Look outside any window facing Europe and you might just see a glow in the sky. That would be me. After today's day.
9:30am ride cute little funicular 2 minutes down the hill to the central tram stop
9:40am meet N for a great cappuccino and juice at Henrici
10am go with N to the Migros Fitness Park Hammam downtown
1pm leave Hammam and go get another good coffee and some European style cheesecake at Schwarzenbach
2-6:30pm play with A at home, because it is raining outside. Not a single tear. Fun afternoon.
That time in the Hammam was three whole hours of no cell phone, quiet spaces, Moroccan tiles and embellished metal bowls to hold my washcloth. We wore cotton sheets. We sat in steamy, lavender rooms, and soaped and washed. We sat in other, hotter, steamy cinnamon rooms and sweat. We laid around on a hot dry cement bench, in a room lit only by a few Moroccan lanterns, and felt our back muscles melt. We got a 30 minute soap foam and warm water massage, and a 20 minute thyme mud scrub, a light lunch on chaise lounges in a room with a fountain and peppermint tea, and then another, hot stone and oil massage. I don't think I've ever been as clean as I was when I left the building. Three whole hours of paying attention to my skin and my body and just being.
All inside what is a bit like Switzerland's Target, except it is a cooperative. I doubt there is a Target in the world where I could leave feeling so serene. I doubt that there are even Target executives who ever feel that serene.
So yes, I'm liking living in Zurich a bit more today.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Do they even make binkies in my size?
Two things have been going on at our house lately that probably shouldn't mix. We started trying (on my insistence) to wean our daughter of her pacifier, and she is having a "don't touch me, help me, comfort me, push my stroller, carry me, mom" month. The latter I've posted about before, and I'm still working through my resentment and hurt feelings some of the time.
I'm not so far gone that I can't see the benefits of having a daddy's girl. I get a break. I can go lay down with a magazine for 5 minutes because she could care less what I'm doing. But the becoming just a cook and cleaner is tough on the ego (good thing I've started work again) because I've been so focused on successfully navigating motherhood and bonding with her these last 18 months that it is a slap in the face to be physically pushed away by her tiny hands. "Ne, ne ne ne ne!" she shouts in Lithuanian, her one unconscious concession to my influence.
I feel pretty alone in figuring out how to deal with it, in that I don't feel like I have viable, mature models for how to weather this storm. How do I not take it personally? Should I stay in the room, or can I leave to pout a bit and cool off? What does it mean about me? Or is it just about me as a mother versus her father? Is it a phase? What have others gone through?
This is where Facebook has once again brought me comfort, from those who've gone before me and seen it pass as a phase. From R, posting on here, that's she's also felt hurt by it. And the parenting forums also brought some relief, through my tears yesterday (I'm still hoping it was a PMS day, how emotionally raw I felt by evening), assuring me that it is a phase, that it happens to many people, but most importantly for me, letting me know that a lot of people feel hurt by it. Knowing that my experience, as well as my reaction, is common, helps. That this is a tricky thing to navigate, especially for those of us who are still working through self-esteem issues.
And once again I'm convinced to try to fake not feeling hurt, in the hope that the practice will help me take it better, to concentrate more on myself as a person and not just a mom. Maybe it is finally time for me to take that 3 day trip by myself now. As usual, I can swing quite far in either direction, so at some point I even wondered if I should try to get pregnant again if this was a long phase, because then she wouldn't mind me not being as physically available. Yeah, that last one has been set aside, but it was a good exercise in trying to think around the hurt.
But it is important for me to acknowledge the hurt, because that was not something that was done often in my family. And you can't deal with something, or work through something that you don't admit exists.
There are some changes in our house, now. I've asked M to make sure he takes care of himself enough during the day to be able to be her one-and-only in the evenings and to have the energy for it. I have to find some set of things that A and I can do together, just the two of us. Things she does with her mama. After some serious screaming in the middle of the night, which did not result in a poopy diaper, I seem to have come back into vogue in A's world and we had a fun morning together. And given how much I could have used a huge pacifier this weekend, and a bunch of parenting forums that tell of kids growing out of binkies on their own time, I'm thinking that A should keep hers until she's ready to let go of them.
I'm not so far gone that I can't see the benefits of having a daddy's girl. I get a break. I can go lay down with a magazine for 5 minutes because she could care less what I'm doing. But the becoming just a cook and cleaner is tough on the ego (good thing I've started work again) because I've been so focused on successfully navigating motherhood and bonding with her these last 18 months that it is a slap in the face to be physically pushed away by her tiny hands. "Ne, ne ne ne ne!" she shouts in Lithuanian, her one unconscious concession to my influence.
I feel pretty alone in figuring out how to deal with it, in that I don't feel like I have viable, mature models for how to weather this storm. How do I not take it personally? Should I stay in the room, or can I leave to pout a bit and cool off? What does it mean about me? Or is it just about me as a mother versus her father? Is it a phase? What have others gone through?
This is where Facebook has once again brought me comfort, from those who've gone before me and seen it pass as a phase. From R, posting on here, that's she's also felt hurt by it. And the parenting forums also brought some relief, through my tears yesterday (I'm still hoping it was a PMS day, how emotionally raw I felt by evening), assuring me that it is a phase, that it happens to many people, but most importantly for me, letting me know that a lot of people feel hurt by it. Knowing that my experience, as well as my reaction, is common, helps. That this is a tricky thing to navigate, especially for those of us who are still working through self-esteem issues.
And once again I'm convinced to try to fake not feeling hurt, in the hope that the practice will help me take it better, to concentrate more on myself as a person and not just a mom. Maybe it is finally time for me to take that 3 day trip by myself now. As usual, I can swing quite far in either direction, so at some point I even wondered if I should try to get pregnant again if this was a long phase, because then she wouldn't mind me not being as physically available. Yeah, that last one has been set aside, but it was a good exercise in trying to think around the hurt.
But it is important for me to acknowledge the hurt, because that was not something that was done often in my family. And you can't deal with something, or work through something that you don't admit exists.
There are some changes in our house, now. I've asked M to make sure he takes care of himself enough during the day to be able to be her one-and-only in the evenings and to have the energy for it. I have to find some set of things that A and I can do together, just the two of us. Things she does with her mama. After some serious screaming in the middle of the night, which did not result in a poopy diaper, I seem to have come back into vogue in A's world and we had a fun morning together. And given how much I could have used a huge pacifier this weekend, and a bunch of parenting forums that tell of kids growing out of binkies on their own time, I'm thinking that A should keep hers until she's ready to let go of them.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
O, o o ooooo.
I love getting Oprah magazine each month. The second time I pick it up , after flipping through all the fun early pages, I go for just the books section. I read the synopses, check off which ones I want to try, and today I sit at a great coffee shop in West Zurich, with a really good capucchino and my Kindle and download samples of all those books. For quiet nights or sleepless nights of days when I have an hour to myself.
I'll spend the next hour on my work project and then walk over to a great second hand store before heading back home to do some more work.
Oh, and my shopping lent is over, like I mentioned yesterday. It was good. I feel a bit re-set in terms of worrying about how I look, and much less antsy to using shopping as therapy. Just dropped another dress at the tailor to fix it to fit better. Add straps 'cause mama don't have the rack to hold it up on my own. Besides, I have a climby, grabby, jubilant toddler who is great at pulling down loosely tied pajama pants as well as tube top dresses.
I'm still not totally happy with my post yesterday. Something is still missing from the idea of the real me, but I'll have to wait to figure that out. I have some stuff to go do now.
I'll spend the next hour on my work project and then walk over to a great second hand store before heading back home to do some more work.
Oh, and my shopping lent is over, like I mentioned yesterday. It was good. I feel a bit re-set in terms of worrying about how I look, and much less antsy to using shopping as therapy. Just dropped another dress at the tailor to fix it to fit better. Add straps 'cause mama don't have the rack to hold it up on my own. Besides, I have a climby, grabby, jubilant toddler who is great at pulling down loosely tied pajama pants as well as tube top dresses.
I'm still not totally happy with my post yesterday. Something is still missing from the idea of the real me, but I'll have to wait to figure that out. I have some stuff to go do now.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
I LOOOVE you, just, the way yoooou, aaaare.....
I've been craving new coffee cups. We have these basic white ones, from IKEA, and although they set a very classic table, they are a bit too tall and narrow for my taste. I like to see a big surface area in my hot morning drinks. And all identical white, not as practical for those friends-with-toddlers brunches where you can forget all sitting down at once, not to mention keeping track of your coffee. Little monkeys running and getting into precarious situations, crying, eating, and generally being toddlers don't help anyone's short term recall of which cup was theirs.
I let myself do some test cup shopping, seeing as how my shopping lent is over. One plain white mug from Bodum which is probably the best size and shape (low cylinder), and then two for fun mugs from the campus art and paper supply shop. Ever since my cousin, L, encouraged me to wear that astronomy image tank top "with irony", I've realized how many other things I can do with irony. I give you....
my "born in the USA" mugs. It would be way more fun to have coffee at my place now that with Mr. Bland White Mug, right?
Anyway, I'm slowly getting back to eating my way across the omnivore's diet, and back to consuming things with milk in them, after this past weekend's flu. And at the same time, I've cut my anti-depressant dose in half. Which is the main point of my post.
I don't have my epiphanies all at once, and writing about complex issues helps me get to new places with them. So back to this idea of who "I am", on or off, or 1/2 off (or on) anti-depressants. I'm already a bit worried about how I'll feel, scared that maybe I'm just an irritable person naturally, the real me, and that my options in life are:
(1) nauseous after meals, fatigued after 10 hours of sleep, but fairly unflappable with A, and putting any other kid we might try to have through a gestation with me on medication or
(2) irritable, faster to get flustered by her tantrums (the kid wasn't even started on tantrums when I started the meds last year), more emotionally up and down, and more of a worrier. And who knows what kind of a mess if we ever decide for me to get pregnant again.
Which do I choose? Who am I?
Now I'm pretty sure these won't be my only choices, given how much more complex the world usually is, but for now, that's what I see as my choices. And that first one, apart from the uncomfortable physical feelings, has this air of "unnatural."
So now I'm thinking through that concept. Why unnatural? Or at least, why is that more unnatural that the other things I have used in life that I wasn't born with? Like my super strong glasses. Unnatural. My inhaler. Nope, not something that grows on trees or vines. My vaccines. Natural source but totally unnatural delivery. And let's not forget my whole reproduction story. Un. Natural. I shouldn't have gotten pregnant, or delivered a baby, or breast fed, if we were talking natural. But I don't get hints of disappointment from the same people about that as about my meds. I got it from myself, but long ago decided that nature can be a real bitch, and is really not into empathy (can we just dial back the clock to 1 a.m. last Thursday, when I was holed up in the bathroom, swearing and exploding?).
This "natural" person, then, who exactly is that? Under what conditions is someone more natural (which seems to be the ideal)? And what is the ideal based on? Surprisingly, for me, there seems to be almost a "the way God made you" sense about anti-depressants, and coming from non-believers (including me). But again, what is the benchmark for this person? I think each of us has to choose the balance for ourselves, because the choices are so dependent on culture, on the way our bodies turned out, our current situation in life.
So for now I'm trying to not worry too much about whether the lower dose is already making me more irritable (because I think I might feel less exhausted, but then again, I'm recovering from a flu), or whether A is just extra cranky these days. With the babysitter last night, who is like a baby whisperer, she was cranky, too. So I'm going to stick with more cranky for her, instead of me, but keep a little, peripheral vision watch. When do I go from "I know, sweetie, something just doesn't feel good right now" to "Really? C'mon! Just, please calm down"?
And for those who might encourage me to "just not think worry it!", I encourage you to actively not think about cabbage for the next 30 seconds. As you read this. I mean it. How is that not thinking about it going?
I let myself do some test cup shopping, seeing as how my shopping lent is over. One plain white mug from Bodum which is probably the best size and shape (low cylinder), and then two for fun mugs from the campus art and paper supply shop. Ever since my cousin, L, encouraged me to wear that astronomy image tank top "with irony", I've realized how many other things I can do with irony. I give you....
my "born in the USA" mugs. It would be way more fun to have coffee at my place now that with Mr. Bland White Mug, right?
Anyway, I'm slowly getting back to eating my way across the omnivore's diet, and back to consuming things with milk in them, after this past weekend's flu. And at the same time, I've cut my anti-depressant dose in half. Which is the main point of my post.
I don't have my epiphanies all at once, and writing about complex issues helps me get to new places with them. So back to this idea of who "I am", on or off, or 1/2 off (or on) anti-depressants. I'm already a bit worried about how I'll feel, scared that maybe I'm just an irritable person naturally, the real me, and that my options in life are:
(1) nauseous after meals, fatigued after 10 hours of sleep, but fairly unflappable with A, and putting any other kid we might try to have through a gestation with me on medication or
(2) irritable, faster to get flustered by her tantrums (the kid wasn't even started on tantrums when I started the meds last year), more emotionally up and down, and more of a worrier. And who knows what kind of a mess if we ever decide for me to get pregnant again.
Which do I choose? Who am I?
Now I'm pretty sure these won't be my only choices, given how much more complex the world usually is, but for now, that's what I see as my choices. And that first one, apart from the uncomfortable physical feelings, has this air of "unnatural."
So now I'm thinking through that concept. Why unnatural? Or at least, why is that more unnatural that the other things I have used in life that I wasn't born with? Like my super strong glasses. Unnatural. My inhaler. Nope, not something that grows on trees or vines. My vaccines. Natural source but totally unnatural delivery. And let's not forget my whole reproduction story. Un. Natural. I shouldn't have gotten pregnant, or delivered a baby, or breast fed, if we were talking natural. But I don't get hints of disappointment from the same people about that as about my meds. I got it from myself, but long ago decided that nature can be a real bitch, and is really not into empathy (can we just dial back the clock to 1 a.m. last Thursday, when I was holed up in the bathroom, swearing and exploding?).
This "natural" person, then, who exactly is that? Under what conditions is someone more natural (which seems to be the ideal)? And what is the ideal based on? Surprisingly, for me, there seems to be almost a "the way God made you" sense about anti-depressants, and coming from non-believers (including me). But again, what is the benchmark for this person? I think each of us has to choose the balance for ourselves, because the choices are so dependent on culture, on the way our bodies turned out, our current situation in life.
So for now I'm trying to not worry too much about whether the lower dose is already making me more irritable (because I think I might feel less exhausted, but then again, I'm recovering from a flu), or whether A is just extra cranky these days. With the babysitter last night, who is like a baby whisperer, she was cranky, too. So I'm going to stick with more cranky for her, instead of me, but keep a little, peripheral vision watch. When do I go from "I know, sweetie, something just doesn't feel good right now" to "Really? C'mon! Just, please calm down"?
And for those who might encourage me to "just not think worry it!", I encourage you to actively not think about cabbage for the next 30 seconds. As you read this. I mean it. How is that not thinking about it going?
Monday, May 23, 2011
I'll pass on the clams, thanks.
Ugh. I was hoping for our family's sake it was food poisoning from the pasta and clams.
A nasty, horrible, be glad for indoor plumbing and the white noise machine in the baby's room next door flu hit our house this weekend. I got taken down on Thursday night, M went down Saturday night, and Baby A....well, she was just slower. Given that M and I were no-calories-in-my-body tired all weekend, having a slow, calm Baby A was actually a gift. She spent many minutes in a stroller, just sitting, watching the world go by. Not trying to stand up, or pull off her socks, or climb down the front, or rock it until it flipped over. And, snuggly A was back, too. That's the one I get all my cuddles in with to last me through the high energy times.
It was also a daddy weekend. Actually, it has been sort of a daddy month. I'm definitely the runner-up these days, and it is giving me time to practice not getting my feelings hurt. Just to go with it. Wanting to collapse on a bed for another 4-hour nap makes for a good mindset for this, too.
"You want to go with your papa instead? Oh....phew. Good. I'm going to go pass out again. Wake me if something starts to burn."
But I'm not always as gracious. It still stings to be the main caregiver and not the main go-to parent. But only because I think those two go hand in hand. M has never seemed to take it personally when she prefers me, other than being frustrated if it is his turn to attend to her at night. But it doesn't seem to hurt his feelings. Why? It isn't because he has none, or that they don't get hurt. I think it is because dads aren't supposed to be the ones a kid always goes to. It is the social convention. The "should" part, that keeps his ego intact, and makes my ego's lower lip quiver just a bit when she pushes my hand away but not his.
So I'm trying to go back to a better formula, that has worked before for me. Being a mom means knowing her the best, not being her favorite. It isn't a two-way arrow, at least not always, not necessarily. For me, being a mom has to be about knowing what she wants, and right now, it is her dad when he's around. And that's ok. Because it means I know my kid, which is more important to me really than being her favorite. Ok, I want it to be more important to me.
Just as with a bottle or some cough medicine, M should be in my bag of tricks. If A wakes up screaming (instead of crying), pacifier still in mouth, I should try a minute of calming and then carry her in to M. I can be pretty sure it is what she wants right now. And it keeps my sense of motherhood intact if it is based more on problem solving for her rather than being what and who she wants all the time.
Yeah, ok. So I'm going to go practice that now. Somehow.
And have some more Coke in a mug, because when you live with a toddler who wants to try everything you're having, but already knows that coffee isn't for babies but for adults, it is a small blessing that poured Coke looks a LOT like black coffee. M and I had a lot of "coffee" this weekend.
A nasty, horrible, be glad for indoor plumbing and the white noise machine in the baby's room next door flu hit our house this weekend. I got taken down on Thursday night, M went down Saturday night, and Baby A....well, she was just slower. Given that M and I were no-calories-in-my-body tired all weekend, having a slow, calm Baby A was actually a gift. She spent many minutes in a stroller, just sitting, watching the world go by. Not trying to stand up, or pull off her socks, or climb down the front, or rock it until it flipped over. And, snuggly A was back, too. That's the one I get all my cuddles in with to last me through the high energy times.
It was also a daddy weekend. Actually, it has been sort of a daddy month. I'm definitely the runner-up these days, and it is giving me time to practice not getting my feelings hurt. Just to go with it. Wanting to collapse on a bed for another 4-hour nap makes for a good mindset for this, too.
"You want to go with your papa instead? Oh....phew. Good. I'm going to go pass out again. Wake me if something starts to burn."
But I'm not always as gracious. It still stings to be the main caregiver and not the main go-to parent. But only because I think those two go hand in hand. M has never seemed to take it personally when she prefers me, other than being frustrated if it is his turn to attend to her at night. But it doesn't seem to hurt his feelings. Why? It isn't because he has none, or that they don't get hurt. I think it is because dads aren't supposed to be the ones a kid always goes to. It is the social convention. The "should" part, that keeps his ego intact, and makes my ego's lower lip quiver just a bit when she pushes my hand away but not his.
So I'm trying to go back to a better formula, that has worked before for me. Being a mom means knowing her the best, not being her favorite. It isn't a two-way arrow, at least not always, not necessarily. For me, being a mom has to be about knowing what she wants, and right now, it is her dad when he's around. And that's ok. Because it means I know my kid, which is more important to me really than being her favorite. Ok, I want it to be more important to me.
Just as with a bottle or some cough medicine, M should be in my bag of tricks. If A wakes up screaming (instead of crying), pacifier still in mouth, I should try a minute of calming and then carry her in to M. I can be pretty sure it is what she wants right now. And it keeps my sense of motherhood intact if it is based more on problem solving for her rather than being what and who she wants all the time.
Yeah, ok. So I'm going to go practice that now. Somehow.
And have some more Coke in a mug, because when you live with a toddler who wants to try everything you're having, but already knows that coffee isn't for babies but for adults, it is a small blessing that poured Coke looks a LOT like black coffee. M and I had a lot of "coffee" this weekend.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Me and the dog, out for a walk
Sometimes, all the cat and cow poo she eats, the barking she does at non-existent cats, and the needing to lick herself (extremely loudly) in the middle of the night, all falls away, because she also brings me for walks into the wet, cool forest on days like this, and it is beautiful there.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Being the new kid, again
How old do you have to be not to get the "new kid" nerves in a new place? Last night I went out dancing for the first time since I was 3 weeks pregnant. I was still in Tucson then and most of the people I danced with had no idea. Given how hard it had been to conceive, I was a bit worried about the rougher leads trying do to some crazy spin-me-by-my-stomach move, so I just told everyone I had hurt my back and to lead gently. My last night of dancing in Tucson.
I finally had the energy, the babysitting, and the time to go dancing here in Zurich last night. In a small space near one of the playgrounds I really like.
M was off on a work dinner, so I suited up (gotta dress comfy but in a skirt that swings nice and a t shirt that won't bertray you when it gets sweaty), got out my dance sneakers (way more stable than the wedges, especially for a bad back and out of shape mama), and went on my way. Once I was within walking distance, I realized I was nervous. A room of new people, who to dance with, did I remember how to dance, and could I handle all the asking I'd have to do as the new person (tiring at best, disheartening at worst)? At nearly 40 years old, triumphantly with a successfully navigated new motherhood, country of residence, marriage, work life, depression....and I was still nervous.
My friend J posted today that she got a job in the middle of nowhere where she will be alone for the first many months, not even her cat with her. And she is nervous. But she is one of the funniest people I know. The person I would expect to have no problems in a new place. S there it is - we all still get nervous. Of isolation, of what people will think of us, how it will go, what we were thinking of undertaking this new thing. And invariably it is these adventures that enrich life in ways we hoped but didn't imagine.
So good luck, J, and congratulations!
My night of dancing turned out great. Luckily I lead as well as follow, so even though the place was 3:1 women to men, I got my self-promised 5 good dances, with 3 guys and 2 women. And the biggest mistake I made? After asking the best lead in the room to dance, and having a great dance, I walked away afterwards, having thanked him. Guess what, here the norm is to have two dances with each partner. I threw away a totally great second dance! I'll have to rememdy that next time.
Oh, and the second place winner of the Eurovision contest this year, Italy, has a pretty danceable song.
I finally had the energy, the babysitting, and the time to go dancing here in Zurich last night. In a small space near one of the playgrounds I really like.
M was off on a work dinner, so I suited up (gotta dress comfy but in a skirt that swings nice and a t shirt that won't bertray you when it gets sweaty), got out my dance sneakers (way more stable than the wedges, especially for a bad back and out of shape mama), and went on my way. Once I was within walking distance, I realized I was nervous. A room of new people, who to dance with, did I remember how to dance, and could I handle all the asking I'd have to do as the new person (tiring at best, disheartening at worst)? At nearly 40 years old, triumphantly with a successfully navigated new motherhood, country of residence, marriage, work life, depression....and I was still nervous.
My friend J posted today that she got a job in the middle of nowhere where she will be alone for the first many months, not even her cat with her. And she is nervous. But she is one of the funniest people I know. The person I would expect to have no problems in a new place. S there it is - we all still get nervous. Of isolation, of what people will think of us, how it will go, what we were thinking of undertaking this new thing. And invariably it is these adventures that enrich life in ways we hoped but didn't imagine.
So good luck, J, and congratulations!
My night of dancing turned out great. Luckily I lead as well as follow, so even though the place was 3:1 women to men, I got my self-promised 5 good dances, with 3 guys and 2 women. And the biggest mistake I made? After asking the best lead in the room to dance, and having a great dance, I walked away afterwards, having thanked him. Guess what, here the norm is to have two dances with each partner. I threw away a totally great second dance! I'll have to rememdy that next time.
Oh, and the second place winner of the Eurovision contest this year, Italy, has a pretty danceable song.
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