What’s Up with the Kinder

Hey y'all. Forgive me for being absent for the past three weeks. I’ve been busy, but I’ll try to catch you up. Since most of my time and attention has been centered on my kids (what else is new?) I figured I should spend this blog catching you up on them.

The Diva

Claire graduated first grade nearly two weeks ago. To go out with a bang, on her last week of school she won second place in the category “Fastest Looking Car” at the Patch Elementary Pinebox Derby. Not bad, considering there were around 100 entries. Dave had helped her carve it, she had painted it herself, and I helped her glue on the details. She was upset initially because a wheel fell off just before her race and she didn’t have time to align it properly. So, despite appearances, Fire Blaster 3000 (as she named it) was not very fast. But she is pleased as punch with her prize for the way her car looked. She lost the wheel for good on the bus on the way home, but she didn’t much care. We framed her certificate and proudly displayed the three-wheeled car in front of it in her room.

That week she also lost her third tooth. But it was the first tooth ever to make it home to hide under her pillow for the Tooth Fairy. The first one she dropped in the snow at school and lost. The second one she dropped in the car and lost (see a pattern here?). But alas, the Tooth Fairy in Holzgerlingen is truly lame. She forgot until morning and had to sneak a euro coin under the poor girl’s pillow while she was dressing. And the worst part is that she thought she grabbed the tooth, but she dropped it by mistake. So Claire found the tooth next to the money and was thrilled that she was allowed to keep it. I told her that the Tooth Fairy sometimes does check-ups and lets you keep the tooth as a souvenir. Phew. She told me three years ago, before she ever lost a tooth, that she didn’t believe in the Tooth Fairy. But she hasn’t let on since then. We all play along and it’s fun.

Yeah, she is a brilliant, sweet, smart little girl who lives in her own little universe of cluelessness. Last week she was playing with some real metal handcuffs that I had from an old sorority costume. They were engraved “Sigma Theta Tau” and they were party favors for our Jailbreak Informal Dance at Trinity University. We did the parental thing and warned, “Be careful. Don’t latch them shut” to which she retorted, “But I have the key right here.” What she didn’t count on was breaking the key inside the lock. We spent a good twenty minutes with some serious tools trying to break her free. Jailbreak indeed. I threw away the mangled pieces of metal that were, after all, a part of a former life anyway.

Last week, walking home from school, she had her umbrella up to ward of the spitting rain. There is truly nothing more dangerous than Claire with an umbrella. After poking her brother in the eye and bonking me in the head numerous times, she somehow managed to trip over it (which is amazing since it was supposed to be over her shoulder) and break every single spine of the umbrella. More mangled metal. What is it with that girl?

She’s clumsy like her Mama, but creative like her too. Since she’s been out of school she has spent a lot of time doing her favorite thing: painting the faces of all of the neighborhood kids. Face paint is apparently super expensive here, so the kids line up to have her paint rainbows, butterflies (smetterling) and flowers (blumen) on them. I think it is great that boys don’t get hung up on gender-specific images. I remember painting faces at birthday parties back in Colorado and boys asked for things like “a fighter jet” or “a three-headed monster on a Harley” or “a guy with a knife in his chest.” It does my heart good to see seven-year-old boys with butterflies on their cheeks. That’s the kind of innocence I want for my kids.

This past weekend Claire attended her first Girl Scout event, which was a camp. She had a blast, although she was a little freaked out sleeping in a tent with new girls she didn’t know in the middle of the woods in the dark. The troops were divided up into teams named for nations of the world. Her team, Australia, won the gold medal for the most points scored in all of the sporting events. They played pool noodle hockey, paint handprint high jump, archery, water balloon toss, volleyball, soccer, pillow jousting and sock wrestling, the event that I oversaw. It was great fun. The troop leader did tell me, however, that Claire left a trail of stuff everywhere she went, that she lost her flashlight and water bottle repeatedly, and that she didn’t follow directions putting her sleeping bag on a plastic mat and ended up sleeping in it all damp. She also refused to try the team sports like volleyball and soccer. I feel a bit guilty for that. I have not been good about teaching the kids sporty type stuff. It would be like the blind leading the blind. Knitting, cooking, painting, that stuff I can do. But give me a ball and I turn into a total spaz. Unless it's a ball of yarn, that is.

Claire lost tooth number four her first night home from camp. This time the Tooth Fairy had it together and gave her some funky girly bath salts and a US dollar (for what it’s worth in this danged economy). Lately Claire loves taking froo froo baths with candles, bubbles, and scented oils. Diva indeed.

Today she experienced her first day at Berkenschule, the local elementary school. Steffi’s best friend Ute came over last week to meet with us and tell Claire about the school. She is a gorgeous tall blonde lady who is so sweet and helpful, just like Steffi. She met us this morning in the pouring rain to show Claire her classroom. I spent the first hour with Claire, trying to help her feel settled. The teacher spoke some English, so she tried to help her as best she could. They were learning the letter Z and words that start with that letter (Zoo, Zirkus, Zahn, Zimt). I learned a lot and I hope Claire did too. It seems weird to see her in a class that is just now learning letters and reading and to see her barely understanding when in English she reads a chapter book a day. But I think this will be so good for her. Claire likes that German schools are only in the morning, that she would have her afternoons free. She will need to learn the German cursive, and the teacher Frau Hahn (Mrs. Rooster) gave us some books to practice. She was very nice and helpful too.

I pray that she will develop a more receptive attitude toward learning German. She understands more than she lets on to me because I hear her using German with the neighbor kids. My heart warmed when she told me this morning, “By the end of the year I will speak German and all of the other kids will know English through me.” But it’s hard to get her to willingly sit down and study with me. You know, you can lead a stubborn donkey to water, but you can’t make her drink it in. I know that if she put her mind to it she could do anything. She is amazingly smart. Now, if I can just help her to be more disciplined and tenacious she will be unstoppable. I know, I know…more blind leading the blind. I procrastinate and get distracted all the time (like, I just took a break and ate an entire Ritter Sport chocolate bar, folded some clothes and came back). But I’m trying.

Master Luke

Luke’s love affair with trains is as passionate as it was when it began three and a half years ago. He will turn five next month and he wants to have a Lego themed birthday party with a Lego Train as his major gift. I’ll invite the neighborhood children and some American friends too. I’ll have to figure out some simple games that I can easily explain in simple German and English.

When Luke is not at his train table, he can often be found in Steffi’s sandbox across the street. He loves getting covered from earlobes to toenails in powder-fine sand that will inevitably end up on my floors and all over the laundry room. He started German kindergarten on Monday and he loves it. It is a lot like his preschool in Colorado, Ruth Washburn, in that it is completely play-based and fun. They don't allow sugar or junk food. They play outside in nearly any weather. And they have really cool toys.

But there are major differences too. Parents are not encouraged to volunteer or stick around. Safety doesn't seem to a huge concern. Kids check in at various times, then have free run of the entire building, which is full of little rooms with teachers spread about. One room is for dolls and pretend play, one is for art, one is for building blocks and marbles, one is for games and puzzles, one is a gym, and so on. They even have a tool room for building with real hammers, nails, saws and wood and NO goggles or really much supervision. There is a kitchen where the kids can go any time they are hungry. They just go and get their snacks from their cubbies, grab their cup for water, and sit down to eat. They can go out on the fenced playground anytime they like as long as they "sign out" (put their photo in the playground box on the board). They gather in their groups for circle time, story time, gym time, or things like that. They do field trips nearly every week, usually just hikes into the woods. There isn't really a curriculum. It's more about having fun. But he is learning a lot of German and making friends, so those are the real benefits. They sing songs and present little concerts and such. He's doing great.

Oh, and one thing that I like at his kindy is that they had the kids go through magazines and cut out pictures to glue onto posters announcing which foods are healthy and allowed in school and which are not. Then they took real wrappers from yoghurt, gummi bears, cereals, and so on and glued them on another poster. Then next to each one they glued sugar cubes representing the actual amount of sugar in each one. It was really a great visual for kids, especially for things like juice drinks that they seem to think are healthy.

Luke is energetic, dramatic, emotional and sweet. He loves to build things and dance. And he still says the cutest things. He can’t say Halleluiah, but he says “Halleyoolah!” And he often says “otherwise” meaning “and anyway” such as “I don’t really need my rain boots today ‘cause otherwise it’s not even raining.”

Last week at dinner Claire was not using her best manners and Dave said, “Claire, don’t eat like a Barbarian.” A few moments later Luke chimed in, “Dad, Claire’s doing it again. She’s eating like a librarian!”

Right now he is at a friend's house playing (what else?) trains.

Losing our Marbles

Boy, my kids love TV and computer. The other day Luke offered me money to let him watch just one more show. Instead, I started a marble system. They earn marbles for good behavior, for doing chores, for studying German and the Bible, and for special treats. Then they “rent” TV and computer time at the rate of one marble per half hour. They can lose marbles for bad behavior, and they have goals. Each has a marble jar with lines marking the quarter-, half- and full-way marks. Each milestone has a list of prizes from which to choose, from kids’ choice of family night activity to a trip to an amusement park to a new Venus flytrap plant (Claire’s idea). So far it is working well. When one of them is bankrupt, they can read or do chores to earn their TV time. I love it. I'd much rather give my marbles away than lose them altogether!

About the House Already

Thanks for Sharing

First off, thanks to those of you who have emailed me to say that you enjoy the blog. It seems crazy to me that the self-indulgent musings of a middle-aged mom are interesting to anyone else, but I’m flattered. My favorite comment was from a friend with no kids. She said she usually hates hearing all about her friends’ kids, their birthday parties and so on, but that mine wasn’t nearly so boring. Cool. I’ll take it.

The White House

So I’m getting a lot of heat from some of you for not writing about my house. We’ve been in it for nearly six weeks now, but I’m overwhelmed by getting settled. We decided just last week to stay put and not buy the other house since the banks are so skittish about giving loans to Americans (can you say 20% down?!?)

Here’s the scoop:

We live in a brand new four-story house in the Schonbuch forest, in the 1001-year-old town of Holzgerlingen. Our house is a brand new white cement block that might look like something out of the Soviet era except for the bright red door, A-frame top floor and Spanish tile roof. It is wonderfully bright and cozy inside. It has plenty of floor space, a big kitchen by German standards (Barbie sized instead of Polly Pocket sized) and an amazing big sunroom on the top floor. We have never had a family room before, and it feels good to have a common area where we can hang out and relax while still keeping the main level neat for unexpected visitors, which we get more often here than we did in the mountains.

Our road dead-ends into a bike trail that runs along farm fields and through a tunnel into our town. Over the hills you can see bright yellow mustard fields, apple orchards, and the quaint little town of Altdorf. The entrance to our street has a sign telling drivers to approach at walking speed due to children playing. And boy, do they! Our kids have discovered that they are, indeed, kids. They finally learned how to ride bikes (remember, we lived on a mountain slope in Colorado—not so good for learning to bike). And they have already made friends with several little German kids who love coming to our house for the ice pops (the kind that you freeze as you need them; we got a box of 200 of them for $7.00 at the commissary). They also like our “eis wurfel” (ice cubes). Germans don’t use ice too much, so playing with our ice is fun. I’ve had to wash neighbor kids' muddy handprints off my ice bucket twice already. The new rule is that everyone has to ask me and I'll get the ice out for them, thank you very much.

The Neighbors

The neighborhood is what we love best about our new home. Our first day in the house, a lovely older gentleman knocked on our door with a bouquet of roses to welcome us. He is a seminary professor who plays cello by his window and keeps a beautiful garden. His English is more eloquent than mine. There are at least four great playgrounds within two or three blocks of us. The neighborhood parents are conscientious and watchful of all of the kids. It feels a bit like a college dorm, where people leave their doors open and pop heads in and say, “Hey, want to come over for a glass of wine?” We have block parties often where everyone brings salads and meat to grill in the streets. Many of our neighbors speak very good English. Most of them work for Mercedes, Daimler or IBM. A good many of them have traveled to or lived in the States. Their children have embraced mine, and it is fun to watch them teach each other new words in each other’s language.

Then there are a few neighbors who don’t speak much English at all, or at least won’t admit that they do for fear of embarrassing themselves. Those neighbors wave and look away. We have one American neighbor, a Navy fellow who has two cute little yorkies. For a while he was the only one on the street who would hula hoop with me. Everyone else was too reserved. They looked at me like I was crazy. But I have finally won some of them over. The other day we had three moms and about eight kids hooping in the street. I’m actually making hoops as gifts for two of my new neighbor friends. That's good for me. It’s no fun to spin alone.

Unpacking the Junk

Ah, but the boxes. I wish I were exaggerating when I tell you we moved more than 500 of them. A sickening amount of stuff. And you would not believe the way our Colorado movers messed with our heads. I can’t believe we bought them lunch for four days in a row and tipped them all generously, and then got here and found Christmas ornaments labeled “towels” and novels labeled “toys.” Even though I had lined up shoes side by side for them to pack, we had to open box after box to find the mate to any particular shoe. And we figured out that the label “décor” just means “I don’t know what this #$%@ is and I’m too lazy to ask.” I mean, really, are my panty hose really décor? And how do items from three separate rooms on three different floors get into the same box?

All of that means, of course, that our movers on this side of the ocean put everything in the wrong place because they went by what the idiot movers in Colorado had written on the outsides. And remember, we have four levels. So now I’m not only earning buns of steel from going up and down stairs all day, but I’ve had sore arms from lugging boxes up and down.

But to get the full effect of how hard unpacking truly is for us, I want you to do a little experiment with me. Get up and walk into your closet. See all of the stuff. Now imagine that there is no closet and all of your things are on the floor in your room. Now do the same in your bathroom. Open your medicine cabinet and see all of the pills and moisturizers and Preparation H. Now imagine that there is no medicine cabinet and the items are now on the floor in a box. Are you getting it? Remember, most German homes don’t come with any closets or storage at all. We have spent a fortune on cheap laminate closets from Ikea that one needs days and an engineering degree to put together. And we are kicking ourselves for getting rid of shelves and storage pieces that we thought would be too big for a German house. Now we are re-buying those same items all over again.

So anyway, we are here and getting settled, and the Newberry House will soon be ready for visitors. Give us a month or so and we might even have pictures on the walls.