I’m wery wery tired
March 1, 2023
Ich bin müde. I am tired.
I’m not giving up on writing every day but today will be a minimal effort. I bought the German version of the “Hatch” alarm clock and honestly, it’s too smart for me. Tonight is my fourth night setting this alarm and hopefully the time, natural light and sound are all correct for a proper wake up.
Today was a normal and uneventful day. I spent 3.5 hours at the hair salon. Germany efficiency is a myth by the way but I really enjoy my hair stylist. We speak a mix of Deutsch + English or Denglish as we like to call it. My very favorite thing is the way she says “very” or any word beginning with a “v”.
Let me be clear, I am not throwing stones in glass houses. My German accent is AWFUL. I genuinely LOVE and smile when Germans say “v” words. Let me give some background.
The German “W” is pronounced how we pronounce a “V.” For example, white or Weiss is pronounced Veiss. The German “V” is pronounced more like an “F.” I think some Germans automatically switch the “W” and “V” sounds when speaking in English. When my hair stylist was talking about her wery wery cute granddaughter. I couldn’t help but smile. I love when waiters suggest certain wegetables or how they say they are from a small willage or how they ask what type of wodka you prefer. I could use some wodka right now but I think I’ll go to bed.
I’m wery wery tired.
The Kids Are All Right
I am trying to write every day during Lent. It is incredibly cathartic. I waiver back and forth about feeling like it needs to be funny but this one just isn’t. LOL.
February 28, 2023
This is not parenting advice. I’m only speaking from my experience and I don’t know what I am doing. We uprooted our kids and moved to a foreign country. The only new parent advice I will ever give is to “do whatever you need to do to feel sane” or “listen to your instincts.” Clearly, when we moved I threw that advice out of the window.
Margie and I spent some spontaneous alone time this past weekend. I was trying to “do what I needed to do to feel sane” by escaping to the sauna and Margie followed me. My instincts told me she needed me a little more right now. It was less than hour, but it made an immediate positive impact.
It’s a simple idea but complicated in execution. Spend time alone with each of your kids. Sounds simple but… When? Where? Most importantly HOW without the bragging and jealousy that comes with any child getting something that the other doesn’t have.
Margie and I declared Tuesday as a secret “KunstTag” or “Art Day”. I’ll pick her up from school at 1:00 and we will spend 2-3 hours at a museum before the other girls finish school. Her sisters won’t know.
Sidebar: My initial intention was to transition “Art Day” into a rant about the German school system. I’ll write about that bizarre world tomorrow but Margie just sat down next to me to work on her homework and I had a change of heart. I don’t want to rant about the German school system. I want to rave about my kids. Kids, in general, are amazing.
30 minutes in a German grocery store gives me anxiety and Margie attends a fully German public school. I am a grown adult and can barely order a coffee and she sits in a classroom listening and understanding this incredibly difficult foreign language. I sat through a 2-hour German parent meeting and needed a nap from the mental exhaustion.
I was told that Ex-Pat kids have a rough transition when they start German school. I prepared myself for the breakdowns. The first week was terribly difficult. In what feels like the worst parenting moment of my life, I forced her in the building, up the stairs and into the classroom on one particularly rough morning. We were both crying. I could hear her screaming down two flights of stairs as I left to walk home.
I called Quin crying and insisted we transfer her to the International School immediately. I contacted her afterschool program and let them know I would be picking her up directly from school. I spent 4.5 hours worried, anxious and picturing the worst. Who knows what her German teacher whose name I couldn’t pronounce at the time was doing to her. I arrived at school as the bell rang. I outstretched my arms expecting Margie to run and jump in them.
“Why did you pick me up so early?”
I’m sorry? What?
Margie had moved on from her discomfort within the first five minutes of class. I had not. She was genuinely annoyed to be leaving school early. I had activated DEFCON 3 and now needed to retract my desperate plea to the International School admissions office.
I am acutely aware of how uncomfortable I can feel in my day-to-day activities living abroad. Sometimes I unknowingly transfer that discomfort and anxiety to the girls. I know they must be having the same of out-of-body, out-of-box, out-of-comfort-zone situations I am having just relevant to their day. They must be spazzing out too? But…they really…aren’t.
I cannot count the times I have heard or have said “it’s ok, kids are resilient” since we moved. It is so incredibly true for my girls. It can be incredibly hard but they let go and move on.
That moment in the stairwell feels like a lifetime ago. Margie loves school. It’s ok to let go. It’s ok to move on. I’m still working on my resiliency. It’s also ok to tell people you love you need a little more. Margie and I had our first of many “KunstTags” today.
Long story long. Kids are incredible. I’m incredibly proud of mine. Maybe one day they will read this but right now I just hope they feel it.
This is not what I set out to write and it’s all over the place. I’m ready to move on to bed so I’ll leave it here. German public school topic waits for tomorrow.
Grocery Store Anxiety
February 27, 2023
Today was completely normal and abnormal.
The post-Mardi Gras Lenten season is a New Orleanians’ New Year so when the girls returned to school from a week-long break, I started my resolutions.
I worked out and then reached for my vegan cookbook. We are not vegan at all but I sifted through the pages of the cookbook and landed on recipes that sounded like my guilty pleasures. (Update: Broccoli Cheddar Soup without cheddar and Buffalo Cauliflower without buffalo sauce are in fact void of pleasure and now I feel guilty for serving this to my family.)
I made my mile, excuse me kilometer, long grocery list and headed to the store. Completely normal.
When we moved to Germany, I knew I would have anxiety. I didn’t speak any German at the time. We have three school aged children. I didn’t have any friends. I never ever ever anticipated that my largest source of anxiety would come from the grocery store.
My Instagram algorithm figured out that I am an ex-pat living in Germany. My feed is flooded with German grocery store reels and while they are comedy accounts, the grocery store is no joke. I’ll keep with this “No” Theme to describe my shopping experience in Munich.
1. No Car
I don’t have a car. I ride my cargo bike everywhere. I had never heard of a cargo bike before moving to Germany so let me explain. It’s the minivan of bicycles. You can assess personalities based on brand or style of cargo bike. Ours has three wheels, so I guess technically it’s a tricycle, and is battery operated. We opted for stability over the two-wheeled sportier model. You’ll find the three-wheelers parked near the beer gardens with playgrounds. Stability.
Bike culture in Germany is a separate post all together. Just know that my grocery carrying load is confined to a large bucket on a bike. I am no longer doing massive Costco hauls that require an SUV and am now determining if I can buy toilet paper and paper towels on the same day. Shopping requires some strategic planning.
2. No Cart
German grocery carts are all locked together. The key is a coin. I never carried cash or coins in the US so this has been an adjustment. It also can’t be just any coin. Anything too small won’t unlock and anything too large won’t fit. I held my breath this morning as I unzipped my wallet and like Goldilocks found one that was just right. There have been several occasions where I have forced my children to lug baskets around the store complaining that their arms were tired. I have carried two baskets around at once. That’s when the anxiety kicks in, I start to sweat, and it doesn’t stop there.
3. No Space
We live in the city, so space is limited, and grocery store aisles can be SLIM. It’s hard to navigate the aisles with two baskets over each arm when you don’t have a coin to get a cart. I also have to stop and google translate multiple items. In those moments, it feels like every German in the store needs something from that exact section. At least one ends mumbling something about my basket on the floor. I’m sure they are saying something pleasant. I get these types of pleasantries a lot in all types of situations.
4. No Products
I can never complete my list at a single store. I am sure this is related to slim aisles and lack of space but I spent 20 minutes today searching for, google translating and ultimately asking where the Baking Soda was to find out they don’t have it. This could be why my family isn’t thrilled with my cooking but if I can’t find it, I just omit it. I just spent half a day searching for an item so I’m not about to go to another store and do it again. I think America does a few things wrong, but a one stop shop is always right.
5. No Bag
There is no paper or plastic question at the end of the line. It’s BYOB. I can get on board with a reusable bag. I’m not taking spontaneous trips to the store in my invisible car so it’s not an issue. If you need to purchase a bag don’t wait until the cashier has already completed the sale. You’ll hear more of those pleasantries, or they might tell you to get to the back of the line. Today, I had three bags and was more than prepared.
6. No Time
This. This right here is what all the Instagram reels are about. I gave myself a pep talk before proceeding to check out. As a doctor would prep for surgery, I get all my instruments in line. I take my credit card out of my wallet and put it in my pocket, I pull my bag out and fluff it, I free up both of my hands and finally head to the line.
It’s a race to the finish. The cashier grabs my items in their left hand, scans the item as they transfer it to their right hand, and then shoot it down the end of the belt for me to bag it. There is no cashier and bagger duo. It’s one-on-one. Me vs. the Cashier.
If the cashier wins, because ultimately, it’s a competition, they will proceed to hurl the next customers items down the belt on top of my items declaring me the loser. The loser sweating under the florescent lights with half the items on her list.
This Instagram account does a much better job describing this experience if you need a laugh!
I miss the slow and steady pace of a New Orleans grocery store. The small talk with the cashiers and someone placing my items in a bag. I miss the free grocery carts and bags. It seems so enchanting now.
But today, I felt like a winner. I might be missing a few items from my list but I’m sure I can bake without Baking Soda, right? I returned my cart and retrieved my coin, loaded my groceries into my cargo bike and biked home in the snow.
What once seemed abnormal is my new normal. I heard New Orleans is getting an ALDI so maybe it will be your new normal too.
Neues Jahr, Same Me
New Year, Same Me
I started writing this on January 7. It is now February 7 (edit: February 26 now). I’ll keep the portion I wrote a month ago (edit: almost two months ago) and just add to it. Whoops.
January 7, 2023
My left eye has been twitching since Tulane won the Cotton Bowl five days ago. My body has reached an unprecedented level of exhaustion fueled by football, fun and FOMO. Quin and I decided that when Tulane lost the game we would say farewell to our friends and tuck in for an early night. We were SO happy to be there that a win did not feel necessary. A safety, a touchdown and a failed flee flicker later we found ourselves in a wave of martinis and wine.
I have never seen Quin so happy.
The night ended much later than we planned and while I won’t name names there was blood, drama and a visit from the police. We had a lot of fun.
I think most of New Orleans rode that Green Wave of happiness in to Twelfth Night, the start of Carnival Season. This is the time New Orleans shines completely covered in glitter.
It has been relatively easy for us to leave the potholed streets of New Orleans and head back to the smooth roads of Munich. It was hard leaving New Orleans this time. There were so many friends I didn’t see and babies I didn’t squeeze.
February 7, 2023
My eye is STILL twitching. I’m not joking.
My levels of exhaustion are STILL unprecedented, and it doesn’t look like things are slowing down. There were STILL friends I didn’t see and babies I didn’t squeeze on our most recent trip home. New Orleans is STILL shining with the layer of Mardi Gras glitter.
We’ll have to BYOG (Bring Your Own Glitter) this year because we have decided to stay in Europe for Mardi Gras. There were many deciding factors, but we were mostly driven by fear of the German public school system.
February 26, 2023
Well, this is starting to get embarrassing. The good news is I have delayed writing this so long my eye is no longer twitching. Mardi Gras came and went. Millie and I spent last weekend with friends on the Red Sea soaking up some much-needed sun and today we’re wrapping up our family ski trip. From what I can tell on Instagram it was a Mardi Gras for the books. The weather looked amazing and I felt the energy from Munich. We missed our rides, our friends and our family traditions.
We managed to participate in our fair share of partying without attending Mardi Gras. It’s time to slow down. I was excited to start fresh. Lent is like New Year’s Resolutions for New Orleanians. It’s impossible to practice “new year, new me” with Mardi Gras on the horizon. Ash Wednesday is the perfect time for turn over a new leaf.
But since I am trying to assimilate to a new culture I needed to know: Do Germans even abstain from anything during in lent? Or can I use this as a loophole?
A quick google search confirmed that 73% of Germans plan to give up alcohol for lent. Gulp.
I just can’t commit to this one. My birthday always falls within lent, so I am not willing to not have a celebratory martini. I’m not interested in setting myself up for failure.
Maybe I would have a more successful lent if I decided what I was going to abstain from before lent started. I am still pretty wishy-washy. Gluten? Social Media? TV? Frivolous Spending? Nothing seems to land although I am sure Quin would encourage a few from the list above.
So here I am sitting on a Sunday morning, 5 days after lent started trying to finish this post that has clearly lost whatever initial message I was trying to convey. It no longer seems relevant BUT what I have decided in this “new year, new me” Lenten season is that I am going to give up putting this blog off.
Done. More to come in the NEAR future.
Matratze Direkte: Der beste Schlaf für weniger Geld
I hope you hear Kermit Ruffins singing “Mattress Direct: The Best Rest for Less” when you read that title.
We moved to Munich with only clothes and stuffed animals.
Our apartment was furnished with everything except mattresses and bedding. Easy. My last mattress came in a box and was delivered to my front door. How hard could this be? Search. Click. Buy. Unbox.
Those logistics were unmöglich (impossible). The Munich Marriott was our home at the time, and we had nowhere to ship or store a mattress-in-a-box. We needed to buy mattresses locally and pick them up on move-in day.
We loaded up our MONSTER (by German standards) SUV and drove the narrow streets to a mattress store. There aren’t mattress stores on every corner like the USA*, but there are enough and the overall feeling inside is the same. Kind of.
Mattresses line the interior of the store. Red stickers indicate promotions and discounts. Free pillows if you spend over a certain amount. This felt familiar.
We walked the aisles of foam, springs and feathers pushing down on each mattress to feel the potential- Goldie Locks style. Quin and I agreed on a firm foam mattress.
“Es tut mir leid, mein Deutsch ist nicht sehr gut. Wir brauchen ein ‘King Sized Mattress.’”
I’m sorry, my German is not very good. We are looking for a ‘King Sized Mattress’.
Alternative translation: Hello, we are Americans and we like big and sometimes unnecessary things. Did you see our massive car outside?
King Sized mattresses do not exist in Das Vaterland. This will not work. Alternating between Charades and Pictionary we finally understood we would push two mattresses together. I cannot explain why we did not pull up Google Translate in this moment. It would have made things much easier.
I think the lack of a King-Sized Mattress is the core of how German’s operate. There are two people with two separate needs. One mattress will not fulfill both needs. It could also be that older buildings require smaller pieces. I’m picturing the Friends “Pivot” episode. Or it could be that mundane things seem slightly more difficult here.
Whatever the reason a new freedom unfolded. I don’t have to compromise or agree on a mattress. This side is MINE.
This one is MINE.
The salesperson escorted us back to the mattresses to start over. Pressing or sitting on the mattress was not sufficient. We were required to lay down for minutes. Maddie’s salesperson TIMED her. I honestly believe had she sat up before his call he would have declined the sale. He also requested information that blurred the lines of trying to find out if she was single and wanting to find the appropriate bed slats. Nein, Danke.
This one is just right.
Nothing says comfort like laying down in a mattress store in front of a bunch of people.
The picture of comfort.
This is not a criticism of the German sales culture. Don’t worry, that’s my next post titled “The Customer is Always Wrong”. In my experience, shopping here is not rushed. It is thoughtful and much like the measure twice, cut once mentality. Lay down for a few minutes, you want to get this right or perhaps the German framing might be you don’t want to get this wrong.
Thinking back to what would have been an easy mattress-in-a-box Search. Click. Buy. Unbox: What do you do if you get it wrong? Have you ever seen a boxed mattress unfold? It’s mesmerizing. How do you put the mattress back in the box?
Not to get too deep here but I do feel like I’m getting things wrong more than right and there’s no way to put it back in the box. I don’t even know where the box is and to be honest, I’m not looking for it. I’m not trying to be emo in these initial posts, but I do think being honest helps set the scene for what we are experiencing daily. Good and bad. Right and wrong.
We got the mattress right. I made the bed and now I’m going to lay in it. Literally and metaphorically.
Now I just need to tell you my experience buying sheets and how I got that wrong.
Tschüss!
*If you have ever been curious about the oversaturation of Mattress Stores in the US listen to: Are We in a Mattress Store Bubble from Freakonomics.
Just a casual mile walk with these bedding slats.
Ich bin eine Zwiebel
<School Number Flashes on iPhone>
I am certain that regardless of where you live all parents share a similar emotion when the school number flashes across their screen.
SCHEISSE. Shit.
Margie has an earache. Please pick her up.
An earache? Ok.
Our experiences with earaches in the US typically meant a quick trip to the pediatrician, a diagnosis and a speedy round of antibiotics. We were leaving for vacation in a few days and solving this pain was a top priority.
Our friends and fellow ex-pats recently brought their daughter to the doctor for an Ohrenschmerzen (earache). Three visits and bloodwork later, the German doctors decided it was time for an antibiotic. Our ex-pat friends jokingly wished us luck and while laughing said, “They’ll probably just tell you to hold an onion up to the infected ear.”
The doctor confirmed a little redness within Margie’s ear and prescribed a treatment of…wait for it…fresh onion juice in the infected ear. LOL.
How do you even juice an onion!? I really thought our friend was joking.
Luckily, Margie’s earache subsided that evening and she was able to return to school without smelling like onions or having an antibiotic. Our Italian vacation went on as planned.
While in Italy, we had lunch with Quin’s German colleague and his wife. I mentioned our experience and laughed at the idea of squeezing an onion for juice. They both enthusiastically responded that onion juice is an effective way to cure an earache. It worked on both of their children. Hanging onions over your bed will also help with congestion. Why not add some garlic and we’ll fend off colds and vampires all at once?
I am not a doctor in the US or in Deutschland. I am not advocating for antibiotics or onion juice.
I AM challenged and amused as I try to fit my square-experience-and-expectation-peg into this round-German-hole. Although, I think we can all agree the Germans are the real squares here.
KIDDING (sort of)
It has been hard to embrace some of the daily experiences we have here. Although it is easy to poke fun at the differences. My coping mechanism tends to focus heavy on humor, so we laugh.
I have felt a bit stuck living in two worlds. I love and hate it here. I miss the US and I don’t. I feel at ease and wake up with daily anxiety. I feel guilty a lot. I feel like I must answer to people here and at home about our plans and our timeline.
It’s a bit of a tug---------------of---------------war.
I don’t have answers to give and I am just now able to articulate my many, many, many, many, layered feelings.
You know what else has layers? Onions.
And while I may not understand how to juice an onion, I am learning to peel back the layers. Sometimes there are tears because there’s just shallot going on. Ok, that’s enough. I said my coping mechanism is humor, but I didn’t say it was good. It’s taken a bit longer than I anticipated to peel back the layers but I’m ready to share.
Bis Bald!
Hintergrundinformation*
Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I’d like to take a minute
Just sit right there
I’ll tell you how I became the prin…
Wait, that’s not right.
Our family decision to move to Germany does not involve any trouble in our neighborhood a la The Fresh Prince but things are certainly flipped-turned upside down. Our story is in fact quite boring. We moved for Quin’s job.
What does Quin do you ask? He uh…well. He’s a…um lawyer, I guess technically he is still a lawyer. He jokingly told me he’ll be forever marred by that title. I know what Quin does Quin’s business cards say. He works for Vortex Companies.
I’m just joking. I could give you my elevator pitch about Vortex but that’s not the important part. The important part is that I trust Vortex and the team so much that we moved our family to a foreign country. I’ve never met a more dedicated, loyal and hardworking group of people. The move for me was like a giant trust fall and we haven’t hit the ground.
A few years ago, Quin mentioned a European expansion but it seemed like the moment passed. We focused on our family expansion, our new home and Judy. Judy is the real kicker and would be reason enough to stay in New Orleans but it is actually the foundation of my support.
Every time I wanted to do something in the twists and turns of my career path(s), Quin has said some version of “yes”.
Me: I’d like to wait to find a job that is the perfect fit. Quin: Sure thing.
Me: I’d like to go back to school at night. Quin: Right on.
Me: The baby, working full-time and night school is too much. Quin: It sure is.
Me: I want to quit my job if we can make it work and go to school full-time. Quin: Okie Dokie.
Me: I’m working full-time post grad school. Quin: Whew.
Me: I’m pregnant. AGAIN. Quin: …
Me: I’m going back to work full-time with three kids. Quin: As you wish.
Me: This is hard. Quin: Sure is.
Me: I think I need to stay home. Quin: Alright.
Me: I don’t like being at home. Quin: Take your time.
Me: So…hear me out. Judy is for sale. Quin: Here’s how we make it work.
The conversation about Judy was different. Judy was not only a time, energy and emotional commitment but a significant financial commitment. He still said “yes”.
To be clear, these conversations are not about permission. Quin will absolutely tell you I do not ask for permission, and I’ve heard him say a several times “it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” That phrase is typically in the context of ordering “one more drink” or staying out “little longer”. The “yes” is more about trust and support. I couldn’t possibly poo-poo the ONE opportunity that would give Quin the career growth he has worked so hard to earn. It was my turn to say “yes”.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
I have a CRINGEY video I took of myself in August 2020. I thought it was going to be the first of many videos documenting our move but it was the first and it is the last. It’s unnatural and it’s bad. I think my natural habitat is on Instagram. Feel free to laugh out loud.
Tschuss,
Martha Claire
*When thinking of a title Quin typed in “Background Information” in to Google translate and it did not disappoint. My German teacher told me that there is NO LIMIT to the number compound words in German. Just slap it all together.
My face is RED just uploading this video LOL.
nicht so einfach
We boarded a plane to Germany 6 weeks ago today. I had every intention of documenting our journey overseas, our first few weeks and the time spent settling in to our new apartment but sometimes things are “nicht so einfach”.
Nicht so einfach (not so easy) is a phrase we have come to know well in our brief time in Germany. The flight over with three kids did not leave much room for flowing thoughts and our first two and a half weeks were chaotic living out of a hotel. McCadden started school and I finally felt like I had the mental space to write just as Hurricane Ida was hitting Louisiana.
It seemed silly to complain about our crammed hotel rooms while so many of our friends and family were displaced and without power after the storm. I didn’t want to ramble on about the lack of US comfort food selections at the grocery while my friends and family were seeing empty shelves as they returned to New Orleans. We watched and felt helpless. New Orleans is our home and we felt the magnitude of our distance as we watched the city recover wishing we could be there.
I felt stuck. I still feel a little stuck. The four weeks since the storm have been filled with Judy: filling out insurance information, managing our inventory and doing what I can from afar to get things back to normal. I am incredibly lucky to have a group of women who keep Judy going. I am forever indebted to them for the effort and heart they put in to the store on and off the clock. I would not be able to have and give this experience to my family without these women.
It feels like Judy never really had a chance to get in to a rhythm after we took over in 2019. We had six beautiful months before the pandemic and while we have managed 18 months through the pandemic it was certainly nicht so einfach. Living in Louisiana for most of my life has taught me that we pick up the pieces. We find support and inspiration in the midst of the chaos. We rebuild and we find rhythm.
I don’t have a specific goal or rhythm for writing these posts but hope it comes naturally. I do know that I want to leave a digital diary for our children to remember this time. It’s also for me. I want to find inspiration for Judy, to connect with our family and friends and to remind myself that I can do things that are nicht so einfach.
Quin and I talked about writing letters to ourselves last night as a check in point. Maybe this is it? Maybe there’s more?
In the meantime, this is a weird and beautiful place and there is a lot to share.
Tschüss,
Martha Claire