So, this. This is a thing.
What the hell is that?
It’s a gigantic stork (not real- plastic? wood? papier mache maybe?), swinging a baby on a rope from it’s beak (again, not real).
The fire department has so much time not putting out fires that they found time to put this on the roof of our neighbor’s house. I’m guessing someone had a baby and that’s their way to welcome the new little bundle of joy. But it’s creepy as hell. I swear it watches me through my living room windows. I keep the curtains on that side of the room shut now.
Well, I tell ya, I’m certainly not getting skinny by spending my days on a treadmill and my floors are always gross (by my standards, Oli and others would still eat off of them). No, I’ve chosen to pursue more entertaining/stressful ventures with my new free time.
It started with the 8-feet-too-long-curtains we bought from Ikea. I asked Armin if we could possibly add a sewing machine to the moving in budget. Nothing fancy, definitely not a Singer (although I almost peed myself when I later saw one for a steal at Aldi). But it works, it has several stitch functions, and it’s fairly quiet (a plus for when you sew long hours into the night).
So I started with the curtains. Easy. Done.
Then I made a little purse for my little Fashionista Niece:
I saw the fabric and knew I had to make something cute with it!
Then I got a really great idea. Great in theory that is. It started with a brief search through several stores for “nice” children’s clothes. Yes, this is Europe. And yes I could go out and buy pretty much any couture line for babies. And O would be most fashionable. But none if it is nice. None of those cute little rompers for church. No crisp white button down shirts. No fancy little white leather shoes. It SUCKS. How am I supposed to make my little Southern Gentlemanbaby look all cute and adorable???? Answer: Make this.
Oli’s Christmas Outfit!
This little gem almost made me pull my hair out. Burda is a pattern company that makes patterns for sale in Both Gemrany and the US. When I found the Burda Style pattern for this, with English on the outside of the package, I thought “Cha-Ching! This is it!” Unfortunately, when I got it home, the directions had every language BUT English. Uggggghhhh! Also, there is a glaring typo in there (really, REALLY confusing).
However, now my little man will have a beautiful romper to wear on Christmas. We’ll be home then, but my biggest fear would be getting to Louisiana and not finding anything in his size that I liked (which happened last Christmas and I had to settle on something).
It’s called, “I’m never EVER letting another fucking German hairstylist touch my hair because now I look like a fucking lesbian soccer mom.” I will hunt down some haughty Frenchman or a flirtatious Italian or I will just start wearing my hair like a Jehovah’s Witness. I would post a picture, but since I can’t seem to stop crying at the moment I will have to show you later.
In fact, I can show you exactly what I asked for. Because I pinned a picture of a girl onto Pinterest for the explicit purpose of showing the hairstylist. I liked her hair cut. It was roughly the same length as mine (mine touched the tops of my shoulders, hers ran a little bit past them in the photo), but the front was sleeker looking and she had better cut layers in the back. Perfect right? A visual to show EXACTLY what I want. So can someone explain to me why the hairstylist would cut 2 inches off my hair???? WTF??? Seriously. Should I have given her a bigger tip and told her to take the money straight to the eye doctor?The only thing I can think of is that she needs glasses because I don’t think there can be a language barrier when you bring a fucking picture.
Husband has no idea what to do with me. I came home crying on the phone to my brother (my go-to comforter in tough times like these). Husband tried to talk me through what happened to see if maybe I said something wrong. I just sat on the sofa staring at my fucking Pinterest page downing Kit-Kats like I’m getting gastric by-pass surgery tomorrow. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t get why my hair is so fucking important to me. Fucking 6 months of trying to grow it back, after realizing the day we got here that I don’t fit in and I won’t fit in and that’s fucking fine by me I’d rather be who I am that try to look like everyone else around here- all 6 months and the 2 inches of hair I gained- all gone in under an hour.
The good news: it’s parents night at O’s Kindergarten so he’s sleeping in Albstadt with my in-laws. I am now going to proceed with drinking. Heavily.
Side note: I have no problems with lesbians, soccer moms or any combination thereof. In fact, I friggin’ love me a few lesbians. Best people I ever knew. I however do not fucking ever want to have someone cut my hair any shorter than my chin ever again.
So, I hope that the new theme doesn’t nauseate anyone. It’s a bit much, but I’m missing Halloween so much right now that I couldn’t resist!
What am I not missing about home? The humid, rainy weather. Why not? Oh, cause we’ve been having our own rainy days here. And despite being from South Louisiana, I’m not very well accustomed to the rain. I realized this on my walk to and from O’s Kindergarten to pick him up this afternoon. I normally enjoy the 15 minute walk there (I go through the middle of “town”). And we take our time on the way back to the house as O usually doesn’t want to ride in the stroller the whole way, or he wants to stop and look at a bus or something. But today it sucked. It was raining, so no stroller b/c I don’t have one of those plastic bubble boy covers for it (I had asked husband if we could get one, but he said “Oh, you can just use the car when it rains” Lotta good that does me when he took the car to school and left his cell at home). So I hurry through town, I’m wearing my bootcut jeans, so they’re wet by the time I get to the school. O is so excited to see me. He grabs my hand and walks us outside into the rain and starts screaming “Nass (wet)! Mamma, nass! EEeeehhh!” Great… Of course, we aren’t even down the block and he wants me to pick him up and carry him. At least O got in a little nap on the ride home.
The air is cool and crisp. The leaves are changing color on the trees and some are beginning to fall off and crunch under my feet as I make my way down the same path every morning bringing O to school. I’ve always loved Fall. Maybe because I’m a November baby. Or maybe it’s just because in Louisiana those beautiful Fall days were rare and therefore precious. Who knows.
I know, I complain about ridiculous peeves that I find here in my new home. However, Fall seems to be one of those consolations I’ve received for leaving friends and family behind. I left my warm home and it’s crazy wonderful people for real changing seasons and a quieter sort of crowd. But I do appreciate some of the things I’ve found here in Germany. I love how almost everyone takes to planting up their “garten” (they call the whole yard the garden). And they have this au naturell approach- no chemicals or pesticides and only natural fertilizers at most. So, it’s even more amazing when the flowers are blooming and the plants are thriving.
And then there’s this house:
I’m not sure what it is about this house, but I love love love it. At least from this angle. The front is ok, but this yard, and the vines going up the side of the house. Fabulous!
All geared up and ready for school!
“Geht zum Kindergarten, NOOOWWWW!!!!” (go to Kindergarten, now!) This is now O’s morning mantra! He stands at the back door yelling this about 5 times while waiting for me to grab my purse, find my keys, put the dog in the kitchen, tie my shoes, etc. He loves going to the Kindergarten. I love that he loves going. Part of the orientation set up is that the parents bring the child and stay for an hour or more at a time. Then after a few times, the parent leaves the child for consecutively longer times each day until child and teacher and parent are all ok. Well, the first day we went, O didn’t want to go home. When the day came for me to leave him for about a half hour, he kissed me and said “bye, mamma!” Now, he doesn’t even stop what he’s doing to kiss me bye. I might get a “Ciao!” or a “Tchuss!” Then, I usually have to br
ibe him a little to get him to leave to go home without causing a scene. lol!
It’s kind of funny though. In the US, O stood out with his blonde hair and blue eyes, but here, all of the boys in his class have blonde hair and blue eyes! But, I think O is still the cutest. I might be partial, but c’mon, look at this kid. Isn’t he cute?
What a ham!