German Quirk: The Getaway Car

Here's a bonus for you, just to try and win back your affection. This is a favorite German quirk of mine. It took me awhile to notice it, but once I did, I saw it everywhere. Germans seem to be obsessed with backing into parking spaces. I don't know if it's connected to their love of precision or some ever-present need for a speedy getaway, but whatever it is, I'm onto them.



JEM

A Month in the Life

Blogging has become increasingly difficult.



I'm only able to touch the keyboard of our computer when Jethro's sleeping, but that time has been rapidly devoured since my discovery that every season of "The X-Files" is now available to view instantly on Netflix (which we are able to view despite our overseas location thanks to my dear husband's magical computer finagling). Oh yeah, and my novel. You didn't forget about my awesome novel that I'm writing did you? Because I did a couple of times. And also the fact that I've been reading "East of Eden" by John Steinbeck for almost two years. I started it while getting a blood test toward the end of my pregnancy, and now that said fetus is learning to talk, I've decided that it's time to finish. (Incidentally, I love the book. I'm just a really slow reader.)

You haven't missed a lot.

I got a Vulcan haircut that I felt made me look alternately like a sleek time traveler from the future and like a resident of a mental institution who got a hold of a pair of children's scissors. For better or worse it grew out faster than it took for the girl at the salon to cut it.


I visited a windmill that was really cute and old.

Jake went to Norway for work, making it the kajillionth awesome place he's gotten to see without me.

Meanwhile, I located this chalk-graffiti in my neighborhood that I DID NOT DO. But it would appear that a doppleganger lives among us. A doppleganger who's still working on those pesky J's.

Then Jethro got really sick.

The poor little guy was a shell of himself for about four days, with puking and fever and diarrhea. Scared me to death. He's fine now, thank goodness. And I can put behind me one of my great fears: Being barfed upon. As with everything, when it's your own kid, love trumps all other emotions, including gag-reflex-inducing disgust and horror.

And then both back tires of the Kinderwagen blew out. Oje. And when you don't have a car, the Kinderwagen is your car, so that made life a little frustrating. We were able to limp by with our cheap little umbrella stroller, but those things don't handle the cobblestone so well. I was worried Jethro's teeth would get rattled right out of his skull. But the Wagen's back online. More or less.

And then I took some pictures for you of hilariously named German breakfast cereals.


(And yes, Germany has a lot of chocolate cereal.)

And we went on lots of walks.

And dealt with a few of these:

And I think that's about it.

But that's about to change because this Saturday I'm going Leipzig for the world's largest Goth festival.

The bus tickets have been purchased and my fingernails have been painted black, so hang onto your corsets, kids, 'cuz I'm goin' in!



JEM

Mommy Blog

In the last few months it feels as though Jethro has made the jump from squawking, snugly carpet-blob to actual walking, communicating person with opinions and complex emotions. His whole life has been fascinating to watch from the front row, but this last period has been particularly interesting. A personality is emerging that's separate and unique from Jake's and mine, and I find that in addition to loving him more than my own life, I really like him. He's funny and quirky and sweet and affectionate.

And I'm sorry to get all mommy-blog on you right now, but I just have to record some of his more recent landmarks. You know, posterity, blah, blah, blah. Deal with it.



Jethro did his first serious alone walking, poetically enough, on Christmas day. He spent the whole day marching around the apartment in his monkey jammies from Grandma M. The week following was the most accident-prone of his life. He crashed every time I turned my back, usually on his face or the back of his head. After that he got pretty gun shy. But some time in late January he got his groove back and has been cruising ever since.

I'm pretty sure his first word was "no". Which made me feel like Mom of the Year. But now his favorite word is "yeah" or perhaps "ja"? He's able to deliver it with a range of inflections to indicate many shades of meaning, and I suspect he's using it largely to avoid learning other words. He just cons me into asking only yes or no questions. Other words he says now are "duck" and "car" and "banana". Cat is "meow" and dog is a mournful-sounding howl. He understands quite a bit. If I ask him to pick out a book for me to read to him or get his shoes he usually does it. Probably because being read to and playing outside are two of his favorite pastimes.

Other pastimes include helping me fold and hang up laundry, even when it's not needed:



pulling goofy faces:



napping:



and listening to music. His tastes seem pretty varied, although there does seem to be a preference for good, solid rock 'n' roll á la Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, and Kings of Leon, which makes me proud. There are a few exceptions, including the theme song for the Mary Tyler Moore Show and this:



Turning on that video is the only thing I've found that will mesmerize him long enough for me to trim his finger- and toenails without much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. Honestly, I could probably perform acupuncture on him without a fight as long as this video was playing. I'm sure everyone's seen this video a kajillion times, but just for reference here it is:



In my defense, I'm not the only one pumping my baby full of Beyoncé. She has some kind of magical power over babies. It's seriously weird. But, hey, whatever works, right?

He also applauds everything. The conclusion of songs and television shows and musical numbers in church always get a round of applause. He has applauded me for counting to ten, among other things. It really does wonders for the old self-esteem.

But possibly my favorite thing about Jethro right now is how affectionate he is. He constantly gives Jake and me spontaneous hugs. He blows kisses and smooches everything, his stuffed animals, his bath toys, Jake's laptop. And whenever I lie down on the floor to exercise in the mornings, he plops down next to me and drapes his whole torso over my belly and just snuggles me until I'm finished.

I joked before we came to Germany that in order to ensure that I would have a friend here, I would just make one for myself. Little did I know how well that would work out for me. I sure love my little bud.



JEM

The Human Chain

In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that while between 10 and 15,000 people peacefully protested the Nazi demonstration in the inner-city with their human chain, across the river, thousands of left-wing activists tackled the Nazis head on, at the location they had decided to move their march to. The lefties stood on train tracks, built barricades out of garbage, turned over cars, and attacked buses to block the arriving neo-Nazis. Their efforts are probably the real reason no neo-Nazi rally was held in Dresden this year. Check out this video for a little footage of the madness:



I, for one, question fighting violence, hatred, and extremism with violence, hatred, and extremism. I subscribe to the American freedom-of-speech ideal that allows anyone the chance to say anything, and assumes that what's right will float to the top. I'm finding many Europeans don't feel the same way about freedom of speech. The "bad" people and the "bad" ideas are often forcefully silenced here, sometimes by the law and sometimes by the other side, the "good" people and the "good" ideas. It's hard to disagree with people who want to force out neo-Nazism, a pretty obvious bad guy, but ultimately who's deciding what's good and what's bad? Of course, in a country where Nazism was once one of the ideas that floated to the top, maybe they've learned something here that we in America haven't yet — that trusting the open marketplace of ideas is a dangerous and flawed path.

At any rate, it appears that something like 20,000 Dresdners left the comfort of their homes on a frigid February day to defend their city's honor. And regardless of whether you agree with all the methods, I think anyone will have to admit that that's a pretty impressive statement.



JEM

All Dressed up ...

It's probably classifiable as some sort of disorder, but I'm willing to admit that I'm 26 years old and I love dressing up in costumes.

I was one of those morons in high school who lived for spirit week. (Dear Germans: In America public high schools have sports teams and mascots and cultivate a strong sense of loyalty and enthusiasm we call "school spirit". Many schools designate one week each year as "spirit week" in which students are invited to exhibit their spirit by dressing up like idiots with themes like "Hippie Day", "Crazy Hair Day", and "Backwards Day". Cool kids generally avoid participation. I participated to a humiliating degree.) And I was literally the only person in the newsroom of my last American employer who would dress up for work on Halloween. I didn't realize this would be the case the first year. After that I knew it would be the case, but I did it anyway.

I take my costuming seriously. Which does not mean that my costumes have always been good. Case in point: The Sheet Angel fiasco of Halloween 2004.

It does, however, mean that I try to put genuine effort in my costumes, and I generally get a good laugh out of the final product. And sometimes it does work, see Exhibit A: Jake and I partying as Mr. and Mrs. Macphisto, Halloween 2003:

(For the uninitiated, Macphisto was an alter-ego of Bono's during the early '90s ...)

That herculean effort of spray painting an entire suit gold unfortunately drained Jake, and all my costuming efforts since have been on my own with Jake rolling his eyes behind me with love.

ANYWAY, the thing is, Germany doesn't really do Halloween. It's coming gradually. But it's not a real nationally embraced thing yet. (Interesting tidbit: I heard that Germany's first real introduction to Halloween was via the film "E.T. the Extraterrestrial", and it's been slowly gaining steam ever since.) Germany's costume holiday is Fasching, a.k.a. Carnivale, a.k.a. Mardi Gras, a.k.a. Fat Tuesday. I didn't realize this our first year here, and when I went to our church's kids' Fasching party to help out, I found to my horror that I was the only person without a costume. I was mortified. Last Fasching I was unable to participate again because of Jethro reasons. And so this year I had some serious catch-up to do. And for the first time in seven years, I had a partner in crime — whether he liked it or not. So at the church party on Saturday (actual Fasching is Feb. 16), this was me and Jethro:


Spock to Enterprise: My mother is a sick, sick woman.


Yeah, yeah, I know Spock is supposed to have two gold bands on his sleeves but I ran out of trim, OK?

I understand now why chicks in '60s only washed their hair once a week.

On another Fasching-related note, I'd just like to observe that as far as I can tell, the top three Fasching costumes here, with adults and kids alike seem to be cowboy, American Indian, and clown. As an American, I think the first two are so random. Not that cowboy and Indian aren't fine costumes, I'm just not sure why Germans have adopted them. The clown just further deepens my conviction that not enough Germans have become acquainted with "It". The clown motif is a really common one here with kids toys and decorations. These people genuinely seem to like clowns. No clown toys in my house, though. *shudder*

Happy Fasching, all. Back to my mothership.



JEM

Ringing It in and Dorking It up

For New Year's we were delighted to entertain Jake's mission pal Megan and her hubby Rijen and their little cutie Fiona (another American family living in Germany). Jethro thoroughly enjoyed canoodling with his latest gal-pal, seen here wearing his pajamas, but there's a totally good explanation for that.


They regarded Jake's expertly executed fireworks display in front of the apartment building with great solemnity.


And then when to bed. At which point the grown-ups busted out the sushi mat ...


... and the glow sticks.





We thought we were pretty awesome with our glowing chokers and monocles until Rijen accidentally took this picture with the flash.

And it was abruptly revealed that the emperor was wearing no clothes. And that we were wearing no self-respect. I, at least, should have realized this earlier in the evening, when in an attempt to create a glowstick handlebar mustache, I broke a glowstick and got a mouthful of toxic glow fluid. But even this photo couldn't quell the dorkapalooza festivities, which proceeded unfeigned and included an attempt on my part to neck-hula-hoop glowsticks.

Thanks for coming, guys. We look forward to relinquishing ourselves of all pride with you again someday soon.



JEM

The Seven-Year Itch

Right before Christmas Jake and I celebrated our seventh wedding anniversary. And I know what you're thinking, and the answer is yes, we were just out of junior high school when we tied the knot. Kidding! But actually only just barely. I was 19, and he was 22. Which sounds terrifying now, but back then — OK, it was pretty terrifying back then, too. But when something's right, it's right. Waiting around won't change that. And this was right.


I wouldn't say getting married so young was a breeze for either of us, but tying yourself to someone else before you're really done growing up has its advantages. Jake and I have grown up together, side by side, and we've developed what I think is a pretty fantastic symbiotic relationship that wouldn't have been possible had we waited until we were "fully formed". We molded to each other. Our interests and habits melded and meshed and organically materialized until it was hard to distinguish where and with whom they started. I can't imagine myself or my life without Jake. Nor would I ever want to. Life with him is fun and exciting and enriching and fascinating and cozy — everything I've ever wanted my life to be. I count myself very lucky to love and be loved by someone so incredible.

And if I can make sure Marilyn Monroe doesn't move in upstairs in the next year, I think we just might make it.

To memorialize the occasion, we went out. Alone. At night. On a date. No Jethro. No stroller. No diaper bag. (Thanks for babysitting, Antje.) And it was great.

We had dinner at the kind of goofy but really fun and historic Sophienkeller in the Old City and ate excellent German cuisine.

And strolled down moonlit cobblestone streets between palaces and cathedrals.

And we marveled at how normal this has become.



JEM

P.S. Anyone still reading this blog may also be interested in this one: selinainmemphis.blogspot.com. It's the other way around, a German girl living in America. Welcome to Bizarro World.