Things That Keep Me Up at Night, Dutch Education Edition: Part II

Nate in front of his school

First of all, thanks everyone for your support, encouragement, sympathy, and love. My original intention in writing Part I was to possibly help other people who might be considering a similar experience, but it quickly turned into self-therapy. And what's more, that post has led to a couple of conversations that have been tremendously helpful for me. Thank you, all you awesome people.


Time for Nate. Don't worry, this won't be nearly as emotionally harrowing, or long. 

Nate only recently started school here. Preschools tend to have waiting lists, since they are free and available from the age of 2. It took until February to find a spot for him, so before that he spent big chunks of quality time with his dutch teacher, aka the television (fyi: Sesame Street is called Sesamstraat, and Big Bird is blue). Preschool was 4 days a week for about 2 1/2 hours at a time. This was Nate's first experience with school, as well as being left somewhere with no English spoken, and it was just a bit more scary than fun for him. The wonderful thing about living here is that most of his teachers could speak English if he really needed it. He spent a few months at the preschool, where he varied between loving it and crying to go home. 


In May, he started going to the public school that Mia and Sam go to on Fridays. In the Netherlands, you can start primary school (or elementary school) when you turn 4. Literally, the day you turn 4, or the day after in most cases, and it doesn't matter when it is during the school year (unless it's during a vacation). Nate's birthday is May 29th, so that means he started school on May 30th. And it's full-time, 5 days a week. The poor kid was exhausted the first few weeks, but he LOVES it. He teacher is fantastic with him, and after a brief withdrawn, observant phase, he is opening up and talking and being happy and wonderfully well-adjusted. Thank you third child. 


Being the youngest gives him a huge advantage. He still speaks the least Dutch, but he is learning in an entirely different way than the older kids. He mixes Dutch and English more, walks around singing Dutch songs, and is totally comfortable making mistakes and mispronouncing words. In other words, it's more of a natural language acquisition in the way a baby or toddler would learn-- through mimicking, babbling, singing, and playing. And with him, it does seem dramatic and sudden. 


This week, Nate had his first ever play date here, with his best friend from school (Nino) who only speaks Dutch. There didn't seem to be a problem with communication, and they get quite a kick out of each other. We're all big fans of Nino now. Today on the metro, Nate started chatting it up with another little boy in Dutch. Yesterday he relayed a conversation he had with Nino that was apparently hilarious, but it was all in Dutch, so I just had to take his word for it. 


So that's Nate. His last day of school was Friday, and he was really sad about it. And isn't that exactly what you want as a parent? 

A few things about schools in general here:

• The school year is long. Summer vacation is 6 just weeks. There are a few more week long vacations through out the school year, but it's not like year-round school. 
• The school day lasts from 8:30 or 9 until 3 or 3:30. Except for Wednesdays, which end at 12:30.  For everyone. 
• Most children start school at the age of 4 in Group 1, which is the equivalent of pre-kindergarten. Group 1 is optional, though most everyone does it. Group 2 is compulsory, and is equivalent to kindergarten. (Because Nate started Group 1 in the second half the year, he was technically considered to be in Group 0, and will start in September in Group 1). 
• It is very hard to get approval to home school, as far as I understand. But the public education system is considered to be very good. All schools are free; the government subsidizes private schools so that all children can have access to them. Technically, I think, you are assigned to a neighborhood school, but can choose the school you want your child to attend, and put your child on a waiting list for that school when they turn 2. 
• There are no school lunches provided, as far as I can tell, though you can pay for a milk or yogurt drink. So this means we pack lunches every day. The good thing is lunches are very simple here and usually consist of bread, fruit, and juice or water. The immersion school is very picky about this (I guess for the sake of cultural indoctrination), and my kids are terrified to vary from this prescription. So no carrots or crackers for us. 
• Staying at school for lunch is optional, and you have to pay for supervision. The schools contract with a company to provide supervision while the teachers take their lunch, and you can either pay to leave your child, or come pick them up for lunch. As far as I can tell, the majority of the kids stay for lunch.
• In the morning, the kids come into class and shake their teacher's hand and say good morning. At the end of the day, the teacher brings them outside, and shakes each child's hand and says "tot morgen" (until tomorrow). My kids hate it; I love it.
• With so much water everywhere, every child in the Netherlands learns to swim. Once a week kids are bussed to a nearby pool for swim lessons. At the immersion school this was free, but I don't know if that is the case at the public schools. 
• They also do gym once a week, and at least at the immersion school the kids shower after both gym and swimming. We were told that if they forget their swimming suit or gym clothes, they will wear their underwear. I don't think this is meant to be a threat or a harsh punishment. We see kids naked or in their underwear at the wading pools all the time, so I think it's meant to actually reassure the kids that they can still participate even if they forget their gym clothes. My kids of course,  are not reassured by this at all. (And we have forgotten their gym clothes once and you should have seen the terror in their eyes when they realized. With our long bus ride to school, there is no way that I can make the trip back to bring them their clothes, so it really is a tough love situation. Lucky for them, gym was cancelled that day.
• One interesting thing about the Immersion school. The kids that go there are from from all over the world. I once heard Mia and Sam talking about which languages their classmates speak: Spanish, Portuguese, Polish, Arabic, French, Vietnamese, Chinese, Bulgarian, Italian, Burmese, and Russian were the languages they listed off. Many of these kids already speak more than one language.
• Finally, after school, many of the teachers come outside and smoke on the playground. Seriously. But many of the parents are smoking too. 

Time for some videos from the school year. You are under no contractual obligation to watch these, except for those of you who signed the Generic Video Obligation Clause, in which case you are. I'm talking about you, Mom.

Here is a video you will appreciate if you've ever sat through a school music concert. This was at the immersion school, and Mia and Sam are sitting down in the front left. Keep an eye on the guy sitting in front of me-- he gives his wife a look that says it all.

Another video of a performance,  this time from Mia's street dance clinic. Something went horribly wrong with the formatting, and it inadvertently kicked the awesomeness level up a few notches. Trust me, you will not want to miss this one.

And here is a video of them speaking Dutch. First off, let me just state that we have no idea what they are actually saying. Secondly, we had to bribe them with cookies and extra tastes of the dough before they would agree to say anything on camera. The opinions expressed may not represent the views of reasonable, adult human beings. No children were harmed in the filming of this video, but trust, it's not because we didn't want to. 

This was at the end of the year costume party at the public school- I tried to get the bar in the background, but you can't really see it. Beer and wine were offered for the adults, lemonade for the kids. Welcome to Europe!

Finally, here's my favorite thing: parking at the school. Look at all those bikes! 

This concludes Part II, and everything I've ever wanted to tell you about what we learned in school this year. And now I'm curious: say your kids have just 6 weeks of Summer vacation, dream come true or big bummer?

Things That Keep Me Up at Night, Dutch Education Edition: Part I

1st day of school-- September 2011

Last Friday was essentially the last day of school for us. Yes, it's July 16th, and Summer vacation is just starting. And actually, Nate still has another week of school, and Mia and Sam will have a half day this week.  The official, for-reals, absolute last day anyone has school is July 20th. So I suppose it's time I got around to writing about our experience with school this year, seeing as how it's almost over.

Also because the number one question I get asked by friends and family back home is about the difference between the Dutch and American school year calendar.

OK, no, it isn't. It's whether or not the kids are speaking Dutch yet. 

The short answer is: yes, and seriously people, it's super weird.  The long answer is, well...the rest of this blog post. I've been working on this post for a LONG time. Or rather, I've been not working on this post for a long time-- dragging, and avoiding, and procrastinating, and generally not wanting to write about it. It finally occurred to me that I didn't want to write it because it's just not funny. Oh, I wish it was. Trust me, I would love nothing better than to entertain you with the sheer hilarity of it all. As I told a friend recently, this post is mostly about sifting through the emotional consequences of dragging your kids through an international move to fulfill your own selfish desires-- you know, comedy gold. Also, there are aspects of their education here which I'm still trying to sort how how I feel about; it's not so easy to articulate. Anyway, this is the story of our first year in Dutch schools. It goes like this:

Way back when, when we found out we were moving to Amsterdam, it didn't look like we were going to get the rockstar relocation package which, among other things, includes paid-tuition for a private international school. Mostly we were OK with this, since of our intentions in moving abroad was to fully expose our children to a new culture and language. I had scoured blogs and articles about families living "alternative" international lifestyles, and they all sung the praises of the "resiliency and flexibility" of their children who never resisted or dug-in their heels to change, and were always blissfully curious and adventure-seeking. My kids are going to be resilient and flexible too! is what I told myself. And if not, I'll force them, because that usually works. 

I researched a little about schools in the Netherlands until I got overwhelmed/scared. Not because schools are bad here (the Netherlands ranks well above the US in education), but because, you know, it's in another language. It got a bit more difficult to ignore that nagging feeling that this might be hard, like really freaking hard. Best not to think about that, I told myself. Remember how resilient your children are in your imagination? Focus on that. So that is what I did when it was time to finalize the details and sign the contract. We were incredibly fortunate to have Mark's company pay for our relocation, but they couldn't foot the bill for private education, and neither could we. And so, we put our kids in public school here, mostly by choice, partly by no-choice. 

Either way, in our minds, our kids were so lucky to be have to this amazing, life-altering experience of leaving everything they knew and loved, to be plucked down in a foreign land and in a school where they couldn't understand a word being said. Naturally, they were thrilled about it too!


No, sorry. That was a lie. They were positively terrified.

But I'm jumping ahead, and here's where I have to condense things a little, or this could take years. Once we arrived, we found out we had 4 days to find a school because the school term was ending, and all the school offices would close. After running around in circles trying to figure out the maddening bureaucracy of the education system here, being told constantly that schools were too full, and shedding many buckets of tears, we finally returned to one of the first schools we ever contacted, and not only were they amazingly helpful, but they had room for our kids, and had also looked into government programs for helping our kids learn Dutch.

That's how we learned about the Dutch Immersion school that Mia (9) and Sam (6) went to this year.  It is offered as part of the public education system for kids who are non-native Dutch speakers above the age of 6. It is approximately a 1 year program, and the focus is on intense language acquisition. They also do some math, physical education, swimming, and cultural instruction. After 3-4 months, they start attending a regular public school once a week, and after about a year they are ready to attend regular public school full time.


So this seemed like the perfect solution: Mia and Sam would attend the immersion school, and eventually attend the local school on Fridays, until the next school year. Nate (3 at the time) was still young enough that attending a Dutch preschool was the best option to learn the language. (More on Nate in part II.) 
Except the kids were terrified. And I admit, that I was too. Just a little. 


They complained loudly, and often, all through August. "Why do we have to learn Dutch? Why can't we just go to an English school? When are we going back to America? You call this stuff syrup?" (Syrup here tastes a lot like molasses.) 


And I would worry to myself, inaudibly, but just as often, and mostly in the middle of the night. What am I about to put my kids through? What if this scars them for life? Will they ever forgive us? Why am I turning out to be such wimp? 



To give you the raw, in-the-moment feel for things, here is an excerpt from an email I wrote at the time to some friends: 

So, the kids: With out other people to distract them, they focus intensely on each other, which most of the time is a bad thing. Since we've arrived, they have each gone through a difficult period as a reaction to the move. Mia became intensely volatile. There was a few weeks where she would get angry and scream that she hated me multiple times a day. Often before we even had breakfast. Sam already had a short fuse before we moved, but his temper has turned into something nasty. There is no build-up for him. It is instantaneous fire-breathing hell-bent destructive fury. And even Nate has become clingy, whiny, and demanding. Luckily, they've moved through these phases at different times, so they weren't all in a bad place at the same time. 

The kids started school last week, and seriously I didn't think we would survive even one more day at home together. I have never looked forward to something so much. At the same time, it was pretty gut-wrenching and difficult to leave them there. The night before I had the sad realization that I was sending Sam off to his first all-day school experience with almost no preparation. In the states he would be going into kindergarten as a 6 year old with speech difficulties, possible attention issues, and no reading skills. Here, he is in the equivalent of 1st grade, and is having to learn and read in a different language. Did I mention I worry about attention issues with him? I dropped him off with this feeling of despair; that I'm just throwing him to the wolves to be eaten alive. Everyday I asked him for a thumbs up or thumbs down report, and it took 4 days to give a thumbs up. His teacher hasn't talked to me about any major problems, so I guess we'll just wait and see. I still wonder how it's all going to work out for him, learning to read in a 2nd language when he doesn't even read in English yet. Also, since they spend the entire year learning dutch, and focusing a little on reading and math as well, it means that both kids will probably be a little behind next year. For Mia, I'm not so worried since she has done so well in school, but with Sam I really worry about that. I worry that it will mess up his earliest experiences with reading and writing, and he will never enjoy them and always struggle, and blame us forever. Does it sound like I am tormenting myself by dwelling on the worst possible outcome? Well, yes, I tend to do that as a parent. It's hard not to, especially when I'm in completely new parenting situations, and I don't have a lot of clear examples of how this is going to work out. 

Mia is so difficult for me to handle now, that most of our disciplinary interactions leave me in tears because she is so nasty and disrespectful. I know it sounds cliche, but even in high school I don't remember being as rude to my mom as she can be to me. Now, much of the time, she's very helpful and cheerful, it's been good since school started mostly. But when she gets in her mood and I need to get after her for doing something bad (usually hurting Sam or Nate, or calling names), she turns on me and won't let up until I'm the one in tears. And it's quite a wound to my pride to even have to admit this. Lecturing does NOT work with her at all. I've tried writing her letters, and she hates that. She will not talk about what upsets her so much. She's almost 9, and just in the past little while I can tell that our relationship is changing. She doesn't want to hold hands or cuddle with me as much. She's started to tell me things about me or Mark that she thinks are annoying. I can tell she is entering the tween zone, where toys are not as fun for her, but she hasn't figured out yet what to replace them with. (This is another thing about the move that is stressful for me-- we don't have any extracurricular activities right now, and finding some is quite an undertaking here with the language barriers.) Basically, I've got a sassy drama queen maladjusted to a  stressful international move, and there are days where I wonder if my family is going to implode here. 

Most of the time, I try to pep-talk myself, and focus on the positive experience that it's going to end up being for everyone, and try to convince myself that I am the kind of person who can turn our dreams into reality without fearing the unknown. But there are little moments that sneak up on me and either leave me crying or scared out of my mind. 

That was at the beginning. There were many days I dragged them to school and deposited them inside the threshold, and walked away pretending not to hear their begging and crying.  Then I would get on the bus and cry myself. 
"Don't make us go. They yell at us," they would say. "That's just Dutch; it's just the way it sounds," I would respond. 
"We don't learn anything!" 
"You just don't think you learn anything. but you do."
It was a painful adjustment, that first month of school, punctuated by the onset of nervous habits, increased outbursts and tantrums, and excessive clinginess. At times it seemed my kids were case-studies of anxiety-induced neurosis, and I was getting no sleep.

Eventually, that amazing resiliency I was hoping for kicked in. Gradually, slowly, they relaxed, stopped complaining (as much), made a few friends, and when they didn't think anyone was looking, kind of enjoyed themselves. Mia was still adamant that she wanted to move back to the US, and there were still a few outbursts, but by the time we went to England for Christmas, I was feeling pretty good about how things were going. As I would tell most everyone at the time, each day got a little bit better. I was surprised they weren't speaking Dutch fluently, but their comprehension had reached the level where they were approved to start attending our local school on Fridays. They were scheduled to start in January. It seemed we were going to get through this. 

By now, you've all heard the term 'double-dip recession' right?  


Yep, that's where we're going. 


Of course they didn't want to start at the Friday school. It was a new school all over again-- new teachers, new friends, new routines and rules, and they were not excited about doing all that for a second time in 4 months. 
So as expected, at first it was hard. but then it started getting worse. Especially with Mia. 
On Thursdays after school she was all smiles, but often by the time we got to the end of our bus ride, a completely different child got off. A disaster of a child, and we all dreaded what was coming. Sometimes it was tantrums, sometimes it was endless teasing and taunting of Sam and Nate, a lot of times it was yelling, but it always dissolved into an epic melt-down by bedtime. I started to hate Thursday afternoons. Friday mornings were the worst though. The crying began as soon as she woke up, and lasted until I had to shove her through the door of her class and run away. Sam would put up his own kind of fight-- dragging and stalling, running away from me at school to hide.  


I would come home on Friday mornings and feel drained for hours, from the sheer emotional exhaustion of holding it together for my kids. I didn't always hold it together though. Those were not good days. 


Friday afternoon would bring happy children and relaxed moods, and we would repeat the cycle every week. I knew their teachers were trying hard to make them feel welcome, and the kids at school were being friendly, but no matter how non-nightmarish is was on Friday, they would have an entire week to forget. They were the new kids every week.


In February, it was time for parent-teacher conferences. I braced myself for the meeting with Sam's teacher. I knew what she was going to say: he doesn't pay attention, he's never on task, he's way behind, we can't understand him, his pronunciation is a mess. You've made a big mistake. This kid needs serious help. 


I wasn't prepared to hear: We love Sam! He is a joy to have in class. His Dutch is coming along wonderfully. He always pays attention and knows what's going on. OK, his handwriting is atrocious, but everything else is wonderful. 

Um what?!

And I was also surprised to hear from Mia's teacher: She never speaks. Ever. She's extremely withdrawn. I can tell she is smart, but she will not try anything vocally. I'm quite concerned about her. Is she like this at home? 

It was like I didn't even know my own children. They behaved so differently at school. In Sam's case I was thrilled, and also a little bewildered. In Mia's case,  entirely disheartened. 


Soon the Thursday night-Friday morning drama started to spread to other days, and we were dealing with outbursts all the time. Mia would tell me she hated me at least 3 times a day. She started coming home and changing into her pajamas immediately, lost all interest in doing things she used to enjoy, and hated to leave the house. She wanted to watch movies all day long. 


Suddenly all that resiliency and flexibility were nowhere to be found. It seemed my little girl was falling apart. I talked to a friend and found about 9 year old angst (turns out it's a thing). We got a book about feelings. Still, things were touchy for a long time. 

Some excerpts from my journal:  

Mia's birthday was this week. She spent the day wishing she was 10. I guess childhood is losing its grip on her. She had another big emotional breakdown this week over school-- the process of learning Dutch has been quite traumatic for her, and when she's upset about something she will do just about everything she can to make sure everyone around her is miserable just like her. So we had a rough day this week, and I held it together and dealt with her with love and super patience, until is wore me out and then I had a little private breakdown. I hope that girl starts speaking Dutch soon. If she doesn't, I 'm not sure if we'll all survive it. 

...Once again feeling like the world's crappiest mom lately. Being told "I hate you" by Mia multiple times a day might have something to do with it. I'm sure Pinterest does too.  

...Mia is my child who breaks me. She pushes every button she can, she has so much turmoil inside her, and deals with it all in the most dramatic way possible so as many people (but especially me) will be pulled into her misery. For the past few months this has felt like a daily occurrence, though I know we've had some good days, but I'm tired of the struggle. I am never enough, I cannot do enough, and I am at a complete loss as to how to deal with, and love, my own child. All I can do is get up and try again and again. 

One night Mia told me that she was struggling with math, and had been copying her friend's work; she didn't understand any of the problems. Because the kids in her class are different ages and come from such a diverse educational background, there isn't any group instruction for math. Instead each child is given a workbook to work on at their level. The problem was, there was absolutely no explanations or examples. Somehow she was supposed to teach herself how to do 3rd grade math. Her teacher would come around to see if she needed help, but Mia's insistence on not speaking Dutch was getting in the way.

Aaahhh, things were beginning to click.

Mia is not one of those flexible kids.
She fears new and unknown situations, and doesn't like not knowing what is going on, or what to do.  
When she is overwhelmed or intimidated with a task or challenge, she immediately tells herself she can't do it,  and gives up. This usually involves a big tantrum or emotional outburst, until she eventually tries it. It is a painful, drawn-out process. 
She feels the need to do something well, even the first time, and is very afraid of doing something wrong or looking stupid.   
I somehow thought that moving here would help her get past all those things. Maybe it will eventually, but for now we have to learn to deal with her anxiety. (You can imagine how much she is looking forward to our trip this August. Spoiler: she's not.)
Only recently it occurred to me that before moving here, she was a super star at spelling and reading, while struggling a bit with math. Once she started school here, her strength in spelling and reading didn't mean much in a different language, and her struggles with math intensified because of the language barrier.  Basically, her strength was minimized, and her weakness magnified. Also, I'm sure on some level she was jealous that Sam seemed to be adjusting and learning Dutch just fine. Add to that  everything else, and being 9, and it's amazing she was ever happy.

So we got her a dutch tutor. I helped her with math. Slowly the drama started to decrease, and things did get a little better, for a while. The last month has been difficult again on Fridays. Last Friday was her last day and she cried the whole morning before we left. Maybe in a few months I'll have another epiphany and will figure out what was going on, well after the fact. The person who invents some sort of bio-metric digital sensor that works just like a thermometer, but gives you the emotional/developmental reading of your child-- that person will be a bazillionaire. 

So, somewhere in there, the kids started to speak dutch. It wasn't sudden-- they'd been throwing words and little phrases around for a while, translating things for us, and calling each other names. But one day, a teacher came up to Sam after school and started speaking to him. And he responded in Dutch. I listened to them have an entire conversation I didn't understand, and was completely floored. It is the strangest thing to hear words coming out of your child's mouth that you don't understand but other people do. Especially with Sam, I'm used to it being the other way around. Another day, we met some kids on the way home selling cards for a fundraiser. Mia asked them all about it-- what they were selling and how much, what it was for and which organization. We bought their cards. It was the first time I had ever seen Mia talk in Dutch without any resistance. And then I realized one day that Sam was reading in Dutch. Wait Sam, you can read?! And then one day he read me a children's Early Reader book in English. Blew my freaking mind.

Things like this started happening more and more, but it still amazed me every time.

So where are they now? Mia has told me that she doesn't remember when she didn't understand Dutch even though 10 months ago she didn't understand or speak it at all. I don't know how high their fluency is, but they are comfortable enough to make fun of us and our feeble attempts to speak Dutch. Sometimes they speak Dutch to each other when they don't want us to know what they're talking about. They still aren't entirely comfortable expressing themselves, and will revert to English if they are unsure of how to say something. Sam is reading in Dutch and English. Mia has forgotten how to spell words she used to know in English, and occasionally forgets words in English entirely. That difficult guttural Dutch g sound? They pull it off effortlessly. Mia's principal told me last week that Mia was reading above her grade level. Now they are in the last level of the immersion program. They will continue in September, and hopefully transition to the local school full-time in October. They still swear they hate going, although Sam mostly says he hates it because Mia does. He actually really likes it. 

Even with all the emotional stuff, I'm here to tell you that a child's brain is an amazing thing. Dutch and English are remarkably similar, many words are exactly the same even, or very close. The sentence structure though? I would come home from my Dutch class terribly depressed about the prospects of my kids ever speaking it. If it seemed that difficult for me to grasp, how in the world were they going to figure it out? I mean, I was college educated and everything! But as it turns out, this is one of those areas where children excel, thanks to their crazy, language-absorbing brains. My kids, whose reading and vocabulary levels are far below my own, had a huge advantage just by being kids. But even still, I'm super, insanely proud of them. They now speak a second language, and some days I just can't get over that. Crazy! 

Incidentally, tomorrow is our 1 year anniversary of arriving here in the Netherlands. I know it sounds like I just whined and complained about the whole experience, but I don't regret it. Parenting is challenging no matter where you live-- we just added an extra fun layer to it all, thousands of miles away from our family and friends. We made it through a year more or less (maybe less), a little dazed, and trying to sort through what it is we just put our family through. It's been incredible, and hard. Like really freaking incredible, and hard. I admit even writing this has made me pretty emotional.  I could use someone to put their arm around me and tell me:
Stop crying, loser. 
Soon you will all be happily adjusted, the kids will find it strange that they once only spoke 1 language, and you will worry about having to go back to the US and the sorry public education system there. 
You've just been through the part that sucks, where you didn't get much sleep and you worried a lot and your kids went kind of ballistic. 
But, you will come out on the other side, amazed and happy. 
And that color really brings out your eyes, and what moisturizer are you using because your skin looks amazing! When it's not all blotchy from crying, I mean.  You really should stop that, it's all going to be OK. Just imagine that you are really resilient and flexible. I hear that helps.


* Next up: Part II, in which I give a quick update on Nate, post a boat-load of videos that will probably crash your computer, and inundate you with observations about the Dutch education system. Tantalizing, yes? 

Just Start With Your Name, And Some Pictures From Your Phone

 

Hello. My name is Donna, and I'm an infrequent Blogger. 

I've struggled with this problem for a while now; probably ever since my youngest child turned 1. In fact, that same child just turned 4, and he hasn't had a birthday post since his actual day of birth. 

 I asked said child how his recent birthday was, and how he took the personal rejection of not getting a birthday blog post. "I was freaking happy," he said. 

As you can tell, he's already exhibiting some real passive-aggressive coping mechanisms. 

Check it out: a blog update! I have no idea what that is! 

So shall we catch up?
It's been a while, so you know what that means: oh yes, bullet points.

• Mark went back to Seattle in June for about 2 weeks. To demonstrate my fearless independence and super adult skills, I locked us all out within a few hours of his departure. I also got to demonstrate my astonishing acting skills when the locksmith charged me 125 euros, and I was like, oh that's totally reasonable and not at all exorbitant. It's practically pocket change. How droll. 

Waiting for the locksmith. On the upside, at least it wasn't like this:

June in Amsterdam

• Are you ready to be jealous? Mark has a 4 week sabbatical in August, and we are going on an extended vacation through Europe. We've got the basic itinerary mapped out: Germany, Norway, and Portugal. (Why yes, we are going for the most random European vacation ever.) The logistics and details however... you know, the things that should have been finalized months ago when you're taking 5 people through multiple European countries at the height of travel season, and here they are, all un-finalized with less than a month to go. Yay! As fun as it might sound, it is entirely overwhelming to plan, not to mention unbelievably time consuming. And do you know what happens when I have to spend more than 5 minutes on the computer? Well there's this tendency that laundry has to propagate, that sticky things have of getting spilled, and that my children have of trying to kill each other. I turn around and the zombie apocalypse is taking place in my house. Welcome to what I affectionately call my Trip-Planning Shame Cycle of burden-guilt-yell/eat chocolate/fend off zombies-guilt-laundry-repeat. The end result is usually me in a fetal position, in some corner whimpering I don't wanna go on vacation. Please don't make me go on vacation.  I spent a few hours looking up hotels in Oslo last night, and my right arm started to cramp up from pointing and clicking. How lame is that? And now, I feel like a jerk for complaining about it. See what I mean about the shame? Time to go find some chocolate and some kids to yell at. 

• Speaking of yelling at kids... I have this ridiculous tradition of making a strawberry-rhubarb pie every 4th of July. I realize those make no sense together at the moment, but just wait. Despite being the most non-culinary person the entire rest of the year, for some reason on July 4th I feel the need to prove my patriotism by baking all day in the heat of summer. Then we have a party with lots of friends, pie, and root beer, and I miss all those things dearly.  We decided to continue the tradition in Amsterdam with more pie, some crazy expensive root beer I tracked down at the American/British import store, and some new friends we've made here. We showed up at the park, triumphant with my made-from-scratch pie (transported by bike by the way), with mouths watering to dig in. And then, Sam stepped in it. In the pie. We had put our picnic blankets down, spread everything out, and told the kids not to step in the pie, Which is exactly the opposite of what Sam did. And that's where the yelling part comes in. There's no picture of the defiled pie, thanks to my dead phone, but here is a picture of my kitchen in the middle of all the patriotic pie-making frenzy. If this doesn't prove how much I love pie America, I don't know what does. Actually it doesn't do it justice at all. Let's just say that there are many, many reasons why I'm no food blogger.

• You're probably wondering about the dog? That's Wilbur. We're pet sitting for some friends. The kids adore him, and he's really ruining my plan of showing the kids how caring for a pet is unrewarding, hard work.  Dang it.
• Sam lost his first tooth last week. Actually, he didn't so much lose it, as much as he fell off a slide and knocked it out. When I got the call from the school, I was supposed to be resting the ankle I had twisted after taking my bike off a sweet jump. Actually, I didn't so much do a sweet jump, as much as I biffed it going up a small curb. Which caused me to turn my ankle, and then tip my bike over, with the boys on it. Some guy came over to help us up, and I'm pretty sure that he was trying not to laugh. I don't blame him; all I could think of while lying on the ground, tangled up in my bike, was that I totally missed my chance to be on AFV. In other words, it was awesome. 

Totally looks like Alfred E. Newman?

• OK, let me dwell on Sam a little more. Recently I asked him to clean his room while I was in the shower.  So naturally, when I got out of the shower, the room was still a mess, and Sam was gnawing on his door handle. I am not making this up. He's also developed a freaky rash all over his torso that is non-contagious, totally random, and takes 6-8 weeks to heal. And he owes me 20 euros for losing his 2nd backpack in 2 months. And he stepped in my strawberry-rhubarb pie (did I mention that?). Totally love that kid! 

• I don't think that I've mentioned yet, I've been asked to play the organ at church. That's right, you didn't know I played the organ because I don't.  I took a beginner's organ course over 10 years ago, and thank goodness for the two things I actually remember from it. Basically, I sweat my way through every hymn, while everyone sings in a language I don't understand. One fun stories so far: once I decided to push a button in between verses of a long hymn, to change up the sound a little and make it interesting. What I didn't know was that it would increase the volume by about 4 times. I was pretty much committed at that point, so we sang the rest of the hymn at FULL blast, while I tried not to laugh myself off the bench. It's an Organ Circus each week. 

• I signed Mia and Sam up for a yoga class. Yes, you may make fun of me now. 

• And this concludes our session of Infrequent Blogging. Thanks for your support, and we'll see in another month, give or take 3.

This post brought to you by First World Problems.

Familiar Faces

(Well hello there. It's been a while.  It's not that I've been that busy, it's just that I blinked and April was gone, and May was half over. Not much I can do about that, I have a really slow blinking reflex is all.)


It's always fun to walk past someone who looks exactly like someone else you know half way around the world.

Makes my day every time.

I don't know if any of you people have Dutch ancestry, but Spencer Hadley, Lindsay Macdonald, and Scott Heffernan, I've run into your Dutch counterparts here in Amsterdam. I've also seen Jesus, twice. And this morning, Paul Rudd rode past me on a dutch bike. I almost waved to Dutch-Paul Rudd, which was less awkward than when I tried to high-five Dutch-Jesus, but still, it's always hard to recover from the Oh-I-thought-I-liked-your-movies-but-then-I-remembered-I-didn't wave. He probably has that happen a lot here.

Tangent: sometimes people tell me I look like Helen Hunt. It's the high-forehead, no upper lip thing. I assume this is what they're thinking of:

Speaking of look-a-likes, in April, we got a visit via snail mail from Flat Ryan. It's weird, he looks exactly like our 7 year-old cousin Ryan, only flat. He wanted to see the sights, so we took him to some places flat paper-kids like to go. You know, windmills and such.

This windmill is from the 1600's. As you can tell, Flat Ryan is extremely impressed. We made a book about Flat Ryan's visit and sent it to the real Ryan's 1st grade class. I'm pretty sure it was the finest literary work they've read all year. 


We're happy to host visitors of every paper variety, and the non-paper, real human visitors too. In fact, we had our first house-guests in April. 

This visitor came for a long weekend, along with her husband, who is not pictured but looks remarkably like Inigo Montoya. (How awesome is that? I bet when strangers wave at him, they really mean it.) Jen is one of my closest friends from Jr High and High school. Can't you just picture us, passing notes, giggling about boys, and speaking in a secret language? Because that's what we did. In Jr High too, not just while she was visiting. Jen is part Dutch, and it was at her house that I first learned about eating chocolate sprinkles on white bread with butter. For breakfast. Along side a bowl of rice, because she is also part Filipino.  Let me tell you, when you come from a family that eats oatmeal every morning, and you find someone who eats rice and chocolate sprinkles for breakfast, you keep that friend, for life.

Thanks for visiting, Jen and Peter! We hope you enjoyed your stay at the Bardsley Hotel.

                                         These familiar faces arrived in time for Easter. 

                                                                

Since the day we moved here, I've been anticipating my parent's visit, because for some reason, being able to say, "we have family in town" just makes you feel nice inside. Also, I'd been making a list of all the things I wanted them to bring from the States: shoes for the kids, solid deodorant, chocolate chips, books in English, and 2 Costco-sized bags of baking soda. Only your parents will pack 26 pounds of baking soda in their luggage for you. And in case you're wondering, I use it for laundry. (1 cup per load for ultra-fresh clothes. You're welcome.) 

We got to visit for 9 days, and wandered all around Amsterdam. Don't let these life-long Republicans fool you-- they would become European retirees in a heartbeat. I think it was the bakery around the corner that weakened their loyalties. I wouldn't doubt that fresh pastries have been the undoing of even the fiercest patriots. 

 

This picture cracks me up, because you would never suspect that seconds before there had been a slight "disagreement" over where to stand. I believe I said, "OK, stop fighting and smile." Such obedient parents. 

We got to do touristy things, such as going to Keukenhof, which is one of those places that you try to pronounce really quickly so people don't really catch that you don't know how to say it. It's also one of those places that's really amazing. And when I say really amazing, it's because it is a huge garden, so as far as the kids were concerned, really not amazing.

That is until, we whipped out some cameras for them, and suddenly every plant specimen was worthy of a glossy 8x10. I wish I could take credit for this picture, but amazingly, it was Sam. 

Sam also took about 250 other pictures, many of which were almost in focus. Here is a tiny fraction of the pictures Sam took:

Now you know why I wanted to go riding through fields of tulips. 

Funny story: we walked into a tiny old bakery, and saw a jar of sticks for 25 cents each. The lady swore to us that they were not actual sticks, but rather candy made to look like sticks. Well, for 25 cents, it was candy sticks all around! And as it turned out, they were, in fact, actual sticks, flavored to taste vaguely of licorice.  Sam ate it anyway.

We also went on a day trip up the coast, to explore the country side.  

It involved a ride on an old-fashioned steam train, which actually made Mia kind of smile and here is the proof:

Hate me forever Mia, but you were happy for at least a few minutes one day here in Holland. And even though you didn't want to admit it, you also liked the boat ride. 

The boat stopped here, in a little port town called Enkhuizen, the very definition of old and quaint.

Wandering through these old Dutch towns makes me wonder about the people who live there. Do they love it, or do they look around every day and think, meh.

Meh is definitely what my kids thought about it. Up to this point, the kids had loved the train and boat ride, but within seconds of getting off the boat, wasted no time loudly voicing their appraisal of how poopy this stupid old town was.  If one of them ends up studying 17th century Dutch architecture, I will die from the irony. I wonder, death by irony, does it hurt?

More of the quaint little  town. Looking at this is our kid's idea of torture. Hey kids, should we hang you by your toes, or go walk around a beautiful, historic village? Hang us by our toes, please! 

How about you? Wouldn't you love to walk down a street like this? Come visit, and we'll take you. (We'll leave the kids with a babysitter.) Really, we'd love to see your face. 

Tutorial: Family Outing FAIL in 10 Easy Steps (complete with cell phone pics!)

Tired of all those family outings that "go really well" and often result in everyone having "an amazing time"? Then this is for you.  

Step 1: Decide on a Saturday afternoon at 3 PM that you should definitely go on a family bike ride through some tulip fields, because after all, you live in Holland now, and there's bound to be some tulip fields around somewhere. Right?

Step 2: Spend 3 minutes consulting Mr. Google, read some random blog with vague details about a super fantastic bike ride someone went on once. It's just that easy to spend as little time possible preparing!

Step 3: Take a "30 minute" trip to a nearby charming city, lugging 3 kids and 2 bikes on the metro, and then a train. Make sure it takes 3 times as long though. It's crucial that you don't forget that part.

Step 4: It's helpful when you arrive in said charming city, if there is a big street festival going on that you didn't know about, and there are thousands of people wandering the streets, and most of those streets are blocked off. Did I say helpful? Sorry, I meant super helpful.

Step 4.5: Try your absolute best to get separated in the crowds and winding, medieval streets. I cannot stress enough how essential this is. Because trying to navigate through masses of people on a bike while talking on a cell phone in a place you don't know in order to find your spouse who doesn't know where they are or how to get you there is a total blast. It's just like playing Where's Waldo in real life, except with less stripes and more marital discord. Are we having fun yet?!

Step 5: Remember the charming city part in Step 3? Well, when you finally find each other, get through the crowds and find yourself on the outskirts of this adorable place, do not allow your children to be happy about the quaint and picturesque surroundings. Make sure they are whining, and cold. Check to see if you brought extra warm clothes for them. No? Good thinking.  That will increase their unhappiness by at least 6 fold, which is really the minimum level for an adventure like this.

Step 6: Get a little lost. Go ahead, turn down that random road. Poorly placed signs really go a long way to facilitate this. Also, not having a map. Really, when it comes down to it, no maps and no signs are the key factors in getting lost. Remember that. And if you forget, you can always ask someone in a Tourist Information Center for directions, because they are sure to be no help whatsoever. In fact, it's part of their job description.

Step 7: Hungry? Well, you will be if you ate all the snacks on the train, and you've been biking for over  an hour. Good job.

Step 8: Decide to turn around before you reach any actual tulip fields, because it's been 3 hours since you left the house and it's going to get dark soon and no one has had dinner and everyone is freezing. If you actually reach your destination, you have failed. *Hot tip: beg your kids to ask you "when are we going home?" every 2 minutes.

Step 9: Take a picture by some one's yard so you can post it on your blog with the caption, Beautiful ride through some tulip fields. We're in Holland after all!  

Step 10: Repeat Step 2, only in reverse, and try to make a scene this time. Go for something like spilling hot chocolate while hefting your bikes on the train. That's always a good one-- bonus if someone gets 1st degree burns on their hand.

Optional step: When you arrive home, go to your favorite closest Japanese noodle bar, and congratulate yourself on another successful family adventure. If that sounds too idyllic, I have two words for you: chopstick swords.

Don't be discouraged by the deceptive simplicity of it all. Seriously, with a little incompetence and unpreparedness, anyone can do it. Just go for it. It's not that hard to have the most. mediocre. day. ever!

Traveling With Kids: Lessons Learned

Not being an expert on traveling with children, naturally I feel inclined to write a blog post about it. Mostly,  I want to write down a few things that I've learned from our last few trips, so as to not have to relearn them on our next trip. Much of these tips are geared towards a big-city tour in Europe, where there will be lots of museums, cathedrals, and other things not at all enticing for children, but many can be applied to most any vacation with children in general (the words "vacation" and "children" being used together do not necessarily imply a mutual correlation).

• Start things off with something exciting. For example, in Paris, go to the Eiffel Tower first, then take a boat tour. In London, I would also start with a boat tour, and climb to the top of St. Paul's. Do the things that give you a good feel for the city, and that will give you a spectacular view. In Amsterdam, ride a boat through the canals, climb the Westerkerk tower, and then head over to Vondelpark (on your bikes of course). It will probably all go downhill from there, but you know what they say about Alpha and Omega. Well, actually it's really just about the Alpha. 
• You will be tired the next day. Even if you're not dealing with jet lag. Don't plan for anything early, and feel good about yourself if you get out the door by noon. Pat yourself on the back and tell yourself you are awesome.
• Kids need cameras on vacations. This I learned by default: in Paris, nothing made our kids happier than getting a hold of our cell phones to take pictures.  And of course, nothing made us more nervous than our kids having free reign with our cell phones. For our next trip, each kid will get an inexpensive digital camera to take blurry pictures with to their heart's content. I think it's Newton's 4th law that a body that is preoccupied with taking pictures will forget to to whine and complain that it doesn't like all the things it is taking pictures of. Can't argue with science, people.
• Along those lines, little backpacks for each child are a must. They can carry their own water bottles, snacks, and cameras. And if your kids are anything like mine, they might pick up a few tourist pamphlets, give or take a hundred.
• Another thing kids need for their own: money. Having a small amount of spending money for souvenirs and treats that they they get control over just might make them realize, miraculously, that they don't actually reallyreallyreallyreallyreally need that 10th miniature Eiffel tower after all.
• Bribery. I recommend it, but it needs to be specific. I purchased a few little items they could earn each day (travel puzzles/games, small Lego sets, moon sand), and then spent the whole day dangling it for good behavior. The entire day was just too much. Instead, keep the bribery specific to the places and times you want them to behave. "I have a small prize at the hotel for anyone who doesn't say 'stupid' or 'poopy' while we're in the Lourve." Or, "we're going to be riding the Metro a lot today, and we'll get ice cream this afternoon for all kids who pretend to be a deaf-mute on the train." I don't really love the cheap toys as prizes, but they ended up keeping them occupied at night, which is a big improvement from jumping all over the beds. And definitely use whatever local treats and desserts are being sold in little roadside stands.
• I know they are super touristy, but the Hop On/Hop Off bus tours are actually a great way to see a city with kids. Chances are you're going to want to see most of the things on the route anyway, and you might be surprised that your kids actually listen to the prerecorded audio tour for a few minutes before they start climbing all over everything. It's not necessarily inexpensive, but I really regretted that we didn't do this in Paris. Riding the metro might have been more efficient, but you don't get to see the city underground.
• After 3 days of sight-seeing, they are going to need a day to chill. It stinks to be in an amazing location and have your kids need a day to decompress in the hotel, but bring a book, catch up on some emails, and let them watch a movie.  Take turns with your spouse going out on your own, and then find a park to let them play. 
• If you'll be going to a museum, check their website for any kid's activities or packets that they offer (usually for free or very low cost). The museums in London are fantastic this way; the museums in Paris? Not so much.
• When your kid throws a mammoth tantrum in the middle of some public, famous attraction, do not acknowledge that you are related to them in any way. Just keep repeating, "Don't worry, little girl, I'll help you find your mother."

As for ideas of actual things to do with your kids on vacation, I love My Little Nomads, CiaoBambino, and Kids Can Travel for ideas.  Also, feel free to comment with your own tips of the trade. It takes a cyber-village to take your kids on vacation, after all. 

Paris With Kids: The Story of a Regrettable Family Vacation

Every family has a bad vacation story. Our recent trip to Paris wasn't our worst, but it wasn't our finest either. In 2010, Mark and I took the kids on a road trip that we fondly call the Western States Rotavirus Tour. That was a bad vacation. Puking your way through most of the Western US, and passing out in Disneyland does not make for happy, pleasant memories. But it does get you a wheelchair and a pass to the front of the line. In case you don't believe me, I offer this:

Moving on to Paris. Lovely, amazing Paris. Fantastic bakeries. Incredible art. Rich history. Everything that is entirely unimpressive to our kids in other words. Also not impressive: our traveling skills. I should say, our lack of traveling skills. And with all the whining, crying, and fighting, we may have done some irreparable damage to US-French relations. It didn't help that Mia woke up sick on the morning we were left. Actually, at first it did. Weirdly, Mia gets more easy going and sweet-natured the worse she feels. So at first it was great. We had to kick Nate out of the stroller and carry around a barf bag, but we spent a perfectly enchanted evening at the Eiffel tower (and now have 9 Eiffel Tower chotchkies to prove it). As far as anyone could tell, we were just a nice family who gets along on vacation and enjoys buying overpriced, pointless souvenirs (as if there any other kind).

But as the trip progressed, Mia started feeling better and better, and the rest of us kept wishing she was still sick. Not that she alone ruined everything. Certainly none of us were getting enough sleep, and even mouth-watering croissants can't be your only form of sustenance for too long. Wait, I take that back. Yes, yes, they can. Generally however, Sam and Nate are usually game for whatever we drag them along to, assuming there are adequate snacks and bribes provided. Mia, on the other hand, will make you pay for one excruciating hour of being dragged through the Louvre, and will continue to make you regret it even the next day when you take her to an wonderful(ly expensive) little park with rides, animals, treats, playgrounds, and not a single piece of art or culture in sight. She won't enjoy that outing, oh no, or let anyone else for that matter, and will end up screaming at everyone until someone (who may or may not have been me) screams back and we leave the park with the majority of the family in tears. That's just speaking generally though. I wouldn't know any of the details because I've pushed them deep, deep down where they'll be sure to fester and turn into some obsessive compulsive disorder in a few years.

Mark and I were discussing what was worse, dealing with whining or vomit while traveling. My initial stance was that repeatedly cleaning up barf from car seats was way worse, hands down, any day. Mark was team whining. I still disagree, but admit he has a point. External viral threats make you miserable, but you rally together and get through it. Internal bickering and conflict? I thought we might not speak to each other again.

It's guilt-inducing to admit to a sub-par vacation in Paris. The fact that we even have the chance to travel there, and so easily (3 1/2 hours by train) is mind-blowing. We're traveling in Europe. touring 900 year old cathedrals, standing in front of master-pieces, and arguing in front of UNESCO World Heritage sights. I'm in awe of how incredibly lucky we are. After all, not everybody gets to have such bad vacations.

Time for some pictures. If it makes you feel better, even if we look happy, we were probably miserable inside.

(Don't let these happy, hugging children fool you. 
Three minutes later they were trying to kill each other. )

You know you've been married a long time when you try 

to take a picture kissing in the most romantic city in 

the world, but mostly just feel really silly. 

Fighting in a park. Ah, how sweet. 

My favorite picture from the trip: Nate asleep in front of the Venus de Milo. 

And Mia, when you read this when you are much older, I want you to understand that we love you, and we hope that one day you have a child that makes your vacations just as miserable. (As your parents we only wish the very best revenge on you.)