Can't hardly zip my jacket!

Making Friends in Aachen

Arrivals

Just a week ago today I was arriving in Amsterdam. It had been a lonely couple of days with my husband gone at the Hague for a conference. Then, Bee and I flew to meet him for the holiday weekend. It had been a long day, starting when Bee was dressed and ready to leave for the airport at 6 am. Unfortunately our flight wasn't until 2 pm so we spent the morning haggling over when it would be time to leave. Anticipating having my hands full with my daughter and her massively large car seat, I packed very light--one carry on suitcase and one backpack for the two of us.

It was finally time to leave around 10 am and one of our usual taxi drivers came to take us to the airport. We waited for the plane, endured the long flight (yes, I bribed Bee to use the airplane bathroom), and made our way through Schipol airport to the baggage claim. Through the glass I spotted my husband waiting for us. We piled everything on a cart and Bee and I hurried out to greet the main man in our lives. Bee was so excited to see her father that she broke into a run, toddler arms and legs flying out in all directions, and hurled herself into his arms with a serious impact. All the grandmothers lined up waiting cooed simultaneously. It was like something out of a movie.

As if arriving in the Netherlands and being reunited with my husband wasn't sweet enough. The three of us went and had vanilla milkshakes and french fries (the way they come in Europe is stuffed in a paper cone and smothered your topping of choice, mine, mayonnaise). We devoured our snack together, each of us savoring good food and having our family back in one place.

I love arriving; I hate leaving. I am always waiting for my next beginning. I would do well to be less impatient, but despite my best efforts, I am always dreaming of going somewhere. Right now I am focused on my upcoming trip back to the United States so I can deliver my baby girl. Three more weeks of work. Three more weekends. Bee's birthday is next Sunday. The following week my sister comes to visit and we have Bee's birthday party. Then just one weekend remains to pack my suitcases, clean out my desk at work, and fly home to America.

Since the intervening weeks promise to be beyond stressful, I am concentrating on arriving home in Virginia. Let's just skip the rest already. In my mind's eye, I can see the international arrivals hall in Dulles. The weary immigration officers. The crowded baggage claim terminal. Customs. A short walk to the exit where my family will be waiting for me. Bee clutching my hand. Both of us trembling with excitement and jet lag. Home.

Leaving my husband behind will be the hardest part of next month. Bee and I will be home, with our family and favorite restaurants and a new house and a very soon to arrive baby. However, I know that as soon as I arrive home I will be counting down the days until my husband arrives and then (and hopefully this time it will be in this order) the very special arrival of a very much wished for little baby girl.

It was a dark and stormy vacation . . .

The sun does shine on the Netherlands periodically, but somehow I only managed to take pictures when it was either dawn, dusk, or about to rain.


Chateau St. Gerlach in the Maastricht region of the Netherlands: My dear husband picked the hotel on a whim. "It looks really nice; I want to go there," he declared. Never mind that zee Chateau is a two and a half hour drive from Amsterdam. "We'll rent a car," he explained. I continued to protest, but the man had an answer for everything.

So I gave up arguing, because I had no better suggestion, and we booked a hotel in the south of the Netherlands because it looked pretty with no other plans than to make our way there and see it for ourselves. And you know what?


It was a very good idea. A very, very, complete with indoor swimming pool and rustic bistro, good idea.


We were upgraded to a senior suite, located in one of the gables of the chateau. I had my own couch on which to lounge in the evenings. I read magazines and ate chocolates.


They had a wonderfully ancient lobby and a bar with character. And when we asked the bartender for some Dutch cheese, he said, "Coming right up!" The cheese came with a little pot of mustard. No bread. Just cheese. It was delicious.

The Chateau was set on a beautiful park, filled with interesting statues and walking paths. Unfortunately, as I set out to take pictures on our last morning there, it started to rain. But really, rain or no rain, I could live in the Netherlands.

Therapy

You know, I have come to the conclusion that it can be a good thing that preschoolers are, by their very natures, self centered. My daughter doesn't care how stressful my workday was, or that my back hurts, or that I am worrying about where my next job will be. She just wants her Mommy to come home and play with her and be happy. What else can I do but oblige? I had the happiest of childhoods and want the same for my daughter.

Bee and I have been spending the past few evenings alone, and our time together has been liberating. We play. We make dinner from what's in the freezer. We clean up the kitchen. We play some more and then Bee goes to bed.

Tonight we made animals out of playdoh, listened to a whole array of children's cds (Bee likes selecting and changing the cds more than actually listening to them), colored in her seven dwarves coloring book, and read extra stories before bed. It was, all in all, a mundane evening, but very calming. Even adults need to play once in a while.

My measure of success

Tonight, my husband patiently showed Bee how to make homemade calzones. She was covered in flour from wrist to elbow by the time they were finished, but she successfully helped roll out the circles of dough, add the filling, crimp the edges, and paint the egg wash on top. (And here's how crazy about food we are--this weekend we also made vegetable enchiladas, pumpkin cookies, and the piece d'resistance: from scratch "everything" bagels.)

This afternoon, I drew the outline of a tree on a big sheet of packing paper and gave Bee some tempura paints in fall colors. She spent a long time carefully painting autumn leaves. I would say she leans toward the surreal in art.

We went to Starbucks. I had given up all caffeine for most of this pregnancy, but recently have been indulging in a chai latte on the weekend. Baby Girl seems to like the sugar boost.

We cleaned the house. My husband changed burnt out light bulbs and dragged the vacuum over the rugs. Bee helped dust. I vacuumed the floors and even mopped, a little. Our main living room/dining room/playroom is adorned with Halloween decorations. The decorations are up early; the house cleaning was long overdue.

It's funny how these little tasks fill me with more pride than any work accomplishment ever has.

She Vants to be Alone

I can't quite wrap my head around this newfound independence thing with Bee. She just woke up at the deliciously late hour of nearly 7 o'clock, and now she is holed up in her room--reading. I guess this is what happens when you don't let your child watch television. This is hardly a noble effort on our part, but more to do with the fact that there is nothing to watch on Romanian TV. And since I don't enjoy children's videos, I don't buy them.

So Bee is deprived and has to read herself storybooks for entertainment. The amazing thing is--she really likes it. She looks at the pictures and "talks" through the story. She can keep her self busy reading for the better part of an hour.

This morning though, I was feeling so refreshed from sleeping and was happy she was awake, I went to her room, plopped down on the couch (more like sank heavily given the current state of affairs) and said "Good Morning Bee; can I read with you?"

The thundering answer was, "NO! I want to be alone!"

I don't know how I am going to survive the teenage years. A year ago, I think I would have turned cartwheels and rejoiced at any sign of potential independence, but instead, I have slunk back to the living room, where I am trying to console myself with juice, pumpkin bread and magazines. Fortunately, Bee's state of independence doesn't usually last more than 15 minutes or so, and I can go back to being her beloved Mommy.

Evening

I was trudging up the stairs from the metro tonight and found my dear husband and his faithful dog at the top step waiting for me. He was home early for once, and it was well deserved, since he was at work until 11 pm last night and then had to leave the house again at 5 am in order to bring a vip visitor to the airport.

Last night, Bee and I muddled along by ourselves, doing our best to have fun during "girl's night." We went to the bookstore and visited the new kitten that lives there among the books. I tried to liven up a hodgepodge of leftovers (vegetable soup, cauliflower casserole and peanut butter and jelly) with a cranberry sparkle. The pb&j was a hit with Bee, as was the cranberry sparkle (cranberry juice and club soda). The rest of dinner, not so much. I was asleep before 10 pm.

So coming home tonight to my husband was a real treat. He then proceeded to make us pizza for dinner (from scratch) which completely wins my heart every time. Bee and I ate in our pajamas. Now that she is asleep I am mulling over my evening reading choices and ice cream toppings. Life outside of these four apartment walls is hectic and stressful, but with my family inside, home is a refuge.