villages? Do small, yet progressive-minded towns exist? One thing I am both interested in and scared of if the idea of a single family home. Do people in single family homes feel vulnerable? Can't anyone just come up on your property and peer through your windows to see what you're cookin' up for supper? Or is that just me being Total Paranoid Mama? When we were in the states not too long ago having a look at houses, I have to admit it felt kind of lonely in these old, empty houses. If your neighbors on both sides are on vacation, the next nearest humans could be pretty far away. So, this is bringing me to a refreshing new concept: townhomes or row houses. There are some big, old, beautiful ones out there. And then you can have your own nice space and yard, but still hear the rattles and knocks of other human beings which I think would make me feel a little better. And plus, you don't have to walk a mile to borrow an egg then. Anyways...we'll see.

Here it actually wouldn't be that strange if someone peeked their head in to ask me what I was cookin' up for supper, as we often just leave the front door open so our daughter and other children in the building can roam around the apartments, stairs, and backyard freely. I think I am just very used to city living. Always having noise and people around is kind of comforting. A couple of years back, we were staying in a gasthaus somewhere in the The Middle of Nowhere, and I couldn't sleep because it was too quiet. I didn't have the lulling affects of the tram, large trucks, and a constant stream of cars to carry me into sleep. I felt like I just had big, static headphones on. It was a little freaky. So, a single family home, must be very quiet too. Oh lordy.

Ok, enough wondering. Comments? Advice? Time to go outside.

Political Puppets and Bobby Valentino

2005-08-17T22:35:00.000+01:00

I was pleasantly surprized today to see a puppet theatre being set up on the grass on Kollwitz Platz. Free, spontaneous entertainment couldn't be a bad thing, right? Wrong. Several children from the playgrounds made their way over and took a seat. My friend and I sort of half listened from afar while our children sat there attentively. All we could hear was that dry, fest-tent, microphone German coming through the speakers. It sounded in no way interesting, puppet show-ish, or entertaining. The guy may as well have been selling food processors for €5.99. In fact, for a moment there, when I looked up and saw something in his hand, I thought he actually was. My friend and I were joking that this was some kind of political speech. That is how dry the dude sounded. Well, next thing we knew, we looked over and the kids were holding freakin' SPD BALLOONS!!!!! Holy shit. Of course I perked up and went over to actually listen to what he was saying (even though he had a mic, he was very quiet), but then it was over. The giddy children were running back to their mamas and papas with SPD balloons and chocolate bars. Well, at least they weren't CDU...but still.

And speaking of, Angela has a big poster on Kollwitz platz. They didn't bother to do the moustasche on this one like over on Griefswalderstr., they just ripped it all to shreds. Lordy. I gotta get my digital camera organized so you can see what I mean here.

Onto other things. Now here is a song that has our whole family flippin' out and singing really crazy in the living room: Slow Down, by Bobby Valentino. Slow jams don't get any worse. The chorus just has us laughing our dang faces off!

Slow down, I just wanna get to know you
But don't turn around
Cause that pretty round thing looks good to me
Slow down, Never seen anything so lovely
Now turn around
And bless me with your beauty, Cutie

Okay, now let me just get this straight. The guy is walking down the street (Melrose), and he sees this girl who looks like "an angel" that is "straight out of heaven." But he only sees her from behind, and of course it is the behind itself that is so heavenly. He doesn't want her to turn around, because he has to behold the beauty of that "pretty round thing." Then, after proclaiming that he has "never seen anything so lovely," he commands her to "now turn around" so that she can "bless (him) with (her) beauty, cutie." Needless-to-say, the "cutie" part just about did us in with laughter. What is this world coming to??!!

I'm gonna keep this one short tonight. The lines on the screen are all blurring together, so I think I might be falling asleep. Good night.

Mama Jens Gets Spiritual on Your Ass

2005-08-15T10:58:00.000+01:00

There are a couple of themes running around in my head these days. One is letting go of material possessions. This has got to be one of the most liberating ideas I can think of. I have always been one to find "things" a little distracting...I like a clean, empty house. But an empty house is not the most comfortable and practical place to hang out, so we have accumulated. And accumulation just weighs one down - literally and spiritually, of course. So I am always try to get rid of things or at least organize them in such a way that they take up as little space as possible. But a much better solution is just to get rid of the damn shit.

You see, we are gonna make a pretty major international move here within the year and there's this small problem of getting everything from Point A to Point B. The door-to-door moving quotes are just outrageous. It seems crazy to spend that much money when you can furnish a whole house for the same amount (or much less, even). So, one by one, each piece of furniture is getting the following monologue from me: You are beautiful. You are a rare 1960's find. But you are not real. You are just a hinderance to my final goal. I will let go of you and you will be fine and I will be fine. If I need an equally beautiful and functional piece of furniture in the future, it will be no problem to find one. And, voilà!, one less thing to move.

If you could only hang onto a few material possessions, what would they be? For me I guess I would just keep the things that have nostalgic value - my journals, my paintings. For the children, I think it would be too stark to get rid of everything. I would take all their clothes and toys along so as to have some consistency in their environment. In general though, I think children are still pretty free of the distraction of matieral possessions. As long as the people that love and take care of them are there, they are pretty set. Of course, some children become really attached to one thing - a blanket or stuffed animal, but that again is an emotional attachment.

And here is a little something for you neurotic Mamas and Papas:

"If we look into our lives, we will see clearly how many unimportant tasks, so-called 'responsibilities' accumulate to fill them up. One master compares them to 'housekeeping in a dream.' We tell ourselves we want to spend time on the important things of life, but there never is any time. Even simply to get up in the morning, there is so much to do: open the window, make the bed, take a shower, brush your teeth, feed the dog or cat, do last night's washing up, discover you are out of sugar or coffee, go and buy them, make breakfast - the list is endless. Then there are clothes to sort out, choose, iron, and fold up again. And what about your hair or your make-up? Helpless, we watch our days fill up with telephone calls and petty projects, with so many responsibilities - or shouldn't we call them 'irresponsibilities'?" -Sogyal Rinpoche

We gotta just relax, man, and enjoy our lives and kids. There will always be time for taking care of the logistics. Now if only I can manage to really put that into practice. Holy Flippin' Neurotic Mama Jens.

The State and Good Happenings

2005-08-12T09:42:00.000+01:00

AHHHHHH! My older one was in kita yesterday, the first day in two weeks, so I had Mama Break Time. What this meant was: I could acknowledge the presence of my younger daughter, I got to start the laundry excavation process, I went grocery shopping and actually contemplated what I was buying (if I need it, how much it costs, if it fits into meal plans, etc.), I ate lunch, I checked my email, and I even brushed my hair. It was amazing.

A little background info here on why I have been keeping my daughter home so much. The city of Berlin is broke. The decided to do away with the Vorschule program in public schools (kindergarten). That means the kitas (preschools) are supposed to do this job now for the five year olds. Well, call me Uptight Mama, but I really think (unlike a lot of people around here these days) that kids in this age should/can/are interested in beginning to read. So, I am kind of doing some heavy supplementation, homeschooling, whatever you would call it. Teaching a child how to read is pretty fascinating stuff. I look forward to seeing how it goes. Any tips on this subject would be greatly appreciated.

While researching "teaching children how to read," I also read a lot about homeschooling. I have also heard that homeschooling isn't allowed in Germany. It is very hard for people to slip through the cracks around here. The state also sent a dentist to the kita to check all the children's teeth. You could opt out if you wanted...but still.

Which reminds me of the visit I got from the Jugend Amt after my second child was born. That was total insanity man. First, I had gotten this letter from them saying they come around to houses of new parents to have a little check and that my appointment was on such and such a day at this time. There again was the option to cancel. Well, everyone knows that a new breastfeeding mama doesn't have two brain cells to rub together much less actually remember things like appointments or the option to cancel them. So that day and time came. My husband had taken the older one to kita, and I was enjoying Mama Sleeping In Time which happens basically never. Me and the new baby were nestled, slumbering, all super cozy...and then the door bell rings. I answered with the intercom, "Hallo?" It was Frau So and So from the Jugend Amt. Oh my God! I had totally forgotten to cancel that frickin' appointment. And not only that, the hallway was filled with the recycling I was gonna take out that day (meaning it was FILLED with TRASH) My hair looked like that of a rare, exotic bird. My t-shirt was covered in breast milk stains. My baby had a poopy morning diaper. The dirty dishes from the night before were PILED in the sink. This scene was not looking good folks. So I went to the door, said hello and shook hands confidently as though my hair were always styled this way, and explained that I had received her letter, and had intended to cancel the appointment, but had forgotten. She basically said, well, I'm here now, so let's have a look. So, I took a deep breath and let her into my TRASHED house and all these thoughts of how they were gonna take away my baby were running through my head. We went into the living room and sat down. We chatted a little while (she basically asked me a thousand questions about why I'm in Germany, am I married, what does my husband do, what do I do, where my fifth cousins live, etc.). Then she had a look at the baby and asked me about twenty more questions. Then she asked if I had enrolled in my rückbildungs class yet, as though that were a requirement (for those of you that don't know, this is basically a post-pregnancy aerobics class that most people take to get their bodies back into shape...the fact that it is basically standard is a bit creepy, but when in Rome...) . She also asked if I had enrolled my baby into a Pekip course, again as though it were a requirement, but THAT IS WHERE I FLIPPIN' DREW THE LINE. I said maybe I will, maybe I won't. The lady blabbed her dang face off for another 20 minutes and finally left me in peace in my filthy pigsty. Anyways, moral of the story: Cancel that appointment if you get one of those letters!

So those cracks. No slippin' through, ladies and gentlemen. They are all up in everyone's business, I tell you. Good: Your children will have their teeth checked even if you are a pothead fokker. Bad: Remaining anonymous and having the freedom to hide if you want doesn't exist, neither does homeschooling if you feel the schools are inadequate or don't suit your child's needs.

So, onto food. Last night we went to a pretty decent Mexican restaurant with some friends. It is called something like Coronita right by the Schlessisches (sssshhhleesishsish) Tor UBahn. I had the enchiladas with meat. They were rockin' and very authentic. We were a little puzzled by the red beets in my friends vegetarian burrito, however. Afterwards, we went to this awesome ice cream stand around the corner near Görlitzer Park. Now this place is worth leaving your kiez for. They had statues, and fancy tropical plants, and music, and even matching outfits and hats. It was a pretty happenin' Friday night, ice cream scene. All in all, nice evening. We have, by the way, mastered the art of dining out with two kids. Start early, leave early. Home by 8:00, everyone's happy. Easy.

Another good experience yesterday: I went to the post office, and the lady behind the counter made a real, bonafide joke that made me laugh my ass off. It was so awesome I could have jumped the counter and kissed her. For the sake of this post's length, however, I'll spare you the joke. The important part is that she made one. Amazing.

And my last and final great thing that happened yesterday, was that I collected enough hearts at the Kaisers supermarket to get TWO FREE BOWLS! Wahoo! You see, they give you these little heart stickers when you buy something (the more you spend, the more hearts you get of course). Then, you fill up these little sheets with them (this took me awhile to figure out...I thought they were for my daughter's sticker book for the longest time = Mama Moron), and when you get 40 you get a free müseli bowl. If you get more, you can get different things too, but I was after those little white bowls from the start.

Okay, enough is enough already. Goodnight.

Biscotti and Kinder Museum

2005-08-10T20:27:00.000+01:00

Okay, the biscotti recipe passed the Mama Jens quality control (I'm eating the last little wedge with some tea at the moment), so here you go:

Anything Goes Biscotti
1 egg
100 g powdered sugar
vanilla (use your best judgement here - I think a teaspoon or two would do)
50 g chopped almonds, toasted (hazelnuts, walnuts, your husband's nuts...they all work fine here)
50 g good dark chocolate (get fancy here, guys - lindt, imported real American chocolate chips, etc.)
50 g pinenuts (this is where you can get creative, and frankly i would recommend that as opposed to pinenuts, which just sound downright nasty. so get funky! use studentenfutter - i think that is trail mix in english even though it sounds like it should be hamster pellets, or some museli, raisins, whatever)
125 g flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking powder

The batter will be very lumpy and crumbly. Just shape it into a ball and then flatten it out in a sort of loaf form on parchment paper. Bake 25 minutes at about 200 degrees celsius. Cut into slices and bake 10-15 minutes more. Super Baking Goddess told me that it should be just on the verge of burnt, BUT DON'T BURN IT, like I did (not that that affected my eating it). You don't want the stuff to be soft. And remember that it will get harder when it cools too. Hmmm...my husband's Total Prevert mind is seeping into mine through semiosmosismeitosis.

About the grams, I just don't know what to say. Use your intuition here. It was kind of like a half a cup of everything. I am no Mama Mathematician, I assure you me, but I realize that a cup is about volume and a gram is about weight. So whatever. The cool thing about recipes like this (and quiche) is that they seem to be pretty open to interpretation, experience, variation, and a whole range of just plain fucking up. Enjoy.

Today, after I spent 10 minutes making 8 attempts to squeeze my car into an itty bitty parallel parking spot (just kidding, it wasn't itty bitty, I am just sometimes Mama Parking Moron) we met some friends at the MACH Mit! Kinder Museum http://www.kindermuseumberlin.de/ in Prenzlauer Berg. What a great place. It is a former church converted into a hands-on children's museum. We've been pretty much loyal fans since we moved here. They have new exhibitions every couple of months with different themes, but the main attraction is this massive, wooden maze that reaches the ceiling (a couple of stories) in which the children can spend a couple of hours running about, chasing each other through, etc. There is also a cafe there for the Mamas and Papas to have a coffee in while their little wonders expend energy and learn about space.

Have a good night!

Moustaches, Haircuts, and Biscotti

2005-08-09T19:38:00.000+01:00

There is a huge poster of Angela Merkel on Greifswalderstr. and someone drew a little square moustache over her mouth. Lordy. Comments are being added. I'll have to go back and write them down. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Our travel agent rocks. If you have to travel out of your kiez for one thing, I would recommend doing so for cheap airline tickets and friendly service. His office is small and disorganized and even kind of dirty, but he finds the cheapest tickets around and he is so friendly I could just kiss him. He has a very 1970's thing going on. Longish, parted (feathered even) hair. A beard, trimmed. Tightish jeans. Groomed and gold in that 1970's, early 80's sort of style, but like in the way that he doesn't realize it ever went out of (and then came back into) style. He never tries to pressure you into anything, and even says stuff like, "Go home and sleep on it and let me know," or "Yeah, I'll hold them a couple of weeks..." which is just not really typical business. So if you need airline tickets, or just want to check out a superfine hairdo, head down to Reisebüro, Prenzlauer Allee 221.

And on that note, I encourage you to check out the Wikipedia's definition and history of haircuts. This is some pretty informative stuff. Check out, for example what a Duck's Ass Haircut is, or that Jheri Curl involves a substance known as Jheri Curl Juice. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hairstyle

And speaking of a Duck Ass, since I am trying to clear my mind of a certain family drama, I will make biscotti now. A friend of mine (who used to run a cafe here and is a Superb Baking Goddess) gave it to me. It looks pretty easy actually. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Food and Entertainment

2005-08-07T20:15:00.000+01:00

Husband out. Children slumbering sweetly. Mama blogs! Its a good break from my obsessive- compulsive online real estate searching. Holy toledo. So here are a couple of random ones for you:

Today, I watched Drama Queen Number One (the five year old) watch herself cry in the mirror. This was amazing. I decided, not necessarily because of the crying, that I want to take her to the Staatsballett to see the performance of Cinderella. www.staatsballett-berlin.de/

I made a mean Bread Pudding tonight.

Mean Bread Pudding
Take about four or five slices of bread and cut into squares. Whole wheat, soft sandwhich bread works well here...So does stale bread and french bread. Arrange the bread cubes and some raisins and almonds and whatever else you want in a baking dish (like a bread loaf pan). In a separate bowl mix together about 4 eggs, 2 and 1/4 cups milk, about a tablespoon of cinnamon, a couple of scoops of sugar (about 1/2 cup), a dash of nutmeg, and a couple of teaspoons of vanilla. Pour this mixture over the bread cubes and bake in the oven for about 45 or 50 minutes until knife inserted in center comes out clean. Serve warm with vanilla sauce or milk.

And speaking of dessert, Anne Blume on Kollwitz Str. wins my award for best food and desserts and coffee and atmosphere at the moment. Sitting outside there among all the tall flowering plants is so lovely. The selection of cakes is like Mama Jens heaven, and the other food is also great. There are high chairs, a changing table, and even a little stash (at child eye-level) of toys and books for the little ones. My daughter loves to order the milchreis with warm blueberries (but the blueberries must be cold and on the side), which comes in a huge, powdered-sugar dusted bowl that takes up half the table. I dig the schinken and alpkäse crepes. Oh yeah, and there's a beautiful flower shop next door and then a bakery next door to that. You can order all kinds of cakes there. Amazing!

This afternoon I went to the cinema with a friend. Mama Free Time. Boy oh boy was that satisfying. I realize though how jumpy I am. Every little rattle of the car makes me turn around in panic to see who is doing what to whom. It takes awhile to relax and realize you only have to worry about your own safety when you're ohne kinder. I saw A Love Song for Bobby Long. It made me want to live in the states...not sure why though. I think it is about that range of experience thing again. America is just so flippin' wild. There is a lot of crazy stuff going on there.

And last night, we rented Ray, the film about Ray Charles. Excellent. The little baby really made me want to have another baby. Oh lordy.

I really appreciate how films are so successful in taking you completely out of your reality. Good, healthy Mama Medicine.

Birthday Fun

2005-08-04T13:36:00.000+01:00

Well, folks, I survived another children's birthday party. There were a few moments there when I wasn't so sure that was gonna be the case, but, alas, it is the next day, and I'm here, and I'm alive, or at least I think I am. I fall asleep so quickly these days, that its plain frightening. I don't even think I am aware of my head hitting the pillow, which I think actually would qualify as passing out. Knowing that I can pass from consciousness to subconsciousness, or unconsciousness as the case might be, kind of freaks me out.

Anyways, back to being alive. And birthday parties. Basically we invited enough people to fill a small stadium, but mainly because we thought the (fucking) weather would actually be nice, seeing as how it is August and all, and that we could celebrate in our big backyard. I know you're laughing that I would be so bold as to assume the sun would be shining. So what did we do, we packed 'em in. You can fit a lot of people in a hundred square meters, but just because you can doesn't mean you should. After everyone settled in, had a couple of cupcakes, a couple of gummi bears, and a couple of Mn'M's, the party was rockin'. We sang some children's songs, did the hokey pokey, had a pinata, and ate some birthday cake. The Sugar Bombs were havin' a great time! Then, we ran out of organized activities, so things started to get a little freaky. But, just at the right time, the horse and carriage pulled up!

Rewind to a couple of months back. I was sitting in the waiting room at the Frauenartz for my post birth check-up (stay with me here). The was a woman there who was newly pregnant and was asking me how life was with two children, logistically speaking. I lied of course and told her it was all cool and easy. We got to talking a little more and it turns out that her husband runs this Pferdetaxi business in Prenzlauer Berg. Crazy stuff, right? Well, one day not too long after that, I saw the horses and carriage driving around Helmholtzplatz. Since they were going about 2 miles per hour and I was stuck behind them in a car, I had some time to do some thinking. My mind started wandering and I thought it would be great to have something like that at a children's birthday party. So I started digging around in my bag and excavated a piece of paper and pen so I could write down the phone number that was posted on the back of the carriage (and written really small). Without hitting it, I got close enough to read the number, wrote it down, gave them a call, and Voila! Super Birthday Party.

So back to the present. When the horse and carriage pulled up, I told everyone to have a look out the window at our fat ride. The children were so excited and the parents were downright giddy too. So, everyone moved to the hallway (and this next part almost did me in) to start putting on their shoes, sweaters, raincoats, go pee, get a little snack, have a little breakdown, etc. Holy flippin' madness, I tell you. And then, AHHHHH! We were outside, in the fresh, rainy air and in the big wagon that held about 25 people. It was awesome. We took a little ride around the neighborhood and the children were so into it. For me, it satisfied a sort of Disneylandish birthday party urge as well as stayed downright true to history and nature, or whatever. They are called Luna Pferdetaxi and I would highly recommend them for such events or if you want to take a tour around Berlin. Very nice.

So I have been recovering today from all of that. A friend of mine came over this morning to visit. She is always talking about psychology and therapy (hers). For some reason, the idea of therapy just made me burst into really psychotic laughter. I just couldn't stop and it was pretty embarrassing. You know when you have the giggles and every little thing just makes you laugh more? Well, she kept saying, "What? What is it? What's so funny?!" and I just kept laughing and laughing. It was awful. When I finally came to, the only explanation I could come up with was that therapy just seems so luxurious to me. I don't even have time to pee sometimes, much less consider my mental state.

Okay, time to eat.

The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf and other Stressful Things

2005-07-28T11:31:00.000+01:00

Oh boy am I ever reaching my mama patience limit. One child is eating seriously everything that comes into her path, whether that means a nice, ripe, organic banana or a shoe that has been walking the ever-so-delectable berlin sidewalks (as a matter of fact, she is eating my Wallpaper magazine at this very moment). She requires constant attention just to stay alive...one of mother nature's little flaws. I am anxiously awaiting the day when she does a little inspecting and then some careful, conscious contemplating about whether or not she wants to actually eat that dust bunny or that small, perfectly choking size and equally-covered-in-dust toy of her elder sister that she just found in the corner. The elder sister I speak of is in an similarly frustrating, but totally different phase at the moment. She is Drama Queen Number One, which means every slight brush against a chair that might cause a little tickle of pain merits howls and screeches that could wake up the neighbors on the other side of the neighborhood. The first 100 times or so that she did that, she got the proper, "Oh sweetie, are you hurt, darling? Come here and let mama kiss your owie and make it feel better." But now, no matter how much pain and how much blood, she gets, "Chill out! Remember the story of the boy who cried wolf?" to which she howls louder, saying through sobs, "No, it really hurts this time!"

For those of you who don't know the story, it goes something like this:

There once was a shepherd boy who was bored as he sat on the hillside watching the village sheep. To amuse himself he took a great breath and sang out, "Wolf! Wolf! The Wolf is chasing the sheep!"

The villagers came running up the hill to help the boy drive the wolf away. But when they arrived at the top of the hill, they found no wolf. The boy laughed at the sight of their angry faces.

"Don't cry 'wolf', shepherd boy," said the villagers, "when there's no wolf!" They went grumbling back down the hill.

Later, the boy sang out again, "Wolf! Wolf! The wolf is chasing the sheep!" To his naughty delight, he watched the villagers run up the hill to help him drive the wolf away.

When the villagers saw no wolf they sternly said, "Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Don't cry 'wolf' when there is NO wolf!"

But the boy just grinned and watched them go grumbling down the hill once more.

Later, he saw a REAL wolf prowling about his flock. Alarmed, he leaped to his feet and sang out as loudly as he could, "Wolf! Wolf!"

But the villagers thought he was trying to fool them again, and so they didn't come.

At sunset, everyone wondered why the shepherd boy hadn't returned to the village with their sheep. They went up the hill to find the boy. They found him weeping.

"There really was a wolf here! The flock has scattered! I cried out, "Wolf!" Why didn't you come?"

An old man tried to comfort the boy as they walked back to the village.

"We'll help you look for the lost sheep in the morning," he said, putting his arm around the youth, "Nobody believes a liar...even when he is telling the truth!"

Which reminds me of another person being called that boy these days:

Anyways, so I brought Suicide Baby and Drama Queen Number One with me to a little meeting this morning for this photo project I am working on. Its a darned good thing that "sense of humor" is a concept most people understand and appreciate, though there are definitely days when I would say otherwise (see German Oma entries). Here I was, shoveling bread, then breast into one mouth of bottomless pit baby and trying to keep Drama Queen Number One happy with a glass of milk promises of chewing gum to come. My arms must have been a blur to the old man sitting across from me, as they moved from one side of the table to the next with super mama, unconscious professionalism. I was downright moved by the fact that through all this double teaming, I was able to have a whole conversation, without too many lost, breastfeeding-brain thoughts, with a sense of seriousness and professionalism to boot. I extend a heartfelt pat on the back to me. Nevermind that my nerves are totally shot.

So to gulp down with all that stressful energy, here is a lovely

Carrot Cake Recipe:
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (i would use about three times this though...you can never add too much cinnamon i say)
3 cups finely shredded carrots
1 cup cooking oil
4 eggs

mix wet and dry ingredients separately. bake at around 350F or 200 C for about 30 to 35 minutes. top with cream cheese frosting.

so as to not leave you hanging here:

cream cheese frosting:
beat together two packages of softened cream cheese, 1/2 cup butter also softened, and 2 teaspoons vanilla until light and fluffy. gradually add 2 cups sifted powdered sugar, beating well. then, after coming to terms with the fact that you are putting this much powdered sugar into something you will actually eat and offer to others, beat in another 2 to 2 and 1/2 cups of powdered sugar until icing reaches spreading consistency.

i think i'll make this one for my daughter's birthday next week. i would also like to try making a banana cake and a strawberry cake (which should be pink, of course) as well. they all sound healthy at least. if you know any good recipes for the latter, please let me know!!

okay, time to feed the masses.

Health Food

2005-07-27T21:03:00.000+01:00

Wow...its been awhile since my last post. Its been busy around here, I tell you. To find the time to do something as recreational as blogging is quite a challenge, seeing as how I have thousands of kids and all. The first thing my husband says every morning when we awake to the little one sticking her tiny pointer finger in our nostrils is "Geez, why do we have so many kids...?" The days are long and repetitive and busy.

The weather has been wacky, but that is nothing too unusual. It feels strange to wear a jacket at the end of July, but I guess I've experienced much weirder things. Still, even though it has been cold and rainy, there is that August stickiness in the air.

The blueberries are good and fat and cheap right now, which is seriously exciting as far as I'm concerned. Today I bought tons of them and washed them and froze them. I am really craving blueberry pancakes at the moment, and these big blueberries are perfect. The little, very purpley ones are nice too, but these big ones with the white, seedy centers which turn all purple when baked are even better. And I let go of one final American thing - American pancake syrup. I have replaced it with proper Canadian maple syrup. In addition to the positive political feeling I get from this switch, the taste is just incredibly better.

Ingredients of Canadian Maple Syrup: Maple Syrup

Ingredients of Aunt Jemima Lite: water, high fructose corn syrup, sugar syrup, cellulose gum, salt, caramel color, sorbic acid, sodium benzoate, natural and artificial flavors, sodium hexametaphosphate.

And here is where I become really scared about the idea of living in the states. Its not just the politics folks, its the food. What has become of the American food? American supermarkets with all the packaged stuff with a list of ingredients that takes 10 minutes to read is just plain scary. The last time we were in the U.S., one relative gave my daughter a package of those goldfish crackers. Since my daughter has a peanut allergy, we have to read all the ingredient labels carefully. Well, the list on this box of goldfish took up the whole side of the box. A good rule to follow: If you see a list that long, it isn't safe to feed it to your children, peanut allergy or no peanut allergy. Hopefully, when/if we move, we can figure out a way to remain relatively healthy.

Speaking of healthy, I went to the cinema at Potsdamer Platz a couple of weekends ago, which was such an amazing Mama Jens free time treat. The best part of the experience was learning that they sell Ben and Jerry's ice cream there, and, as is the case with Haagen Daaz, I simply couldn't resist. The chocolate brownie madness, or whatever its called, just rocks.

Sleepy now. More later...

No Cake for the Mother Scratchin' Ass Heads

2005-07-12T09:32:00.000+01:00

Four years is just WAY TOO LONG for me to live in any one city - even if I have changed apartments a couple of times and rearranged my furniture monthly to simulate moving. I am so ready to be out of here, I cannot even tell you.

Because my Mama Jens hardcore gypsy desire to throw it all away and leave immediately is so super strong right now, every little awful interaction I have with locals is magnified. Someone in my state is especially sensitive to ämter and beämter, let me tell you. If anything were easy in this regard, I think I would die immediately from shock. What I would like to know is if Germans actually feel a sense of satisfaction when dealing with the overly difficult bureaucratic system. If it were too easy, would it just be boring or dissatisfying or what? Please enlighten me here. As Beppe Severgnini put it, "Americans see no existential significance in, say, getting a phone installed (the struggle, the pleading, the long wait, the final victory)." Having spent my adult life training on the German version of bureacracy however, I probably won't know what to do with myself when I move back to the U.S. one day and it takes me about an hour to get a phone, a place in a school for my daughter, a new apartment, a couple new Social Security cards for fun, whatever.

To avoid delving further into my current depression and frustration for various aspects of life here, I will share another recipe. This one is amazing...by far the best homemade chocolate cake I have made. Let's call this one:

Don't Share with the Bureaucrats Hershey's Chocolate Cake

2 cups sugar (wahoo!)
1 3/4 cups flour
3/4 cups hershey's cocoa
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 cup of milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup of boiling water

combine dry ingredients in large bowl. add eggs, milk, oil, and vanilla. stir in boiling water. pour into pan(s). bake 30-35 minutes. rockin'.

Have a nice day.

Random Bumblings

2005-07-08T23:45:00.000+01:00

My favorite topping for pizza is sardines. The craving started with my first pregnancy, and revisited during my second. I still crave them, but I think its waning. It seriously disturbs my husband. He always says things like, "Now why would you want to go and ruin a perfectly good pizza like that?"

This old guy offered my 8 month old baby a lollipop the other day. Fur-reaky.

And I got another good asshole comment today. I get a particularly large number of them in the same location, around SBahn Schönhauser Allee.

It occurred to me last night that there is all kinds of crazy awesome stuff happening in this city. To think that last night there were thousands of people at the Olympic Stadium for the U2 concert, and then a couple of nights before thousands and thousands for the Live 8 concert...its just amazing. I am so out of touch, I tell you. Good ole Mama Jens, at home in her nest, with her thousands of children, sleeping like the sweet little bundles of joy that they are. No drinky drinky. No smoky smoky. Only brownie, milky, sleepy, sleepy. Holy flippin' Jesus.

Speaking of which, here's another recipe I like to call:

Brownies as Good as the Ones from the Package
1/2 cup butter, melted
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
1/2 cup flour
1/3 cup hershey's cocoa (good luck finding this stuff!)
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup chopped nuts (optional)

Stir together butter, sugar, and vanilla in a bowl. Add eggs, beat well. Stir together flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt. Gradually add to egg mixture, beating until well blended. Stir in nuts. Bake 20 to 25 minutes.

But, yeah, we Mama Birds like to keep our nest in order. One night before an early morning departure for a trip, my husband went out to a concert. Normally that is fine and well, but when we have a big trip like that, Mama Bird starts to get a little anxious, if you know what I mean. Well, around midnight, when he WAS NOT HOME YET, I sent him a sweet little sms. When he received it, the friend that was with him said, "Oh, I bet thats ...smsing to ask how the concert is?" And he replied, "No, actually, what she wrote is: It is time to get your white bird ass back to my mother fuckin' nest."

Which reminds me of the big peacocks on the Pfaueninsel at the far western side of Berlin. Whoa. They get rigid and shake and then fan out their enormous set of feathers. I wish I could do that.

Its been raining every afternoon this week. I keep promising my daughter that she can ride her bike home from kita, but then its raining and we have to take the train instead which means Shönhauser Allee which means mean, nasty city people. Arrrrrgg.

Gelato. The one at Kollwitz Platz, next to the little international press stand is the best one I've come across. Any other recommendations on this topic are more than welcomed. I'm always up for a good ice cream cone. They just added a new flavor: erdnuss cookies. WOW WOW!!!! You gotta try it.

Okay, I think I need some sleep. Good night.

Catholic Guilt

2005-07-07T10:15:00.000+01:00

Okay, I'll just say it: Catholic Guilt is my biggest problem. Though I gave up Catholicism at a very young age, the guilt is still with me. My husband often suggest therapy, but I actually studied counseling0, and so know there is no hope for the poor Catholics. I am keenly aware of when it crops up in my day-to-day life and interactions, and try to not be controlled by it, though that usually doesn't help much.

One place that just makes it all so painful and apparent is on public transportation. I have to say I think the way the tickets are randomly checked by civilian-clad checkers, who call for "Fahrscheine bitte!" in this voice that incites terror as soon as the subway doors have clanked shut is just plain crazy. I bet even non-Catholics feel a wave of terror and panic when they hear these words. For me, it is just horrible. I always feel like, "Oh shit! They caught me!" even though my properly purchased and stamped ticket is in my pocket. What's up with all the secret terror random check stuff? I much prefer the upfront Paris metro, which doesn't let you in until you've put your ticket through the machine and pass through the turnstyle or doors.

When we first moved here, I never bought tickets. I figured it seemed pretty pointless, especially since I never saw anyone checking....until one time I was on a train and the doors shut and that awful "FAHRSCHEINE BITTE!" was yelled out and I didn't have a ticket. Now this evokes a different kind of Catholic guilt altogether. This is guilt when you actually have something to be guilty about. It doesn't matter that we're just talking about a subway ticket here. They caught me!!!!! My heart was pounding. I started sweating. I thought about breaking a window. And phew! The doors opened and I jumped out before they could check me! I remember the distinct feeling of punk rock mama as I ran down the platform pushing my stroller. They weren't gonna catch me, those fucking bastards. Of course I immediately bought a ticket then and got on the next train to complete my journey. I have never been so bold as to go ticketless since.

And speaking of Catholics, Pope Benedict's VW is on display in a glass box at the Potsdamer Platz Arkaden (mall, for those of you Americans reading). It has big stickers all over it, saying "Pope Mobile" and things like that. This is what it looks like:

Somehow is it just too new to impress me. It was bought by an online casino firm for something like 244,000$. Nuts, eh?

Blueberry Muffins and Speedy Chickens

2005-07-01T12:22:00.000+01:00

For the germaphobes: I like to buy my fruit from one of these local fruit and vegetable stands/kiosks. They have an awesome selection and the fruit and vegetables are always very fresh. But for those of you who like to buy those pre-packaged fruit salad things, watch out. Everytime I go in there, the lady is cutting up all this fruit and making those things. Her hands and apron are always filthy, as though she had just been out in the field picking the potatos herself (do you pick or pull potatos?). Not only that, she then rings people up, handling all the change and unwashed vegetables and then goes right back to her cutting board. Eeewww. My advice: Buy a couple of pieces of fruit, go home and wash them, chop them up, and voila! ...a fresh, fruit salad - fresh being the important ingredient here.

And speaking of fruit, I love the little blueberries in the baskets. They are sweet and perfect for my baby to practice her pincer grip with. Very cute.

And on that note, I will impart a Mama Jens recipe on you.

Real, American, Freakin' Blueberry Muffins:
1 and 1/3 cup flour (can also substitue whole wheat or spelt flour - very nice)
1/3 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 beaten egg
3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup cooking oil
Blueberries (you can also substitute chocolate chips, bananas, shredded carrots and raisins, etc. here)

Mix wet and dry ingredients separately. Pour into muffin cups or well-greased muffin pan. Bake at 350 degrees F or 180 degrees C for about 20 minutes or until golden brown.

About the measurements - I have no idea about the grams, milliliters...just use a regular coffee cup to measure. It all turns out basically the same.

I just pulled an insect out of my baby's mouth. It was one of those bugs that is a cross between a mosquito and a dragon fly. As I am not nature mama, I have no idea what it was. All I know that it was dead and dusty in some corner and now it is soggy and in pieces in the trash. Yuck.
Bad blogging mama, pay attention for God's sake.

So this morning, it took me approximately 55 minutes to do all my errands. It went something like this: Conny's container to buy a small suitcase and a picture frame, then home to drop off the big suitcase that was so ridiulously draped over the stroller. Then paper store to get some envelopes and drugstore to get diapers, then home to drop off bulky items. Then fruit stand and porno bakery, then home to drop off again. Then grocery store and home. The whole time, there is this old guy standing next to the entrance of our flat, under someone's balcony for rain protection. He was watching me, going in and out, in and out with my stroller, umbrella, suitcase, bags, etc. I felt like a speedy chicken mama. As a matter of fact, I kind of look like a speedy chicken mama, or someone on speed at least.

And speaking of speed, what is with the out-in-the-open freakin' drug dealing ring in Prenzlauer Berg????? These guys loiter in the same places - positioned throughout the district - day in and day out. The "franchise" closest to me has been there for about two years now. He is really weird. I've seen him in various drug deals and he does strange things like leave stuff on peoples' car tires and in bushes and such. They're so obvious, I'm surprized they haven't been busted yet.

Have a nice weekend.

Lactivism

2005-06-29T09:55:00.000+01:00

Now here's a good word. Though I've heard of the Starbucks scandal that inspired www.nurseatstarbucks.com and encountered many a weird look while nursing in the U.S., I had never heard the word "Lactivism" until yesterday while at a going-away-party for a friend. About two-thirds of the women present were lactating, which obviously means we were discussing breasts, breast milk, nipple shape, nipple elasticity, breast size before and after nursing, etc., etc. Then someone started talking about lactivism, and of course we all bought the idea and immediately joined the ranks of lactivists around the world (though only in the U.S. would this be an issue anyways).

It was an appropriate brunch conversation to have after my walk there, when I noticed that I had two circle-shaped milk stains on my shirt - one over each breast. I thought of running home to change, but then I decided that a.) no one where I was going would notice, and if they did, they wouldn't care because they probably had them too and b.) the number of lactating women in this district must be simply staggering. If we were to have a city-wide crisis and there was suddenly no food, then we'd all be in good shape for awhile. But I am sure that those of you reading don't want to think about things like that.

For those of you who are curious, however, I will venture off on one more little tangent in that direction. I once read a news story about a group of people trying to get from Mexico to Florida in a boat. Something went wrong and they were lost at sea for a very long time. No one died, however, because one woman on the boat was lactating and gave everyone a couple of drops each day. Good vitamins, I tell you.

Anyways, back to Lactivism. I found this article in the New York Times;

'Lactivists' Taking Their Cause, and Their Babies, to the Streets

By AMY HARMON
Published: June 7, 2005

The calls for a "nurse-in" began on the Internet mere moments after Barbara Walters uttered a negative remark about public breast-feeding on her ABC talk show, "The View."

The protest, inspired by similar events organized by a growing group of unlikely activists nationwide in the last year, brought about 200 women to ABC's headquarters yesterday. They stood nursing their babies in the unmistakably public venue of Columbus Avenue and West 67th Street. They held signs reading, "Shame on View," and "Babies are born to be breastfed." Ms. Walters, who remarked a few weeks ago on the show that the sight of a woman breast-feeding on an airplane next to her had made her uncomfortable, said through a spokesman that "it was a particular circumstance and we are surprised that it warrants a protest."

But the rally at ABC is only the most visible example of a recent wave of "lactivism." Prodded by mothers who say they are tired of being asked to adjourn to the bathroom while nursing in a public space, six states have recently passed laws giving a woman the right to breast-feed wherever she "is otherwise authorized to be."

An Ohio bill saying a woman is "entitled to breast-feed her baby in any place of public accommodation" passed last month over the objection of one representative who wanted to exempt businesses from liability for accidents caused by "spillage."

"I really don't know any women who 'spill,' " said Lisa Wilson, the mother of a 4-month-old in Fairview Park, Ohio, who helped organize a nurse-in at a local deli to support the bill.

Representative Carolyn B. Maloney, Democrat of New York, held a nurse-in on the Capitol's Cannon Terrace last month as she reintroduced federal legislation to amend the Civil Rights Act to protect women from employment discrimination for using a breast pump or feeding their babies during breaks.

Nursing mothers are pressuring businesses, too. Burger King has declared that mothers are welcome to nurse. Starbucks - the target of a letter-writing campaign that asked "What's more natural than coffee and milk?" - has, too.

The moves come as the number of American mothers who choose to breast-feed has climbed to about 70 percent in 2003, the last year for which information was available, from about 50 percent in 1990. Many otherwise apolitical women say they found themselves unexpectedly transformed into lactivists after fielding a nasty comment or being asked to stop nursing in public.

"We're all told that breast-feeding is the best, healthiest thing you can do for your child," said Lorig Charkoudian, 32, who started the Web site www.nurseatstarbucks.com after being asked to use the bathroom to nurse at her local Starbucks. "And then we're made to feel ashamed to do it without being locked in our homes."

But Ms. Walters is not the only one who might prefer not to be confronted with breast-feeding at close quarters. Legislators, business owners and family members are debating how to reconcile the health benefits of nursing with the prevailing cultural squeamishness toward nursing in public.

In interviews and Internet discussions, hundreds of women recount being asked to stop nursing in public spots, including the Children's Museum in Huntsville, Ala.; a knitting store in the East Village; a Radisson Hotel lobby in Virginia; a public bus in Los Angeles; and a city commission meeting in Miami Beach.

"It's nothing against breast-feeding, it's about exposing yourself for people who don't want to see it," said Scotty Stroup, the owner of a restaurant in Round Rock, Tex., where a nursing mother was refused service last fall.

But the new generation of lactivists compare discomfort with seeing breast-feeding in public to discomfort with seeing interracial couples or gays holding hands.

"It's like any other prejudice. They have to get used to it," said Rebecca Odes, co-founder of "The New Mom" blog, who attended the ABC protest. "People don't want to see it because they feel uncomfortable with it, and they feel uncomfortable with it because they don't see it."

Whether to breast-feed in public, many nursing mothers say, is not simply a matter of being respectful of another person's sensibilities. They cite research by the Food and Drug Administration showing that the degree of embarrassment a mother feels about breast-feeding plays a bigger role in determining whether she is likely to do so than household income, length of maternity leave or employment status.

The American Academy of Pediatrics urges women to feed their babies only breast milk for the first six months, and continue breast-feeding for at least an additional six months. If its recommendations were followed, the group estimates that Americans would save $3.6 billion in annual health care costs because breast-fed babies tend to require less medical care. But while more women are breast-feeding for the first few weeks, fewer than one-third are still nursing after six months. Some doctors attribute the decline to self-consciousness and the difficulties of finding spaces where nursing seems acceptable.

"To many mothers, breast-feeding runs up against sexual attitudes toward the breast," said Dr. Lawrence Gartner, who leads the academy's research on breast-feeding. "That reduces the prevalence of breast-feeding, which is a bad situation because duration of breast-feeding is an important factor in children's health."

Even mothers who are committed to nursing say they are shaken when confronted with the hostility or consternation of strangers observing them.

"People make you feel like you're doing something dirty, almost," said Rene Harrell, 26, of Chantilly, Va., who said she was recently asked to leave a Delta airport lounge in Atlanta as she nursed her 8-month-old son, Elijah.

Once on the plane awaiting takeoff, she said, a man across the aisle complained loudly about her into his cellphone as she continued to nurse.

The scene, said Ms. Harrell, reminded her of the one Ms. Walters described, which she read about on an Internet discussion board.

"It's just, where would you like me to go so I don't bother you by being here?" Ms. Harrell said. "He was not on solids. It's not like I could have given him something to tide him over. He needed to eat."

Marilyn Yalom, the author of "History of the Breast," says Americans' views of the breast has changed over time, and could change again. More than in other countries, she said, the breast is seen here as a sexual object.

"We live in a very mechanistic society and almost anything that doesn't come out of a package is somehow suspect," Ms. Yalom said. "So milk that comes out of a real human breast, we're not very comfortable with, it brings us too close to our animal nature."

The nurse-in at ABC was perhaps the largest of the dozen or so held around the country over the last year.

"I have the right to breast-feed my child without getting nasty looks," said Patricia Lechuga, 32, who said she watches "The View" every morning while breast-feeding her 10-month-old daughter before her nap. "So many people watch the show, I was just so disappointed in them."

On the Upper West Side, it was hard to find anyone to disagree with her.

"Are there people who are against breast-feeding?" asked Rich Flisher, 39, a neighborhood resident passing by the nurse-in. "I do prefer it if you're discreet, but hey, I'm behind you. Go go go."

Crazy stuff, eh? But here is one area in which I truly appreciate Germany. I have never had a problem or felt weird about breastfeeding in public here. In the states, however (and my German friends are always shocked by this), it always seems to be an issue. Feeling like you have to go into hiding to nurse your child is incredibly degrading. I repect that some people are just not into seeing big breasts hanging out of a woman's shirt, but, hey, its nature man. We gotta feed our babies. And if a woman is being discreet and not letting her breasts actually get in anyone's way, then what's the problem here?

A little side note to the nursing mamas though: Don't forget to put your breast away after nursing. Nursing women are often so oblivious to any sexualization of their breasts that this is actually easier to do than one would think. I was once at a dinner party when my little one was only a couple of weeks old. Now this is a time of life when I think one's breasts are actually bigger than one's brain. Thank god it doesn't stay that way (or does it?). Anyways, I was nursing my little miracle on the couch and after she was finished I held her up high and oogled at her for a minute before striking up a conversation with a man on the adjacent couch. Well, unbenownst to me, my breast was staring the poor guy right in the face. I was just having a conversation, very polite and interested, until I noticed what he noticed. I acted all calm and cool like it happens all the time, and tucked my little friend back into her hiding place.

Monday Morning Germs

2005-06-27T08:20:00.000+01:00

Haven't written anything here in a few days. One child was sick, so I was in Mama Overdrive. She had a fever and glassy eyes for about three days, with no other real symptoms to speak of. We think it may have been too much sun. Isn't that totally insane? Here we are months on end without real, warm sun...and when it comes it makes us ill because we aren't used to it. That has happened with her before. The other, more likely possibility is that she picked up a little something from the little kiddie pool in Weinsberg Park. I have a neighbor who said she took four kids there and three of them got sick. Eww. But then another friend of mine swears they clean it every morning. Just the thought of all the pee stewing in the afternoon heat is enough to make me never go back.

Though I won't go back to the kiddie pool, I will definitely go back to Nola - the cafe perched at the top of the hill facing the park and a group of beautiful trees which hide aesthetically unpleasing Tor Str. I would love to have a living room like their interior, and they serve up an American breakfast there - Scrambled Eggs, Bacon, Pancakes, and a Bagel with Lachs and Cream Cheese. Yahoo! They also have Belgian Waffles with Powdered Sugar and Syrup! They rock!

If it were breakfast time for me right now, like it is for the rest of the people in this time zone, all this would make me hungry. But, seeing as how I've been up since 5:30 with my bright-eyed, clapping, dough ball, it is more like lunch for me. And this is how I have rationalized the fact that I just had a piece of chocolate cake from the porno-star baker, even though its only 9 am. I always have dessert after lunch.

But back to the 5:30 wake up call. Partly because of the dizziness and hallucinations reminiscent of my college days and partly because of the brightness of the sunlight, I find this time of day magical. Its almost as if I'm dreaming when I walk around the house at this time, changing a diaper here, making coffee there...hmmm.... Its so quiet, and the sun is so bright, its almost white. There are very few people out and the air smells like a nice mixture of fresh morning dew and all the city trash being rolled in their dumpsters to the curb for miles and miles around. I like Berlin at this time of the day.

And now back to germs in city spaces. My husband has this weird thing for flip flops. He believes they should only be worn on a beach or in the shower area of a public swimming pool, where all I think from the moment I walk in the changing room until the moment I step foot in the chlorine is fussenpils, fussenpils, naked people, fussenpils, etc... He thinks the flip flop in the city thing is really unhealthy fashion statement, and he went into a lengthy lecture about hookworms with me the other day as we took a walk down to (eek!) Alexander Platz. If I hadn't been wearing flip flops and if we hadn't been heading to one of the most unpleasant places on earth, then the worm stuff wouldn't have made me so squirmy. AHHH! Squirmy wormy. Squrimy wormy. Yuck! Fuck! So that night, as I slumbered, I dreamt of hookworms and lice and whatever else there might be lurking in that kiddie pool. I woke up infested and freaked out. And this is one of the cleanier cities I've seen...

Monbijou Park

2005-06-21T11:09:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, we spent the afternoon at the Kinder Schwimmbad in Monbijou Park. Apart from the beardy-man lifeguard who had a beard down to his belly button (no joke) telling us we couldn't take pictures there, we had a lovely time, especially before 4 PM, when the sugar-psycho masses from kindergartens descended upon us. They have a little kiddie pool for the non-swimmers and a bigger pool for the older children. There is also a very nice, green area with plenty of shade from beautiful, massive, old oak trees (Just kidding about the oak part. I am not nature mama so I haven't the foggiest clue what kind of trees they were).

For the children, it can't get much better - water, ice cream, grass, sun, sandbox. For me, I was happy because I wasn't at home so I couldn't clean the house, and while one swam and the other slept, I was actually able to do a little writing. And my husband, well, he was happy because there were plenty of breasts to look at. There are lot of mamas with nice breasts, I tell you.

And on that note, I will take you on a little trip down memory lane. It was a lovely summer day in Wiesbaden. We were young, free, and poor (we're still poor). We went to this awesome 1920's swimming pool - the Neroberg - I think it was called. It was this long, beautiful, rectangular pool overlooking the city. Gorgeous. We were sitting on the grass watching people swim in the cold water (the water is always cold in Germany...the sun and heat are never around long enough to properly heat it all up) I, shyly, but flattered nonetheless, agreed to let my husband take a few pictures of me in my bikini. Well, when we got the prints back, here were these pictures with a teeny bit of me in the upper right-hand corner and a background filled with sun-drenched bosom. Clever, eh?

But back to Monbijou. It was great. I think we'll go again today, since to do anything else on one of the 5 days of the year that the weather is nice, would be pretty sinful.

Parks and Poo (of the Dog Variety)

2005-06-18T23:26:00.000+01:00

I spent an entire afternoon in the park a couple of days ago. The weather was beautiful and the children had a great time. We were there so long and encountered so many kinds of insects that I actually felt like nature mama a little by the time we left to drive two blocks home in our car like good gas-guzzling Americans. (I don't normally do that by the way, the driving two blocks that is)

The little green area on Kollwitz Platz is a nice alternative to the two playgrounds there, which, on a nice day, are so intensely crawling with children that any conversation I might be having with another mama friend devolves to "uh huh, uh huh, yeah, uh huh..." I start to get a nice soft mixture of panic and the desire to rock back and forth and say some kind of affirmation over and over again. Its hardcore. This isn't to mention the fact that I actually have to keep track of my children during this mental breakdown.

So, the green area. It is good. It is calm. But it has a few piles of dog shit, so watch out. Which brings me to my little peaceful tirade this evening: If you own a dog, kindly pick up after it. I cannot tell you how many conversations during walks with my older daughter have been wasted on the subject of dog poop. Instead of discussing the kinds of trees we are passing, how fluffy the clouds look, or what she did at school today, we keep our heads low and focused, warning each other - sometimes even in synch - that we are about to pass by a huge pile of dog shit. Isn't that just wonderful?

A couple of days ago I found myself pushing my stroller behind one of those shit mobiles. I don't know if that's what they call them here...in Paris, I know they are called "Chiracs" after Jacques Chirac, who, in the 1980's, set these poop mobiles loose on the streets of Paris to deal with the 20 tons-a-day (no shit!) of doggy doo doo. Amazing. Anyways, we have them here too. They look like a cross between a golf cart and a smart car with a huge vaccuum nozzle hanging off the side like an elephant trunk. I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing more disgusting than watching poop being sucked up through a vaccuum nozzle. Ho-ly Shit!

But back to my tirade: PICK UP AFTER YOUR DOG!!! Take a plastic bag with you on your walk and spare us all the details of your sweet little cuddly puppy's bowels. Its gross, dirty, unsanitary, unpleasant to look at, smelly, and just plain revolting.

Acts of Kindness in the Porno Bakery

2005-06-16T22:24:00.000+01:00

Most bakeries around these days don't make anything themselves on site. All the bread is sort of pre-made and then they finish baking it. Bakeries that do bake their own stuff usually say so on their signs. Well, I came across a new one, just around the corner on Prenzlauer Allee. You would never imagine from looking at this lady that she is such an awesome baker. She is a thirty something brunette the size of a toothpick (she clearly doesn't sample her wares) and looks like she's straight out of a 1970's German porn film. And she must do it (baking, that is) 24-7 considering the volume of and variation in her selection. She makes the most incredible walnut bread (we've eaten a loaf a day, three days in a row) and chocolate cake with almonds and chocolate chips (yahoo!) inside. Yesterday, when I got home and unwrapped the package with the cake, I saw that she had put a carefully crafted, multi-layered chocolate cookie in there as well! This cookie got me thinking about a couple of things:

1. This was a real, live, random act of kindness - something that happens rarely.

2. This was something for free - a concept that has become a part of my consciousness primarily because getting something for free seems to be such a huge issue here. I am not sure if this is cultural or if it is a sign of the economic times. All I know is that if there is a free meal, most of the people I know are there and that weirds me out, I have to say.

3. In some contexts, this would be considered a sample, disguised in the form of a sweet surprize she sneaked into my cake bag for later discovery. It is capitalism. It is American. It made me happy.

Going on pure intuition here, I'd say the actual intention behind the cookie was closest to number 1 above. The effect that it had on me, however, was closer to number 3: I went back today and bought another loaf of walnut bread and more pastries. When I got home, I unwrapped the pastries all excited, like Charlie in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory when he opens the bar of chocolate and finds a golden ticket. And, sure enough, another random act of kindness - this time oatmeal. I want to hug her, even though she totally looks like a porn star.

Tuesday

2005-06-14T22:00:00.000+01:00

My tip of the day for a nice summer playground is the large open playground/park space on Marienburgerstr. between Prenzlauer Allee and Winsstr. There are two playgrounds and a large green area, and its basically all fenced in so you can let your little ones roam more or less freely. The best part is that there is an ice cream shop there as well - Eis Prinzessin - which is open all year long, unlike most ice cream shops that become sock stores or something equally unappetizing, during the winter. If it starts to rain unexpectedly, as it often does here, you can move the playing inside the cafe where there is a small play area for children. A little sterile, but nice nonetheless.

Today, I was there with a friend of mine and her son. She had a Bionade Soda (great by the way) that she needed to open. She went over to a group of women and asked for a bottle opener. No one had one, but one of the woman offered to open the soda with her teeth instead. Crazy, right? A little while later, my friend's son asked for another bottle of Bionade. She gave it to him and told him to bring it over to the can opener lady. He did, and she opened it, and my friend and the lady exchanged a thumbs-up from a distance. Amazing and disturbing at the same time.

The new coldplay album is really starting to grow on me. As I am usually so busy chasing all these children around, I can only listen to music with about 3% of my attention. Therefore, I only really start to become aware of it after about 30 listens. Does that sound about right, mathematically? No idea.

Today, I realized the craziness that is breakfast (and all meals for that matter). Baby daughter gets some kind of grain with fruit. Boil water to make formula to mix with grain (that has already been cooked) and fruit (that has also been cooked in some cases) mix all together and puree in my handy dandy aforementioned mini-food processor. Bib, wet towel, highchair, go! Second daughter: Heat milk to mix with oats add sugar and cinnamon toast bread add butter and jam find spoon she likes wash it find cup she likes wash it fill it with rice milk, go! Me: Make coffee add some of heated milk from oatmeal that I set aside before adding oatmeal add sugar toast 2 slices of bread put butter and cheese on one put butter and jam on the other, go! Put all the stuff away and clean up. Total time: about 45 minutes. My life in a run on sentence. Now that I think about it, my life is a run on sentence.

Gotta go to the doctor tomorrow. I have been so dizzy the past couple of days. Not good. Reading books really sends me flying. Whoa.

Blaaah-og

2005-06-13T00:10:00.000+01:00

I seriously wonder if anyone reads this. Its funny how carefree the writing is when you think no one is looking. The moment that becomes a possibility, however, a consciousness descends.

Good way to piss off some locals: Take a group of kids into a small place (Napolinaska - Kastanienallee) for ice cream. Make sure one of the kids is having a tantrum. Make sure another is ordering his own ice cream at the counter while no one is watching and then leaves it there to melt. Ask a young couple having cake and coffee if they wouldn't mind moving to another table so that your whole group can sit together. Ask two of the kids to start making spitting noises at each other. Take photographs of the scene (with flash).

The sun is shining today.

Kinder Tanz

2005-06-12T22:39:00.000+01:00

One of my daughters takes a Kinder Tanz course at a nearby dance school. The class is pretty freestyle, lacking the discipline and structure of hardcore ballet. The school has the vibe of a proper dance school, with a cafe where mamas and papas can drink a coffee while the little ones get some energy out. The teacher, a sort of fairy to the children (and me too), combines movement with rhythm in beautiful imaginary contexts. She's incredible.

There's a great bonus to the place too. My husband, not especially known for his punctuality, occasionally shows up there at precisely 5:45. Why, you ask? To get a good 15 minutes of watching the women get dressed for their adult ballet class which takes place right after our daughter's class. Men are not subtle, my friends. These women, let me tell you, usually don't have any underwear on. They just slip off their clothes, right there in the freakin' parent waiting area, flash their beaves to the universe, and then slip on their dance clothes. Amazing, right? My husband definitely thinks so.

I digress. Anyways, my daughter goes to this dance school. And today, they had a performance. I was so impressed that the teachers of the two classes in the performance were able to organize so many young kids to do what they did. It was truly inspiring. The background (floor and curtains surrounding the stage) were all white, and the children - coming from openings in the curtains all the around the stage - were in bright colored costumes. First, a few girls came out in just white, with shockingly dramatic expressions for five year olds I must add. Then another group, all in bright red came out. There were costume changes, then blue, and yellow, and orange. Each group was choreographed differently and the music and lights set a pace and mood for the performance. Again, we were so impressed with the complexity of the show, especially considering it was a group of such young children. I later asked my daughter how she remembered all the parts, and she said they remembered it by the color they were wearing (they had several outift changes). When they were wearing blue, they did the "blue dance," when wearing orange, "the orange dance," etc. Amazing.

My daughter was so understandably proud to be part of something like that. And, to see her performing what she has worked so hard on over time made me really aware of the fact that she is really growing up. I'll save the really sappy stuff for my personal journal now.

Hell and Hersheys

2005-06-09T21:37:00.000+01:00

I just had a piece of Marmor Kuchen and it had that distinct Deutsche Bahn flavor. As a teenager, I took the train a couple of times from Giessen to Berlin. The conductors/waiters/stewards would come down the aisles with a rattling, metal tray and say, "Coffee, Tea, Marble Cake..." Of course they must have said it in German, but its one of those things where if you tell a story enough in your own way, in your own language, you remember it as you told it, not how it actually happened. Anyways, my brother and I always wanted the marble cake, which tasted vaguely of chocolate, but mostly of plastic.

And speaking of cake, since it is basically fall right now, I feel like baking, but my oven is broken. Its one of those ovens where the heat comes from the top and the bottom if you set the dial on the notch with two horizontal lines. Well, the lower part of the oven isn't heating up, which means everything I have been baking is cooked on the top, but not on the bottom. This is kind of like one of my versions of hell.

Another one of my versions of hell: The stretch of SBahn track between SBahn stations Prenzlauer Allee and Schonhauser Allee.

Which brings me to my next thought. I've been thinking about what links I should post on my blog. After some contemplation, the most important and informative website that comes to mind is: www.hersheys.com/recipes. Nice. Very nice. Now wish the totally computer unsavvy, breast-feeding bird brain luck on trying to get the link posted.

German Omas (Again) and Mini Food Processors

2005-06-08T10:32:00.000+01:00

These barking Omas are such an unfortunately consistent part of my reality, that I am considering dedicating a daily space for them in my blog. Yesterday, I was waiting for the elevator to go down into the subway with both daughters and my older daughter's friend. There was a German Oma standing with us. For entertainment, while waiting for the elevator, I was watching her eyes dart from one child to the next and then to me, doing her German Oma scanning to figure out what she was going to criticize. The elevator doors opened, but before the children could get on, they started to close again. We pushed the button and the doors reopened, and the German Oma (missing one arm, severely overweight, and walking with a cane) looked at me and yelled "Schnell Doch!" Not wanting my children to see me in a fight with a old, one-armed woman, I, of course, contained myself. What she didn't realize was that she was the only one at that point standing outside the elevator. I should have pressed the close-door button, but I decided to fight back with friendly energy and kept them open instead, inviting the German Oma to a few more pleasant moments with us as we descended down to the subway tracks.

On a happier note, I've acquired a much needed mini food processor to make my own baby food. I am sure the baby food in the jars is just fine, but I am always skeptical of it, mainly because it never quite tastes like whatever is on the label. It also occurred to me that a couple of carrots at the organic food store are only about 15 cents, whereas a jar of baby food is about 1,15 euros. If your child puts it away like mine does, you can see the savings potential here.

Du Arschloch!

2005-06-07T11:33:00.000+01:00

Not the title you would expect from a mama blog, but, hey, whatever. The other day, I heard a couple of young'uns yelling "Du Arschloch!" at each other. Being the uptight mama that I am, I said to my daughter, "Oh, I can't believe those boys are talking like that!" That started the ball rolling...

"What did they say, Mama?" I was stuck now.
"Arschloch. Its not a nice word," I replied matter-of-factly.
"Arschloch?" I shivered when she said it.
"Yeah, it isn't a nice thing to say," I drilled again.
"Arschloch, Arschloch...what does it mean?" I could see her little translating wheels turning.
"Well, nothing, nevermind..." But there was no way I was getting out of this one.
"Ash - hole? That's funny! Ash hole! Why is that a bad word, Mama?"
Not wanting her to go around saying the incorrect, "Ash hole," I had to level with her: "Well, it actually translates to 'asshole' which is not a nice name to call someone."

Rain Rain Go Away

2005-06-06T12:15:00.000+01:00

Here it is, June, and its cold and rainy. There are the optimists, who say things like, "Oh, its a particularly bad year," but c'mon, let's face it, every year here is a bad year, weather wise. There are only a couple of days of warm sun each year, and they aren't necessarily consecutive, which means when you have a nice warm, flip flop day, you can't just assume summer is here and put all your cold weather clothes away, because, I promise you, you'll be pulling things back out less than a week later.

Which brings me to my next point: kinder cafes. Before they started cropping up all over Prenzlauer Berg, we were desperate for a change of venue for our little one. Hanging out at the playground when it is cold and rainy, even if we are properly dressed, is just unpleasant, and after awhile, staying inside makes everyone crazy. So we would go to Ikea, and check our daughter into their super awesome play area, which she totally loved. The children can do a craft with one of the caretakers or play in the super enormous ball pool. The problem for us was that we were then in the middle of nowhere with nothing else to do but walk through Ikea, and, as you probably know, this can be pretty expensive. We'd leave with a cute little fan our daughter made in the play area, as well as a couch, two new end tables, and a set of dishes. Another one of our brilliant ideas, was to bring her to the ball pool at McDonalds, but only to play, not to eat, of course. But soon, no matter how strong our nutritional principles seemed to be, we gave way to happy meals, big macs, and large orders of fries. This was all a few years ago.

Now, there are these little kindercafes everywhere. They please everyone, and are perfect destinations on a rainy or cold (or both) day. I've visited several, but by far the best I've come across is Onkle Albert on Zionskirche Strasse between Zionskirche Platz and Teutoberger Platz. Its built on three floors, with a few other levels for the children to explore. It is intimate, friendly, and totally relaxed. There are toys appropriate for children up to about 6. The prices are good, the coffee great, they have a fresh homemade cake everyday, and they even sell second hand childrens' clothes. The best part about it is that it isn't totally sterile and new like a lot of these kindercafe places and the women who run it are totally friendly and laid back. Check it out!

German Omas

2005-06-03T10:08:00.000+01:00

Neither my mother nor my partner's mother live nearby, so we have no Omas around to help us chase our little ones. The closest I have come is when I took my rueckbildungs course at Gold's Gym (which kicked my ass, by the way) - where they have two old ladies watching all the babies while the mamas sweat off all that cake they've been eating because their breastfeeding bodies are craving it more strongly than the non-lactating public could ever fathom. These old ladies were so sweet and grandmotherly, that by the end of the 8 week long course, I was sure I was going to the class only to have these ladies ooh and aah over how sweet my little princess is. These kinds of Omas are great.

Then there is the other kind of Oma. This is the old woman who glares at young mothers with this you-are-doing-it-all-wrong-you-young-bitch eyes. That kind of Oma infuriates me to no end. The other day, I zipped across the street to the bank, my little princess in the tragertuch (carry wrap thing). The weather in Berlin changes about as suddenly and often as a manic depressive changes moods, so, as usual we were not dressed appropriately. But, instead of going back inside, taking off the wrap, changing all the baby's clothes, putting her back in the wrap, and finding a sweater and jacket for myself, I decided that a two minute trip to the bank in slightly chilly weather wouldn't kill either of us. Well, I was just plain asking for it, wasn't I? Sure enough, the first old lady I passed, stopped, glared at me, and barked "KALT!" I always imagine doing some freaky hand gestures up close in their faces or yelling, "Mind your own business, you twerp!" but I always remain calm, composed, and considerate.

Just what gives these ladies, especially worse in packs, the feeling that they can stare, glare, and worst of all, comment, on how cold, hot, hungry, tired, and snotty my child is?

Bugahell

2005-06-02T19:51:00.000+01:00

The Bugaboo Frog Stroller: http://www.bugaboo.com/uk/newsimage/front3.gif

Heidi Klum has one. Gwyneth Paltrow has one. And now, every fourth mama in Prenzlauer Berg has one. These little fuckers are selling like hotcakes around here, and I am sure designer, Max Barenbrug, is laughing all the way to the bank!

Available in cool colors like black, red, tan, construction-site-warning orange, and even denim (which costs more), the Bugaboo Frog converts in all kinds of crazy ways - something you'll often see mamas showing other mamas on the street. It is just so hard to resist. Like the other day, a British woman approached me and said, "Excuse me, is that one of those Bugaloos?" After trying to mentally recover from the fact that she said "Bugaloo" as opposed to "Bugaboo," I started converting. The handle can go this way or that way there's a bassinette then a seat, and the seat can be positioned here, here, or here, and its lightweight and you can use it until your child is four and you can stroll it on the beach even and and and...

Despite all the ergonomic holistic designistic beauty-meets-functionality craziness, I can't help but feel a sense of embarrassment when walking around with my bugaloo these days. It was cool when it was one-of-a-kind and those queer little front wheels would turn eyes and pique interest, but now its getting a little surreal. They are everywhere, and at nearly 700 euros a pop, it is pretty amazing. But fads just sort of wash over the public around here...thats the homogeneity I was talking about. I got really weirded out the other day while standing at a crosswalk light. I look over, and next to me is a woman with the same color Bugaboo, in the same position, with a baby approximately the same age as mine, wearing the same kind of skirt, flip flops, and sunglasses as me. Fur-reaky!

Okay, it is a cool stroller, but not 700 euros cool. My advice: Unless you are independently wealthy and seriously have nothing better to do other than spend a lot of money, I would consider buying the small, sleek, Chicco umbrella stroller at the cost of about 69 euros once your baby is about 6 or 7 months old and can basically sit up. It would be easier to fit in your car, to get in and out of the subway, and to maneuver in general through the city. And with the remaining 630 euros, you could do one of the following:

1. make a couple of monthly payments on your student loan.
2. take a vacation
3. go out to dinner about 15 times with your family
4. drink about 200 coffees
5. pay rent

Time for a Mama Outlet

2005-06-01T23:01:00.000+01:00

This is a perfect medium. I've been keeping all sorts of journals over the years...why not one more in this new format? Greetings. I am a sleep-deprived, breast-feeding, sugar-addicted mama living in Berlin Prenzlauer Berg. If you know anything about this neighborhood, you know that there are hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of me. There are so many freakin' kids, mamas, papas, and pregnant ladies in this district...the highest birth rate in Europe I tell you. I imagine it must be somewhat surreal to outsiders or newcomers, especially childless ones. We are talkin' kids everywhere - on sidewalks, in parks, in trees, in playgrounds, in lines at ice cream stands...and with the kids comes the paraphernalia - strollers, scooters, bikes, bobby cars, car seats, bike seats, etc., etc. Kollwitz Platz and Helmholtz Platz are plain scary on a sunny day - you have to see it to believe it. Being among those guilty of reproducing on Prenzlauer Berg soil, I must say that its a pretty nice place to raise children, apart from the sometimes disturbing and annoying homogeneity of it all. I'll get more into that later. Time to breastfeed.