Bugging Out

I am not adapting well these days.


Ugh. Some cultural differences are easy to just get over. Some are not. Where I come from, if there’s a bug or a rodent in the house, you get rid of it. Or you call a guy and he gets rid of it. Or he comes and sprays something that probably will someday kill him, too, but then all the little unwanted things are dead and you forget to worry about the exterminator’s health.

But. Here. Here in this godforsaken hell-hole of a bunch of nature-loving freaks….

Oh mah gawd. GAAAHHHHH!!!!!!! We have spiders in the garage the size of my palm– OK, not that big more like O’s palm- larger than anything I am comfortable with. My husband argues “they aren’t poisonous”. Well, no, technically, they are venomous, not poisonous. And maybe, as he says, they rarely bite people. (I don’t believe that he’s never been bit by one because he doesn’t pay that much attention to what’s going on around him or even on his body and he probably wouldn’t have noticed it was a spider bite just a red itchy spot that went away after some time.) But this guy proves they can bite and it will hurt, even if you won’t die from it. Ick. But Germans still seem to embrace these disgusting things.


Now, moving on to to other lawfully protected species. Wasps. Did you know that in Germany you aren’t supposed to kill a wasp’s nest?

Wait, whut?


Are you serious? Are you freaking kidding me? They are F—ing WASPS for crying out loud. And they have nested in the rolling shudders on O’s window. Our landlord told us to just roll the shudders up and down a lot and hope they go away on their own. You know what that does? Pisses them off. Like, a lot.

I do not understand Germans. Wasps serve no purpose in life other than to screw things up. They kill bees. Don’t you freaking hippies know that there’s a bee shortage in the world right now???? Kill the wasps. Oh, but no. If you google it in German, you’ll find on every forum where someone needs to get rid of a nest that “wasps are important predators in our ecosystem and it would be a shame to kill them”. Well, guess what. They never ate the damn aphids that killed my cilantro, so they really serve no important purpose in my ecosystem.


This is what my life has come to. I am seriously losing my shit over insects. And my husband could care less. Being so intellectually evolved and all, he has no caveman instincts to protect his cave. Grrrr…..

If they weren’t in the bleeping wall of O’s room, I’d go all redneck and fashion a makeshift blowtorch and burn their nest to nothingness. As it is, I’m going to put on something low-cut and flirt with the fire department. Internet rumors say they “might” help you if you can prove that the wasps are a danger or if the nest is too close to where children are. Let’s just hope they don’t tell me to just keep his window shut…



I love my child, but….

Peaches Geldof- thanks for supporting my theory that most women must be on something if they are full on “attachment parenting” parents.


I’m writing this post from the bathroom the tiny water closet with just the toilet in it. Now, I’ve had this thing where I really don’t like being in a bathroom with the door closed since I got stuck in the tiny bathroom in the Pre-K room at St. Theresa. But I’ve come to learn to love hiding in this very tiny tiny room with a functioning lock on the door. Even then, though, sometimes I can’t enjoy pooping (or pretending to poop) in peace. Case in point: As I was writing that last sentence a small voice called through the grate on the door “Mommy!!! I have to go! Are you in there, mommy? Are you trying to poopoo? Is it coming out?” (We discuss poop quite openly in this house, apparently)


We’re on Day 3 of O not being at kindergarten. May 1 is a Labor Day sort of holiday here in Germany. So the kindergarten was closed Thursday and Friday, too. How lovely! What makes this time even more special is that my child is at that age where he asks A LOT of questions. Like repeatedly asking, “When are we going to …?” Or asking, “But, why?” in response to anything that comes out of my mouth. As the title of this post implies- I love my child, but… I swear, it’s like he has this special patience detector. And right when I start to run low on patience, that’s when he attacks. Endless questions, whining, repeating the same things over and over, clinging to my legs. Gah!!! I mean, I know that someday I’ll look back on these times and laugh, maybe even miss the way he has to be physically attached to me in some way at EVERY MOMENT. And I must obviously love O. My brother used to be the same way as a little kid. I punched him quite often. So my restraint of not knocking my kid out is proof of both my increased maturity and my motherly love, right? 🙂



Note to attachment parents: I admire you for doing what you think is right for your kid. I just really, really don’t understand y’all. I think our brains are just wired differently.

Just another little gripe session

I’ve made a decision. I’m buying our house. Let me re-phrase that, when we have money saved in like 8 years and we can buy a house, I’m picking it out. I might let my husband express his opinion, but I will make the decision by myself.

This apartment has been nothing but one problem after another. The kitchen is a disaster. We bought a fullsize dishwasher b/c the small one we had was way too small. We measured everything and thought, ok, perfect, just enough room for a regular sized dishwasher. Well, guess what. The wall is crooked! So, while there is enough room at the front to put the dishwasher in, but it stops about 2/3 of the way and gets stuck on the wall. Our old apartment was pretty awful, and I will admit that this place is an improvement. But seriously y’all, I was only able to deal with the old apartment because I could close my eyes, take a deep breath and remind myself that it was only temporary. Now A says that we have to stay here until we buy a house (in 8 years)! Gah!!!

Oh, and the only reasons I relented and accepted this apartment is because the rent was slightly less and it had a yard for O to play in. Guess what, he doesn’t like to go outside and play by himself.

If you’ll excuse me now, I’m going bang my head on the wall. I’ll try the wall where the dishwasher belongs, maybe I can knock off some of the plaster so I can get my dishwasher in place ._.



Update: Our landlord came over tonight. He had to take out a cabinet next to the dishwasher, but now the dishwasher is under the counter and working. Oh, and now there is only one cabinet and an oven in between the sink and dishwasher. One less foot of dripping water when I load the dishwasher! Now, where in the heck am I going to stick this cabinet???

If I’m the best-dressed person in the room, we’re all in trouble

So yesterday I shared a post on Facebook regarding baggy pants, and it led to me being called a liar, a racist and a homophobe. If you know me, you know about how absurd that is. I’m pretty tolerant of most people in general and am usually a pretty nice person (I won an award in the 8th grade for being so annoyingly nice). I had heard the story in the post before associating jail-time loving with baggy pants, so I thought it might be true. And since I stole the post from a black guy I know, I didn’t think it would seem racist to some white people.

But I digress.

Instead, I actually think I need to address many more issues I have with people’s style of dress. In the States my biggest peeves were boat shoes and crocs. Mostly because, like their Birkenstock predecessors, they just get grimey and nasty.

But Europe, oh lovely Europe, with your buildings older than my country. The beautiful architecture, the art, the history. You, Europe, have produced some of the greatest and worst fashion trends I have seen to date.

Let’s start with the pros and cons of skinny jeans. Pro: most people have to walk a good bit, and in places like Germany where showers pop up randomly, jeans that hug the leg and don’t drag on the wet ground. Con: some of you have taken the word “skinny” in skinny jeans to the extreme. I really can live the rest of my life without seeing the outline of your patatina, dear. The bottom line: if they cut off your circulation, you need to get a pair at least one size up.

Now, on to the hairstyles that seem to be wildly popular with the younger crowd. The varying assortment of colors I can live with. Not sure how many of you remember my summer of pink hair, but it was a fun and interesting time in which I learned a lot- mostly that guys think if you have an out of nature hair color you must be incredibly wild in the sack. However, the wide assortment of perpetually down-right UGLY hairstyles that I have found here have made me want to walk around with a pair of shears in my pocket. If you can’t style it responsibly, I’ll cut it off and give it to someone who would put it to better use. Seriously- there is one girl in the town where we live that basically parted her hair  just above her right ear and just shaved the rest of the right side off. First, while she isn’t the prettiest girl, I don’t think the hairstyle has done anything to take attention away from her face. Second, in order to maintain the hair falling over onto the left side of her head, she must maintain an awkward position in which her posture is stooped slightly forward and her head is cocked to the left side. If she keeps this hairstyle for too long she may be permanently deformed into the Quasimodo-like stance.

And one more thing- scarves. So chic and so functional. But it is SUMMER now. The temperatures were actually in the 70’s and low 80’s this week. Why are you people still wearing your scarves?????

I could probably go on, but I think I will leave it at this for now. I have met many fascinating people here so far and I don’t want to seem like all I can do is complain. I just needed to vent a little. I must say though, my teachers in the language class are always wearing something cute and they have quite normal haircuts. So I guess they are hope for the rest of the people I see out on the streets.