Starbucks Tri-Date

Today I had the privilege of sitting in a German Starbucks with my three children: ages 5.5, 2 and 8 mos. It was 1520 in the afternoon on a Summer Tuesday. They had all behaved very well for several hours earlier at a wildlife preserve and were being treated to tall flavored milks topped with whipped cream as a reward. The moment was close to magic for me. I was struck by what a life of profound blessing I have. To not work, to have three healthy, happy children who enjoy sitting on those fuzzy brown armchairs, with their muscular childlegs touching one another and their feet not close enough to the ground to touch. Between some small milk spills, a near escape on the part of the 2 yearold and a mildly fussy babe - I think we looked a bit strange to the circulating Germans. Three children is enough to make you stand out as a backward cultural anomaly in today's Europe - but that is not at all how it felt to us.In the vortex of the cultural whirlwind I felt the peace of the eye of the storm. I was flushed with a feeling of profound gratitude and happiness, even as we quickly smeared paper napkins on the wall to clean up the last bit of spilled vanilla milk.

The Fasanerie

A dear friend of ours offered to show us Wiesbaden's great fasanerie today. The word fasanerie does not translate well into English, because we have nothing like this. It is a combination nature preserve/feeding/petting zoo/woodland playground with water features dreamland all for kids. We saw elk, buffalo, rabbits and pigs to name a few. Additionally, the fasanerie is just 15 minutes outside of the city but you feel as if you have been transported to a different part of country entirely. The shaded play areas and hub-bub provided by the animals made it a very enjoyable afternoon, and it was all free to boot. This is kid-friendly Germany at her best, and I have a feeling this will become one of our favorite spots.
Pictured are two descendants of Buffalo, NY with a German buffalo.

Full Pantry, Empty Heart

Today our dearest Army buddies moved out of our building, and back across the Atlantic to a new duty assignment in northern Alabama. I wrote more about it here.

World Cup Parenting

We loved following the 2006 World Cup - but watching this year's World Cup from smack dab in the middle of Europe is even more amazing.

Ethan and I share a love of this tournament. We are in the midst of four weeks of great dates in front of soccer games. There is something so refreshing about a worldwide soccer tournament. This is the stuff of legends - there are Camerooni soccer forwards who have raised their entire African villages out of poverty. This is not the Olympics, it is so much better. No one needs a multi-million-dollar pool or elaborate luge track to train. Just a ball. A ball and some posts. I have seen this sport bring joy and purpose to lives in some of the poorest spots in South America. Furthermore, FIFA rules of play continue to eschew technological assistance in making "fair calls." Rather, four live human men have to make the call in real time and then, guess what... you live with it. Perhaps this is why soccer cannot take off in the U.S. Perhaps we are so enamored by the idealized (I would argue bogus) concept of justice that the "bad calls" by officials can "ruin a game for us." Not the rest of the world. They get it. They get that life is not fair, but that hard work, consistency and patience yield results.

So we love the World Cup. We are watching nearly five hours of soccer a night. We teach Viv where the competing countries are located and show her their flags. We cheered so loudly when the U.S. scored their 92nd minute goal that we awoke a sleeping infant. We are that die hard. We live up the hill from the city soccer stadium and they are airing all the German games on their jumbo-trons. Germans arrive hours early and start drinking beer and singing national songs. Then, once the game starts it gets totally loud. Their satellite feed must be about 4 seconds better than ours, so we always know when a German goal is imminent. Our apartment building is under serious construction, and I think I have made friends with the gruff crew of four German laborers simply by making a kicking motion with my foot and saying, "Zer Gut" the day after an important victory for their team. They smile huge, and I am grateful to be an insider in this worldwide fraternity of the true FOOTBALL!
Go USA.

Borderline

To Viv, my daughter. I remember from my early teenage babysitting years that I never enjoyed babysitting six-year-olds. They seemed to be too cool for everything, and thought they knew it all. In light of that fear, I want to record a sunny moment I had with you and your brothers today at a playground.

The three of you had survived daily mass with the visiting bishops and a crowded potluck lunch which followed and I owed you playground time. The weather was 65 and sunny with strongish winds that served only to cool us off after the stuffy lunch in the Church basement. You were wearing a pink short-sleeve shirt with glittery butterflies emblazoned on it, and black skirt with coordinating sequins. I had noticed that it was one of the first outfits you have selected yourself that actually matched, and I had a twinge of sadness at your maturing. Anyhow, we were all enjoying ourselves separately at first - you on the lone swing, Seth exploring the large play structure and the baby and I sitting in the grass in the one shady corner. Then Seth went into the little wooden house atop the play structure and started saying "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin". He is mildly obsessed with the story of the Three Pigs right now, and you indulged him. You ran right up those stairs and got in the house with him. As I said "then I'll huff and I'll puff..." approaching the stairs to reach you, you actually got excited and scared. You squealed with delight as I came to the door and you made it that much more fun for your 2-yr.-old brother and you were not too cool at all. I love you.

Dear

Dear Clark, Today I lowered myself over you while you were just in your diaper on your back in our bed. My love for you was so potent at that moment that no one could possibly understand it. Yet, as I smothered you with kisses from shoulder to shoulder, you gave me the most knowing, grateful look and coo. You understand my love. The cloth diaper you were wearing had been worn by your brother, but you wear everything so differently. You wear life differently. You are teaching me that the wild love and span of emotions I have experienced with our first two children was apparently limited, and that you - in your uniqueness- have the capacity to stretch that love.

Dear Vivian, This morning I witnessed you read a book with such a degree of fluency and comprehension that you were able to laugh at it. All alone, while the morning chores bustled around you. You read a regular children's book aloud and chuckled knowingly at subtle combinations of humor in the wording and pictures. I am excited to have a child who will gain as much pleasure from the written word as her parents, and I look forward to sharing good reads with you for decades to come.

Dear Seth, Today we brought you home three pair of Bob the Builder underpants in anticipation of potty-training. You struggled to get on your favorite pair of the three, and once you did they were totally inside out. Nonetheless, you stood up and proclaimed, "I like Daddy." Which means "I AM like Daddy." Although we are pushing that concept hard in order to inspire peeing in the potty, the idea of losing my joyous golden toddler into boyhood and later manhood is heart-wrenching to me. There is something very particular about raising a child of the opposite sex.

T.G.I.F.

Photos taken at 0847 this morning at the two separate ends of our apartment, thank goodness the weekend starts in a few hours!

Definitive First Word

Our handsome third child/ dark-horse/ Daddy look-alike has a consistent first word, here is proof - posted by a reluctant "Ma-Ma":

Rothenburg ob du Tauber