I am sitting, thumb-typing on my iphone, in the darkness of 2:00am. My sleeping son is resting his sweet velvet head on my shoulder. I should put him down; allow him to sleep better, allow myself to maximize my own sleep in these endless days in which sleep is so elusive. But I can't. I'm not yet able to separate my breath from his scent or my heartbeat from the rhythm of his baby panting breaths against my neck.
I am struck by the words of a friend, who reminded us, in the weeks before the boy's arrival, that life is divided into seasons. Some we lament as they pass too quickly, others we endure as they move with the speed of an iceberg. I know that this moment is frozen in a season. A way too short season of cuddling my son in the silent wee hours - which is, magically, the exact same length of this very long season of interrupted sleep cycles and bleary eyed mornings. This notion of the seasonality of life fills me with nostalgia for the seasons that have already passed - and angst for wanting to hold on to The Boy's seasons as tightly as I can. Savoring them. Elongating them. Memorizing every second because I know that I will someday shed real tears when I miss the smells and textures of these sweet days.
I wish I could revisit the seasons of pure breathless laughter as I am tickled by my father or the smell of my grandmother as I sit in the comfort and safety of her lap. They are snapshots in my senses now, of places that have been eroded by time. I miss them with an ache that I know is but a twinge compared to how much I will miss this moment right now: sitting in the the peaceful darkness, with my son's heart beating right on top of my own. His father's deep sleeping breaths providing the harmony to complete the symphony of all that is sacred and pure in my life. We are floating along, on this warm raft of our bed, in the sweet smelling night of a future memory.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
A LOVE LETTER TO MY HUSBAND
In my single years, I had “rules”. Not The Rules of 90’s dating guide fame - although while some of them were crazy, I do think many of those ideas are based on sound logic. These were just my rules. They summed up as follows:
-Never call a guy I was interested in – unless I was returning a call. If he called me– then I KNEW that he wanted my company. I only wanted to talk to guys who were excited to talk to me. Anything else was a waste of time.
-Never do dinner for a first date. Coffee or drinks are better – a drink can always become a meal, if all goes well. If not, you have a natural end point.
-Never call a guy I was interested in – unless I was returning a call. If he called me– then I KNEW that he wanted my company. I only wanted to talk to guys who were excited to talk to me. Anything else was a waste of time.
-Never do dinner for a first date. Coffee or drinks are better – a drink can always become a meal, if all goes well. If not, you have a natural end point.
-Never go with a group. Extra people change your read on the chemistry.
-Always tell someone that you’re going on a first date, and give them the name and phone number of your date. Then call them when you get back. It’s a little over cautious, I realize, but in the rare case that something bad happens, you want someone to have a place to start to find you and help. Call me crazy, that’s fine - I don’t think that Natalie Holloway’s mom would think so.
-Always tell someone that you’re going on a first date, and give them the name and phone number of your date. Then call them when you get back. It’s a little over cautious, I realize, but in the rare case that something bad happens, you want someone to have a place to start to find you and help. Call me crazy, that’s fine - I don’t think that Natalie Holloway’s mom would think so.
So this was my mindset back when I met Hubz. It was about 5 years ago, back in San Diego. We started a phone relationship that lasted a few months before I had the courage to go on a date with him. I just LIKED him so much on the phone – and I was worried that meeting would break that spell.
I liked the joking, kind and smart guy who chatted with me so easily. He didn’t come on too strong, but he didn’t make we wonder if we would talk again either. I liked him so much that I didn’t want the pressure of a first date to bring out awkward stumbling or shyness. I liked him so much that I didn’t want the chance of a botched kiss goodnight, or an embarrassing miscommunication to make my heart drop or force me into indifference about whether I saw him again.
In the midst of all of this liking, he kept asking (points!) and I kept demurring…and he kept calling (more points!) and we kept talking. We both were traveling for our jobs, so that helped stretch out the time we were getting acquainted. At one point, I remember feeling like we were intimate enough that I could tell him that I was afraid that a date would change our chemistry. He chuckled warmly and agreed that it could happen but then gently reminded me that it could also make things even better (major points!).
It can take a lot of self talk to get me out of my own head sometimes. Out of my head is where my courage lives, along with my sense of whimsy and my belief that I can wear white pants in a flattering way…. So –surprisingly, on the HOTTEST day of the year, in late July, I was running errands on a Saturday morning and WHAM, I slipped right out of my head. I impulsively picked up the phone and called him (rule violation). When he answered, a little surprised that I was reaching out, I said “I just decided that I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Maybe we should just meet up. What are you doing RIGHT NOW?” I could hear the smile in his voice when he said that he was helping a friend move, but could he call when he was done and set up a place to meet? “Sounds great!”, I answered, still filled with the whimsy and courage and bravado that fueled the call.
He called at 2:00 – in that "too late for lunch, too early for dinner" period that made it tough to think of where a casual meeting spot would be. It was too hot for the park or for coffee, and frankly, by the time he called, I had NOTHING to offer in the way of a suggestion. Desperate not to lose my momentum, I invited him to my house (MAJOR rule violation). I didn’t know what we were going to do – and I knew it was a potentially tragic risk – but I was also confident that I kinda knew this was a good guy and I was on a roll.
So, 45 minutes later, we were sitting in my non-air conditioned living room. Shy (bummer), awkward (fabulous), sweating (awesome!) and unsure of what to do next. My worst fears were materializing. We ate popsicles to cool off. We took a walk to check out a new gourmet market that had opened around the corner. I tried not to let my heart sink when conversation stalled. We kept smiling and pressing on through the awkwardness. Ouch.
We were standing at a crosswalk, when it happened. Hubz teased me about something I had done that amused him. He was quick, witty and his subtlety was artistic. My heart leapt. “Okay”, I thought, “Game on!!” I tossed a volley back to him – he smiled widely. Then he took my hand as we crossed the street. “Should we find some dinner?” I asked.
I don’t know when, exactly, I was sure that I loved him. I know when we said it to each other, and I know it didn’t take too long. By August we were assuming that we were spending time together during the weekends. By November we knew with certainty that we were moving towards marriage. It sounds so fast when I look at the written words, but it was, for the first time in my life, the most natural decision I’ve ever made. I’ve never regretted, questioned or hesitated about our direction. And while I may not be the best wife in the world, I want to be – because he certainly deserves it. I realize I will probably never accomplish that, but I can say with 100% certainty, that the best chance I have in the world, is with him.
These days it is impossible not to count my blessings. When I roll over in the night and see him, there, my heart fills with a sense of relief, that I have found him and built this life with him. When he puts up with my crazy pregnancy hormones so gently and patiently kisses my forehead as I melt into unexplainable tears, I know that God sent him to me and that it’s okay to depend on his presence for the rest of my life. When our baby kicks and he sees me move my hand to the spot on my belly, his eyes fill with a kind of warm, intense love that literally makes me catch my breath. I cannot imagine that life has more joy to offer than this.
I know that we’ll have trials ahead. Life is going to change and that some days, weeks, years, will be better than others. But I’m still on my path, and, so far, it has led me to such joy and happiness and positive personal growth. How could I possibly fear my destination as long as he is still holding my hand?
Saturday, August 6, 2011
GEBURTZHILFE
I know that I promised not to make this a baby blog…but I do have some interesting stories to tell with this now prevalent part of our life. So here’s a little post about my life as a pregnant woman in Germany:
The military provides us with healthcare here, and at home. In the states, we have a plan option that favors my being seen exclusively at military clinics and hospitals (provided the service I require is offered) and another that allows, with a small co-pay, me to be seen in the private sector. (Hubz has his own rules, as an active duty service member). Now that we are overseas, our plan requires that I am seen at the Army clinic first. However, our base is over subscribed with dependants, so in many cases, you’re seen at the clinic merely for a referral to a German doctor who is approved by our insurance. One such scenario is that of pregnancy. As soon as you confirm the pregnancy with the clinic on base, they send you out in town for your pre-natal care. Thus begins the adventure of German medicine.
Overall, the care I am getting in the German system is impressive. There are some differences that do remind me of the foreigner that I am these days:
-- Regular Ultrasounds - In the states, a normal pregnancy requires two or three ultrasounds. A high risk pregnancy will require a few more. Here, I have had an ultrasound every single time I’ve come into the office. I have more pictures of this developing person that I do of many living members of my family! (I know, I know, our second child is already destined for therapy!). This is delightful and so reassuring, especially in the beginning when you have no outward evidence that your pregnancy is progressing normally. However, it is a bit nerve wracking when you are, like we are, trying not to find out the sex of our baby until it is born!
-- No gowns or drapes – I’m still adjusting to this one. It is well known that Germans (and most Europeans) are just not as modest as we Americans are. When I go in for my exams, they simply tell me “ please remove your pants” and I hop up on the exam table. I’ve learned early to wear a skirt to every appointment – which allows me some maneuverable modesty – but there are no hospital gowns either! So more adventure awaits in this category. I’ll let you know how that turns out!
-- Mutterpass – When you reach the end of your first trimester of pregnancy here, the doctor issues you a Mutterpass (mother’s pass). This is a booklet, kind of like a passport, in which the details of each test and examination are recorded. The thought process is that if I end up in a medical situation during my pregnancy, no matter where I am, the doctor treating me will know and understand every detail of my pregnancy.
-- Labor and Delivery – Germans are more holistic in their approach to medicine. They try to use movement and even herbal remedies before pharmaceuticals. This means that most women deliver without epidurals, and that c-sections are reserved as a last resort exclusively. Also, given the socialized medicine practiced here, most women have had many, many classes preparing them for childbirth. For this reason, it’s the laboring mother who calls the shots about laboring and birthing positions. I’ve even heard stories of laboring women hiking the grounds surrounding the hospital property to move their labor along. So much for my grand plan of showing up and waiting for them to tell me what to do! Also, most babies are born without the doctor in the room. Midwives seem to run the process at the progress of the birth. The Dr will be present to oversee the birth if there is even a slight indication that there may be cause for concern (say, merconium in the amniotic fluid), but even in that situation, the midwives are overseeing the birth.
-- German Hospitals – I already mentioned the lack of hospital gowns. Packing for the hospital means bringing your pajamas. It also means bringing your own ice and water if you think you’ll want it during delivery. There is a drink station in the hallway – self serve! Breakfast and dinner are served in the ward’s cafeteria. Our insurance covers a double room (no curtain). For about another 50 Euro per night, you can have a private room (when considering the process of rooming in with a newborn, we are opting for the private room, if possible – I think one crying baby is enough to deal with when everything is so new!) Meals are typically German (bread and cheese for breakfast, hot lunch, bread and cheese for dinner). And the basic post delivery stay is a minimum of three days for a perfect birth (more if there were any invasive measures taken, including an episiotomy). This is due to the emphasis on healing and resting. Nurses won’t wake you to check on you – or even set their own schedule to test the baby….they tell you what they need to accomplish that day and leave it to you to call them when you’re ready for them to take the baby for the procedure.
So , that’s German medicine in a nutshell – or at least my experiences in it so far! I’ll keep you posted as new experiences reveal themselves!
The military provides us with healthcare here, and at home. In the states, we have a plan option that favors my being seen exclusively at military clinics and hospitals (provided the service I require is offered) and another that allows, with a small co-pay, me to be seen in the private sector. (Hubz has his own rules, as an active duty service member). Now that we are overseas, our plan requires that I am seen at the Army clinic first. However, our base is over subscribed with dependants, so in many cases, you’re seen at the clinic merely for a referral to a German doctor who is approved by our insurance. One such scenario is that of pregnancy. As soon as you confirm the pregnancy with the clinic on base, they send you out in town for your pre-natal care. Thus begins the adventure of German medicine.
Overall, the care I am getting in the German system is impressive. There are some differences that do remind me of the foreigner that I am these days:
-- Regular Ultrasounds - In the states, a normal pregnancy requires two or three ultrasounds. A high risk pregnancy will require a few more. Here, I have had an ultrasound every single time I’ve come into the office. I have more pictures of this developing person that I do of many living members of my family! (I know, I know, our second child is already destined for therapy!). This is delightful and so reassuring, especially in the beginning when you have no outward evidence that your pregnancy is progressing normally. However, it is a bit nerve wracking when you are, like we are, trying not to find out the sex of our baby until it is born!
-- No gowns or drapes – I’m still adjusting to this one. It is well known that Germans (and most Europeans) are just not as modest as we Americans are. When I go in for my exams, they simply tell me “ please remove your pants” and I hop up on the exam table. I’ve learned early to wear a skirt to every appointment – which allows me some maneuverable modesty – but there are no hospital gowns either! So more adventure awaits in this category. I’ll let you know how that turns out!
-- Mutterpass – When you reach the end of your first trimester of pregnancy here, the doctor issues you a Mutterpass (mother’s pass). This is a booklet, kind of like a passport, in which the details of each test and examination are recorded. The thought process is that if I end up in a medical situation during my pregnancy, no matter where I am, the doctor treating me will know and understand every detail of my pregnancy.
-- Labor and Delivery – Germans are more holistic in their approach to medicine. They try to use movement and even herbal remedies before pharmaceuticals. This means that most women deliver without epidurals, and that c-sections are reserved as a last resort exclusively. Also, given the socialized medicine practiced here, most women have had many, many classes preparing them for childbirth. For this reason, it’s the laboring mother who calls the shots about laboring and birthing positions. I’ve even heard stories of laboring women hiking the grounds surrounding the hospital property to move their labor along. So much for my grand plan of showing up and waiting for them to tell me what to do! Also, most babies are born without the doctor in the room. Midwives seem to run the process at the progress of the birth. The Dr will be present to oversee the birth if there is even a slight indication that there may be cause for concern (say, merconium in the amniotic fluid), but even in that situation, the midwives are overseeing the birth.
-- German Hospitals – I already mentioned the lack of hospital gowns. Packing for the hospital means bringing your pajamas. It also means bringing your own ice and water if you think you’ll want it during delivery. There is a drink station in the hallway – self serve! Breakfast and dinner are served in the ward’s cafeteria. Our insurance covers a double room (no curtain). For about another 50 Euro per night, you can have a private room (when considering the process of rooming in with a newborn, we are opting for the private room, if possible – I think one crying baby is enough to deal with when everything is so new!) Meals are typically German (bread and cheese for breakfast, hot lunch, bread and cheese for dinner). And the basic post delivery stay is a minimum of three days for a perfect birth (more if there were any invasive measures taken, including an episiotomy). This is due to the emphasis on healing and resting. Nurses won’t wake you to check on you – or even set their own schedule to test the baby….they tell you what they need to accomplish that day and leave it to you to call them when you’re ready for them to take the baby for the procedure.
So , that’s German medicine in a nutshell – or at least my experiences in it so far! I’ll keep you posted as new experiences reveal themselves!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
CHANGES
Last weekend, we had house guests visiting us from the US. As we showed them around our neighborhood, and answered their questions about how we maneuver our day to day life, I realize how much we’ve learned, and how different our lives our from when we were in the states. On the surface, things aren’t THAT different: we have the same car, same furniture, cook the same recipes, and even watch American tv shows (thank you Slingbox). But the little things, from the taxes we pay on electronics, to the way we sort our household garbage, are other worldly when we hear ourselves describe them to friends.
Hubz and I have enjoyed traveling – both together and individually before we met. We have always managed a sense of humor when stumbling through foreign customs and practices – and have embraced the adventure of guessing what a menu might say or shrugging as we hop on a metro train, hoping that we got the right one. We both have had these experiences connected to our careers, long before we met. I’m sure that this makes the Ex-Pat experience that much more tolerable for us – we had a training program of sorts! (Not to mention the fact that the military is the ultimate king of hand-holding when it comes to walking through this stranger in a strange land experience).
I was reflecting on this last night, and I realized something that astounded me even more. When I was young, even into high school, I was utterly afraid to leave home for more than one night. This was probably a result of some turbulence at home – but was behavior that is very uncharacteristic of a child of that age. I have vivid memories of sobbing as my mother drove me to stay with my best friend’s family for a week at their lake house. I wanted to want to be there. I wanted to spend that time with her and at the lake….but somehow I was terrified to do so. In 10th grade, when the splitting of our household resulted in not enough cash to send me on the Spring Break Europe trip sponsored by my school, I took the news stoically, to the high praise of my parents. Little did they know that deep down, what washed over me was a sense of relief, not of disappointment.
Somehow, in the years between now and then I have managed to enjoy traveling, make a career that required extensive global travel, and pick myself up and move to Europe! I NEVER would have seen that coming 15 years ago!
Saturday, April 2, 2011
THE CAT IS OUT OF THE BAG
...where does that phrase come from? When was it a common practice to put cats in bags? I guess it makes sense in the observation that once out of a bag, any self respecting cat would refuse to get back in...but why is this behavior attributed to cats exclusively? Wouldn't a dog, hamster or snake make the same choice?
Anyways...we have an escaped cat situation over here - one which we are delighted to report! We are currently cooking a little something over here, in the form of a bun...and I am the proverbial oven. It's been KILLING me...KILLING ME to keep this secret for so long - but it was a decision we agreed was best for our family, and now it is SO MUCH FUN to share with our loved ones.
This revelation also allows me to share that one reason I've been laying around all lazy-like since January has been due to the developing Hansel or Gretel. AND that the reason I haven't worked harder to find gainful employment has been the realization that a job would be short lived, since we've agreed (like, back in early dating time) that we would try to have a stay at home parent for early years of child rearing.
I will certainly make a concerted effort to keep the focus of this silly little blog on the European Living Experience (that just seemed to call for capitalization) and not a blow by blow of my pregnancy adventures - although stay tuned for a little report about our adventures in German medicine, since it's a logical tie-in!
For those of you who are connected to me via Facebook, I have posted a really cute video of the Hubz when he learned of his impending fatherhood (just in case you missed it). He's been nothing short of amazing in the past months - starting with his really cute reaction caught on tape :) Sharing the excitement with our loved ones has been so much fun! I can honestly say I've never felt more blessed in my life.
Here's hoping that you all have such joy in your lives right now!!
Anyways...we have an escaped cat situation over here - one which we are delighted to report! We are currently cooking a little something over here, in the form of a bun...and I am the proverbial oven. It's been KILLING me...KILLING ME to keep this secret for so long - but it was a decision we agreed was best for our family, and now it is SO MUCH FUN to share with our loved ones.
This revelation also allows me to share that one reason I've been laying around all lazy-like since January has been due to the developing Hansel or Gretel. AND that the reason I haven't worked harder to find gainful employment has been the realization that a job would be short lived, since we've agreed (like, back in early dating time) that we would try to have a stay at home parent for early years of child rearing.
I will certainly make a concerted effort to keep the focus of this silly little blog on the European Living Experience (that just seemed to call for capitalization) and not a blow by blow of my pregnancy adventures - although stay tuned for a little report about our adventures in German medicine, since it's a logical tie-in!
For those of you who are connected to me via Facebook, I have posted a really cute video of the Hubz when he learned of his impending fatherhood (just in case you missed it). He's been nothing short of amazing in the past months - starting with his really cute reaction caught on tape :) Sharing the excitement with our loved ones has been so much fun! I can honestly say I've never felt more blessed in my life.
Here's hoping that you all have such joy in your lives right now!!
Monday, March 14, 2011
MOVE DAMAGE INSPECTION...FAIL!!!
Sigh – don’t you just hate to learn lessons the hard way? I do!! I think that’s one of the reasons that I’m so comfortable following rules. I assume that they are in place because someone learned a lesson, and wants to impart their experiences on the rest of us. I assume that the rules are for my safety and overall well being. Sure, I want to have a right to make my own decisions, but how dumb would I have to be to put myself in a position to re-learn every lesson known to man? I suppose that this would make me a cult leader or junta’s favorite child…..there’s a balance in there somewhere…
Anyways, I learned a hard way lesson today pertaining to the damage to our stuff during our overseas move. As you may recall, our things arrived pretty beat up. We lost a whole dresser and bookcase (the bookcase that should have been disassembled before shipping, arrived that way anyways…and not in a manner that allowed re-assembly!). We didn’t fret too much about it though, for a few reasons. 1) the Navy insures you for full replacement value – meaning that if it can’t be fixed, they owe you the cash to replace it and 2) I am a fairly organized individual who documented EVERYTHING. Every piece of furniture in the house in VA was video taped (including serial numbers on electronics) and every scratch and ding was photographed on arrival and 3) our stuff isn’t that nice!
Once you get all of your boxes opened and inventoried, you have something like 90 days to report damages to the military. Then you have 9 months, to file the claim with the movers themselves. (I think the military filing is just a backup move, so they can protect you if the moving company ignores you). We spent the first month getting settled and figuring out what pieces would work in which spots. We bought and built closets, hung pictures and hung curtains. Along the way, we’d come across broken items (like the pulverized wine glasses that had been packed at the BOTTOM of our box of pots and pans….seriously). I’d snap pictures and we’d toss the rubble. As the 90 days approached, I made my way to the legal office with my catalog of items that hadn’t arrived intact.
Then, in my gilded cage induced laziness set in and I……well, I moved the move claim paperwork around my dresser for a few months. Finally, in a fit of inspiration, I got around to filing the claim for the damaged items with the movers. I sent them links to the items I could still find online as proof of their value at time of purchase, and explained that I had pictures of the damage I’d be happy to forward them. They responded very politely that they would be sending an inspector to assess the damage.
Inspektor Thomas just left our apartment – and the outcome wasn’t so good. Anything we had tossed was lined out of the claim. No interest in the photographic evidence, they just didn’t exist anymore. He eyeballed the marble chess piece that Hubz had carried back from the Middle East, and noted the obvious jagged line where I had super glued the chipped marble. “Oh good, it’s fixed” he said. Clearly he didn’t realize that Hubz had searched for 5 years to find those pieces and carefully packed them amongst socks and towels to get them home from deployment intact….the movers, left them naked in a little box and wrapped the box in paper (!??!?) – resulting in chips and a broken pawn that made Hubz moan on discovery.
The moving company insurance adjusters will send me an email based on Ispektor Thomas' report in the next two weeks. My prediction is that we'll get some of the problems repaired (like the scratches to our furniture) and small items replaced (like the cake pedestal I happened to keep). But the big ticket items that we tossed are gone into the ether. Which is unfortunate, since those were the costliest damages (we actually bought another dresser, etc).
So – lessons learned for our next PCS. Keep the broken items – no matter how paltry. Make the claim immediately (if nothing else so you can toss the garbage you’re holding onto for proof). Don’t fix anything! They’ll sort out what’s reparable. The good news is that I hear that the packers that the German moving companies employ are truly fantastic!
Anyways, I learned a hard way lesson today pertaining to the damage to our stuff during our overseas move. As you may recall, our things arrived pretty beat up. We lost a whole dresser and bookcase (the bookcase that should have been disassembled before shipping, arrived that way anyways…and not in a manner that allowed re-assembly!). We didn’t fret too much about it though, for a few reasons. 1) the Navy insures you for full replacement value – meaning that if it can’t be fixed, they owe you the cash to replace it and 2) I am a fairly organized individual who documented EVERYTHING. Every piece of furniture in the house in VA was video taped (including serial numbers on electronics) and every scratch and ding was photographed on arrival and 3) our stuff isn’t that nice!
Once you get all of your boxes opened and inventoried, you have something like 90 days to report damages to the military. Then you have 9 months, to file the claim with the movers themselves. (I think the military filing is just a backup move, so they can protect you if the moving company ignores you). We spent the first month getting settled and figuring out what pieces would work in which spots. We bought and built closets, hung pictures and hung curtains. Along the way, we’d come across broken items (like the pulverized wine glasses that had been packed at the BOTTOM of our box of pots and pans….seriously). I’d snap pictures and we’d toss the rubble. As the 90 days approached, I made my way to the legal office with my catalog of items that hadn’t arrived intact.
Then, in my gilded cage induced laziness set in and I……well, I moved the move claim paperwork around my dresser for a few months. Finally, in a fit of inspiration, I got around to filing the claim for the damaged items with the movers. I sent them links to the items I could still find online as proof of their value at time of purchase, and explained that I had pictures of the damage I’d be happy to forward them. They responded very politely that they would be sending an inspector to assess the damage.
Inspektor Thomas just left our apartment – and the outcome wasn’t so good. Anything we had tossed was lined out of the claim. No interest in the photographic evidence, they just didn’t exist anymore. He eyeballed the marble chess piece that Hubz had carried back from the Middle East, and noted the obvious jagged line where I had super glued the chipped marble. “Oh good, it’s fixed” he said. Clearly he didn’t realize that Hubz had searched for 5 years to find those pieces and carefully packed them amongst socks and towels to get them home from deployment intact….the movers, left them naked in a little box and wrapped the box in paper (!??!?) – resulting in chips and a broken pawn that made Hubz moan on discovery.
The moving company insurance adjusters will send me an email based on Ispektor Thomas' report in the next two weeks. My prediction is that we'll get some of the problems repaired (like the scratches to our furniture) and small items replaced (like the cake pedestal I happened to keep). But the big ticket items that we tossed are gone into the ether. Which is unfortunate, since those were the costliest damages (we actually bought another dresser, etc).
So – lessons learned for our next PCS. Keep the broken items – no matter how paltry. Make the claim immediately (if nothing else so you can toss the garbage you’re holding onto for proof). Don’t fix anything! They’ll sort out what’s reparable. The good news is that I hear that the packers that the German moving companies employ are truly fantastic!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS
Yes, yes, another month has passed with my lazy self neglecting to post on El Bloggo. I suck. I’m sorry.
In all fairness, there hasn’t been that much going on over here. Hubz has been working really hard – usually in the office six days a week, and rarely home before 8pm on a weekday. The upside is that he’s enjoying the work, and seems to be getting recognition for his efforts. I’m proud of him! I don’t mean to complain here – once you have just one friend whose spouse is deployed, you realize that a little interruption like overtime is just a drop in the bucket….and I LOVE the fact that nobody’s shooting at him :)
Okay – so what does a Military Spouse on foreign soil do without kids or job to keep her busy? Hmmm…well, judging by my activities of late – darn little. She lets the housework slide a little (since tomorrow is also available for cleaning) and the meals get a little less creative (it’s suddenly such an EFFORT to cook). I know, right? Poor little rich girl gets a free ride to Europe and falls apart? I think I’m starting to realize the amount of self worth I derived from my career. I’m kind of working my way into a new and strange identity over here – and apparently none of those steps down my new road includes a propensity to do laundry :)
So, after about two months of floundering around my gilded cage, I dug in. I looked into jobs on the base (which are few and hard to know about without an inside track), and took a German Class (21 other bored housewives, two mornings a week – AND I can now count past 12 - yay!!!), and finally stumbled upon a volunteer recruitment website run by the base. On a Friday morning I responded to five jobs that interested me, and by Friday afternoon, I had a hit! It turns out that the Army Substance Abuse Program (ASAP) needed someone to step in and help run their campaigns. It seemed like a good fit, and all in all, I am enjoying the experience.
Amazingly, the laundry is now getting done, and putting together dinner is holding more appeal (when Hubz is actually home to eat it!). Things are starting to turn around a bit. I’m not completely there yet, but I at least have a few days in my week with a distinct purpose and direction. I knew that living overseas was going to be a learning experience...but who knew what I'd learn would be about myself?!?
In all fairness, there hasn’t been that much going on over here. Hubz has been working really hard – usually in the office six days a week, and rarely home before 8pm on a weekday. The upside is that he’s enjoying the work, and seems to be getting recognition for his efforts. I’m proud of him! I don’t mean to complain here – once you have just one friend whose spouse is deployed, you realize that a little interruption like overtime is just a drop in the bucket….and I LOVE the fact that nobody’s shooting at him :)
Okay – so what does a Military Spouse on foreign soil do without kids or job to keep her busy? Hmmm…well, judging by my activities of late – darn little. She lets the housework slide a little (since tomorrow is also available for cleaning) and the meals get a little less creative (it’s suddenly such an EFFORT to cook). I know, right? Poor little rich girl gets a free ride to Europe and falls apart? I think I’m starting to realize the amount of self worth I derived from my career. I’m kind of working my way into a new and strange identity over here – and apparently none of those steps down my new road includes a propensity to do laundry :)
So, after about two months of floundering around my gilded cage, I dug in. I looked into jobs on the base (which are few and hard to know about without an inside track), and took a German Class (21 other bored housewives, two mornings a week – AND I can now count past 12 - yay!!!), and finally stumbled upon a volunteer recruitment website run by the base. On a Friday morning I responded to five jobs that interested me, and by Friday afternoon, I had a hit! It turns out that the Army Substance Abuse Program (ASAP) needed someone to step in and help run their campaigns. It seemed like a good fit, and all in all, I am enjoying the experience.
Amazingly, the laundry is now getting done, and putting together dinner is holding more appeal (when Hubz is actually home to eat it!). Things are starting to turn around a bit. I’m not completely there yet, but I at least have a few days in my week with a distinct purpose and direction. I knew that living overseas was going to be a learning experience...but who knew what I'd learn would be about myself?!?
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