Babes in Catalunya

The kids. 

I'd say they are thriving.

It was sort of a blessing and a curse that they are so young while we are having this adventure.  A blessing that they are too young to have close friendships or ties to school that would make this transition hard for them, but a curse because they really won't remember much of this experience looking back.  But I have to think, by being here in a big city and traveling together as a family, we are creating an environment that is conducive to learning and growing -- they may not remember every detail, or leave speaking fluent Spanish, but they will have the opportunity to see and experience things that expand their minds and encourage their curiosity.  At least, I hope this is the case. 

In their little love bug at Poblenou's summer carnival

Overall, the transition for them was fairly seamless due to their ages.   However, I will say, coming back from our US visit this summer was a bit sad.  Evan started crying when he saw our front door in Barcelona as we pulled up in the cab from the airport, and it broke my heart.  He is a family man, that Evan, and loved the time spent with his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.  I think it was hard for him to see our house here, and realize that meant we were far away again and wouldn't be back for a while.  He did readjust quickly though, and we make sure to talk about family, show pictures, and remind him we can always talk on the computer with everyone whenever he wants.  Though, those two have Skype ADD, and the time change with their early bedtimes will forever make it difficult.  We will keep at it though, because I know how important ongoing contact is for us all...it is always something I want to keep working at improving on.

But then there are the positives...

Here in Barcelona, and perhaps Spain in general, people have a special affection for children.  I've mentioned this before, but I'd say 8 out of 10 people we pass on the street either stop to talk, or at least smile and pat the children's heads, as we walk by.  When they have little fits on the metro, there is usually an elderly woman near by who scoots down to distract Mia with her hand fan, or tickle her legs to make her laugh.  It's a nice way to grow up, in my opinion.  Having the whole world smile at you.  Children are included in everything...it doesn't matter how nice the restaurant is, how dangerous the festival is, or how late in the evening it is, children are there.  Families are together.  And while I, personally, enjoy a nice adult meal without the kids now and then, and know when it is better (for my own sanity) to leave them home...I can really appreciate the inclusion, acceptance, and love people have for children here. 

People from home ask me a lot if they are learning Spanish -- yes, but only a little.  They have their greetings down, and Evan completely recognizes what is Spanish and what is English as it is spoken.  It is true, at their age they are little language sponges ripe for learning and absorbing.  However, since we speak English at home, it really only works if they are put into a native school.  Here in Barcelona, the vast majority of children start school at age 3 -- and it is not "pre-school", they go to school just like 1st graders, all day everyday.  Additionally, the public schools here are all in Catalan -- pretty much a completely different language from Spanish. So, while technically Evan could be enrolled in public school here in Barcelona at his age, I wasn't thrilled with him spending 8 hours a day, every day, at school at age 3, and also wasn't super concerned with him learning Catalan since it is really only spoken in this region of the world.  Last spring, after we arrived, we had him enrolled in an international pre-school in the mornings.  They had four language groups: Spanish, Catalan, German, and English.  He loved it, but since they strongly urged us to stick with the English group, he wasn't hearing a whole lot of Spanish other than from the other kids on the playground. 

This school year we decided to just forgo pre-school altogether and send Evan to the pre-school of life :)  Diverting the tuition cost towards extra travel seemed prudent at this stage of the game -- especially since I'm home entertaining Mia all day anyway.  We figure, if we can show them more of the world in exchange for giving up circle time and runny noses, then we want to do it.  Kindergarten will still be there waiting for him when we return to the US in a few years.

So I'm up to my ears in toddlers these days, but, in a way they are entering a really nice stage making it easier when they are both together doing the same things, eating, and napping together.  They fight, of course, but I'm also starting to notice more and more that they really look to have the other close by at all times, and are finally starting to engage each other in play.  Mia will always adore Evan, but it took Evan a solid two years to accept that Mia, is indeed, here to stay and he might as well play with her, or at the very least, try and keep her alive.  They are starting to ask lots of questions about they way the world works, and making up their own little scenarios and ideas.  I'm no longer spending the day with little grunting, tottering little blobs (and I mean that with the greatest of affection), they are actually their own little people now and I feel very lucky to be able witness this. 

It is never boring.  Never.  We have a lot of parks and playgrounds close by, we run errands, we go to bookstores, and also have a playgroup we recently started going to one day per week.  It is a lot of balancing getting household stuff done, providing some stimulating activity for them (this does not always happen), and getting every one's basic needs met.  I will say it is MUCH easier now that we have almost fully adjusted to living here.  We have our routines, we know what we need, and where to get it.   I'm quickly forgetting those early weeks here when it felt like our entire world was turned upside down, and I didn't know which way was up...Life feels manageable, and dare I say it, normal?

 

 

Like every mother, I have moments of the day when I am one tantrum away from curling up in a ball and rocking myself in the corner of the room.  And for a while, it was easy to sort of get lost in that, especially when it was compounded by the frustrations that come with moving abroad.  But I've recently started trying to look at each day as an opportunity to make something great -- if I don't, I start to drown in the squabbles and the routines and to me, that is a waste of our time here and my time with my children. Yeah, it is damn hard, but, it is also hilarious and rewarding spending all day with two of my favorite people in the world. If we make chocolate chip cookies, we shall eat them in a fort.  If it is raining and we have cabin fever, then we will put on our crocs and bathing suits and find puddles to splash in.  And if all else fails, I pour a glass of wine and turn on Pocoyo.  Because sometimes that is pretty great too.  I will do the best I can, make the most of what I can, and forgive myself when I don't. 

Bottom line is, they are happy.  They are doing what almost 2 year-olds and 3 year olds do.  They are finding their independence, spreading their wings, and peeing all over the toilet seat.  Life is good.



Loving their new popcorn maker -- seriously, this is their favorite toy ever, thanks to my friend cleaning out her kitchen!



Catching kernals as they fly out

 

The Big 5 in Budapest

In the chaos of summer plans and travel, one important blog post seemed to have gotten lost in the shuffle.  Our two day, couple-only, trip to Budapest, Hungary back in July.

I have to give this little trip the blog post it deserves, because it was one of the most awe-inspiring, and foreign-looking, places I've ever been.

Let me back up.

When we got married, Chris and I made a little pact to travel to a new country every year we were married (the brilliant ideas you have as you drink mojitos on your honeymoon, when world domination also seems like a feasible possibility).  The plan was to start in Eastern Europe with a trip to Prague.  We booked the trip, and waited for the time to come when we would check off the first of what we hoped would be many trips traveling the world together. 

Shortly before we were scheduled to leave for the trip, Chris was offered a job opportunity he couldn't pass up.  Ultimately, he decided to take the job, but because of this change, he no longer had the time off and we had to postpone the trip until he was settled and had the time off again.

Then we had Evan.

Then we had Mia.

Needless to say, four years into our marriage, aside from our honeymoon, we still had not traveled abroad together. 

Since my mother, Grammie extraordinaire, would be here in Barcelona for two weeks over the summer, she had kindly offered to watch the kids for us if we wanted to head out for a night or two on an excursion somewhere to celebrate our 5th anniversary together.  Where to go?!  Where to go?!

After kicking around a few ideas...a night at a wine vineyard, Costa Brava, Rome...I stumbled on a flight deal to Budapest for 30 € round trip a piece.  Just a two hour flight, and we could be back to where we had intended for it all to begin -- Eastern Europe.  Although we had done a fair bit of traveling as a family since we arrived in Spain, this trip was something else entirely.  Two days alone.  Alone.  We booked it, along with an amazing hotel deal and some hints and tips from friends who had been there. 

Budapest had a whole different flavor from Barcelona.  It had...grit.  Battle wounds.  To me, the city itself felt like we were wandering through an old, yet grand, castle that had since been abandoned by the the royal family that once lived there.  You could see the somewhat tragic history of Hungary unfold in front of you...and also why it was voted one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, and the most livable in Eastern Europe.  It was an eclectic culture within the city center, but the earthy roots of the country was also all around.  Massive, intricate buildings dwarfing you with their size.  The winding Danube River, separating Buda from Pest (two separate cities until they were legally joined together to form Budapest in 1873) , buzzing with river cruises and illuminated by lights from the soul grabbing architecture that lines it.  It was breathtaking.  And horribly romantic. 

We arrived early the first day, and headed out immediately to have some lunch.  Here we faced a dilemma.  It was hovering in the 90 degree range the few days we were there, but we typically like to eat the local specialties while visiting a new place.  Hungarian cuisine is notable for their paprika laden hot goulash soups, earthy stews, and spice rubbed chicken dishes.  Not exactly what you are craving in the oppressive heat, but... when in Budapest...so, I ordered a cauldron (seriously, it came in a little black cauldron hanging from a wire support complete with a little flame below it) of stew, and Chris the goulash, hoping that the cold beers alongside them would help cool us off.  (They didn't.  But it still was a really yummy lunch.)

Because of my long winded story telling tendencies, I'm going to try and limit this to some highlights from our 48 hours...

*  The Shooting Club

The first night we had big plans.  A friend of mine here in Barcelona had recently traveled to Budapest with her husband, and had told me about one of her "must sees" while we were there.  The #1 rated Trip Advisor activity in Budapest...Celeritas Shooting Club.  Shooting any type of gun is kind of a unique experience here in Europe, due to greater restrictions and access to guns, and this club is run by police and military officials who have spent most of their lives training others how to use firearms.  They have a rare license to not only have possession of the kind of firearms they have, but also to allow them to let the public come in and shoot them.  At first glance, it wasn't necessarily something I was dying to do -- I'm not really a "gun person", but I knew Chris would freak.  I mean, honestly, what guy wouldn't die to get his hands on Dragunov sniper rifle?  Or a Colt M4 machine gun?  I had to do this for him.  And I had to keep it a secret.  I managed to keep it a secret until the plane actually touched down in Hungary, when I blurted it out..."WE'RE GOING TO SHOOT GUNS!!"  Then I immediately started pouting because I ruined the surprise.  Typical.

Anyway, Chris had the desired response to my premature surprise announcement, and had on his little boy smile (my favorite) for the rest of the day until we finally arrived at this somewhat sketchy looking "warehouse" of sorts.  If I hadn't already spoken to other folks who had great experiences here, I would have a been a little nervous driving up there. Once inside the warehouse, you are lead down stairs into what looks like a bomb shelter of  a basement.  A tiny little waiting room encased in cement walls, and a door akin to a psych-ward/high security prison.  There were a few other people already waiting -- a Belgian couple, a group of three British college guys, and a bachelor party of three guys from Canada.  We exchanged excited "where-the-hell-are-we" glances, and started talking...waiting for what would happen next. 



The waiting room

The owner comes out, gets us all checked in and goes over the safety instructions before leading us back to the actual shooting range. 

There in front of us is a freaking card table covered with weapons.
 

The experience itself?  It was a rush.  Scary, but definitely one of those moments when you feel like you are doing something unique in life.  Like standing in a Hungarian basement surrounded by automatic weapons.  Likely won't happen again.  And, even though it was scaring the bejesus out of me, it was kind of a personal challenge to just march past all the dudes when it was my turn, hold that rifle like I do it everyday, and blast that bulls eye. 

For me, the best part was seeing my husband's face through it all....  He was loving it.  Not only to use guns you only really see in video games or in the movies, but also to see his wife holding a semi-automatic weapon.  I have a feeling he didn't know I had it in me :)  Oddly enough, it was kind of the perfect way to spend our anniversary...blowing off steam and stress, bonding over a new experience, and seeing each other looking kind of sexy-bad-ass all at the same time.




Who got bullseye?  Oh, that's me.

*  The Szechenyi Baths

Budapest has the world's largest thermal cave system, with over 80 natural baths known for their healing properties.  Thanks to Rick Steves, and more insider tidbits, we knew the Szechenyi Baths had to be on our to-do list.  This place is the largest medicinal bath in Europe, encased inside an incredible palace-esque building created in 1913.  It doesn't get anymore relaxing then this.  Tourists, and locals alike come there to sit, soak, play chess, and catch rays.  All day long, groups of old Hungarian men gather to play chess on the built-in stone gameboards inside the baths, while the women bob along inside the lazy river.  Couples, kids, elderly...it seemed as though this was the place to congregate.

Now, I have to back up yet again.  I knew, as we packed for this trip, that spending time at the baths was a must, and made sure to remind Chris to pack his bathing suit.... several times.  Yet, there we were in Budapest getting ready to head over to the baths, and Chris discovers he forgot to pack it.  This both annoyed and pleased me...annoying because he has three perfectly good suits at home...yet pleased me because I knew what "suits" were available here in Eastern (or Western for that matter) Europe.  And they ain't no panama jack board shorts. 

Early on Day 2, we hit the front desk of our hotel to ask if they sold men's swimsuits. 

"Ah, yes of course.  Inside our spa, you will be able to purchase men's swimming trunks."

So off we went to the spa to inquire about getting Chris suited up for the day.  And there we stood, as the kind receptionist laid out the said trunks.  

"Yes, a medium.  Here you go."

Chris took them from her and held the minuscule piece of spandex up to get a better look, and it took me a minute to remember where I had seen undergarments like that before...then I remembered.  Evan's size 2T Gerber training pants. 

It was all I could do to keep from melting into a quivering pile of tears and laughter as I tried to envision my husband slipping into these little trunks.  I didn't want to disrespect the nice woman who had searched long and hard for the "right" size, so we held it together, put down the undies, smiled, and thanked her for her time as we giggled our way out the door.  Oh how I wish he had bought them.

As we suspected, there was a little tent set up outside the entrance to the baths selling suits of all shapes and sizes for only 3€ so we got Chris adequately covered and ready for some healing soaks.

Once inside the building, there are a series of indoor and outdoor baths, a spa, a restaurant, and I'm sure lots of other nooks and offerings.  We spent the entire morning, and the better part of the afternoon, soaking away...taking breaks every so often to lay in the sun, grab a cocktail, then get back in for more.  Incredible.  Just incredible.  When I think of that day, I remember feeling this overwhelming sense of gratitude and appreciation for where we were at that exact moment.   One of those "I-can't-believe-we-are-here" moments that make every hard part about living here well worth it.

I ramble...

I will sum the rest up by saying we did a lot of exploring.  We took the funicular up to Buda Hill and enjoyed the quaint winding streets.  We browsed handmade embroidery.  We rode the metro...the 3rd oldest in the WORLD.  We walked along the river and enjoyed an insanely good dinner amongst quite a collection of dead animals. I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story, but I will say this trip was everything we expected and more...it fed our souls.

And many, MANY thanks again to my amazing mother for taking such fantastic care of our babies and making this incredible opportunity possible. 

Buda Hill

Walking along the Danube River

Our Dinner Guest(s)

The Parliament looking across the river from Buda to Pest

Updates

Ya No Estoy Gordo - Molly's Story

When we last left off, Molly was weighing in at about 84 lbs and the topic of conversation for those passing by.  We splurged on some special diet doggie food, and started some (semi) regular runs with her to augment her regular pee walks...Plus, she just came back from 18 days at her doggie retreat in the mountains.  We joke that this is her version of fat camp -- there is a lot of running around the property with other dogs, and the owner also seems to be on a mission to help our little camper lose weight. 

The results?

In total, Molly has lost 6 lbs - around 7% of her body weight.  Not too shabby!  She is looking younger, in our opinion.  Like our little puppy again. 



Molly does not appreciate her weight becoming public discussion, and refused to pose for this picture

Summer is in the air...

I think I used this post to boast about our ability to successfully manage the Barcelona summer heat or something? (not sure what I was talking about, it was still JUNE at that point).  Something about it not being so bad?

Yeah, well it's BAD. 

Like, start sweating the second you leave the door bad.  Like, we are all sleeping downstairs in a pile  because there is only one air conditioner bad.  All set with summer for now.  Until things start cooling off, I have been using this little smuggled in friend as a reminder that fall is just around the corner...

Boobs and Beers in Landstuhl, Germany

As I wrote this, I was still awaiting the results from my exam...

Good news:

I passed!   

Coming Home -- Week 2 Part 2: Checking off "The List"

As stated previously, we had a USA to-do list heading in to Week 2...

1.  Go out for an American breakfast

I am a total sucker for going out to breakfast.  The whole scene is just so leisurely.  Steaming pitchers of coffee alongside the Sunday news, all accompanied by heaping plates of eggs and fried potatoes.  There's no pressure to dress up, the food is cheap, and generally it is acceptable to go home and take a nap afterwards. 

Here in Spain they don't really "do" breakfast the same way.  Breakfast for most folks here is either a couple slices of jamon y queso on a hard baguette (a bocadillo), or some kind of pastry and espresso.  They seem to be more of a lunch crowd around here, skipping breakfast altogether on the weekends and heading straight into the beer and olive part of the program.  Respectable.  But just not the same.

The morning after our big bash, we rallied the troops to head out to a new local diner close to my sister's house.  Our (available) family tends to flock together like hens when one of us is in town.  If two people are together, then the rest shall gather in the same spot.  Emily likes to refer to this as the T Family Jamberoo.  Nothing is quick or easy, and often we are making a scene because of the mass confusion that ensues. 

Breakfast that morning was classic Jamberoo.  We descended on this tiny little breakfast joint like an army about to take over a tiny village.  The door burst open and there were all 14 of us, everyone talking (yelling) over each other with kids running up and down the aisle.

"HERE'S A BOOTH!  STEPHIE!  HERE'S A BOOTH OVER HERE!  MER?! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"CAN YOU FIT?  WHAT ABOUT THE COUNTER?  EXCUSE ME!  SIR!  (insert frantic waving) CAN WE SIT HERE?! (insert frantic pointing)"

"EVAN!  MIA!  GET BACK HERE!" (That was me)

There were a handful of local regulars sitting at the counter that stopped chewing midbite to look up from their newspapers and take in the circus that just busted in on their quiet breakfast.  The cook actually stepped back from his grill, folded his arms, and stared at us with equal parts annoyance and shock. 

After what seemed to me to be an excessive amount of time trying to figure out where to sit, we all finally found seats and settled in.  Just then, above my menu, I caught a glimpse of my mother and sister motioning to get my attention from the other side of the restaurant.

"DOES EVAN WANT TO SIT HERE?  (insert large hand gestures and waving) WE CAN GO THERE?  (I mouth the words 'he's ok') YES?  (I mouth the word no) NO? (I close my eyes and shake my head) DOES HE WANT TO?"

I noticed at this point my sister's husband was trying to discretely hide behind a fake plant in the corner of the restaurant.

Classic.

More shuffling and 10 minutes later, our poor waitress brought us our long awaited plates filled with breakfast heaven.  Evan's pancake was bigger than his entire body, and the drip coffee never tasted so good.  It wasn't pretty, but the first item was now checked off our list.

2. Grill. Often.

Not that we can't grill here in Spain, we just haven't gotten around to making the trek to Alcampo to buy one and haul it back here.  Plus, we live on the bottom floor of an apartment building with four floors of folks above us hanging their laundry over our patio.  Not sure they would particularly appreciate the smell of smoking meat saturating their newly washed clothes. 

Furthermore, Spain is not a country known for its beef.  There isn't a large selection of beef as we know it to be, and they tend to mix their ground beef with pork and sugar. Yummy, right?  This is, actually, a good thing -- it has really cut back our red meat consumption to practically zero, making room for healthier options like fish and chicken...but on this trip home, we were all about chowing some burgers and steak fresh off my brother-in-law Jason's bad-ass dueling grills. 

 

Quite possibly the best wings EVER.  Jason has a gift for grilling.

 

Mission:  accomplished.  Checked off the list.

3.  Go to the splash park

Evan loves this place, and has been asking if he can go there starting around 3 weeks before we left for the US.  Actually, as soon as the plane landed in Boston, Evan cracked open his little eyes and squeaked, "Want to go to the splash park?"  The place is a small little spray/splash park near my sister's house that has spouts of shooting water and huge buckets that dump on your head...nothing too special but Evan loves it, and for some reason has it burned in his brain as the promised land.  I think the best part of this trip to the splash park was seeing how my sister Meredith's oldest boy, Jake, took Evan under his wing...holding his hand nearly non-stop and carefully guiding him down the slide and over the handle bars.  Those two are kindred spirits I think...

4. Start a quilt with my sister

Our quilt collection has grown over the years, thanks to some incredibly talented quilters in the family including Chris's Aunt Mary and my sister Emily.  With every celebration, comes a new carefully crafted quilt, put together with love and presented with pride.

When Emily gave me my first baby quilt at "Sophie's" baby shower, I was thankful, but didn't truly grasp how important this little blanket would become. Evan sleeps with it every night, and drags it downstairs when he is extra tired in the morning and not ready to fully embrace the new day. He asks for it when he feels sick, and his body relaxes the minute it covers him. Our quilts have recently become our beach blankets, our picnic blankets, and our everyday go-to blankets when we want to feel extra taken care of.  They go well with a cup of tea, and most importantly -- they remind me of family and home.

I was thrilled to receive another beautifully crafted blanket from Emily in the months before Mia was born, and am already plotting a third child just so we can get her to cough up one more. Kidding. Sort of. 




Evan cozied up with his quilt





Picnicking on Mia's quilt

What I love most about the quilt my sister made for "Sophie", who ultimately ended up as Evan, was that it was kind of a masculine quilt...lots of plaids with primary colors and a blue back.  Somehow the quilting gods knew...

Not ready to have a baby just to get the next quilt, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I figured I'd start with a child sized quilt to add to our collection, and go from there.  I knew we didn't have much time for us to do a full turn by turn lesson on how to start, but I figured if she could get me started with some tips and pointers, I could figure out the rest.  

Emily, excited to have a convert, whisked me to the fabric store mid-week to poke around.  Not to be corny, but I could have spent an entire afternoon there.  The possibilities are endless...rows and rows of fabrics screaming at you "I'm perfect for your living room!"  "I would make a beautiful doll dress!"  I had a blast picking out the fabrics for my "feminine vintage inspired patchwork quilt" (that is its official name). 

We spent our last night in the US with just Emily and myself in the kitchen, alternating between chatting about life and going over pointers on how to quilt.  I got all my squares cut out while Emily whizzed away on her sewing machine to create the boarder (there is a specific name for this part of the quilt, but I keep forgetting...clearly I am not hardcore yet).  With some last minute suggestions, her favorite how-to book, and the promise to skype me through any snags, Emily sent me back to Barcelona ready to tackle this first quilt.

Here are the beginning stages...

So, who knows...If I'm successful, my hope is that I can pay if forward and give someone else their own handcrafted baby quilt!

5. Make smores

Admittedly, this one was a bit rushed.  The kids happened to be overcooked hams on the verge of a meltdown on this night, but with one night left, we were determined to make it happen.  Evan, ever the cautious citizen, was careful to stay back from the fire and use sticks long enough to avoid burning his little arm hairs off.  Mia, on the other hand, true to form, was determined to climb into the fire.  We finally distracted her by just giving up the entire bag of marshmallows for her own eating pleasure.  Worked like a charm. 

 

Delicious mission accomplished. 

6. Go fishing

Sadly, we did not make it to this item on the list.  Evan DID however take a walk with Grammie, Auntie Emily, and their cousins to the gorgeous local park -- home to forest trails, duck ponds, frog ponds, and immaculately manicured gardens.  Feeding the ducks kind of counts, right?

7. Go to Six Flags

Oh YEAH.  Not initially on our list, but when we caught wind that my sister's family had season passes and were generously offering free passes for our entire family to join them -- we were in!  Grammie generously offered to watch little Mia for the day so Chris and I could indulge in some big kid fun at the park riding all the roller coasters.  Not a fan of the roller coasters, Emily happily took Evan to the kiddie section park to ride the rides then proceeded to wine and dine him on chicken and ice-cream.  Whenever we tried to call her cell to check on them, we were abruptly stopped with:

"We are riding the antique cars.  Evan is driving, can we talk later?"

"We just boarded the world's smallest helicopter, and it is about to take off.  We'll call you later." 

Clearly they were having too much fun to talk to us.

Midday, Emily took Evan back to the house for a nap and Grammie time, and rejoined the rest of us so we could all head over to the water park section of the park.  We slipped and slided until 6pm, and capped the day off with beers and pretzels.  Perfection. 

8. Order Chinese food

There is no footage from this, and I'd like to keep it that way.  Let's just say, Chinese food was eaten and it was damn good.  Check.

So there it is.  Our USA summer vacation, more or less.  Thank you again to all of our family members who welcomed us with open arms and showered us with love and hospitality.  We are so thankful to everyone, and already sad that it will be a whole year before our next trip home to see you all...We love you XOXO