I should just trade my face with my ass so people will recognize me for what I really am. A big bum.

last night: went to decemberists concert. very glad dane convinced me. i got a free month pass at the concert hall. some girl just gave it to me. i never saw who it was, just heard her voice. i never got to thank her.
before decemberists: "lavendar"...something. i told dane the group looked like a 
bunch of old men who found a cute little girl to sing for them. the old men were super cool. the drummer, precise, intense, intentional, two long dark braids (sorta native american style...though he looked more italian or irish or something). the pianist, good as far as i could tell; had bit mop of stringy greying hair; reminded me of the dog with the floppy ears from the muppets. and the guitarist was older too, not particularly striking. she, the vocalist, on the other hand, was either one of those girls who tries too hard to be cute by talking in a sweet little voice and doing half-assed ballet on stage...or she was high. i'm starting to think a combination of the two. good voice, just kinda annoying. weak lyrics.
but then, what do i know about music?
anywho. decemberists were incredible. i should go to more concerts. i fell in love again. (hehe...
not quite. but i really enjoyed them). 'twas super fun.
there were four kinds of people at the concert: 1) the people who love the music (of all ages - lots of "old" people); 2)old people trying to be young and hip, looking really out of place and 
not quite enjoying themselves; 3) drunk guys who just wanted a party and thought a concert was a good way to go (they were funny, till they started jumping around on my feet); 4) girls who paid 20 euros to get into a concert and then proceed to talk as loudly and annoyingly as they could and push through the crowd to talk to other people they knew around 
them and occasionallydance with elbows and knees flying everywhere, completely ignoring the bands that were playing (some guy behind us finally got pissed off enough to tell them not-so-politely to shut the hell up - they walked away muttering about how rude people can be). 
now i'm going to dye my hair back to blonde. shower. pack for berlin. cook for the kids. and leave for 10 days! woohoo!
cheers.

At the mercy of a child

This morning. It was time to go to school. I told Camiel to finish get his shoes while I quick went to the bathroom. Just as I was getting ready to sit on the toilet, I noticed a big black blotch on the wall, just three feet away from my face. Yep. A spider. A big black one. With a big round body. Thick legs, the kind that all are the same length 'cept the front two which are longer and look kinda like groping arms. I hate how spiders move around. They test the surrounding area by reaching a little bit with one leg, then another, then another, until they've tried with all eight legs. It's creepy. I prefer bugs that scuttle. You know, quick, smooth, non-groping. 
Needless to say, my body went into panic mode. No shit scared out of this here girl - any desire to use the toilet vanished in seconds. I ran out of the bathroom still pulling my pants back up. My heart 
beat way over healthy limits. Hot and cold flashes. Sweaty palms. I took a broom
back to thebathroom (I debated about using a mop...but it'd be too messy).
I took a deep breath to steady myself. No one's gonna do it for me... It's surprising how calm I can be in a situation of utter fear. I knew what I had to do, and I was just about to do it, 
when Camiel walked in the room. 
"What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna kill that spider."
"Why! Spiders are nice."
"I don't care. I hate spiders. I have to kill it."
"No! Spiders are nice! Mom says they are sweet. We can't kill it."
"It can't stay in here."
"I'll take it out for you."
Remember, this is a four year old.
So, he tried several different approaches, but I think despite his assertion that spiders are nice, he was a little afraid of it as well, cause he didn't ever get close enough to even touch the thing, let alone move it outside. Finally, he touched it with the broom and made it fall onto the bathtub rim. (Imagine your worst fear suddenly being in a position that it had only to crawl a few steps toward you and it'd be at your feet...then you'll have a taste of my immediate reaction at that point.) Despite my emotional instability, I managed to stay calm - or is it frozen? - and in one place. Finally, Camiel put a little contain in front of the spider and told me that he was certain it would go in the container while we were gone and that then I could take it outside and let it go without hurting it.
Right. As soon as I'm back, I'm pulling out the broom and squishing it to a million bits of groping squirming mush.
Of course, when I got back, the spider was no where to be seen. Now I am constantly doing little circles, checking the surrounding area for black blotches on walls or ceilings; everytime 
I move, I imagine I feel a spider on my neck or ankles; I had to sweep
toilet sides and under and behind before I'd sit on it, and even then I
rushed out of there like most people rush in.
I shoulda just killed it when I had the chance.

Conversations with a 2yr old

scene 1:
jules, do you have a dirty diaper?
"nee."
i can smell it.
"nee!"
how bout we go change it?
"nee! nee! nee!"
you'd prefer to sit in your poop all day?
"nee!"
so should we change your diaper?
"nee."
ok. fine. go play. tell me when you want a clean diaper. (walk upstairs, to another room, where i can't smell him. seriously. this kid has some rancid poo.)
"'manna!"
yes?
"new diaper?"

scene 2:
alright buddy, in bed. (books been read, read a second one just for good measure, closed the curtains, nap time!)
"boekje?" (book)
no, we just read two.
"boek?"
yup, we just read a book. time to sleep.
"nee!"
yup. want your blankets on you?
"nee!"
ok. see you later. (turn to walk away.)
"nee! blanket!"
you want the blanket?
"nee!"
ok. bye.
"blanket!"
yes or no?
"blanket."
ok. (start putting blanket on him.)
"nee!" (followed by kick, almost in my face, knocking blankets off...)
ok. no blanket. bye.
"nee! blanket!"
last time. yes or no?
"blanket."
(put it on again.)
"nee!" (he kicks it off.)
alright. sleep well.
"nee!"
(walk out of room.)
"nee!"
(close door.)
"i want blanket!"
(ignore him.)
"'manna! blanket!"
(make coffee.)
"nee! nee! nee!"

scene 3:
are you done with your food, jules?
"nee."
k. eat up.
"nee."
alright. (start taking plate away.)
"neeeeee!!!"
k. then eat.
"nee."
(take plate.)
"neeeee!"
(put back down in front of him.)
"nee." (he pushes it away.)
(take plate again.)
"neeeeeee!!!!"
(put on counter.)
"neeeeee!"
do you want it or not?
"ja wel." (yes.)
(last try. put on table in front of him. he pushes it away.)
"nee."
ok. we're done.
(pick up plate. throw food out.)
"neeeeeee!!!"
(go make myself some coffee.)
where's the bailey's when i need it?

relief

few things feel as satisfying and good as blowing your nose clear 
of all the snot that has been building up in your head that makes
breathing almost impossible  and it feels as if your skull is going 
to burst from the pressure or your eyes are going to pop out of place.

Madness

It's too early to wake up. But my alarm is going off already. I can hear the kids.
Breakfast is busy. Camiel is telling me stories about what he dreamed last night and why he likes bugs and where he is going to hide his toys and that I can't go through his stuff and that he'll be mad if I do and that he changed his mind, I can but I'm the only one, and that he is sick today and can't go to school.
Quick check email.
Camiel is still talking, as if he didn't notice I left the room.
That kid talks more than anyone else I know. And he loves to make noise. And argue incessantly about absolutely irrelevent things. He got mad at me last week during supper because he was telling me that if I left the table I'd get in trouble and I told him I was still sitting at the table so there was no reason to get mad and he told me that I was breaking the rules if I left the table and I asked him where I was sitting and he ignored the question and started yelling that I better not leave the table. At which point I was really annoyed and wanted to leave but I was feeding the baby so I couldn't anyway. Why do I let a 4 yr old annoy me so much sometimes?
(Sigh.) That was last week. This week's been pretty good.
It's Thursday. That means tomorrow I can leave after I drop Camiel off at the neighbors.  That means today all I have to do is pick Camiel up at 3...
What to do...
Check my email again.
Dane tells me that I have a difficult job. He's sarcastic.
It's true. It's really not that hard. Why do I hate it so much some times?
I think it's boredom. Boredom will drive a person mad.
Maybe I'll do some yoga.
...
After half an hour I quit. The room is too hot and I'm too sleepy and all I want to do is lay down on the mat instead of balancing on one leg and holding my hands above my head.
Shower. That sounds nice.
Ten minutes later the shower drain stopped working. I have water up to my ankles. The shower ledge is only a couple centimeters high. It keeps nothing in.
Guess I'll clean the bathroom.
While I'm at it, I'll do the kitchen. 
Oo!, someone's talking to me on gmail chat. Nope. Gone. Bummer.
K. The kitchen. Coffee sounds good.  
While I make that, I'll check my email again. Maybe someone's talking to me... Nope.
Back to the kitchen.
I think I'm addicted to the internet. Either that or I'm just desperate for any sort of communication with the outside world.
Only an hour and then I can go pick up Camiel, dump him at the neighbors, then go bother Dane for a while.

i had some strange dreams last night...

-I am lying in my bed, sleeping. I slowly wake up to someone poking; he's 
whispering something, but I can't make it out. It takes me a few seconds 
to realize that I don't know this man, and then another to realize that he is 
very big, scary, and looks a bit like a dirty sailor. I try to scream but voice 
is still gurgly, like it is before you had a chance to clear your throat in the 
morning. I try to scream again, but he stuffs a piece of my blanket in my 
mouth. I realize he's going to kidnap me. I try to scream over and over again. 
Suddenly, I hear someone yelling. I hit my heal on the end of my bed. I 
realize that I am now awake, yelling and kicking around in my bed. There is 
no one there.

-I am with my cousin, Nita. Apparently I have a new dog. He's very small
and has hardly any hair. We are supposed to walk him. But he's not allowed 
to poopanywhere. I feel like I'm lost in a chapter of "Brave New World". I'm 
worried that he's going to poop and we'll get in trouble, or that he'll get a 
stomach-ache from holding it in. Nita tells me not to worry: they now have 
little doggy-poopy-extractors in public bathrooms. (I will spare you of details 
at this point). Problem solved. We head back to the house. Nita giggles and tells me I have a huge booger hanging out of my nose. Ah. That's why 
everyone was looking at me weird. I clean my nose. Then look ahead at the 
puppy. His tail is sticking straight up, like a cat's, but stiff. He's waddling. 
Poor puppy.

-I'm on some island - it looks a bit like Isla Mujeres in Mexico...but not quite. Dane is there. We are looking for a good bar or somewhere to get pinacoladas. Suddenly the beach changes. The waves are huge and on the beach, right next to out feet are really sharp rocks and shells that if we stepped on, I know we'd tear our feet with. We turn to talk to some tourists. They are all women with big boobs and small bikinis. They are scared and won't talk to us other than screaming that we are all gonna die.

-I think we're on the same island. We are inland, going down some stairs that look like they lead to a subway. There are dogs in out way. I take a step and one gets up and starts growling at us. A creepy, toothless, unshaven old man grins and tells me "not to worry little girl. They won't hurt you." I don't believe him, but he have to go down the stairs. The dogs start to chase us. (Things get a bit muddled here.) We are running away. In the meantime, one of the dogs' story plays in the background. He was tricked into joining the group and now he can't get out. One of his best friends joined because he thought it was a way to fight racism. He used to be a big black man with earrings and huge muscles. Now he's chasing me. I want to feel sorry for him, but can't. He's biting my ankles. Then I find myself awake, sweating and breathing hard, in my bed. I can hear my pulse in my ears.

-Everything is grey. I can't see anything. Just mist. I hear voices. High pitched. Then a low rumbling. I think its the water heater (which is in my room). I wake up. It's the kids. I want to sleep again. My alarm clock says 6:58. Is it worth sleeping for another 17 min? No. I crawl out of bed. My ankles are kinda sore...

 

Question

I often wake up 60 to 30 min before my alarm, because I have to pee. 
Instead of getting up, peeing, and then going back to bed for the last 
few minutes of time available to me for sleep, I lay in bed, trying to
ignore the fact that my bladder is about to burst and progressively
getting more and more painful. I manage simply to roll around in bed
finding the most comfortable position that does not press more on
my throbbing bladder, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping that I'll
some how manage to doze off. Then, my alarm goes off and I have
succeeded only in using up my last hour of sleep so that I could jump
out of bed, tired and annoyed with myself, try to throw on some
clothes without losing bladder control,and rush to the bathroom
before I pee my pants.
Why do I do that? 

Update:

Friday: I took the driving-theory exam. It is not uncommon for people to have to do 
this twice. 

(Argh!!!! I had a section here written about it, and it was lost somehow between writing and that little button "publish post"!!! @#$%&!!!)

Ok...once again: When I did the practice tests from the study-book and online, I consistantly got 7-15 answers wrong, while on the real test you are only allowed 6 mistakes. The test is in Dutch and alot of Dutch people don't pass the first time. Needless to say, I was absolutely certain that I was going to fail. But, I had to try anyway, so I signed up and after several delays in the past few weeks, finally found myself in the test room. I was assigned seat 36. The test consisted of 50 questions, for each you are given 30 seconds to read and type in the right answer on the keyboard in front of you, and probably 10 of which I wasn't quite sure about. After the test came the worst part: waiting for the results. First the results were handed back to those that failed. Seats 1-7 all were called, then 12, then 21, then I almost had a heart attack when 26 was called because in Dutch you would say 6-and-20, or 6-and-30...then 32, then 34....my heart pounding, my hands sweating, I almost stood up to accept my papers back...37! Haha! I passed! The guy on my right actually cheered when he realized he had passed...the guy to my left swore loudly, then looked embarrassed and left as quickly as possible. I smiled non-stop for the rest of the day. I passed. :)

Later that night: met with a wedding planner. She took forever to get to the point, talked alot about why we should use a wedding planner, what she could do, what the benefits were, etc. She was very nice though, so even though my mind wandered a bit while she and Luuk did alot of talking, we got the details of our intentions for the day out in the end, and she seemed to know what she was doing. She really liked the 
fact that we wanted to keep it as simple as possible, with no extras. We liked the 
projected price range. 
Saturday: met another wedding-planner duo. They were more professional looking, 
more to the point, but absolutely flabergasted at our no-nonsense approach. "What? 
You don't want flowers arrangements in the entire church? No limo? No dj? No full-day gigantic party?!" The best part was that because Luuk did most of the 
talking, since we were discussing in Dutch and I am naturally a bit less talkative than he is, they kept asking me if I was sure Iwanted this too, as if they thought that he was the one calling all the shots on this and all my life-long dreams of a big flowery wedding were being ignored... They couldn't believe that I would agree with this guy.  As if we didn't agree together to plan things this way. Hehe! Their disbelief was amusing. In any case, we could go with either, basically who ever is cheaper. :)

Ah, which brings me to another, very important point: the wedding has been moved up! We are shooting for Dec. 28... Hopefully we can find a location for that date. So far, the options are super cool and I can't believe the church that we might marry in! It's from the 1600's! (Sigh). I can't wait. It's going to be fun!

(Once again, this page keeps messing up on me, so there are random weird breaks in the outline. So annoying... Ah well.)

for my third post today...

IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING!!!!!
Big, fat, wet chunks of snow are falling everywhere. It's amazing! Woohoo! 
(Apparently, I missed snow...) 

ridiculous quote:

In response to the stadia lock-up after the death of a police man during the riots after a soccer
game in Italy:

"Deaths unfortunately form part of this huge movement which is football and which the forces of order are not always able to control," Mr Matarrese was quoted as saying.  "Football should never be stopped. It's the number one rule: football is the industry... do you think there's an industry that would close its factories and not know when they're going to reopen?"

Sign of the apocolypse, Jeff?

 

not-quite-wide-awake, it's a typical morning...

it's morning. i am dreaming about shopping in the middle of a war. we aren't looking for the normal stuff, but army supplies. the army supplies aren't normal either though. they are promoted like clothing in style, draped over skinny and unrealistic mannequin, covered with glitter and sequins, and even some have embroidery. all around, we hear bombs and people yelling "save me!", "mama!", and other garble noises. not sure who "we" is... i just know there is someone else there.
i wake up suddenly to the sound of someone crying. (quite common...works better than my alarm. i can never fall back asleep, mostly cause i'm too annoyed. unfortunately, it sometimes starts before its actually time to get up. then i get really annoyed.)
"mama! maaaaamaaaa!"
muddled responses by one of the tired parents follow.
i groan and roll over. i start to doze again.
more squeals.that's the two year old. he squeals when he's frustrated. usually when he's trying to do something to difficult for himself. like put on his dad's shoes, which keep falling off each time he takes a step. each step, of course, is followed by a loud squeal. right now, though, it sounds like he's taking a bath. probably doesn't want out.i pick up my cellphone, which is lying next to my bed - 7:04. i could sleep 11 more minutes, or get up. i can't sleep anyway.
while i'm making sandwiches for breakfast (we have bread every day, for breakfast and for lunch. i am so sick of bread... i've started eating fruit for breakfast. probably healthier. i get hungry quicker though. then i just eat more fruit.), i hear camiel saying in a whiny, please-give-me-sympathy voice, "i'm sick! i can't go to school."
he tries this every morning. i keep telling him that we cannot believe him if he tells us the same story every morning and then its not true. i tried once to tell the story of the boy and the wolf...but it didn't really come out right in dutch. he looked at me like i was stupid. meh. he'll learn eventually.
this morning, he tried to convince us that he was in pain, that his head and armpit and knee and rib and head and whole body hurt. i told him that it sounded really serious, so we should take him to the hospital; the doctor will probably say he has to stay there all week and get a shot every day and probably take really disgusting medicine too and eat really gross food. camiel looks slightly disconcerted at the though. "well, i'm not that sick." i tell him that if he's not sick enough to go to the doctor, he can still go to school. he looks annoyed with me, but starts to eat his breakfast, and quickly forgets that he's supposed to be sick.
jules, the two year old, is in the meantime running around the house naked, yelling "nee! nee! neeeee!" apparently he's in his toddler-puberty (aka, the terrible-twos). he doesn't want to be dressed. again. finally, his dad catches him and holds him down. then proceeds a small wrestling match between 6ft tall man, 2ft. tall kid, and a diaper. i'm glad he's doing it today. i'm afraid one of these days i might swat the kid on his little squirming butt. that'd be the end of my nannying days.
now, everyone's gone but myself and the lil'uns. the baby's spitting and sputtering in his chair, and jules is running around with a very stinky diaper. i think i'll let him sit in it for a while - he'll just poop more later. then i'd have to do it twice.
instead i'll just tell all my non-children-surrounded college friends all about my incredibly interesting mornings and hope once again that this blog is not too long.
ah well. it keeps me sane.

schedule for today: coffee, diapers, naps for kids, ironing for me, read a bit from the driving theory book, and call dane up to get out for a bit tonight.

Now for something less...negative.

(Started this on Friday, but got distracted by a kid or something...)

Ok. That's out of my system.
New blog.

So...yesterday (Thursday) I went to Amersfoort to hang out with Carmela (cause it's the closest middle point to visit between our respective 'homes'). After a frustrating experience that involved an empty bank account, the resulting inability to take the train, and a map that cut off just before the city that I had to drive into, I got to the station and met Carmela almost an hour late. She's a very forgiving sister. Apparently you gotta be with me sometimes. :)
We found this interesting bar that was blaring hard rock (Metallica, ACDC, etc.), had pictures and parts of Harley-Davidsons everywhere, consisted of wooden chairs/tables/bar, even had the taps coming out of motor parts. I think they were going for the "southern" feel. I woulda really liked the place if it didn't also have confederate flags all over the the place. I couldn't help but be slightly uncomfortable. I half expected to see Nazi flags hidden in some corners, too. I wonder though if they simply didn't realize what the flag is associated with...

(time lapse... now its monday)

I got lost on the way to Amersfoort, then also on the way back. I tried to take a short cut, but I somehow managed to make a full circle and come back onto the same road I had been on before, heading in the direction of Amsterdam. My map did not cover that side of A'dam, so I got lost.
Getting lost in any Dutch city is easy to do and very frustrating. Getting lost in Amsterdam...well, lets just say it is not a happy experience. I would have been ashamed if my mother could hear my regular outbursts each time I realized that I had missed another road I needed and that I couldn't turn around to get back to it cause I was surrounded by one way streets that curve into the wrong direction. I finally ended up in the absolute center of the city, where I finally parked, and walked the rest of the way to meet Dane, Andrew, and 'Cheka'. We found a cute little bar, full of older men, where they served peanuts and gave us funny looks. The one other woman in the bar was quite drunk and very talkative. She eventually came over to our table, asking where we were from, to which each time she answered "Sue-pah!", and slurred in a very strange accent several other questions to which I don't believe she understood the answers. She said she was from NewYork, that she had married a Dutch man whom she met once when her husband-at-the-time was shooting a documentary elsewhere. Apparently her then-husband found out, they had a big fight, she left the two men to figure out their differences, and took a trip to Holland. While there her husband died in a car accident. I guess the other guy came here, they married, and now she was at the bar while he was sleeping in his office. Happy woman. I felt so sad for her. It was pretty clear that she was at this bar more often. She warned me about the dangers of marrying a dutchman. I smiled and told her I'd keep them in mind.
How do people fuck up their lives so much?

The rest of the night consisted of getting lost again, this time with Dane sitting next to me. He offered his navigational skills for a ride home, and I think he assumed that the reason I got lost had everything to do with my airheadedness and lack of directional abilities or something. Five minutes later, during which we had promptly gotten so lost we had no idea where we were, he was swearing under his breath. As our little adventure continued, our mumblings got more loud and more clear. We did eventually find the way, at which point I realized that I had been really close to the VU before i took a turn that led me to downtown earlier that night. Ugh. Ah well. It was exciting. Sort of.
Getting up the next day was not.

And that brings me to Friday, which was another story.

The weekend was much better.

And now it's Monday again.
I can't wait for the weekend!

Can i complain just one more time about this @#$%^! country?

I was supposed to take my driving-theory exam today. But that didn't happen. Why is it that in a country that seems to thrive on rules never actually makes any attempt to make sure that all the fucking rules are fucking clear? (Sorry. Lost it a bit there.)

Deep breaths.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Uuuughghghg! F-I-A-C-K!!!

I'm really annoyed. and frustrated. and sick of this kinda stuff.

Do I do it to myself? I really wonder. Maybe I'm a walking self-fulfilling prophecy. I keep making things go wrong some how. Don't ask the right questions. Don't even think about the right questions till it's too late. How is it possible that one person could run into so much previously-invisible red-tape? Or complications? Or whatever the hell you can call this...? I must be doing it to myself.

It's not the world against me. This country doesn't hate me. And even though the computer seems sometimes to be a live, spiteful, naughty thing, it really isn't purposely trying to make my day just a little more difficult.

It's just me.

morning ramblins

i hung out with andrew on tuesday night. super sweet! got home at 1am. got up at 7am. that was a bit of a bitch. but worth it. we also found a perfect irish pub. we'll be going there much more often, i predict.
talked to ann yesterday. it's been waaay too long. and talking to her was exactly what i needed at that moment. ah, how i miss that girl.
something is wrong with my browser or my blogger or something. i can't get on to certain people's blogs through my links; only through their comments. super annoying.
i just had left over fajitas mixed with scrambled eggs for breakfast. it was divine! sorta glad the kids didn't like them too much. they sure liked the tortillas. but wouldn't touch the real food. pff. i don't get them. they like weird things (that kids normally don't like) like mollusks and shrimp and sharp cheese. but they won't touch simple beef with tomatoes and onions. seriously. ah well. they weren't too happy to find out that since they didn't eat, they actually couldn't have dessert this time. perhaps next time they'll actually taste what's on their plate before pushing it away with a disgusted little face. ingrid really liked the fajitas though. at least someone recognizes good food when they taste it!
plan for today:
-second cup of coffee
-walk to driving lesson place, pick up papers, schedule exam (eeggh!)
-shower, attempt something with my hair that only looked cool on the day i cut/dyed it, now looks like a bob. not my thing...
-help dane move
-pick up kid
-rush kid to house
-throw kid through the door to the neighbors
-rush to train station
-meet carmela, dane, andrew, and andrew's friend who's name i forgot cause its super weird, in amersfoort (very cool castle-like fort-thing there...gotta check that out)
-find cafe, drink more coffee
-supper somewhere cheap
-amsterdam: find bar, maybe a huka bar (fuck off dane, that's how i spell it).
-drive back to house, hopefully at decent hour
-sleep

aaaannnndddd....that's it for now.
cheers.

About a 4yr old.

Ok, Camiel. Before we go in to the school, we're gonna make a deal. What are you gonna do when I leave?
"Umm...I'm gonna fart!" (He smiles, pleased with his great idea.)
Alright. But, what else?
"Umm...a really big fart!"
Right. Well, how bout you give me a kiss and I give you a reallly big hug (dikke knuffel...I like that term), and then you sit on your chair, and I leave.
"Ok. And then a fart!"
You can fart as long as you want. But, are you gonna hang on my leg like yesterday?
"No!"
Are you gonna cry and whine and follow me to the door?
"No!"
Good. Now, I'll race you to the school!


Haha! I beat you!
"Nuh-uh. I always win."
But I got there first!
"So. I still win!"
Hmm. Convenient. Alright, lets hang up your coat.
"Catch me if you can!" (He runs and hides, behind a small palm-like tree.)
Gotcha. Ok, coat.
"I'm getting away!"
Gotcha again. Coat.
"You can't get me!"
(I pick him up and drop him in front of his coat rack.) Coat. Now.
"You can't get me!"
(Ok. I just pull off his coat as he runs away and hang it up for him. Then I walk to the classroom. He's hiding behind the tree again. I ignore him. He follows me into the classroom.)
Alright, where's your chair? (Someone just grabbed my ass! Oh...it's him.) Right. Oooh! I see your chair! Race ya to it!
(Mad shuffle between big grown ups and 2ft tall kids ensues. He latches onto my pant pockets. Fine. I'll drag him. Walk to the chair, turn around, and sit on him.)
"mmph, you ffftoo heaffy!"
Oh, sorry. Didn't see you. (Hehe, smile to myself.) (I sit next to him for a few minutes.)
"I'm gonna fart!"
Oh yeah? Well, I'll tickle you!
"giggle giggle giggle!!!"

Ok Camiel, it's time for me to go. Can I get a hug? (I squeese him really tight, till he's giggling again.)
"Another one!"
Ok (Hug.)
"giggle giggle. Another one!"
Alright, last one.
"giggle giggle fart."
Ok, kiss. On your chair. See you later!
"Wait!" (His face changes in a matter of seconds from big smiles to an enormous pout.)
Yes?
"I want you to stay here."
I can't. I'm too old. The chairs are too small for me. (Small smile sneaks out. He hides it again.)
"But I want you to stay!"
I can't. I'll see you in a few hours! Then we can play again.
(I get up to leave. It's amazing how fast he manages to latch himself to my leg.)
Camiel. Remember our deal? What are you gonna do after we hug and I have to leave?
"Fart!!!" (Still attached.)
What else?
"A really stinky fart!"
Right. But you are also gonna sit on your chair and say goodbye, right?
"No! I want you to stay!"
(God, I really don't need you to test my patience right now. I unwrap his arms, walk him to his chair. He latches immediately. Try again. Unwrap, walk. Re-latch. Once again. Unwrap. Drag. Pops up like a bouncy ball, attaches again, at amazing speed He's like that kid in the Incredibles. Uwrap, pick up, drag, dump on chair. Squat in front of him.)
Camiel, you have to keep your end of the deal, otherwise I can't trust you.
"I'm gonna fart on your eye! giggle."
Camiel, you have to stay here, ok. I'll see you later.
"Ok!" (With a big smile, he reattaches. Aaagh! What do I do? I frantically search for the teacher. She's talking.)
Ok, on your chair buddy. (Try to stay perky...) I'll see you later today, ok! Have fun! (I practically run to the door. Right at the doorway, I feel something pulling on my pants pockets. I was so close!)
Camiel! That's enough. Go to your chair! (Shit. I lost it. Again.)
"But I want you to stay!" (Ahhh...the teacher sees us. Without a word she pulls him off of my leg, and drags him to his chair. I wave at Camiel and walk quickly to the car. It's time for some Hendrix. I notice that it's actually quite light out this morning. The sky is pink. The drive home is beautiful and relaxing. I make myself some coffee right away. Sigh. That wasn't too bad.)

revelation

i've decided that all my woes and inabilities to be one-hundred-percent, completely happy could be solved by changing my history to one in which i never moved and always lived in the same neighborhood so i never had to say goodbye to anyone and would thus never miss anyone or have to deal with the adjustment pains of the first few months in a new place. my problems would be solved.
but who wants that?
how boring.
my entire life would never have been as interesting as it is now.
so.
what was i complaining about?
i can handle being surrounded (temporarily) by children. i can survive a year of my closest relationships during the week revolving around a 4yr old, a 2yr old, and a baby... there's always the bar (and dane's happy face to cheer me up) at night.

whats so simple in the moonlight, in the morning never is...

i am not a morning person.
my life isn't particularly bright in the morning either.

comment yesterday:

other: "you have a depressive style of writing."
me: "i only write when i'm depressed."


conversation last night:

luuk: "when was the last time you were happy?"
me: "i was happy in iowa. well, there was always the element of missing people, you in particular. i couldn't be completely happy then..."
luuk: "before that?"
me: "i was happy my freshman year. i didn't have to deal with longdistance relationships then. though, i did miss mexico."
luuk: "ever been totally happy?"
me: "well, in mexico i was. sort of. i mean, i was really frustrated with people at the church all the time. and the last couple years i always had in the back of my mind that this was it, i'd be leaving soon... i guess i can't say i've ever been totally one hundred percent happy. but i have been mostly happy."


i'm starting to wonder if i am depressive. or just negative. do i simply not allow myself to be happy? what happened to "content in any and every situation"? is total happiness even possible?
actually, i think i am very..."in the moment" (to use a stupid phrase). i become super involved in my immediate life/emotions, and forget about yesterday quite quickly. which, of course, makes everything seem alot worse than it is. plus...its still morning. give it a few hours.

i woke up more tired this morning than when i went to bed. my head feels tight. my nose is stuffy. my ears keep popping. i think my cold came back for a second round.

cabbage smells really really bad in dirty diapers the next day. the house still stinks from the last one i changed. i can be thankful for stuffy nose. imagine the smell if i had my full sense... egh!

the delightful sounds of a crying baby beckon me.

ciao.

run.

I'm being chased by the monster in "Lady in the Water". Someone is next to me. He looks kinda like Scott, kinda like Paul Giamatti. There is a little girl crying somewhere. I run, but cannot get away. The monster keeps finding me and almost catching me. I hide in a tree. The monster lunges. His mouth opens wide, ready to devour me. Then he starts to beep.

I turn over and fumble for my alarm. 7:15am.
Damnit...
My body temperature starts to rise, and I notice the lumps in my pillow and the draft of air coming through some place in my blanket.
Fine. I'll get up.
My eyes are a bit poofy. I started crying for some reason last night while talking to Luuk on the phone. He unexpectedly asked me if I was happy. I burst into tears. I loose control too easily when I'm not expecting an emotionally charged question. Why was that one so charged, anyway?
I must be ovulating. Or something.
Throw some clothes on. My jeans are dirty. Crap. I don't feel like doing laundry. I put them on anyway.
Camiel is yelling something from the bathroom and Jules is wailing. Great start to the morning.
Climb down the ladder from my room. Avoid the top corner - the bruises on my knee from last time are just starting to turn green.
Someone's in the bathroom. I'll have to wait till they are out before I can relieve my bladder. I make a sandwich for one of the boys instead.
Jeroen walks by in his underwear. "Goedemorgen"; don't look up.
The kids eat breakfast.
"Camiel, quit playing, eat some food. It's almost time to go."
"Jules, keep your food over your plate!"
"No, don't play with your juice!"
It's all over the table. Nice.
Hmm, one of the youngest two has a dirty diaper. The whole kitchen stinks. I'll wait a bit, make sure he's done.
Camiel has to leave. He tries to sneak his toy in his pocket but it's too big. His dad tells him to leave it home. Camiel drops to the floor and starts wailing. Several attempts to calm him fail. Finally his coat is shoved onto him and zipped up, his arms pushed through his backback. He takes it off immediately and drops to the floor again. Repeat. He's dragged, his cries ignored, out the door.
Quiet again.
Should change that diaper.
I need coffee first. I fill the pot with water - oh yeah, I had to pee yet...run to the bathroom.
Through the door I hear Jules count, "One, three, eight, two!", and then he runs around the house at full speed, yelling something unintelligable. He's energetic today.
I hear the baby crying.
Deep breath. I study myself in the mirror. "Man, you look like crap."
Can't stay in the bathroom all day.
Ok.
Coffee.

the meaning of life

http://www.aboutlife.com/alphaviral/factory

it's january!!!

...and the weather outside is frightful.
we had a the craziest windstorm i have ever seen this past week. winds of over 140km/h. (it's still dying down today...). trucks were blown over, pushed into trees, lost control. trees snapped in half and fell over cars, bikers, and roads. roofs peeled off the tops of houses or were stripped naked of shingles. boats in the canals were pushed up onto docks and ships onto beaches. the entire train system was shut down for over 12 hrs, leaving over 1million people (can that number be right???) stranded and costing the company probably millions of euros. the craziest thing i saw was on the news: an airplane attempted to take off and was immediately picked up by the wind and began to float sideways. the funniest: a bird got caught in the wind and was blown, flipping head over tail, through the air until it got caught in a tree. poor thing. actually, another funny thing: we drive down a road to find a big tree stretched across it. a man in the car in front of us opens his door to step out. the door is ripped from his hand and snaps open, slamming across the side of the car. it hangs from the bottom hinge, and the poor man can't close it. two other men come to his rescue, and together they manage to push it back against the door frame, but it won't stick. in the meantime, the men are falling over cause the wind is pushing them so hard. crazy...
rowing was impossible. when i did try, i'm pretty sure i pulled every muscle in my back. i am incredibly sore this weekend. i need physical therapy or something.
yoga.
yoga would be good.
for now... doing nothing. reading some book that was originally written in english, and not translated to dutch, to improve my language skills. i think the story is stupid. but at least i'm learning more dutch.
ah well.
until next time...
cheers.