The Autism Mountain

Yesterday we spent home...just home. We did a bit of cleaning, did a bit of cooking, did lots of playing, and we watched some home movies. That is always so much fun, looking back and seeing how life was and how much has changed. I especially love seeing my babies, how little they were, how far they have come. When I watch those movies, something else arises in my soul. The knowledge of autism and how it has consumed my family. The videos don't lie. You can see the young, fresh faces of involved and free parents on those videos, just five years ago. Today, our tired and stresed faces, filled with lines of worry and fear, have stripped us of that freedom of the young, fresh parents we were. There is more anger hiding behind our words, more discomfort and sadness blurring our every day motions. And there is a 14 year old child, our son, who used to be free to be a kid, who laughed and danced and smiled...and though he still does these things, still has his happy moments, he is not the free kid he once was. I

know, I know, all children grow up and adolescence consumes them. All children change. But what changes I see when I watch the movies are changes that do not bring me peace. Autism has stripped my son of his freedom, kidnapped him from the happiness I once saw glowing on his face, whenever I looked at him. Though his eyes still twinkle with delight, the delight is short-lived. He has more worries and more fears and more adjustments to make than any child should have to have. And whatever I do to try to protect him, to help him to be happy, I can't take away that aspect of his life. 5 years ago, my son was just a little kid with little kid worries. Today he is a teenager with a teenage body and raging hormones, with a mental state of that kid all those years ago. And he can't work out how to fit the two together. he wants to fit in. He wants to be unique, but not unique becasue of his autism. He wants to be free of anger and pain and worry, but autism has stolen that from him. he will never again be free to just be.

And I also saw my little guy on those videos. He was so smiley, so loveable, so utterly happy. There wasn't a moment that he wasn't being just cute as can be, and laughing and making us laugh with him. He had a loving and sweet big brother who cared for him. And when I look at my now seven-year-old son, I know that he too has been stripped of childhood innocence due to autism. He is not able to run around happy and worry-free, because autism has consumed our home and our lives, and he is unable to escape it's presence for even a moment. And his behaviors today show how it affects him. He is stubborn and head-strong, manipulating and rude. The happy go lucky kid that once was is no longer. I know his sweetness hides within him. I see traces of it every day. I see him smile and laugh and do what little boys are supposed to do. But I also see the worry...how he has learned to escape to another room when a tantrum is oncoming. How he, when he is in a mood, knows just which buttons to push to cause one of those tantrums. How he turns to video games to relieve his stress. How he is another child completelty when I have him alone compared to when Kaeden is home too.

Erwin and I keep trying to reach the top of the mountain. We keep pushing each other when we feel we can't take another step. We are supportive of one another, but sometimes having to push someone else when you can barely breathe yourself starts taking it's toll. We try to shelter our little guy from autism, try to make his world seem relatively normal in the face of a storm, try to compensate for what we know he has had to give up. We try to give Kaeden patience and consistency, to help him with the issues confusing his life. We try to be present and do what we feel is necessary in being good parents. But the video doesn't lie. It is cute and happy and peaceful. It is filled with love and family and closeness. And all of that in our real life today just isn't present.

I can't blame it all on autism, because many factors are present in what has become our life. And it's not an unhappy, sad, dreary place either, our home and family today. It is, however, stripped of that piece of joy we once knew. And that does come from autism. Our young faces have aged, our hair has greyed, our shoulders have filled with worry, our hearts have been beaten. We keep doing our best, but our best keeps sliding further and further behind. I so want to reach the top of that mountain. I so want to look behind me and cheer at the top, knowing we have made it, we've come through unscathed, we've been strong. But we haven't yet reached the top. And even though it looks so close, it's evident we're still a long ways from the top. Our son is just now 14. We've got a lot of years ahead of us. Once we reach that peak there's always another in the distance glaring at us from beyond. Some days, watching old home movies makes the mountain seem even steeper. And the tears that fall down my cheeks are not tears of happiness.

The Big Picture

Questions run through my mind. I can't find peace from within. There's something sitting here weighing on my mind. I can't figure out what it is. I'm feeling as if life is passing me by and I don't even know what day it is. Where do the days go? I can't believe it's already Friday and another weekend is upon us. Just yesterday I went and helped at Jari's school and it felt as if I'd been there just the day before. My days are all running together and the only thing unusual I have done is bake a batch of cookies. I've been looking at my plants for a week, knowing they need water...but they are still thirsty. Every day I go out and feed my guinea pigs and know it's time to clean their cage, but I haven't done it yet. There is a box sitting on the floor filled with the last remains of Christmas that needs carried upstairs and put away. But it's still sitting there waiting. My windows are grimy and need a good washing, and every day as I look through them I know it needs to be done, something I even enjoy, the only cleaning activity I truly don't mind. Yet they are still grimy. There's a desk sitting on the landing upstairs which needs unscrewed and pulled apart and moved to the attic. It's been there for two weeks and still, it takes up all the space the kids have to play. Nothing that needs done is getting done. All the simple needs sit waiting, just as I do, waiting for the drive to do it. Waiting for this feeling to leave my body so that I can find the energy to complete what needs to be done.

I can't get comfortable. I feel lazy and strung out all in the same breath. I don't like feeling so worthless. I don't like looking in the mirror and finding HER staring back at me. I haven't been taking care of myself. I do what needs to be done for survival, but that's the extent of my activity. I feel overloaded, but there's no reason I should. I haven't been doing anything strenuous in the least. And yet I feel as if there's no energy left.

I don't care what it takes, today I will complete those little extra tasks that have been waiting in the crooks and corners for some attention. I think that if I just start taking care of what needs to be done, I'll be able to step back and feel a bit of pride. Feel as if I have accomplished soemthing. Let that lonely, disgusted feeling leave me, give me a new outlook on what I can achieve. I need to take care of those little things in order to care for this big thing...this thing that's suffocating me, shredding my spirit, and pulling apart the layers. One thing at a time. And after that's all done, I can sit back, relaxed, and look at the big picture.

Who Are You

I pretend to be reading, but my focus is not on the words decorating the page. I have reread the same passage 5 times, never truly taking in what the words mean. My mind is elsewhere as I glance at the words blurring on the page as my eyes focus on your face. Who are you? You sit with your glasses covering your eyes, the remote in your hand as a movie plays on tv. I have no idea what the movie is about, I hear the words but cannot take in their meaning. Words have no direction now. Only this question burning in my mind takes on any real meaning for me. Who are you?

I look at each feature on your face, from the curls covering the wrinkles on your forehead to the eyebrows and lashes that decorate the green of your eyes. The room is a bit dark to see into your soul and I return to just looking at you, wondering what it is about you that helped me learn to love you; to love you still. I pull my feet up into the chair, turning again to my book, but my heart only searching for answers. Who are you?

Sometimes when I glance across the room at you, I haven't a clue who you are. As long as we have been together, sometimes I feel as if I know only your face as a stranger would passing you in a grocery store aisle. Yet I continue to stare, can't take my eyes off of you, wondering what shadows I can find hidden behind the stone hard surface of your face. We haven't spoken, each of us rearranging our bodies into comfort, you on your chair, me on mine. There is a tension between us, not uncomfortable, just there, hiding in the darkness of the room.

As I turn again back to my book, becoming momentarily distracted by the tv, I see you glance my way. You know I was watching you, and it has brought you to your own question of who is she? What is she thinking? Yet neither of us dares to ask the question. We both return to our activities, me trying to concentrate on the last pages of my book, you on the movie that has returned after a commercial break.

There is so much distance between us, in this space of 3 feet. I could reach out and touch you physically, but emotionally we are worlds apart. I want to draw you in closer, but I don't know how. Who are you?

I finally laugh at something that comes on tv. It isn't something funny, yet in this moment it hits me as funny, considering the thoughts I am having, and I need a distraction, to undo this distance, something, anything to pull you closer to me. I laugh. You look at me, a glint of a smile on your face, but I can tell it's a questionable smile as you wonder again, who is she. You shake your head as you begin to explain to me the joke in this advertisment. I don't care about that. Who is she? Who is he? Who are you? Our minds, our bodies, our worlds are disconnected. We live in this home, sit in this room, yet between the space is a glass wall we can't seem to reach through.

We have learned to become comfortable with this glass wall. We have learned to allow ourselves the distance. But I wonder if you want it to shatter as much as I do. I wish I could reach out and touch the wall, break it down, see through the darkness into your soul, laugh because I am happy, and not because I need a distraction, any reaction. I want to turn to you, reach for your hand, let the remote fall to the floor and shatter into a thousnad pieces, breaking the distance that cowers between us. But I don't. I can't. I don't know how. I don't know how you will react. This distance has become comfortable, but I am long tired of comfort. I want passion. I want our spirits to reach for each other and latch on and run through the grass with bare feet and the sun shining down making our faces glow. I want to quit wondering: Who are you?

Hello From Jari

I thought it was fun at Kaeden's birthday party. The Haunted House rollercoaster was the best. And the second best was the bumper cars. I also liked when we threw snowballs and made a snowman. That was fun. Now my snowman fell down dead. Why are you writing that in English? I am telling you in Dutch. I don't see gevallen. Where is that in English?

I made a picture for Kaeden's birthday and the cake was very yummy. The cake I ate yesterday.

I am reading in school and I am doing math. I made things about Jesus today in school. I made sheep and an ox and Jesus. I colored them and then I cut them out and I got sticks from my teacher. And then I taped them on the sticks and they are puppets.

from jari

Kaeden is 14.

From This......

To This.

And it only took 14 years to get here. Happy Birthday my Riley Boy. I don't know how it happened, but I love you even more today than all those years ago when we first met.

A New Year. It Is Time.

My Christmas tree is still standing in the corner where we first placed it before the holiday gedoe. It has brought me many moments of peace and enchantment, lighting our home with twinkles for the past 3 weeks. But, it is time. It's a new year. Time for a new look on life. Time to remove these last remains of a year in the past, a year in the book of life.

January 6th has past. The three kings have reached their destination of the stables in Bethlehem. The tree is all that remains of the holiday season. Needles are littering my floor, the last of the stocking stuffers collecting dust under the branches. A few forgotten gifts hide under the tree skirt and a few ornaments have made their way into the pile as well. It's time to pack up the memories and savor them for the 2009 season. Tuck each ornament away remembering when it was received and by whom. Fold up the stockings making sure there is no peanut residue as there was one year inviting a mouse and a hole in the stocking. All the Santa candles wrapped up in paper to be opened like a new gift come the holidays 'next' year. And the nativity carefully placed in the plastic bag while each figurine, hand-painted by opa, is secured in paper and placed in the same box we've stored them in since our arrival in Belgium.

But I despise the lights. Putting them on, taking them off, getting them all to work, untangling them, rolling them up so they won't be tangled next year...but always somehow are. The lights are a pain, and they have become my responsibility. Erwin gives me credit, saying I do it much better than him. It's his way of placating me, giving me credit so he doesn't have to partake in the worst job of the holidays. And for some reason it works. The lights are my job. And even though I hate it, in the back of my mind I think: I'm best at this, that's why I GET to do it!

So, our up and coming job for the weekend is to remove our tree, unclutter our home, and make way for 2009. When the main tree is removed, there will be a floor full of needles to sweep up, which ultimately end up throughout the entire house, slowly cleaned up throughout the year as they become embedded in tiny corners, on the stair mats, and under the radiators. The tree doesn't really like to leave, but rather leave a lasting impact.

So, goodbye 2008...hello 2009. A New Year. It Is Time.

Trials

This morning started out with tears. And screaming. And a heaviness in my heart that just doesn't want to go away. Sometimes I feel so optimally defeated. Like, why am I here, how did I get chosen for this life, where is the strength to keep on trucking on. And where has my patience and understanding and love disappeared to?

Kaeden has been going through another of his stealing phases. These phases come and go in our book of life, and it really is quite trying. I begin to question my own sanity as I search for money I thought I had, but which seems to disappear into thin air. I never want to accuse my son of being the culprit, but deep in my heart I know it is him that has stolen from me, and it hurts. It isn't just the money, or the food, or the whatever else he somehow thinks is his. But he also steals my sanity in those moments. And my faith and pride in him. He steals from me something much deeper than just the material possessions. And quite frankly, I am getting tired of this 'game'.

I want to be able to hold my son, stroke his hair, give him my love, without this blinding anger tugging at my heart, filling me with regret rather than letting the love flow fromme through to him. This morning, I said words which I would rather not have said. And I didn't even care that it may have hurt him, that it isn't the behavior a mother should demonstrate to her child. I didn't care, because I feel defeated and all used up, as if there is no turn I can take in which will solve this lack of trust, which can make me feel pride in my son, which will release me of these niggling dislikes that encompass me as I encompass him.

I told Kaeden today that I am one of the last people that keeps fighting for him, for his rights, for his needs, for his perspective on life. I am the one that keeps on giving and and never stops loving and never stops having hope...for him now and for his future. And yet, I am the one that keeps getting hurt, keeps being disappointed, keeps having to fall and pull myself up again. And it's getting scarier as he gets older, gets stronger, and uses his strength to hurt me even physically. As if the emotional abuse wasn't enough. As if he is punishing me for being his mom, for not being able to make everything in his world right, for having to take the time to pick myself up off the floor time and time again.

I don't try to pretend I can understand how difficult life must be for him, wandering through trying to fit in, trying to be someone you are not, trying to accept that this is the way the world is and like it or not you must exist here. I know it is hard. I live with this child, and I see his trials on a daily basis. I try to be patient and loving, be his strength to fall back on in times of need. But I am faltering. I am getting tired. I am lsoing my strength as he sucks it out of me time and time again. And with this loss of strength is also a loss of hope and commitment. Sometimes I just want to quit fighting...quit fighting for him and his needs and his rights, and just let him for once see that mommy is not able to pick up all the pieces and complete the puzzle. To allow myself some peace instead of always feeling so worried and scared and angry. I just want to escape from him and his autism and all the issues that it brings. I want to be free to love him and give him all he needs without knowing that in return I will get another good ole stomping. But I also knwo that I can't...he can't...and I'm not really sure that I feel fit enough to hold on for this long ride. Today, I just feel as if I wanna climb off the ride and quit feeling so utterly dizzy. It isn't that feeling of euphoria and that rush of adrenaline that makes you feel alive. Instead, it's as if I am dying a slow death that sees no end.

I am tired. And that makes me sad, because when I placed my feet in my mommy boots way back when, it was with the promise that I would do whatever I needed to do to provide my child with the life he deserves. That I would love him unconditionally and forever, and that I would be proud of him and me and all the accomplishments we shared along the way. Right now, I am not proud of either of us. I don't feel as if I can love unconditioanlly. My heart has hardened, and love seems a bit too overdone. I don't even have the desire to give any more, to provide him with a good life, when all he does is turn it around and abuse my gift. When is enough is enough? When do you just throw up your hands and decide something is a lost cause? When do you finally know that you cannot mold someone to be his best, and that he may never choose to do it on his own? When does feeling defeated truly become being defeated?

I feel defeated. And I am scared that my feeling is coming slowly to a reality. My heart is slowing its beat. My mind is ready to explode. And my body is frail and in pain. Defeat is just aroudn the corner.

BBBRrrrrrrrRRRR!

It is cold! Very cold, and snowy. A little winter wonderland complete with fluffy layers of crisp, white snow. Absolutely beautiful as I look out my back window, watching it cover the plants and ground completely in a thick blanket of cushiony softness. Not just a dusting, but a complete snowy world, probably 5 inches deep. Since I have lived in Europe, I have missed the snow. It used to be that by the end of winter I was so sick of seeing snow and being cold, of the dangerous driving and wet floors from pulling off snow-covered boots, from trying to find lost mittens and collecting scarves and hats where I went. But it is something I have missed, having just little dustings that bring gray skies and filthy mud-covered streets, perils for cars and children walking to school, but without that added fun of a true snowstorm. A covering of snow where you can't wait to don hats, scarves, mittens and boots and jump into piles of snow, make a snow angel or have a snowball fight. Where you know your face will turn pink with cold, you'll be complaining of frozen toes, but it's all okay cuz you also know that once you've had your snowy fun you'll head back into the house for a hot chocolate with melty-marshmallows and warm up under a blanket on the couch watching a film and feeling all cozy from the cold, crisp air mixed with the comfort of the inside heating and steam rising from your mug. Mmmmm, winter perfection, that cozy feeling.

The boys and I woke to this winter wonderland, and while Kaeden leaped outside to create snowballs to throw at mama, Jari was more hesitant to partake in the goodness of this white world. "My shoes will be all wet. The snow comes over my shoes. It is cold. I don't like the snow." All the while walking on tiptoes through our footprints in the snow trying not to get covered. However, by lunchtime, his tune had changed, and when walking home for lunch I asked if he'd like to help mama make a snowman, he was more than a little enthusiastic. We got right down to business, making our snowballs for his body and head, then added a carrot nose and leaf eyes and a tomato mouth. And while putting on the finishing touches, my tentative son began giggling as he threw snowballs at mama. We laughed and played and chased each other around the yard in it's winter glory, fully enjoying this cold and snowy experience, one which Jari has never known to exist. It was like stepping abck in time to my own childhood, hours of outdoor snow fun, making igloos, playing Fox and Geese, skiing and ice skating. It was wonder, and I saw that on my son's face as well. My only regret was that Kaeden wasn't here to share in our fun, as snow is a favorite of his, and by the time he arrived home from school it was already dark and we couldn't enjoy it fully.

Jari and I went into the house, pulled off our wet shoes (HE refuses boots), left a trail of mittens, hats and scarves as we entered the warmth of our home. "You want a hot chocolate with melty-marshmallows to warm up?" I asked my little guy. "YUM! Melty-marshmallows...mmmmmmm" he replied licking his lips with a smile on his face. And we sat chatting to Papa about our adventures drinking our cup of cozy, our cheeks still cold from the winter, but our hearts warm with the thrill of a day of snow and fun.

Happy 2009!

HAPPY 2009!!!! MAY IT BE A YEAR FULL OF SUCCESS, HAPPINESS, AND HEALTH!

20 Autism Observations

Kaeden has been home from school for 10 days now and we have 7 to go. He got an extra-long vacation with parent teacher conferences falling on the last two school days before Christmas vacation. As much as I enjoy having him home, it's very tiring having him here THIS much. He isn't the easiest of kids.

Here are just a few observations I have made concerning him in the past week:

1) When there is no school, Kaeden is up bright and early in the morning. Instead of understanding the concept of sleeping in during break, he springs out of bed before the first light. And on school days it's the msot difficult part of the day to get him out of bed and ready.

2) Kaeden can not find anything for himself to do, unless it involves a huge mess. In general, if I do not 'play' with him, he doesn't do anything other than watch tv or play a computer game. He has a difficult time figuring out what to do, and even after suggestions he won't do it alone.

3) Kaeden is the absolute most messy person I have ever come across. If he pours himself a drink it takes 3 glasses, 5 spoons, a blender, and a couple bowls...plus drips across the floor and counters covered in spills. When he gets dressed he has 5 shirts, 3 pants, etc...and his dirties are left scattered where he walks as he goes.

4) Kaeden's clothing choices leave something to be desired. He can't figure out what clothes to wear regarding the temperature. Most of his short-sleeved shirts are gone for winter, but the few there he will be sure to find.

5) Blankets. I can't tell you how many blankets I pick up in a days time. I know this relates to his need for pressure and weight to ease his discomfort, but still.

6) The tv must be on extra-loud. I remember back to when he was 2 and I had his hearing tested. One of my first worries with him, and one of my first clues into autism, though that came years later. Certain sounds he can't handle even slightly, but if the tv isn't blaring, it's as if it's not on.

7) Kaeden can't get through an hour without teasing. He does this just to get a reaction. He knows which buttons to push, and does his best to accomplish it.

8) Kaeden's voice mimics the tv. It is LOUD. And the more excited he is, he louder his voice becomes. He can't regulate his voice.

9) Kaeden's eating habits are atrocious. He hums with each bite he takes, and shovels in his food as fast as he can. He grabs at food to get the last morsel, even if there is only a little of something left. He eats enough food for 10 people, and prefers his fingers to silverware. Also, wherever he eats looks as if a baby were sitting there as it's the messiest place at the kitchen table.

10) Kaeden cries at the drop of a hat, he gets angry at the drop of a aht, and he laughs at the drop of a hat. His emotions are so sudden that you never know what to expect in any given moment.

11) Kaeden is very egotistical. As much as I call him the most giving person in the world, which he is, he also cares nothing about others if it will benefit him. He believes that the world is meant to circle around his wants and wishes, and he does whatever it takes to make that happen.

12) Kaeden's conversation skills are getting harder to decipher as he gets older. He speaks through you, not listening to what you are saying and continues to speak one-sided until every thought of his is used up. You cannot reason with him at all.

13) Kaeden loves music. It doesn't much matter what kind of music: radio, MTV, cd-player...he sincerely enjoys it. And he likes it loud.

14) Kaeden's entire existence revolves around the cost of things. He places a monetary value on everything. Opening Christmas gifts he chose for us, he relayed the cost of each gift. He tries to decipher what is a good deal, but he doesn't understand the concept of cost verus value.

15) Kaeden loves hugs. And often these hugs are a jump into mama's arms kind of hug, though he is now nearly a man. Hanging on mama is a favorite pasttime. I continually remind him that I love hugs, but he's getting too big to hang on me...it hurts. He doesn't quite grasp hurting.

16) Kaeden can take a lot of pain without being bothered. If he has something seriously wrong, I often don't know it for quite some time as he can manage pain well. On the other hand, if he has a little teeny tiny owwie, it's as if death is standing at our door. A scratch can send him over the edge, and nothing but 20 bandaids can put his discomfort at ease.

17) Kaeden's eyes are easy to read. When I look at him, I can see right into his feelings. His eyes tell a story, and though I don't often know what to do about how he is feeling, I can often tell in the clarity of his eyes.

18) Kaeden cannot get into the car without there being some issue. Whether it is to go soemplace he wants to go (has even asked to go), or someplace we need to go, the car is sure to bring on some kind of intrusion in his life...and he reacts to this, by either bringing along blankets and a sack of his treasures, putting up a fight, or teasing.

19) Kaeden cannot fall asleep. Whether I put him to bed at 8 or 10, he is always up a minimum of 2 hours before sleep overcomes him. He doesn't fall asleep easily.

20) Kaeden is autistic. He was diagnosed with autism at age 8. At age nearly 14 (oh my GAWD!) he hasn't progressed all that much. He still seems like a little kid in so many ways. He is physically growing into a man, but mentally he remains a child. Sometimes I just wish he would grow up and act his age. Other times I am happy he is able to enjoy the freesom of childhood a bit longer. But it scares me, because what do our futures look like if he doesn't progress.

These are a few observations I have made being with him 24/7 for the past week. They are things that I have lived with and known as a part of my life, but explode when you're forced to encompass them day in and day out. Autism is hard. I'm not saying that to be negative. It is really, really tough being a parent of an autistic child. You try to do your best, but it never really seems as if it is the best. It is living in a constant state of stress and there comes no relaxation, until it's at the point of complete shutdown. I love my son more than the moon and sun and all the stars in the sky. And I am glad he is in my life, and I ahve learned a heap about life because of him. But autism isn't easy...on him or on me or my family. These are 20 of the 200 observations i have made. Just give autism a thought...what is it like for that child or his family? And save your judgements for people who really aren't livng day in day out with these stressors already pressingon their lives.

Letter to Santa

Jari is writing his letter to Santa. He always leaves his note with his cookies and milk on the table before heading to bed on Christmas Eve. Only, he believes Santa prefers Coca-Cola, so usually Santa gets Coke at our house. Anyway, his Christmas letter is private, I am not allowed to read it. But he asked me how to spell reindeer, so it must say something about reindeer. But then he got his markers and started drawing. I'm going to make a candy cane and lights and Santa's hat and a wreath and presents. He drew all these things happily telling me all the reasons they are on his picture. And then he says: I am going to draw Jesus and the nativity on my picture. Santa will like that, because Jesus is the reason we have Christmas. Santa just brings us presents but Jesus gave us the moon and the stars.

And then I felt like a good mom, that my son knows the true meaning of Christmas. The end.

****I sneaked a peek at his letter to Santa:

Santa, I want you to bring me a bell from one of your reindeer. Love Jari 2008

****And yet another reason for me to feel like a good mom. My son has the Christmas magic in his heart. And yes, I still hear the bell ring. I believe in the magic of Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

It is ever so late on Christmas eve. Christmas morning, really, as I glance at the clock hanging above our door. The tree is aglow with twinkling lights that shine into my eyes and make the tears fall a bit more sparkly down my cheek. These are tears of wonder.


Santa has already arrived, somehow passing me magically in the night. Under the tree are packages wrapped up in red and silver and green, joys for little boys come the first light of the morning. The stockings hanging on the wood stove are filled just to above the rim with candy and little treats, sure to bring about oohs and aahs of excitement. The stockings are always my favorite surprise, and I love digging clear to the bottom to retrieve the nuts, apple, and orange I know will be hiding there.


Music filled with Christmas words are giving me my own private concert and I listen to the song about the birth of baby Jesus, our Lord and Savior. I wander over to my nativity and gently touch baby Jesus there in the manger. I say a silent prayer of Thanks for this life I have been afforded. For my husband, and my children who never fail to be the stables in my life, for the family and friends that show me love and care throughout the years, and for a warm home, good food, and just this feeling of wonder that pulses through my body as I stand in this, my very own living room, so peaceful and cozy and yes, all mine. This is my life, and I am thankful.


As I turn out the lights I carefully step over Santa's footsteps...dirty ho-ho-ho footprints which make their way from our hearth to the tree and amaze my little ones year after year. It is the little things, the simplicity, which brings the most surprise. I leave teh Christmas lights on as I close the door behind me, knowing sleep will be short, but filled with pleasant thoughts of this beautiful holiday.


I can't wait for excited shouts of HE CAME, HE CAME. I can't wait for the twinkle I know I will find as I search the beauty of my children's faces. I can't wait to give my husband a Christmas morning kiss, filled with all the thanks I never find the words to say on a daily basis. I can't wait to be handed a package with my name on it, written in shaky handprint from a soul so old, yet ever so magical as the dawning of his birth. I can't wait to hear the church bells sound, inviting us all to remember the reason for this day, even as we rip at the beautiful paper and find the floor again. I can't wait, I'm just as jittery as I was when I was a five-year-old girl, filled with the same awe and wonder and surprise and excitement. Now, I hold it a bit closer to my heart, and it is awakened in the form of thankful tears in place of the shouts and laughter. Tomorrow, at the first light, my laughter will be achieved.


I walk up the staircase, knowing my children are sleeping soundly and safely in their beds. I climb in bed next to my husband, where he has turned on my warming blanket to welcome me. It feels so comfy and I pull the covers over me and snuggle next to him. His arm automatically pulls me towards his chest, even as his breathing is deep and sound. I close my eyes and let the magic of Christmas ensconce me in a dream. A dream which is my reality. The reality of my life.


Merry Christmas From Our Family to Yours. May you believe in the magic of Christmas!!!

Everything Christmas

Yeah, I'm finally truly getting into the Christmas spirit. Last night our choir put on our Christmas concert and party and when I went back to help clean up after getting the boys to bed everyone was drunkenly dancing through the streets, singing silly songs, and you couldn't help but get drawn into their antics. Oma and opa stopped by in the afternoon to see our tree, which really is pretty. I was busy getting ready for the concert and didn't really have a chance to visit with them. I felt a bit distant and later realized maybe I seemed a bit rude to them. I hope not. I hope they realized I was just having a busy day.

I called and talked to my mom for a few minutes and could hear her excitement about their upcoming Christmas celebration. My entire immediate family will be sharing Christmas in a rented cabin in the mountains. It sounds like so much fun. Helaas, I won't be able to share in the fun this time around.

Next, I talked to my brother. I haven't spoken to him since I have been back from summer vacation. It was nice to catch up and feel connected again. His family is living in a camper and when I called they were at my sister-in-laws parents house showering. Seems their water has been frozen for a month and showers are comign few and far between. They were getting ready to go out Christmas shopping. Sounds like the wish lists of my niece and nephew are bigger than those of my own little friends. Snowmobiles. Nothing else shall do.

I was busy on the phone this weekend, as I also talked to my gramma. They are planning a quiet Christmas celebration with lots of snow to keep them indoors. Sounds as if my grampa may be having a harder time with his memory. He looks at the Christmas cards they have received and each time its all new to him once again. As sad as it is, it also has a certain charm. Think of how surprising life would remain if you didn't have your memory, other than that of the past. All the wonderful memories to retain, yet everythign staying new and exciting.

Today, the boys and I sat down with Lego and built some Christmas goodies. But, as it turns out, I was the only one to actually complete something Christmas themed. Jari made a castle (what a surprise) and insisted that castles have everything to do with Christmas. He set it up under the tree. Kaeden made an airplane which he flew through the house trying to attack Jari's castle as Jari explained to him that there were no helicopters in castle days so it didn't count. My Santa is quite charming.

We also got busy with flour, rolling pins, and cookie cutters to begin our Christmas cookie marathon. It's an activity I really enjoy doing with the boys, and they were more than happy to oblige. We haven't started decorating yet, but they taste yummy (except for the rock-hard, burnt first batch I left in too long), and will make Santa very happy come Christmas eve. I was very busy rolling out dough as they can shape them much faster than I can roll it out. I think I got to make one cookie, but will probably get stuck with decorating the majority. Though it's exciting, the thrill wears off quickly.

With the Christmas music playing in the background, the lights twinkling through the house, adn the smell of gingerbread wafting through the air, as well as a stack of cards from family and friends in my mailbox, who couldn't be looking forward to this special day? I, for one, am.

Christmas Delicacy

I think I am going to be sick. Saw this in the news today and couldn't believe it. People in Peru are eating guinea pigs for their Christmas dinner, as it is a cheaper alternative to turkey or pork. I can't believe the newspaper includes a video and a recipe. In some lands this may be acceptable, but here in Europe, where my little PET piggies sit in my yard eating the best of veggies I can give them, I feel shocked. This is not news. It is animal cruelty. It is horrible how they dress the guinea pigs in Christmas outfits before killing them. Those poor little animals. I just feel sick.
http://www.telegraaf.nl/buitenland/2827007/__Cavia_als_kerstmaal__.html?p=16,3

**** Okay, I'm going to add another installment to this post. I am feeling even stronger about my point after thinking about it all evening. I am not so upset over another culture eating guinea pigs. What bothers me is that it is being posted in a Dutch newspaper, with video footage AND a recipe for fried guinea pigs. In our culture, guinea pigs are pets. They are NOT a food source. I researched the history of eating guinea pigs in Inca culture, and it still exists in cultures today. So, yeah, it's the same as eating pigs or cows or, god forbid, horses. If they choose to eat guinea pigs in Peru, so be it. But, I am adamantly convinced, that in our culture today, where I am at this moment in time, this was an unneccesary article to publish. Maybe if there was an artticle published over Christmas cultural differences, it could have been included. But to write an article soley about eating guinea pigs and then include a recipe seems to me a shout out asking people to try guinea pigs. That to me feels wrong. If I want to learn about other cultures and their food I can go in search of that information. I don't need to find a recipe for frying up my beloved pets on the front page of the newspaper. I'm done venting. Good thing I don't have a farm filled with horses, pigs, cows and chickens, huh? And I managed to eat a vegetarian dinner tonight as well. Maybe tomorrow I'll fly off to Peru so I can try fried guinea pig without remorse. But here in Belgium I won't be eating that cute little critter dressed up in his Santa suit waiting to be slaughtered. C'mon, they dressed him in a Santa suit before killing him. That's okay? Culture, say what you will, but sometimes I am shocked.

Pisa

I just talked to oma on the phone. She asked if our tree was a bit like the leaning tower of Pisa. That is the perfect statement for our Christmas friend. From this day forth, until January 6, we shall call her Pisa. And hope that she stays standing as long as her namesake has ;-)

Dutch

Tonight is our women's club Christmas party. I am looking forward to going and seeing the play that is being put on, to helping decorate the hall to look Christmassy and pretty, to sitting among women I am slowly coming to know. But, there is one aspect that has me shaking a bit in my boots. I have to speak. I have to read a story to 75 Vlaams-speaking women with a Beek dialect. I have to do this in Dutch. And though my Dutch continues to improve, though I USED to speak in front of groups of people daily as a teacher, though I have read and re-read the story, I am still a bit uncomfortable about it. Yet, it's a big challenge, and I feel good to be pushing myself to accomplish this. I think that once it is over, and the fear has subsided, I will be proud of myself for being successful in one more thing in life that scares me.

Since moving to Europe, I have lost a little piece of the woman I used to be. I have always been a bit shy and never someone flambuoyant, but I was also outgoing and secure when I spoke, even if in groups I got a case of the jitters. Here, the language issue most certainly detraccts those qualities from me. I now seem, even to myself, as a mussy, quiet schoolgirl hiding behind her sleeve, looking out and wanting to be part of the action, yet afraid to allow myself that luxury. And it is a luxury, being able to use your voice and words to portray a meaning, share a joke, understand, and be able to speak impulsively, say exactly what is on your mind. Though I speak Dutch regularly, and at a fairly high level for an expat, I'm still very insecure about using my words. Sometimes people don't understand me due to my accent. Some people are fearful that they won't understand, so they just don't listen and instead assume they can't understand me. Sometimes, I speak a bit too quietly due to my insecurity, which makes it even more difficult for people to understand, and sometimes I just get the sentence structure completely wrong, or throw in English words without thinking, or can't find the word I am looking for in my bag of brains sitting in my head. It isn't easy to speak another language.

But tonight, I am going to conquer my fear. I am going to stand up on stage, with a stage light on my face, and read a Christmas story about a kleine, grijze spin (a little, grey spider) to a group of women. Women who speak Dutch. Women who are after all, just women. And women who, hopefully, will be able to understand as I speak loudly and clearly into the microphone, who won't be fearful of my accent and miss the meaning the story portrays. Who won't be speaking among themselves and not listening as to distract me in my search for getting it right. And I will have my moment of fame. Because, in the end, once the spotlight has dimmed and I exit the stage, I will have accomplished yet another goal in this book of my life.

I'm looking forward to the party tonight.

Our Weekend Recap

Wow, what a weekend we had. It was busy, busy, busy, but oh so nice. Nothing relaxing about it, but how much fun we managed to accomplish. One of those feel-good weekends with family and friends and something that makes you stand a little taller and say: Hey, THIS is what being a family is all about.

Friday Erwin came home from work early so I could off and skiddaddle with my friends. 4 ladies out on the town, friendships created from the common bond of needing English companionship, but hardened into true friendships. We took one of our girlfriends out for dinner for her birthday, and we ended up at a Greek place. YUM! It was heavenly, sitting in this newly remodeled, cozy restaurnat with these women I have come to love. The talk went from men to children to vacation plans to sex to depression to men to weather to money to sex and back again. We had many laughs and the atmosphere was what we here in BE/NL call gezellig. It's a kind of coziness, happiness, and complete feeling described in one word. We had planned to attend a mini- Christmas market after, but it was ice cold and with our chatter got to be a bit late, so we forewent the market and headed to watch some tv at AJ's house. We ended the evening fairly early due to our old-age tiredness, but it was really nice to get together and share hte spirit of friendship.

Saturday we all stumbled out of bed into the bitter cold of the day...with brilliant blue skies and sunshine, but still freezing. We layered ourselves in extra pants, shirts, hats, mittens, scarves as we headed off to Efteling for a day of fun. Tante Ilse Piet brought us tickets for Sinterklaas to this wonderful family amusement park, and we met up with oma, opa, Ilse, and Michel in the great hall where we all entered the park together. We immediately saw one of the Efteling characters and stopped to give her a hand before descending further into the park for some fun on the rides, stops for coffee and warming up, and walks through the magic of the Winter Efteling, complete with snow and bon fires and the feel of winter in the air. It was a really nice day, if only a bit too cold....but it definitely put me in that Winter Wonderland spirit, perfect for a start to the Christmas holiday season.

Sunday we awakened late, at which time I made pancakes for a leisurely breakfast before we got ready to go once again. I cancelled my attendance to a Christmas concert at a nursing home so that we could go off and find our perfect Christmas tree, and then decorate our home as a family. My very favorite activity during Christmas is heading off on a search for that perfect tree, and so we bundled up once again and made the trek to the tree stand which has become our steadfast tree haunt for the past years. We sang Christmas carols on the way there, and then the trees were all standing before us, as we excitedly went in search of holiday cheer. I found a beautiful tree, perfectly formed and full, but Jari found one even better, a bit bigger with more space for hanging ornaments. As we put the two side-by-sie to compare, and then walked through the stands again to make sure we had found OUR tree, that one that you grab and just know its THE one, we settled back to where Jari's tree stood. Mine had already been whisked away by another customer, which gave me all that much more faith that this was to be ours. Erwin liked Jari's choice, and when Kaeden gave his thumbs up as he held it proudly for me to examine all its angles, we knew we'd found our little piece of Christmas, and as we paid and loaded it into the car the smell of fresh evergreen was overwhelming and intoxicating. We dropped the tree off at home to come back to later and headed off again, to a little Christmas market I'd read about in the paper. It was situated at a castle, close to our home, with promises of a visit from Santa. We entered the castle grounds where Santa was awaiting us with a basket of goodies to choose from. We walked through the stands of homemade crafts and goods, 80% of which were food related...waffles, fish, soup, cake, hot chocolate, jams, chocolates, gluhwein...listening to the sounds of a band playing Christmas music. The boys got to pick a prize from a bag, and were excited as they opened their first Christmas package of the season.

We returned home to the duty of trying to get our tree to stand up, and managed to sort-of do so. We took an axe and chopped away at it's stem until it fir into our stand. We got it into the house, I got half the lights on before I started dinner, when Jari burst into the room telling us that the tree had fallen down. Erwin tied it with wire to the screw on teh ceiling, but it's still not the most stable tree we've ever had. I won't be surprised if it falls before the holidays are over, but what's new? Seems this is a certainty in our Christmas celebration.

Jari put out the nativity, making sure the donkey stood close to baby Jesus to give him the warmmth of his breath, while Kaeden collected all of his own ornaments from the years past and hung them on the tree. We all worked together to create this amazing feast for our eyes...balls of silver, homemade paper angels, and all the special yearly ornaments we've collected marked with our names and the year we received it. As we herded the boys into bed after a fulfilling, long weekend, I stood and looked at the glorious tree lighting our home and felt so comforted and peaceful. It really was a wonderful weekend.

Need (copied from Chris Cactus)

Okay, I'm feeling a little guilty about my Sinterklaas post below after reading this post by Chris Cactus. It is titled NEED. And I think every one of us should take a minute to read it. Because not only will you have a good holiday message flow through your heart, filled with the spirit of giving, but you'll also have an opportunity to make a donation to a worthy cause. How? All you have to do is leave him a comment on this post. For every comment he gets, he's donating 50 cents to an organisation called Fisher House. And with my few readers I won't make him break the bank by posting this, but help you all get a reality check about the spirit of the holidays. This cactus guy, he may be a little prickly, but he's an awesome writer, a dad that can't be beat, and seems to have his head all on straight when it comes to important issues. And this is one of those issues. Helping those in need. So, even though you don't have to do a single thing other than give 1 minute of your time, you'll still be helping out. How cool is that? So, come on, just click on the link and go leave him a comment. Hurry up, you've only got 24 hours. Cheerio, my friends!
http://www.rudecactus.com/2008/12/need.html

Wat een gezellig avond

Sinterklaas...pakjesavond...5 december 2008

The evening when the family comes together after nearly a month of setting their shoe for the biggest night of the year. The night when Sinterklaas shares his birthday with us by bringing jute bags filled with special presents for all good girls and boys. First, we turn on the stereo filling our home with music, Sinterklaas music to be precise, and we sing at the top of our lungs, into the fireplace and through the windows, trying to make sure Sinterklaas and his pieten know we are ready for his visit. He only comes if you sing for him, and this we do, loudly. There is also much checking out the window to see if we can get a glimpse of him, before he manages to make it to our house. Oh, the anticipation! Candles are lit and the lamps turned low, all the curtains tightly closing up the room, banners with Sinterklaas's face peer down upon us from the rafters. And suddenly, without warning, ginger cookies and little candies are thrown into the room where we sing, raining down upon us to signify that Sinterklaas has heard our song, that he is ready to bring us dreams come true. This is done by the Zwarte Pieten, Sinterklaas's helpers. They manage to wrangle their way into the house and throw us candy and treats without us ever seeing them, as they are very busy delivering goods on pakjesavond (package evening). And as the children crawl all over the room collecting their treats, it suddenly dawns on them that there must be gifts parked outside the door, and they run checking the front. Nope, no presents here. They run to the sliding glass doors on the side of the house, sliding them open, walking out onto the veranda, seeing no bags full of presents, their faces becoming worried as they have searched everywhere, and still not found their stash. But there is one palce left to look, the back door, completely covered by a floor length curtain, and when we glance out beyond we see the pond, but no gifts. It is complete darkness. But then we look again, and suddenly we hear shouts. "He came! He came!! I see presents! Look at how much! I see a present for Tera. Look at that big one" as the door is opened and eyes twinkling, the boys head out to help carry in the goods.

This is the basis of our pakjesavond with Erwin's family. And it truly is magical, something just 8 years ago I couldn't have imagined, and now am myself deeply drawn into the excitement of a month leading up to this moment. The moment of Sinterklaas's arrival. The moment of dreams come true, laughter shared, and eyes twinkling in satisfaction. Perfect boys. Happy boys.

After the gifts are brought in and a bit sorted, we take turns opening them, giving everyone a chance to see what eevryone has received. Some of the gifts have a little poem attached, written about you or soemthign you have done in this past year, and giving a hint as to what gift awaits you inside the colorful paper. This is a task which is difficult for me, but the one I most love during Sinterklaas. Writing up funny poems in Dutch is no easy task, I assure you. But it is a challenge I love to meet, and soemtimes my poems come out truly better thanI expected and sometimes they end up not working at all, but still, these poems are truly from the heart and my favorite of the gifts received on pakjesavond.

My first poem this year came with a book entitled: Feng Sh*t: The Art Of Domestic Disorder. I got a total laugh out of this gift, and it was perfect poem flodder. I'm going to write out the poem in English, so it won't sound as classy and fun as in Dutch, but will give you an idea of what the poem means.
Sweet Tera

Sinterklaas can read a bit of English
There in your house above the laundry room door
But don't worry
How it looks in color and scent

A clean house is a sign of a misspent life
But you have other things on your mind
Once in awhile it seems you're a desperate housewife
With piles of laundry til over your head

Your house is your home for many things
Cooking, games, computer time and kids
Even time for you to go sing
So once in awhile a messy house
Doesn't worry the good Sinterklaas

There are more fun things in life
Than cleaning, ironing and such
For you living means giving
You have that right, if that's what's important to you.

From Sinterklaas

So, I open the book and it discusses all the manners in which you can have a messy house...and lo and behold, 90% of them fit me to a tee. When we got home the next day, at 2 in the morning, Erwin and I sat together, him reading me the book as we both laughed so hard tears fell from our eyes. It truly is a written diary of my life. For instance: CABINETS: Not for storing things, for hiding things. And : PILE AND DUMP: Use piles to collect and store dirty laundry. Studies show that beneath the door of the washing machine, at the foot of your bed, and any spot on the bathroom floor work best.

This is a perfect book for me. Perfect because it exemplifies my cleaning habits without admonishing me, but instead making it a joke. I really enjoyed this gift, and will whenever I pick it up. So, that's how the gifts and the poems work on pakjesavond...and it is that way for everyone...a bit of humor, a bit of love, a bit of family all combined in those little poems and specially chosen gifts. The kids don't normally get a poem, just the gifts they asked for on their verlanglijstje (wish list)....and plenty of others added in for good mix. Erwin signed his poems this year SintERklaas, which I also found really fun. And one of the poems I received for him was really special, and included a great big canvas that now hangs on our wall of the Welcome sign in Las Vegas. It looks really cool.

In the middle of all the opening and reading poems, we stopped for a coffee break, all sitting around the kitchen table having coffee and cake, discussing our lives and being a family. I feel so completely a part of this family, of this life, and I am thrilled that I have been accepted into such a wonderful home, and the hearts of its inhabitants. My spirit in the holidays is always crying out extra loud, and knowing that even with my own family thousands of miles away, I am a part of another family just as special and important makes it much easier and keeps me happy.

At the end of the evening, as we were all wrapping up the loose ends and collecting our new goods into sacks, suddenly oma noticed another gift hanging from the mailbox. Erwin and the boys went to collect it, and on this gift was my name. I was in shock. Usually, the last gift of the evening is the hoofdcadeau, your main present, and I had already received so much. I was already giddy from the glasses of wine that I had drank, and then to get the last gift was such a special surprise. I opened the poem and read about moving and riding with the wind. About a tiny gift that fits in the mailbox, not in a big bag...and when I opened it, there was a little blue bike statue made from metal. That's when I went outside looking for my real surprise...and there it was, under the porch, a new bike, just for me! I was ecstatic. And in shock! Did I mention how very much this family means to me. Thank you Sinterklaas!

We left oma and opa's home after midnight and the boys fell into dreamland immediately on the way home. I'm sure their dreams were happy and complete, as Kaeden received a High School Musical pillow, his favorite gift, while Jari got his Indiana Jones Legos he's been dying to have. It was another wonderful evening, and one that will remain in my heart for years to come. The magic of the holidays...Dutch style.

Here is a little video of the boys waiting for Sinterklaas to arrive and collecting candy when the Pieten threw it into the house...the beginning of our gezellige avond. It's a bit dark, but so was the room, and you can hear their excitement anyway. I'm also including a link to look at some of the pictures during our night. http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=lgyy8pf.8s0rfmcb&x=0&y=-8d1h2d&localeid=en_US&cm_mmc=site_email-_-site_share-_-core-_-view_photos_button

This Is Me.

Today, when I picked Jari up from school, he glanced my way, turned, and then did a double take. As he came towards me with a BIG grin on his face, uncertainty in his eyes, he said "Mama, I didn't even know it was you. You changed your hair." Yes, I dyed my hair today. The greys were peeking through more than to my liking, and I did the necessary deed...and I have never been so dark in all my life. Today, Jari's little friend came to ask him over to play after school. When I opened the door he said "Tera, you look different. You changed your hair." Yes, I dyed my hair today. It's dark, very dark, darker than I have ever had it before. It doesn't look natural to me, being brown instead of a lighter shade nearing blonde. But this is me. Recognize me or not, take me as I am. This is me, whether blonde or brown, happy or sad, laughing or crying. This is me. I am always me on the inside, whatever my outside shows. Whether I am fat or skinny, angry or at peace, I am me. And today, I am a brown me...a dark me...a happy me...but I am still me. Take me as I am.

Spiderman Monopoly

I just spent 2 1/2 hours playing Spiderman Monoploy with my kids. It started out fun, til I started losing. It seems I always lose. Then I don't waana play no more. I feel like throwing the dice across the room. I wanna crinkle up the money. I wanna break pewter Spidey in two. And I wanna tell my kids I am done, done, done as they laugh every time I land on their skyscrapers, every time I get sent (yet again) to jail, every time they pass over my skyscrapered properties, every time I have to pay the hospital bills for Aunt May. Argh! It's one of those love to hate things going on with me. I love playing with my kids, but I hate being a loser. And when it comes to Spidey Monopoly I always am. A loser that is. Plus, 2 1/2 hours...it just ain't so much fun more after a little while of seeing their giggling faces peering back at me as my eyes burn with disgust. I wonder if they know I hate Spiderman Monoploy. I doubt it, cuz I always play when they ask. They probably think Spidey is my FAVORITE game in the world. They probably think I love handling the money all curled from millions of play dates we've shared. They probably think Spidey never makes it back to the game cupboard just so I can play it again and again and again with them, day in and day out. I wonder what'll happen when Spidey suddenly gets hidden, deep in a dark corner of the mittens and scarf cupboard, where my angels NEVER peek. I wonder if they'll be sad for mommy, that she can't play her FAVORITE game with them, yet again and again and again. Spidey makes me crazy. But I just love going crazy. It's a love/hate relationship...just me and Spiderman. And all that money with those Spidey figures. And the dice...double 2's I get 200 euro, double 6's I can win a property...but I never do. I always shake too low and never get what I want. Then I wanna throw the dice. Then I wanna crunch up Spidey's face on those fake Spidey euros. Then I wanna be the bad guy. yeah, Spidey Monoploy turns me into Black Spidey 3. I like Black Spidey. His costume is really cool. Did you know if I throw double 5's I can pick a Black Spidey card? I like getting Double 5's. Oh yeah. That's FUN! Then Spidey is my FAVORITE game. Spiderman Monopoly. It's a love/hate relationship. But mostly, it's just that I love my kids.

Busy? Crazy? Preoccupied? Other?

This morning after my shower I grabbed my toothbrush and got ready to brush my teeth. When I stuck my toothbrush in my mouth, I had a distinct feeling of something is not right here, and then my tastebuds were treated to a chalky, powdery spit-it-out fast treat. I looked at my toothbrush, but didn't see anything unusual...until I glanced in my other hand and noticed that I was holding my deodorant stick. Yum, lekker suave powder-fresh deo stick flavor. At least my mouth should have smelled good and not sweat today! But seriously, using deodorant to brush my teeth. What is going on with my mind these days?

The Language of English

After our wonderful Thanksgiving dinner, Sinterklaas and his helpers, Zwarte Pieten, strode into our house and surprised us with a visit. It was really fun, and what a jokester that Sinterklaas can be. He actually asked me for a classic American baked bean recipe as he was leaving. And, during his visit, which lasted an entire hour with the boys singing and dancing and Sinterklaas discussing with them all the good things they do and the things they could do better, he started speaking in English. He asked the boys if they could speak English, and Jari told him horse, while Kaeden added the addition of the word lady, in which Sint then joked about a sexy lady...hmmm...

But, what really made me crack up laughing was when Sint said: I'm just pulling your leg! As the rest of my company looked around puzzled, I started cracking up and couldn't help myself from jiggling at my own good fortune. Someone that I could actually crack an American joke with, not feel as if I couldn't speak my mind, and he'd still understand the nuance of me? It really hit me in a way I haven't considered for many years, since I first started living in Europe with the understanding that my limited language skills wouldn't allow me to speak freely and crack jokes on a whim. I was sitting up there laughing on cloud nine with this saintly, holy Dutch icon man sitting in my living room and grasping the concept of an American joke. And I totally felt as one with him, felt okay to be me, to laugh and smile and be my American self, to say things that were American that others wouldn't understand just for the sake of feeling free, as I typically don't in my everyday Dutch conversations. So, I'm pulling your leg is a saying I will never forget, and will probably choose to use more often, as it gave me a sense of my long lost American self, and made me feel totally, well, American...and accepted as such. It was a great evening, and for many more reasosn than just that. But, that was one of those seconds in time that define you, that you hold onto, just a little something that gives you courage and acceptance, and from my Thanksgiving, it was the whipped cream on teh slice of pumpkin pie.

Tonight, when Jari was brushing his teeth, I was in the bathroom with him looking at our aquarium sitting on the bathroom counter. We have always had our fish in the living room, but due to needing the space for turkey dinner, I moved them on Thanksgiving day and have left them there, trying to decide if I like them better in the bathroom. So I asked Jari: What do you think of having the fish in the bathroom?
He replied: They fit in better here.
Why? I asked him.
Because the bathroom is all about water...the sink and the bath and the toilet, and fish are all about water cuz they need water to live. But the living room, it's all about the tv, and electricity. I think the fish like it better in the bathroom!

So, now you know. Each room of the house has a personality. And right now, our fish are adding their own character to the personality in our bathroom, because fish like water better. And, the LIVING room, well, it's all about the tv..... I won't say another word. I plead the 5th...

Happy Thanksgiving!

From our house to yours, have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday!

Happy Birthday Erwin!

Today my husband celebrates his 39th birthday. Happy Birthday Erwin! May it be a year filled with all the glory you deserve, all the success of which you dream, and all the love that you give to us returned ten fold. Hiep, Hiep, Hoera!!! Enjoy the last of your 30's and try to remember (if you can in your 'old' age) where you put your keys, wallet, and slippers!!!

In other news, look at all this snow!!! It just kept coming down and I was quite excited to see a thick blanket covering the ground last night. Too bad it's nearly gone this morning, but at least I had my moment.

Snoepzakje

This week I spent the better part of a few days helping my neighbor lady fill candy bags. She has a little shop that's right next to our house, and had an order for 300 candy bags to give their employees as a Sinterklaas treat. We set up all the different boxes of candy and made a production row out of making the candy bags, tied them up with a ribbon, and off into the box to be picked up next week.

What we were discussing while trying to count Marias and peanuts was the differences in holiday traditions around the world. In Belgium and the Netherlands, though both celebrate Sinterklaas in similar manners, there is still a difference in traditional candies, and styles of celebrating. It was also fun to tell them about a traditional Christmas stocking (at least traditional in my family).

So, here's what we placed in the Sinterklaas 'snoepzakjes' that we filled today:

15 peanuts in the shell

1 package Speculaas (a ginger type cookie decorated in Sinterklaas form)

1 large chocolate coin

1 Mars bar (Mars in America and here are different candy bars)

1 sack of potato chips

1 mini Mentos

1 decorated ice chocolate square

1 chocolate/marshmallow cigar

12 Maria soft sugar candies (schuimpjes/guama)

2 spekjes (colored marshmallow candy, and very popular with children year round)

1 sack Nic-Nacs (a hard, bland cookie with some super sugary hard frosting piped on top)

1 6" hollow chocolate Sinterklaas

Here are the pictures of the traditional Belgian Sinterklaas treats.

In Nederland there are kikkers and muizen (frogs and mice) made from chocolate and marzipan (Erwin's favorite treat), chocolate letters (you get the letter that your name begins with from Sint as a typical Sinterklaasavond surprise in your shoe), pepernoten (hard ginger cookies), taai-taai (a soft anise flavored cookie), and suikergoed, which is a sugary half-hard, half-soft candy that is usually mixed in with papernoten and schuimpjes (soft foamy candy) to create the typical Strooigoed.

Got all of that? Because even if you don't, trust me, it's a yummy time of year here in Europe!

Alien Me

How can it be that I feel so unsure, so uncomfortable in my own skin? Nothing has changed in my world. But I feel so disfigured, so completely tight and knotted in all the wrong places. I want my mind to be free, my body to be healthy, my heart to feel flowing and not so rock hard. I am stuck in a rut in which I question who I am, can't come to terms with what my place in the world is. I feel a weight hefting me down, shoving me deeper into the ground with each step I muster. And, there is no explanation for any of it; none, that I can actually take hold of to cement all the pieces together. I just feel like curling up in a fetal ball and crying until all the tears are spent. Tears for what, I don't even know. I want to be held tightly, arms wrapped around me, protecting me from these thoughts, warming up my entire spirit, until I can once again face the world. I need to feel welcome, to feel wanted, to feel comfortable and secure. I just want to be loved. Loved more passionately and deeply than I am able to love myself right now. To be able to concentrate and to actually accomplish the goals I set out for myself each day, but never manage to achieve as I walk in circles and can't focus on my one foot in front of the other, let alone the rest of the world out there waiting for me, needing me, expecting me to be strong. I can't put my finger on this sadness, but I know it hides behind my eyes, comes forth in the discalming manner in which I speak, the steps I take looking as if I am climbing a mountain. I am not me hiding behind this alien being shrouded in the folds of my skin. I just want to be me.

Voetbal

One of my favorite pasttimes is watching my little guy play soccer. I'm not one of those parents that finds it a task to have to attend another game or wash soccer clothes or be home in time for practice. It is something which brings me a great deal of joy, watching my son out on the field. I love cheering him on, giving him a thumbs up, and sometimes shouting at him to get after the ball. I'm not one of those parents that others would look at and think: Geez, she's boisterous. But, I do support my son and his team, cheering everyone on. And soccer, well, it takes up a great deal of time and interrupts our regular life when we're required to be there for games. We don't have freedom in the weekends like we did in the past, but instead our weekends circulate around when Jari will be playing. My son, he's pretty good, if I do say so myself (he's got good genes!). Soccer is his life at this point in time, and I am glad I have the opportunity to make it happen for him. I hope he will be a success and be able to further his soccer skills, and become the star he hopes to become. So, this was a pretty big soccer week, and Jari had his first ever injury. Nothing serious, but he stretched his groin and had trouble walking for a few days. I suggested he rest up and miss practice so he could play in the game this weekend. He was adamant that he go to practice. Until the day of practice, when he was walking all funny, and he came to me. "Mama, my leg hurts." I asked where, rubbed it a little, told him it'd be okay in a few days. "Mama, maybe I should stay home from practice today and rest my leg so I can play in the game this weekend." Yeah, that might be a good idea. Only you know how bad it hurts. But I would rest today. "Mama, but I can for sure play this weekend, right?" Well, it depends on whether your leg is healed or not. But you have lots of games, so if you miss one it won't matter. My son decided to stay home from practice. And by the weekend he was feeling better, walking normally again, and I wasn't worried about his injury any more. Anyway, here are some pictures of my son in action on the field. He usually plays forward as he has speed and stamina, but they still change positions on the field often. I particularly like the picture of him going in to score...see his coaches foot helping him kick the ball?
You can click on the pictures to make them larger and see his voetbal expressions!
Go Groen Star Beek!!!