Yeah, so I'm a very grateful pregnant woman. I count my blessings and whatnot. Seriously though a part of me always knows that this is where my life is supposed to go. I had three kids and I couldn't bear the thought of being done. I love my children and I love my husband and here we are having more, it just doesn't get much more logical than this. The problem is I know I don't see life as it happens. I suppose most people don't. Being in the middle of the story makes it impossible to make oneself an objective picture of it, and although looking back often involves selective memory it is in some ways more accurate in describing what really happened.

Having my first three kids relatively close together was exhausting. I thought it would never end. I was overwhelmed and wanted it all to pass quickly. I don't wish those days back, but I do feel wistful sometimes. I see now that it was just a part of it all while at the time it was all I knew about life with children. The agony of making it through the day was right there beside the joy of the beginning of their (and our) lives. They are inseparable. Sure it could've gone another way, but it would still not have been easy. I struggle with the responsibility of it (see above), but I'm grateful to myself for having done it. I wanted another child because after a few years now I can see where all these diapers and tantrums are taking us to and I like it. I wanted more of it. Except when I didn't. It will always be this way, the commitment and the reluctance at war.

I'm not a happy pregnant woman and I'm not sure I'm a good mother, but my kids are good and it's about them. That is the perspective that connects me to the end of the story and keeps me bending over that toilet bowl a fourth time now.

Oh, to have a voice like Adele or Lauryn or Etta James... To make your statement in a song with that heaviness, it won't even matter what you say, people will listen. You can just belt out your point of view and silence you surroundings. In my head that's how it works. I don't know if when I listen to Adele it brings something out in me or I just wear her attitude like a coat for the duration of the song, but either way I can imagine this is what I sound like on the inside. None of that light soprano that glosses over anything important I think I have to say. I am deep and strong and mysterious, but the world will never know. I share this sad fate with millions of other delusional wannabes, who would if they could, but they can't so they just move their lips with the music and pretend...

This is how my need for a muff came about. I bought a cross-body bag a few months ago, because I got tired of my big purse where I carried too much stuff and that I always had to hold with one arm, so it wouldn't slip off my shoulder. I bought the bag and suddenly my hands were free all the time, but then the weather got colder and I could never remember to bring my gloves. I kept trying to warm my hands in my jacket pockets, which albeit are not positioned properly for this purpose since they only have a top opening and would only receive hands coming from a neat vertical direction. Then I tried to push my hands into the opposite arm's sleeves, which were too tight and ANYWAY: Cold hands.

It's made of old felted sweaters, stuffed with polyester batting and the lining is a stretchy soft nicky-velour.

I kept thinking if I just had something warm to stick them in right here in front of me, while they rest on my new cross-body bag. And then: MUFF!

The problem is only that my kids are enamored with that thing. Nikola will incessantly beg for it and then Ivan would want it too and they both fight over it, while I try to stuff my cold hands into my pockets that are not made for that or try to squeeze them in the narrow sleeves...

This year Ivan wanted to be a skeleton, and he picked a glow-in-the-dark costume kindly mailed to us by Grandma. That costume is SCARY, which is exactly what appealed to Ivan. He is 5 1/2 after all and all he wants to be is seriously cool. None of that sweet baby stuff anymore. Ahem. I think once the costume arrived and it was up close and personal, Ivan discovered he was quite terrified of it himself, but he did not say a word and put it on bravely every day, but only for a short amount of time, not that you would've noticed unless you are his mother and can detect the slightest nervousness in that kid's eyes. Oh, it is the funniest thing. Last night we left the costume under a light and then tried out the glow-in-the-dark feature in the - windowless - bathroom and again... SCARY, VERY SCARY. Ivan showed it off proudly, but also rather quietly and then promptly took it off, put it away in his room and then this morning told me: "Uh, mama, I could see the costume glowing in my room last night. (pause) I was a tiny bit scared." A tiny bit! Only! Gah, this boy is delicious.

Nikola wanted to be Thomas the Train. It was a perfect choice for him, as he is constantly on the run and this costume sort of just drapes over whatever he's wearing and can take a severe beating. He was a hit at the Halloween fest. The best part about Nikola is always his swagger and his absolute bullet-proof confidence. He is awesome and he knows it. It's just another day in Nikola-world.

Veronika requested to be Rapunzel, from the Disney movie Tangled. This was my fault, because I had bought a sewing pattern for the Rapunzel dress and then left it somewhere out for her to see and be able to say she wanted it. I don't know why I had bought the pattern, probably in one of those frequent irrational motherhood moments where you pretend that simply believing everything can fit in your schedule will gloss over the fact that you've been behind that schedule for years now. I groaned and said, OK, I'll make it for you. And the I procrastinated another week. I'm not usually up for complicated projects. The chances of being interrupted and therefore messing everything up several times are so high and real that I am positively scared of putting myself in that emotional state. ("This will never be done! Another mistake! I have to do it over! This will never work! I'm such a screw-up!" etc.) It didn't help that when I actually looked at the pattern, I realized I didn't like it at all, it barely looked like the actual Rapunzel dress. But this story has a happy Hollywood ending, where I actually make the dress! I ended up altering the pattern completely - which I never do - and I made it in time. I don't know what happened. Maybe my kids are older and I have a few more hours every day. It was a fun project. Veronika looked adorable.

As I was making the dress with the trims and the lace and tulle I kept thinking that this might be the last princess dress-up dress she'll request and the thought just took my breath away. Then again I reminded myself that the desire for dresses of other kind will not go away - since I still have mine alive and healthy at 35. It's just with kids... they mark the time relentlessly with their constant growing and leaving stages behind, one after another. I can't keep up.

Oh, the end of summer. People get sentimental around Christmas, but I am completely defenseless when it comes to fall. The last days of August are the saddest of the year: the last time you jump in the water, the cooler breeze on your skin, the darkness arriving at 8 pm, a full schedule ahead, none of it involving good friends and good food... Ideally summer represents the best things about life. Spending time with people you love surrounded by nature that seems relaxed and ecstatic just like the humans. It easily transports you to a realm out of time. Nothing else counts but the present and it requires no effort whatsoever. As if there was the same tune playing in everyone's ear. It's how things ought to be. Always.

Summer is best when you are a child. Never again does one feel the air, water and sky the same way. At the time we are completely unaware of it. Only later in life the memories come back and you realize what it was. Watching my children going through this stage I relish reliving the experience with them. Except this time of course I lack the innocence and I'm aware of time passing. An inevitable effect of having children: the painful sobriety about the shortness of life.

Summer is how life should be. Except for that eternal part. Every fall I fall into sadness that things are over. There are more summers coming of course, but I can't quite shake the chill that those are still numbered in the end. Finding peace in the moment without fretting over what's to come is the hardest challenge. I can only try. And retry.

Until next summer.

Maybe it's a no-brainer, but I've missed out on that a lot in the US, just by sitting in the car. I got used to it and I did see plenty of familiar faces every day, but still. The fact that we were all separated on our errands by speed and closed windows hardly ever got you an impression of what people around you were actually doing. It was one of those things that had always bothered me, but over time I had also accepted as normal. And now that I'm back in a neighborhood where cars are more a nuisance than a necessity, I realize how much I've missed walking and taking in the time of day each time I leave the house. When I drop off Nikola in the mornings, the voices on the tram are hushed, people are slow and sleepy, yet everyone's make-up is still perfectly in place. The hair is groomed, the outfit unwrinkled. Some people are in a hurry, others are just in time and you can feel the energy everyone has about the new day. On other days when I pick him up in the afternoon, everyone is just about done and you can tell. I suppose my excitement about this has a lot to do with the nature of my job, where interaction with other adults is low and my radius of activity is extremely small. I am grateful though for the difference it makes in my mood.

But back to that day at the park. I was pushing Nikola on the swing for a long time. It might've been 5 minutes, but I am insanely bored by the park, so everything seems excessively dragged out. The swing beside him was occupied by a Turkish kid and his mother was pushing him. (Vienna has a very high Turkish immigrant population.) After a while they left and a Polish mother came and pushed her baby, who got cranky pretty quick. She took him out and a Jewish boy took the swing with an older sister pushing him and baby-talking to him in Hebrew. (Which if you've ever heard the language is a feat.)

Although there were plenty of German-speaking Austrian kids on the playground, the above situation is representative of the population make-up of the city. There is an overwhelming number of immigrants and while it seems to make a lot of people nervous, I enjoy it immensely. Vienna is not exactly what you would call a young cosmopolitan city. More the opposite. It has beautiful old things, which are very carefully preserved and taken care of. It's charming in that sense, elegant, majestic... But at the same time this sort of thing makes you not very flexible and reluctant to embrace change and that you can feel as well. Change is not what the classic Viennese stereotype embraces. Immigration brings nothing but change though and in my opinion this is very good for Vienna, regardless of how the natives see it. I am very curious what this town is going to look like in 20-30 or even 50 years. Hopefully the elegance will be still here, but maybe there will be more openness, less rigidity, more joy.

The other factor here is of course that in a sense I'm an immigrant as well. I am an immigrant (or expat or what have you) everywhere now and that state of being is home for me. I feel closer to people who have changed countries, I am familiar with being a foreigner. I have little frame of reference though what it means to be forever tied to one place. I truly cannot imagine it. This is a good and a bad thing or neither. It is a fact. For lots of people lots of immigrants means a loss of safety, for me, it means the opposite. I can't help but feel that the new perspective new people bring is ultimately good for a place. Whether this is true or just a projection of my own situation... we'll see.

On the way back from dropping him off and picking him up though, I am by myself, free from strollers or carriers or temperamental toddlers. It's liberating and for a moment there I can pretend I have somewhere important to go and this calm and reasonable adult I appear to be is my true identity, not that stressed out, messy-haired mother struggling to control her kid and hold on to those gloves at the same time. (Oh, the stupid, stupid gloves, that have to come on and off all the time and then you drop one without noticing and all of sudden you realize you're left with one useless one, - might as well have lost them both, someone could've found them and used them, but this way? Just a tragic nuisance all the way and next time you're out you'll be cold because who has the time to go shopping for gloves? That's why you gotta hold on to those things and it's much harder than you think. This is a real problem. I don't want to hear from anyone living in Florida or Spain and such where they don't need gloves because it's so warm and crap. You don't even have weather! Sunshine is not weather!)

So, anyway when I'm by myself I listen to my lovely iPod, and off I go in my head, jumping from mood to mood with each song, feeling entirely removed from the mundane nature of my trip. The city surrounding me seems unified by whatever song is on, like in a indie movie... little needs to happen, the song will fill in the blanks of the meager story line. Our heroine rides the tram! Here she is looking out the window, the urban backdrop suggests a general confusion about the direction in her life... She is probably reeling from a breakup. Things never work out, yet we all move on bla bla... There are feelings involved, she can't quite define them, they are all so complicated, but again this very good choice of song will put everything in its place. It's an Oscar contender. That kind of understated quiet movie, seemingly not trying hard at all, but actually hitting all the right notes. Too bad my outfit doesn't even come close to the amount of black our heroine should be wearing. But it's ok, it was all in my head. And then my stop comes and I go get my son and return to the tram without a fancy soundtrack. I look a little disheveled and people offer me their seat. There is no cool indie song for that.

This entry brought to you by: "The Way I Am" - Ingrid Michaelsen, "Red" and "Water and a Flame" - Daniel Merriweather, "Quiet Dog" - Mos Def, "F**k You" - Cee Lo Green, "Hometown Glory" - Adele and "Tape of Love" - Flight of the Conchords.

Christmas was going to be different this year, because we could not count on the usual funds for it, plus I felt somehow unprepared for a holiday with my pared-down household items. All throughout November I found myself feeling reluctant to throw myself into the usual busyness. It wasn't just the money, I didn't feel ready... I just somehow... couldn't.

But then it started snowing. It snowed through the entire Advent pretty much. Every time I left the house and pulled down my hat and put on my gloves I thought, "I'm so happy to be outside! I'm so glad the kids get to have snow ball fights on the way home!" I watched the church tower turn white through the window. Our apartment on the 4th floor suddenly felt like a hideaway among the roofs. (I would've said tree house if there had been trees).

We toured the local Christmas markets and did a fairly decent job for our first time here. We shivered and drank hot drinks. We lit the candles on our advent wreath in our still quite empty apartment and somehow - as usual - Christmas came anyway. I ended up enjoying the simplicity of not having fretted over everything so much and not having bought so much.

The biggest difference this Christmas though was the fact that we now had family to visit and to invite. We had some sort of social get-together almost daily. The kids had off from school for two weeks. Most people took the week between Christmas and New Year's off... It was a full Christmas vacation of the kind I realize I had been missing. I loved our Christmases "alone" and I consider them very important in our history as a family, but equally this year things felt right. So many times I caught myself thinking: "So many people, so many friends!" I think it was what you call, feeling very grateful.

You can also click here if you prefer to see them with titles and descriptions: Advent & Christmas Set

Before that I'd been using a raggedy red Target one for years, it probably cost me a dollar. I had bought something cheap and simple on purpose, since I was going to make a proper one myself soon. Yeah, I then used the cheapo one for 5+ years at least.

Last year I had the idea to have everyone draw something on red fabric with white chalk and then I would stitch in white thread along those drawings and thus eternalize them for years to come. I started the project in November 2009. Plenty of time, right?

Well. My family is not familiar with stitching and how d*mn long it takes and they went ahead and drew elaborate Christmas themes on the fabric and I was left with a month to get it all done. Needless to say the skirt was not done by last year. Well, the top was, somewhat, but the threads were open, there was no backing... I finished it sometime in January of February of 2010.

But this year, this year! I have a Christmas tree skirt worthy of a blog entry like you only see in real craft blogs. It has charm and it's personal and nicely sewn and generally bragworthy.

(If you click on it, you can see the designs in detail.)

After: Linzer Augen

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Before:

After: Nougatkipferl

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Before:

After: Vanillekipferl

This has been somewhat of a theme that's been going on in my head, while my hands and my logistical brain were doing the daily grind. We have reached a certain level of normalcy and routine and while some stuff is still being worked out (Uh, income?) and other stuff will change again once that is settled, most weeks and days resemble each other now. This is a positive development because at this point I crave predictability. I signed up for the uncertainty in exchange for other long term benefits and I'm ready to deal, but when those moments of weariness strike, my mind seems to go into retreat mode. I keep remembering my old life (old - from about 6 months ago) and all the places I used to go and the faces I used to see and I think, oh, if I could just go there for a little bit and rest. I would crawl into my old bed and grab a magazine off my messy nightstand and just take a break from all this newness all the time.

Everyone speaks German here. I blurt out "I'm sorry" and "Thank you" several times a day. Sometimes I don't even notice I did it until a lot later. I can't order my usual foundation online. I don't know where to buy my shoes. Where will I pick up lunch when I'm out of time? I can't decide what to buy at the grocery store. I don't care about Austrian politics. I am American all of a sudden. When did this happen?

I know this isn't a strange phenomenon. It's called Reverse Culture Shock. Because it's what I needed, a problem with a name and a Wikipedia entry. My previous life in Austria gives no frame of reference as it is long gone and done. On the other hand all the life skills and familiarity with Austria comes from that time. It's a useless shoe, that doesn't fit, but I still keep around. It's like I need a new definition of me in these surroundings. At times I wish I was completely new to this place so I could just throw myself into it all with a naive enthusiasm, being wholly one thing - a stranger - and not this tentatively confused local. I speak the language and I know the rules, but still wish for a translator, who will explain me to other people. "She's from Austria, but hasn't been here in a long time... "

I know this is a process and whatever homesickness (yes!) I experience, it doesn't touch the excitement about all the things we get to have here. I bought roasted chestnuts on the street the other day... and it felt like my life fell into place for just one moment, because this is a childhood memory, going back even to Croatia. It's was a tiny anchor, an insignificant (but tasty) constant, something to remind my I am still myself, even though someone keeps changing the props on me all the time.

I want this thing but I want the other too. Why can't life be whole? Am I doing this right? I don't know. More than anything the last months have taught me (or reminded me) to let go, to enjoy the ride. Control is an illusion and trying to adjust it all in me head will only give me a headache.

Yeah, but if I could just go shopping at Stew Leonard's for a minute, because I already know what to buy and which shelf it's on...

Well, so is Saturday, but I go on Fridays. There is a big market down the street, around the corner and it's been a big positive surprise to me in many ways. The quality of the food first and foremost, but then also buying food outside, getting to know vendors, trying out new stuff, watching people...

There are a couple of small cool restaurants mostly serving lunch or breakfast.. if it gets chilly they provide blankets. I haven't been yet. It looks like a don't-bring-the-kids-kind of affair. I will get my chance one day.

This is from one of the two poultry stores, which has every type and cut of poultry you can think of. They also offer sandwiches and lunches. Sometime I just admire their exhibits and imagine what I would cook. And then I leave because who has the time?

The 6-day-a week produce stores are firmly in Serbian hands. Excellent selection, plus they give my kids free bananas. I was also offered to sample my way through all their grape varieties to make sure I like the stuff I buy. Needless to say I keep coming back.

I bought these carrots and we ate them raw. I find myself craving them. I know! Vegetables!

And this is the soupy Vienna weather, which lasts from about November to March. It explains why the Viennese had no choice but to perfect the art of sitting in a cafe and sipping cup after cup while stuffing their faces with cake... and now we all benefit from this wisdom.

So here we have this review, which features brilliant commentary like this:

"In Megan (Jessica Pare), Don intuits that elusive peace, for which alcohol has proved so ineffective. Megan is the Serenity Prayer realized: recovery in a great dress. "

... and like this:

"Don (Jon Hamm) chases sex the way toddlers go after colorful plastic..."

And my favorite scene (spoilers!) from the season finale, which I can't see because I've left The Country, but hopefully you can. I could not find an illegal source: Peggy and Joan: Whatever could be on your mind?

Then there's this print, which I will have to get my hands on:

"Betty, Joan and Peggy" by Flapperdoodle on Etsy

But mostly what I really need are a bunch of outfits.

Shirtdress on Etsy

Ivy Pencil Dress by hearmycloset on Etsy

Cable Car Tour Dress on Modcloth

But since I lack the money currently, maybe just a book will do:

The Fashion File by Janie Bryant

The new kitchen has a window that faces the buildings behind ours, they form a thing called "Innenhof", the dictionary translates it as a inner courtyard. It's a space left open behind all buildings to provide light from the other side. But anyway, that window faces half of a wall, but since we're so high up, it also shows a big chunk of sky and lets in a lot of light. It's less bright now in fall, but still sets a cheery mood almost every day. When the sky is clear you can see lots of planes, which makes me happy. It reminds me of our life, of coming and going and planes always carry the promise of seeing loved ones for me.

That kitchen is a great place to have coffee and chat. You are invited.

My new life involves so much walking and climbing stairs now (Ivan's preschool: 3rd floor, no elevator, Noni's school: 2nd floor, no elevator), as well as carrying (Nikola) and hauling (groceries), that by noon I've worked up an appetite worthy of the Austrian cuisine. I don't really mind it, it's just an adjustment. The upside of this is being outside a lot and seeing people and just enjoying the environment inbetween errands. My favorite part is the time right after I drop off the kids (at 8 am). I go pick up stuff at the grocery or the drug store and if Nikola is on my back I buy him a Kipferl. He doesn't really eat breakfast, so this is his first food of the day (besides the gallon of cocoa right after he gets up).

I missed walking. I am also comforted by the hustle and bustle of people going about their business. I don't know if this is a compensation for what my job is usually lacking - contact with other people, or if it's just a personal preference, but either way, it clears my head a bit. I wonder if this will change as the weather gets colder and I start wishing for a warm car.

Nikola's favorite store - with a big Lego Mac in the window.

I am slowly getting a feel for the neighborhood, which is very mixed and family friendly, but still quite Viennese with a sufficient supply of permanently cranky people. The whole district has traditionally been Jewish, which carries a long sad history. There are several reminders of attempts to kick them out throughout the past centuries, but the most chilling ones of course are from the 30ies and 40ies. There is a walking memorial called "Stein der Erinnerung" (English link), one of those plaques are even in front of our building. I have known Vienna for almost my entire life, but living here surrounded by this history puts a whole different spin on the experience. On many days I come home with a heavy heart. It doesn't matter how long ago it happened, it's devastating. Nevertheless there is still a very high population of Orthodox Jews and I see them walking the streets daily. It makes me want to high-five them although I doubt they would appreciate this gesture. Anyway. I am happy they are still here. It also reminds me of New York, although I have never lived there, but still. It's a sign of religious diversity and people taking their faith seriously. I'd like to think it's good for Vienna, where a religious indifference seems to dominate at times.

***

The past four weeks have been grueling in many ways. We have been moving for months now and this last stretch seemed especially hard. Daily life with three kids is stress enough, but trying to set up house and build a new life at the same time was sheer madness. I don't know how many times I went up and down those stairs, with groceries, with furniture, with Nikola on my back. I became one of those cell phone people, talking and texting everywhere and constantly. Lincoln and I went from complaining to each other to just giving each other hopeless exhausted glances. We both knew, there was no need to waste energy on describing it. One day I just started crying. I knew there was no particular reason except I was just done and I felt I was never going to escape this pace. Even in our apartment there was no place to relax. The sofa was facing a blank wall, the bedroom had no curtains... Crying seemed like the only good thing to do at that point. And then we got up the next day and kept going and somehow all this hard work seems to be slowly showing some results. My kitchen is set up, we have a working TV sitting on assembled furniture. We have a pretty lamp setting mood instead of just the solitary bulb hanging from the ceiling. Things are coming together and we are entering something resembling a routine. I'm looking forward to the time things will be settled to the point where I'll have the energy to enjoy everything we came here for.