Familiarity breeds content

Everything is new this year. Everything is unfamiliar. My address, my phone number, my furniture, the language I need to speak in to do my shopping and errands everyday, a baby, my body, my shoe size, the "usual" things I cook and eat, banking and bill paying, garbage and recycling rules, the seasons, the customs, the holidays, the sky and the landscape, where to find light bulbs and baking soda, the people in my life.

It is all new, all at once. It gets overwhelming sometimes. To a point where I've realized how much I need to burrow into familiarity every few days. I seek out Starbucks, or an English-speaking butcher, or the International Herald Tribune's daily crossword, just to feel a bit less adrift sometimes. And no, I'm not currently learning German. I know a bit, but I'm still learning mothering, and expat-ing, and stay-at-homing, and all these other skills.

I confessed to M the other day that I don't know if I actually have the capacity left in me to learn the 3, randomly assigned, German articles that take the place of the English "the." I really feel like I may not have the brain space left for them. Vocabulary words, nouns, I'm adding a few every few months. But imagine then needing to learn a second part of each word. I don't think there is room left.

So I watch BBC on TV instead of the local channels. I ask visitors to bring Whole Foods peanut butter and oatmeal. I have images of New England on my computer wallpaper. It keeps me a bit more sane in a sea of novelty.

I've realized, too, that although I still have my friend-making skills, my life right now makes it near impossible to keep up with them like I would have pre-baby A. So I'm feeling a bit disconnected. Like I've said "I'd love to, but we can't right now," a few too many times this month. How many times can a person regretfully decline invitations before they stop being invited to things?

I guess I'm going to find out.