Back to School & Back to Sanity

We hit a family milestone this week and for a brief 3 hours, 2 days a week, all the Mjaanes kids are in school. So this was an especially exciting Back To School time for us. The down side to all 3 being in school is the fact that the family bus driver spends about 2 hours a day in her cramped 7 passenger car. Actually it's only a 7 passenger car if all of the passengers are under the age of 6, or a pack of circus clowns. And we refer to it as the bus because it takes diesel fuel and sounds just like my childhood school bus when it is rumbling through town. It actually makes me miss my mini van. As I say this, I realize the only thing that could make me less cool is if I start wearing "mom jeans" and velcro tennis shoes.



There have been lots of "Back to School" meetings and get togethers to keep me up to speed on what my kids will be doing at school. These are very helpful in regards to some of the information they share and also provide me with unlimited laughs when I come home and share with Bryan what I've learned. The funniest moment was at Z's Pre-K information session. The gym teacher stood up and told us about all the shoes the kids would need to bring to school. This in itself is funny because the kids need the following shoes to be kept at school:

-1 pair of slippers to be worn in the classroom (they don't want the little dirt balls tracking "the elements" into the classroom)
-1 pair of rain boots for playing in the rain (as well as rain pants and jacket)
-1 pair of outdoor sneakers
-1 pair of black sock/slipper things.(Maybe it was her accent, but I have NO idea what the hell these are used for.)

I think the school may be getting a kick back from the local shoe store. The gym teacher went on to say that the outdoor sneakers would be very useful when the children go jogging by the lake. WHAT? This lovely English woman plans on taking 18 children under the age of 5 JOGGING by the lake? No one else in the room seemed to find this hysterical so I stifled my laughter. But all I could envision was a herd of unruly preschoolers running amuck along the lakeshore while the teacher frantically blew her gym teacher whistle and realized the flaw in her plans. I've got money on the lesson plans changing and the kids learning to play a lot of Duck,Duck,Goose inside.



We were also informed that C would be getting his gym uniform in the near future. Huh? You're actually telling me that these teachers get 18 five year olds to change clothes for gym class and then change BACK into their school clothes AFTER gym class? There can't possibly be enough time left over for a game of cricket, or rugby, or whatever Swiss sports they attempt to teach these kids. How is it that it takes me 45 minutes of coaxing and pleading to get my 3 kids dressed for school, but these 2 women can do it twice in 45 minutes with an entire herd of restless expat children? I can't imagine what feats of athleticism these kids are attempting that would warrant a change of clothing, but perhaps they kick the jogging up a notch in Kindergarten and move on to some hardcore marathon training.



Z's classroom teacher was looking for volunteers to be the room mom this year. She said there would be more than one room mom for the class, so I thought, "why not?". I figured someone who knows what she's doing will volunteer and I'll be her clueless American sidekick who agrees with all her ideas and fetches her holiday napkins from time to time. This seems to have backfired and the 2 other women who volunteered have only lived in Switzerland for 2 weeks. The teacher suggested that I could "show them the ropes". I tried to explain to her that I have been searching for the ropes for the past 4 1/2 months and currently see no signs of them. She smiled, handed me a class list, and requested a phone tree be completed by next week. The Pre-K students in Miss Karen's class will soon be enviously eyeing the festivities in the other classrooms and wondering how they got stuck with the incompetent room mom. Poor things.

Being a big Kindergartener this year, C is taking his new "big kid" school in stride. When I see him hop out of the car and head towards the front door of the school by himself, it strikes me how quickly he is growing up. I think most Moms know that little ache you feel in your chest when you have these realizations. Luckily, he almost always looks back at the car with a big smile and blows a kiss which convinces me he is still a little guy who needs his mom. I figure when he's a teenager someday, he'll be jumping out of the car while rolling his eyes, and hoping his dorky mom pulls away before any of his friends see him. Until then, I'll cherish the little look he gives me over his shoulder.



His kindergarten class is in full swing and C has already had a chance to be "Kid of the Day". This is a very exciting day when he gets to bring home the class mascot, Sharon the Sheep. Sharon is a stuffed animal and I feel quite fortunate that we were able to host her at our home quite early in the school year. I figure by November, Sharon is probably a grimy, germ infested sheep and it would be sad to make Sharon spend her visit with us in a plastic bag. But it's kind of like buying a stuffed animal from a garage sale and bringing it home for your kids to cuddle with. It's just not a good idea. Fortunately, Sharon was in pristine condition 1 week into the school year and she enjoyed her evening at our house. She accompanied C and I to the recycling bins (Woo Hoo!) and joined us for story time before bed. Don't ever say we don't know how to show a sheep a good time.



Another exciting part of "Kid of the Day" is that the kid gets to bring 2 toys from home to share with the class. C couldn't decide what to bring and made a few comments about how he doesn't have any "cool" toys. I suggested he make something out of legos and maybe take his leapster in to show the class. Apparently, my ideas sucked because he TOTALLY ignored them each of the 15 times I suggested them. He eventually picked out a book to take because he knew his teacher would read it to the class. When I asked him what his 2nd toy would be, he looked stumped for a few seconds before his face lit up like a kid at Christmas. He said, "Mommy, you forgot something that I have!" and he went running up the stairs. I figured he would bring down some amazing toy that was stuffed in the back of his closet, so when proudly showed me what his 2nd "Kid of the Day" toy was, I was quite stunned. He held out in front of me a beat up gift box, with several popsicle sticks and a handful of toothpicks affixed with masking tape. This little creation had come home with him from school last year and I hadn't seen it since May. This particular morning he called it a "rocket ship" and he was BEYOND thrilled to be sharing it with his class. Now, as a mother, my mind went to how this toy would be received by the other 17 kids in class. I imagined some girl with an English accent saying, "What the bloody hell is THAT? That is NOT a proper toy!". Okay, so most Kindergarteners don't swear, but kids CAN be mean. I envisioned him coming out of school at the end of the day with his head stuffed through the gift box and a "Dork of the Day" nickname that would carry with him until he was 16. I didn't want his little heart broken when his classmates didn't share his excitement about the box/toothpick/popsicle stick creation. But if you had seen the look on his face that morning, there was no way I could tell him to pick something else. There's nothing sweeter then a proud 5 year old. So when he jumped out of the car and headed into school, I prayed I wouldn't see him in tears 6 hours later. I also vowed to make a stop at Toys R Us in the next few days to find my kid a "cool" toy for his next big "Kid of the Day" moment. Fortunately, I must have underestimated the value kindergarteners place on creativity, because apparently it was well received. Maybe I'll just let c pick through our recycling from now on and make his own toys.



E began a 2 year old program 2 mornings a week and seems to be captivated by the experience. When I showed up at school to pick her up the first day, the other kids were crying and running to their moms as soon as they walked in the door. I stood about 8 feet from E out in the garden waiting for her to notice me. She looked my direction a few times, but was so engrossed in her teacher's explanation of how a log is like a circle, that she didn't even notice I was there. I'm already seeing the differences between boys and girls. She will share with me every detail of her day, while the boys can't seem to remember ever BEING at school. She's also much more aware of being stylish in class and insisted on having her nails painted before the first day. The 2nd day, as we were heading out the door to school, she dramatically screamed, "WAIT!" and ran back in, only to reappear a few seconds later carrying a dress up "tirara" (tiara) and a fake plastic credit card. Good Lord, we are so screwed when she hits her teens.



So everyone in the Mjaanes family is adjusting to our new school year routine. I'm enjoying being able to grocery shop and go to the gym without kids in tow, and they are happy to be driving their teachers crazy, since they had driven me crazy by mid summer and I no longer presented much of a challenge for them. Hopefully I'll have a little more time to blog now that they are in school, although currently I'm busy trying to figure out what the hell a phone tree is and how in God's name I'm going to make one. I may be the first room mom in history to be replaced within the first 3 weeks of the school year.

Hot and Buggy

I will begin this blog entry by reiterating how deeply grateful I am that we have this opportunity to live in Switzerland and experience living among so many culturally diverse people. The traveling we are able to do far exceeds any expectations I ever had for vacationing with my family. Yes, I am clearly noting that I appreciate this gift we have been given and plan to enjoy our time here to the best of my abilities.

Unfortunately, my abilities do not allow me to enjoy Switzerland when it is 90 degrees out, air conditioning is almost non-existent, and the Swiss seem to be oddly opposed to putting screens in their windows. I just can't suck it up and smile when my hair is dripping with sweat and I'm being attacked by bees and flies in my own home. I've had to choose between increasing my risk of heat stroke to uncomfortably high levels, or opening our windows and inviting in a large number of insects along with a slight breeze. I opted for the bugs, although if I am stung by one of the dozens of bees that I now cohabitate with and find that I have a severe allergic reaction, I might find I'd prefer death by heat stroke over death by suffocation. I would imagine dying while covered in hives with grossly enlarged lips would not be very dignified. Let's hope I never find out.



Bryan surprised me with a thoughtful gift the other day that he thought might solve our insect problem. He stopped by the florist at the mall and picked me up a plant that truly says, "I love you and think you deserve only the best". He bought me a Venus Flytrap. I was really excited about it prior to opening it. I envisioned an unruly carnivorous plant that would snap it's mighty "jaws" shut on any fly that came within 12 inches of it. I don't know where I got this unrealistic vision of a venus fly trap but as stupid as it sounds, I pictured it snapping bugs right out of the air. Clearly I was wrong, and the plant has not lived up to my expectations. Bryan and the boys decided that killing flies and using a toothpick to stick them in the pathetic little "jaws" of the plant so they can watch the leaves close around it is great fun. I wouldn't know because I am too busy chasing bees around the apartment to partake in their lame science experiment. What I really need is a fly swatter to take on these little pests. Currently my weapon of choice is my "German in 10 Minutes a Day" workbook. The kids now shriek "Get your German book, Mommy!" when a bee begins circling around them and I come running to the rescue, spastically flailing my German book around hoping to get a good whack at it.



The other day this bee issue may have caused me a potential new friend here in Switzerland. We were sitting outside on our balcony trying to enjoy a nice dinner when the bees attacked. At this point, I'm a little ashamed to tell you that I was pissed off. Not a lady like term, but the only one that really fits the emotions I was feeling. So I went inside, grabbed my German workbook and came flying out onto the balcony with a vengeance. I was smacking dinner plates, the table top, the grill, and anything else that a gutsy Swiss bee might land on. Bryan kept asking, "Is that really necessary?" The kids cry out whenever a bee comes near them and I'm going to blame my murderous bee rampage on my maternal instinct to protect my offspring. It makes me feel a little less insane that way.

Well, this is when Bryan decides to motion to our next door neighbors balcony where the nice American woman that I've been getting to know, is sitting outside quietly reading a book. There is absolutely no way she didn't look over and see my embarrassing display of "crazy lady" pest control. And to be honest with you, if I were her, I'd probably be a little frightened at the sight of my slashing about the air with my German book. She was kind enough to not look up from her book when I realized she was sitting there, but I'm not expecting an invitation for coffee anytime soon.



If we haven't scared away our next door neighbors, I'm quite certain we have the rest of the neighborhood wondering about the goings on in our flat. Tonight we were enjoying a nice family dinner while discussing the highlights of the boys first day of school. Sounds nice, until you factor in the fact that every few sentences a bee would fly around the dinner table and the kids would scream. Bryan grabbed the German book and thought it was funny to holler, "Let's teach em some German!" as he slapped the bees to the ground. He'd then toss the dead bee out the open window. This was mildly amusing the first couple of times. After that we were all getting a little aggravated and Bryan's bee swatting became a bit more violent. This is when he took a big swing at an unsuspecting bee and the German book flew out of his hand, out our 4th floor window, and down to the street below. The funniest part about it was the look on his face after it happened. It was a mixture of confusion and amusement and I laughed until I cried as he quickly ran out the door and down the stairs to retrieve it. We're lucky he didn't take out a nice old Swiss Hausfrau on her way to the recycling bins. But she would sure have one hell of a story to tell when she got home.



Aside from the bugs, what makes the heat just that much more unbearable, is that the Swiss people don't sweat. They walk around town with their bags of recycleables without so much as a glisten to their faces. I don't think they know quite what to make of the red faced American lady who complains about the heat all the time. The whole family sticks out like a sore thumb with our beet red faces. But the heat doesn't even seem to phase the Swiss people. This is probably why they have not embraced the concept of air conditioning. Imagine my horror when I realized the gym I had just joined DIDN'T HAVE AIR CONDITIONING. Seriously, have you ever heard of a gym that doesn't have air-conditioning? You would think, since the gym is right on the lake, that they would at least crack a few windows to let in a little breeze, but no. Not a single window is EVER open. After 2 minutes on the treadmill, I look like I just jumped out of the shower, while the Swiss woman with no sweat glands next to me finishes her 5 mile run without so much as a shine. I also find it humorous that they have a sauna in the locker room. Seriously? So not necessary.

Fortunately, everyone says this heat wave is not typical of Switzerland and with Fall just around the corner, I'll be back to loving Switzerland in no time. Fall has always been my favorite season and I can only imagine how nice Switzerland is with the cooler temperatures, changing leaves, and fewer bugs. One of the things I've committed to this fall, is starting German lessons. With the kids back in school, I'll have time to wipe the bugs remnants off my German book, scrape off the asphalt marks, and get to work.

Highs and Lows from the US of A.

July was an exciting month for the Mjaanes family. After 2 1/2 months of living in Switzerland we returned to Chicago for a month long visit. Here are the highs and lows of our trip...

The plane ride home alone with the kids. Shockingly, I'm going to put this in the "high points" category. As the day of our departure loomed nearer, my level of fear rose dramatically with each passing hour. Bryan would also say that my level of bitchiness rose considerably as well. Unfortunately for him, it peaked when he came up from loading the car and gently asked me if I was ready to leave. He then suggested (again very delicately) that we leave right away because the car battery was dead and we were going to have to take the train. I will spare you my reaction to this news and just let you know that it was not a sane woman's response. After reacting ridiculously, I ordered him to go down to the pizza place on the ground floor and ask them to jump our car for us. At this point, he was just glad to get the hell away from me and quickly headed downstairs. We are now forever indebted to the wonderful owners of Cafe Luna and I'm really glad they have amazing pizza because we will be eating there frequently and tipping well to repay them for their kindness. But from that point on, the trip went amazingly smooth. The boys were angels and kept themselves busy with leapsters, legos and movies for the 8 1/2 hour plane ride. E was a little higher maintenances, but as long as I constantly offered her new activities from my bag of tricks, she was pretty happy. I was very proud of all three of them and might even consider flying alone with them again. Maybe....




4th of July Family Tournament. This sadly goes in the low point category. Every year we head to my parents house for a 4th of July celebration. Included in this celebration is a very competitive tournament that usually includes Backgammon, darts, and (I can't say this without snickering) Corn Hole. Clearly we are not the most athletic family. Some families like to play softball or volleyball, but we prefer activities that allow us to either sit in a chair, or at least stand in one place while throwing something that weighs less than a pound. The Mjaanes family was the reigning champion from the 2008 tournament. I don't mean to gloat, but we swept the competition last year. For an entire year, we were the proud owners of the Youngs Family 4th of July tournament trophy. It's actually an old golf trophy my dad got years ago. To make it official, someone taped a handwritten slip of paper over the real plaque, that says "4th of July Tournament Winner". It usually spends the year in a closet, despite my dad's demand that it be displayed on the winning family's mantel for the full duration of the year. But this year, I was on my own since Bryan was still in Switzerland. I'd like to say this is the only reason Team Mjaanes placed dead ass last, but part of the blame lies in the fact that my father cheats at Gin Rummy. Because it rained all day on the 4th, we decided to play gin rummy instead of darts. Bryan is the rockstar of the family at darts and I thought it was in my team's best interest to rally for cards as a replacement rather than play darts while holding an umbrella. My father will deny he cheats at gin rummy, but there was a heated discussion regarding the number of cards that should be dealt and he refused to replay me with the standard 7 cards after beating me while playing with 11. Ridiculous. But since it was at his house, he provides all the prizes, and everyone gets to pick a prize regardless of their standing, I let it go. And since my 12 year old nephew didn't yell "IN YOUR FACE!" as the annual handing over of the trophy picture was taken, I let him have it and set my sights on the 2010 tournament. Plenty of time for practice....




Grocery Shopping. This was definately a high point of MY trip. One of the activities I HATE here in Switzerland is going to the market. Why do I hate this errand? Where do I begin. It's probably best if I just share with you the wonderful things about grocery shopping in the States that most of you probably take for granted. First, I was able to pull into the parking lot and park for FREE. Then, I was able to casually stroll up to the line of grocery carts and pull one out WITHOUT INSERTING A COIN. I felt like I had forgotton something when I started pushing my cart around. I realized it was because I didn't have a giant bag of stinky pop bottles and yogurt containers to shove into small holes in the wall for recycling. God Bless America and their lack of environmental consciousness. I do my part the other 11 months of the year. Then it was time to actually SHOP. Aaaahhhhh..... the American concept of bigger is better. Is it hot dogs you want? Ball Park, Kosher, Turkey, Fat Free, Light, Beef, Cheese filled, foot long, microwavable already in the bun...... I could go on and on. The Swiss? They offer you one ridiculously overpriced package of hotdogs. Take it or leave it. This is true for almost every product, with the exceptions of chocolate and cheese. The beauty of it is, if I WANTED to buy 1 of every kind of hot dog offered, I could actually fit it in my American sized refrigerator and still have room for a Costco sized box of Capri Sun. Here, refrigerators are about the size of the one you had in your dorm room to hold beer and leftover pizza. And the freezer is literally an ice box, too small to fit a normal American sized frozen pizza. There have been times when I've been faced with a difficult decision in the beverage aisle. Do I buy a bottle of wine to fit in the fridge, or a carton of milk for the kids' cereal? Fortunately my kids will eat toast.
After I had filled my cart with a weeks worth of convenience foods, I entered the checkout line and piled it all up on the conveyor belt. This is when I realized I hadn't brought my eco friendly bag. Did the lady at the checkout glare at me and make me buy 8 new eco friendly bags? No. Not only did I not have to buy new bags, I didn't even have to bag my own groceries! An apparently mute and heavily tattooed teenager placed all my groceries in 10 perfectly sturdy plastic bags.
In Switzerland, the most stressful part of going to the market is after I have paid for my items. This is when the checker and I begin our race. I have to have all my groceries in my reusable bags by the time she is done with the next customer and needs my bagging lane. It's intense and I'll do anything to win the race. Including throwing wine bottles on top of my overpriced eggs and bread. Losing this race of speed and agility results in annoyed looks from both the checker and the customers who have been delayed. You might has well just stamp "STUPID AMERICAN" on my forehead.
This is why grocery shopping ranks as one of the highlights of our trip home. Next time you are perusing Super Target with your cart full of economy sized American products, say a quiet thank you to the American philosophy of Bigger is Better. I'll be at home trying to cram a frozen pizza in my ice box.






Airport Check-In. This small portion at the end of our visit falls in both the high and low points categories. If it wasn't so hysterical in hindsight, it would have been one of the low points of our trip. While we were home, I shopped for items that aren't available to us in Switzerland. Everything from furniture cleaner to prescriptions we needed to stock up on before leaving the states. I even decided to buy some extra toys while we were home since they are so expensive here and it's a pain to go to the toy store every time one of the kids gets invited to a birthday party. Needless to say, by the end of our visit, there was quite an assortment of products piled up on our dining room table. I originally had delusions that we would be able to pack everything in the 3 suitcases we brought over, but quickly realized on the day we were leaving that I needed to run to Target and buy a cheap new suitcase. When I brought it home, Bryan wisely counseled me on separating the heavy non-clothing items in order to even out the weight of the suitcases. No problem. Or so we thought. When we attempted to check in at the Swiss Air counter, the ticketing agent went about her business efficiently and finally asked Bryan to lift each suitcase onto the scale. This is when things went awry. Apparently 3 of our 4 suitcases were overweight. And not just a little overweight. At the moment I can't remember what the weight limit is per bag, but they weigh them in Kilograms which made the problem that much more irritating. Is a kilo more than a pound, or less than a pound? I know I've been in Switzerland for almost 3 months, but I've managed to remain clueless about the metric system and I like it that way. The ticketing agent suggested we try to repack our bags to even out the weight. "How much is the charge for an overweight bag?" I asked thinking "No way in hell am I going to start repacking in the middle of the international terminal at O'hare". Fast forward 5 minutes later when I am frantically pulling random crap out of my suitcase to lighten my load. For $450 dollars, I'll make a fool out of myself anywhere. When I pulled out 4 giant cans of black beans, the look on my parents faces caused me to immediately holler, " THEY DON'T HAVE BLACK BEANS IN SWITZERLAND! I NEED TO MAKE MY CORN AND BEAN SALAD!" For the record, it's a really good corn and bean salad. Next came six bottles of grape jelly. With a pathetic whimper I passed them on to my mom to shove in her purse. When I pulled out a ziploc bag full of Bryan's favorite deoderant, I heard someone say, "What, they don't have deoderant in Switzerland either?!?!" Yeah, if I couldn't make my corn and bean salad, Bryan would have to perspire freely until he broke down and bought a Swiss brand of deoderant. 1 bag of chocolate chips, 2 cans of Manwich and and a bottle of Old English furniture oil later, Bryan headed up to the desk to weight the bags again. I watched his face as he placed each one on the scale and it wasn't hard to tell that we had not accomplished our mission. 2 bags were still well over the weight limit. "Take out my toiletries! I'll carry them on! I can layer my clothes if I need to!" This is when Bryan looked me square in the eyes and said, "Screw it. We're paying the extra charge." As some of you know, I am what I like to refere to as pleasantly thrifty. So the thought that I had purchased $150 worth of toys to save a few bucks, and now would pay $300 to take them on the airplane was more than I was willing to accept. But my sane husband had made his decision. "Go get the black beans if you want them. We might as well load up the heavy ones since we're going to have to pay for them anyway." What followed was an odd sight. I can only wonder what the other passengers in line were thinking as my father and I ran cans of black beans, bags of deoderant, and other miscellaneous items from the bench where my mom sat to the check in counter at O'hare. I was overwhelmed with the emotions of pleasure to have my black beans and grape jelly, and horror that they were costing me $300.
This time we had a different ticeting agent. Bryan let her know we had 2 bags that were overweight and he laid his American Express card on the counter. She checked in all the bags, handed us our boarding passes and told us to have a nice flight. Seriously? All that drama and she wasn't even going to charge us? I elbowed Bryan as I discreetly removed his AMEX card from the counter before she could either change her mind or realize her mistake. Thank God, or everytime my kids didn't finish a PB and grape jelly sandwich, I would have had to give them the old "grape jelly doesn't grow on trees" speech and force them to choke it down.




Friends and Family. The best thing about our trip home was by far, spending time with our friends and family. The simple activities like hanging out in the backyard with friends, spending time with our families, going to dinner with the girls, and having a houseful of kids over for playdates, are some of the things we miss most while we are away. It felt like we had dropped right back into our old life and it was very sad to have to say good-bye to all of them again. Home is the one place where you can let your guard down and just be yourself. Our friends and family there just get us, or at the very least look past our weirdness and love us anyway. We're still optimistic that the Swiss will come to enjoy, or at the very least tolerate, the wacky Mjaanes family. Maybe I'll make them some of my famous corn and black bean salad to win them over.