Rain, Rain, Go Away (hack, cough)

We've had maybe 2 semi-nice days in the last two to three weeks. We milked the nice day on Sunday for all it was worth, going to Landstuhl where they had a little outdoor fair and Sunday opening of the stores. (Sunday store openings are a big thing. Everything shuts down on Sundays. Even grocery stores. And no 7-11s. If you're out of milk, you're out of milk. Unless you're American and have base privileges.)

Other than just being sick of rain and cold (it's about 45 degrees F right now, with a high today of 55), I really want it to warm up so that Katrina has a chance to get rid of her chronic cough. Last Saturday night, after a pretty normal day and a visit to the base equivalent of a Chuck E. Cheese, Katrina suddenly developed a fever of almost 103. Since she was on day 3 of her third course of antibiotics since January, we were a bit more concerned than if she hadn't been taking the meds. After a dose of Ibuprofen and a call to the nurse line, we took her to the ER at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. That's the big American hospital here. When you hear about soldiers being taken to Germany after being wounded on the battlefield? This is where they come.

Anyway, we saw in action how much more interventionist the American practice of medicine is over German practice. Of course, by the time the triage nurse looked at Katrina, the ibuprofen had brought her temperature back to normal. But the nurse was horrified that Katrina had been coughing since January and had not yet had a chest X-ray. So off we went to Radiology.

Katrina was absolutely calm and wonderfully cooperative through all of this, even though we had woken her and bundled her into the car after the nurse line put the fear of God into us. (The ER doc said that the nurse line should just have a recording saying "Please go directly to the emergency room." But when you tell a nurse your child's symptoms and that she's asleep in her bedroom, and the nurse tells you to go check that your child is still breathing, well, it freaks you out a little.)

The only complaint Katrina had through the whole ER visit was that she didn't get to see the X-ray of her chest. I think that girl is going to be in the medical field. There was a poster of the anatomy of the ear in the exam room, which fascinated Katrina. We had to tell her what every part was called and how it all worked (if we knew, that is). Then she wanted to know what all of the medical intruments/equipment was and what it was used for.

The doctor on duty said that the X-ray didn't show anything. But he also said he was going to get a colleague to look at it to make sure, so I wonder whether maybe there was a little something there. So he gave us a bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of Ibuprofen for the fever, and Zyrtec to try to dry up any drainage that could make her cough. He told us to overlap the Tylenol and the ibuprofen for 48 hours, which, truthfully, I thought was a bit of overkill. So I gave her ibuprofen at night and checked her temp throughout the day before giving her yet more medicine. But maybe the doc was right, since the fever did recur (though only to about 100).

So that was Saturday night a week ago. That Tuesday, when Katrina was still running a low-level fever off and on, I took her back to the pediatrician. This would be the third visit in three weeks, not counting the ER. You know you're in trouble when the doc comes in, looks at her record and info on the computer screen, and then sighs, rakes his hands through his hair, and mumbles to himself. Really, this doesn't inspire confidence.

"Obviously," the doc says, "her current antibiotic is not working." Um, yeah.

He examines Katrina and then starts talking in German to his nurse, who is at the computer typing in notes. What I hear, because of my woeful lack of anything approaching German comprehension is "blah, blah, blah, blah, chest X-ray, blah, blah." I pipe up to say that she got an X-ray at the ER but they said it didn't show anything. He explains something to me about what an X-ray might or might not show that I cannot recall at the moment.

Then, more notes to the nurse: "blah, blah, blah, pneumonia, blah, blah, blah."

Wha?! "She has pneumonia?!" I say.

"Yeah, I think so," says the doctor matter-of-factly. "What I'm going to do is give you a different antibiotic that is more broad spectrum than the one she's on right now."

Apparently, pneumonia is not the cause for concern I thought it was, because the visit ended exactly the way it did when she had "just a cold," and when she had "bronchitis," and when she had "some sort of viral infection like bronchitis that is going around." We got a prescription for yet another antibiotic and were sent on our way. Granted, the dosage seems to be a bit more aggressive.

About Wednesday afternoon, Katrina perked up and seemed to regain her energy. The fever's been gone since then, and she's been bopping around as usual. She has one more week to go on this, her fourth antibiotic. She's still coughing.

Why the Seven Dwarves Always Look so Happy

OK, so I didn't make Katrina clean up the mess in the bathroom yesterday, since I figured she'd want to play there this morning, too (reason #42 I'm a fun mom but a terrible housekeeper). So, last night as we were brushing teeth, etc., we saw this little guy.




And then, just a little to the left, Dopey looked like he was having fun, too.





It was 11:30 pm after a long, rainy day. Jon and I laughed and laughed. And laughed. I thought it was just the late hour, but I find it just as amusing today. I have such a sophisticated sense of humor.

This is what happens...

when on a rainy afternoon Mama says, "No playing with water in the family room! But if you want to give your dolls a bath, you can do it in the bathroom"

Short and ...well, short

I write blog posts in my head. In the car, while I'm doing dishes, while I'm standing at the playground. But when I actually have time to write, those scintillating posts turn out to be...well, not as substantive as they were when I was sitting in the car waiting on road work traffic. Or, I forget what exactly that great idea was. So, here I am, starting another bulleted list. Hey, maybe the next post will be literary, profound, and touching. And not a list. For now, though, here are some recent happenings and observations.

• A piece of filling fell out of my tooth Saturday night. So, Monday I had to get the whole filling drilled out and re-done. The dentist was great. I've had some not-so-great experiences in the dentist office, so I'm always wound pretty tight when I get there. But there was no pain, not even with the shot.

• Tuesday I took Katrina to the pediatrician for her persistant cough. He was as convinced as I that she had some sort of environmental allergies. So they did a prick test for about 10 different things, and she came out clean on all of them. By the way, Katrina was amazingly calm for the whole thing, from the little lancet pricks to the 20 minutes of holding her arm still. Since the allergy test was negative, the doc thought she might have a viral infection. Anyway, we came home with another cough syrup and a 7-day supply of Singulair, an asthma treatment. If these don't work in a week, I'm supposed to bring her back to get some inhalant treatment.

• I've been trying to lose some weight. I've lost about 10 pounds in the last few months. Mostly because I started exercising again and am keeping a bit of an eye on what I'm eating. One of the perks of being a Dept. of Defense ID holder here is that the on-base gyms are free, including a number of classes. Two or three days a week, I drop Katrina off at school and go to a step aerobics class. So this morning, I noticed that the songs were pretty cheesy 80s songs set to a dance beat....and even as I thought how cheesy they were, I was be-bopping along with them. "Let's Get Physical," "Billy Jean," "Fame," "Mamma Mia," "I Will Survive" (OK, not all 80s), and ..."It's Raining Men!" The cool-down was a slow song from Grease that I can't remember right now. Two songs by Olivia Newton John in one hour. And I was totally into the music. How uncool am I? Don't answer that.

• Why I'm a fun mom but a terrible housekeeper. Last week was gorgeous weather. Sunny and 75 degrees pretty much from the moment my sister and brother-in-law left (sorry, guys). So for three days in a row, I packed a lunch and took Katrina to the park for, like, the whole afternoon. We barely got home in time to start dinner, and every day, she wanted to stay longer. And honestly? So did I.

All right, I promised Katrina I'd put together a puzzle with her, so I'm off. Unfortunately, it's cloudy and 50 today, so not a prime playground day. Puzzles it is.

Weekend Update

Reading: The Art of Being and The Happiest Toddler on the Block. (According to the latter, Katrina's personality falls into the "spirited" category...what a shocker. Supposedly only ten percent of kids are "spirited.")

Watched: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe DVD. We also saw it in the theater over Christmas.

(Further) Proof I Am a Geek: I'm watching a movie that includes talking animals, a magical land accessed through a coat closet, and a witch that causes winter to last 100 years. And I think: "Look at all that sword-fighting, and you don't see a drop of blood. That's just not realistic!"

Petty Annoyance: Potatoes that look good until after you peel them. If they have bad spots, I want to know before I go to the effort of peeling them!

Looking for: Glitter. For a craft I'll be doing with the kids for "Children's Church" on Sunday. Have I mentioned I'm craft-impaired? It apparently includes actually finding the ingredients. The craft store on base is closed on Fridays. I'll have to go tomorrow.

Grateful for: Beautiful spring days, airplanes, houseguests, Crock-Pots, the cancellation of Jon's 6-7 pm conference call tonight.

Katrina Quote of the Week: "I used to love Uncle Bain. Then he got married to Aunt Wendy." Interpret it however you wish.

Jet Lag

Our bodies hold on to the past. Flying west, we lengthen our day, a step ahead of the sun. We're tired, but still wake early, because our body has not been fooled. It knows that the day is already well begun in the place we just left.

Flying east, we overtake the sunrise, changing night into day. Tired is such a pallid word. Now sleep seduces, a dark lover that swoops in without warning if we sit still too long. We try to fight him off, but our own bodies betray us. They cling to the night, no matter how bright the day. We struggle to shed our dreams, squint through the fuzzy darkness that blankets us even at noon on a sunny spring day. Life takes on a sense of unreality; daytime is something to survive until the comforting darkness lets us finally surrender to sleep.

Our bodies cling to the past. They don't appreciate the modern "convenience" of air travel. They know we are not made to race the sun.

Little Things I Love About Germany

Tile Floors. Tile is the preferred flooring in most houses here. We have carpet only in the family room and the master bedroom. All other rooms, including stairs and hallways, are tile. At first, it seemed cold and echo-y. It's still cold, but ease of clean-up has sold me. With various and sundry 3-year-olds in and out, accidents happen. One morning a few months ago confirmed my love of tile. Katrina woke up early and made her way upstairs without stopping at the bathroom (which is usual for her). At the top of the stairs, she started coughing (she's had 2 bouts of bronchitis). By the time I got to her, she was looking down and saying "What happened?" A positive river rippled down behind her, all the way down the spiral staircase and puddling at the bottom. Thank goodness for nice, hard, cold, cleanable tile. Carpet would have been a nightmare.

I can't even tell you the turnaround of my attitude on this. Jon wanted to put way more tile into our house in Virginia than we did. Now I'm ready to take up the hardwood and maybe even some of the carpet if we go back to that house.

Runny Yogurt. Much of the yogurt in the German grocery stores is a little more liquid than we're used to in the U.S. It's nearly pourable. But the plain "mild" yogurt is soooo good. It has less of the yogurt bite and is very creamy. Just a little honey or fruit in it...mmm.

Traffic Circles. Love, love, love traffic circles. The signage is always very good... a little diagram of the circle with each road labeled with whatever town it leads to. And it beats waiting for red lights to change!

Movable Shower Heads. You can move them up or down a pole or take them out of their holders completely. Great for cleaning shower doors and walls, and for rinsing squirming children's sudsy hair.

German Restaurants. OK, so I can't eat wienerschnitzel, gravy, croquettes, pizza, pasta, etc., because of my celiac disease. The nice thing about most German restaurants is that they are small and often family-run. There is actually a chef in the kitchen who makes dishes from scratch and knows what goes in them. Contrast this to some of the chain restaurants in the U.S., where pre-marinated frozen meat and pre-made, microwaved food are common. I've been in places where even the kitchen staff couldn't tell me if something had wheat or not. Not so here. You may wait longer for your meal, but that's because it's being cooked fresh in the kitchen.

Plus, every restaurant I've been in so far has rumpsteak with fried onions on the menu (even the Italian places). My back-up plan.

Girl Talk

It was a girls-night-out type of thing, and talk turned to having--or, rather, not having--more children. And for the first time during the evening, I felt totally out of sync.

One woman told of her and her husband making sure they wouldn't have more than one child. She was 23 at the time.

Another woman told a story of her friend, who had a Depo-Provera shot (which she said lasts two years) against the wishes of her husband. (Again, after the birth of their first child.) The way the story was told, the husband was just being foolish by balking at making a two-year commitment to birth control.

Then someone being a little miffed when she got pregnant because she had lost a lot of weight; and pregnancy, of course, would put it all back on and more.

It made me feel sad. Not for myself, really, but for the attitudes expressed. I know these women love their children deeply. And it's not like I'm against birth control. But maybe spending so many years on the other side of the reproductive dilemma gives me a different perspective.

For one, I don't take getting pregnant or keeping a pregnancy for granted. Life is fragile, and not just as you get older. Life is fragile at the beginning, as well. So many things can go wrong, and so many things must go right before you even know you're pregnant. Getting even a little annoyed that my weight would go up if I got pregnant is incomprehensible to me.

And babies...it is a cliche to say they're miracles. Overused. But I do feel a sense of wonder when I interact with babies and young children.

You might think I was envious of their good fortune, that they could worry about preventing pregnancy while we went through medical intervention and losses before having our miracle girl. But I wasn't. At least, not too much. It felt more like my heart knows something that even these loving mothers have not (yet?) learned. And that is, that the gift of life is to be cherished, not to be taken lightly. And that thinking you can control it is an illusion.

Maybe that's what made me sad. That so many women whom I genuinely like and think are exceptional people could take the gift of conception and birth so lightly. Not so much the decision itself to have no more children, but that that decision could be portrayed to others as such an easy one.

I suppose I could have shut the conversation right down if I chimed in with either my opinion or experiences. But why ruin a lovely evening?

Poor Old Michael Finnegan

We listened to kiddie songs in the car on the way home from preschool. When I opened her car door, Katrina said in very solemn tones: "Michael Finnegan got fat and thin, and then he got dead."

Pause.

"Why?"

Snow Days

Today the snowstorm hit full force. It's been snowing steadily since about 10:30 a.m. (after it snowed a few more inches overnight). The base essentially shut down and sent everyone home around 2:30 pm. Never have I been more thankful that Jon got home early from work.

With snow falling faster than you could shovel it, Katrina and I were not going anywhere. We watched TV, shoveled snow from the driveway (about 2 inches at 11 am--when Jon shoveled it again at 4 pm, there were at least 4 inches), and took a sled ride around the block. Then painting. That plus lunch brought us to about 2 pm.

Here's what happens when a high-energy three-year-old is stuck at home for the second snow day in a row:









What you can't tell from the pictures is that Katrina was "dancing" to the demo songs from the roll-up electronic keyboard she got for Christmas. At full volume. Thanks, Grandma and Grandpa!

Actually, it was pretty cute. Especially when a song came on that she thought was sad, so she rubbed her eyes, pretended to cry, and fell dramatically on the couch. When the next song came on, she was up and running again.

Tomorrow should be fun. They're predicting 2-4 more inches overnight. Time to build a gargantuan snowman!




Confidential to Mom: Happy Birthday! I'd call, but I'm not sure where you are today.

In Like a Lion

It's the first snow day of the year (for the U.S. schools, anyway). It started snowing yesterday evening, while Jon was at the U.S.-Poland soccer game. This morning, the Department of Defense schools in this area announced a 2-hour delay. The preschool policy is that school still starts at 9 when DoD schools have a delay (before-school care is canceled); but the preschool closes when the DoD schools close. So on the way to school, at 8:45 am on merely wet main roads, I hear the announcement that the DoDs schools are now closed for the day.

But of course, the preschool teachers and kids were already at the school, so they went ahead and let the kids stay 'til noon. From what I heard on the radio, we were the only American school in the area to have any type of classes today.

Of course, on the way to school, we pass the German elementary school. As far as I could tell, all was going as usual. There were boys running laps around the playground, in the snow. The German folks seem to be a bit more hardy than us Americans. (Although, to be fair, the DoDs schools serve a much wider geographic area than does the Kindsbach elementary school. Often there can be significantly more snow just 10 or 15 minutes away, up the mountain.)

All day, there have been snow showers like I've never seen. Right now I see blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Just 15 minutes ago, this was the scene outside our window.



Anyway, Katrina is bugging me to go out and make snow angels, so it's time to go. She's recovering from another? the same? bout of bronchitis, but the antibiotics she started on Friday are finally helping. She still can't run around too much or she has a coughing fit. Perhaps the snow boats and snow pants will force her to move slowly.

I'm ready for spring.

Cinderella

Once upon a time, poor Cinderella lived with her mean family. They made her work hard, doing cleaning, washing, cooking, and chores of every kind. But beautiful Cinderella remained cheerful and kind.

She even made friends with the animals who shared her house.







One day, Cinderella's fairy godmother appeared. She turned a pumpkin into a chariot and even supplied a strong man to pull it.





But most of all, Cinderella wanted to dress up and go to the ball with her friends. Well, not the ball so much as the Fasching Parade. (Germany's version of Mardi Gras.)








And of course, she lived happily ever after...



A princess at heart, no matter what she wore.

High Places

I re-read Hinds' Feet on High Places a few weeks ago and just finished Mountains of Spices, its follow-up. Hinds' Feet is an allegory similar to Pilgrim's Progress; the main character's name is Much-Afraid, and all of the characters have names representing their, well, character (Craven Fear, Bitterness, Pride, etc.).

Usually, this would be a bit...obvious? corny? preachy?...for me. I tried to read Pilgrim's Progress some years ago and didn't even make it halfway. But something about Hinds' Feet draws me in. I identify with Much-Afraid and her duelling desires to follow the Shepherd wherever he leads and, at the same time, to stay safe and avoid risk and pain.

One interesting point is that this book is not a conversion story. Much-Afraid is already "in service to the Shepherd" at the start of the book. The book tells the story of Much-Afraid's journey to the High Places, where the Shepherd has promised to change her twisted, crippling feet into "hinds' feet." Anyway, Much-Afraid learns many things about the nature of life, her own nature, and following the Shepherd, and eventually makes it to the High Places. So. It sounds pretty predictable, but there's a lot of wisdom packed into this allegory.

After reading it a few weeks ago (and reading several other books since then), a phrase, a concept, keeps coming back to me: "Behold your little handmaiden, Acceptance-with-Joy!" Nearly the first lesson that Much-Afraid learns is to accept hardship, suffering, and sorrow with joy, trusting that the Shepherd has a purpose for it. And her very acceptance changes the trials into something beautiful.

Acceptance with Joy. I've had to accept a few hard things in my life. Hard for me, anyway. Plenty of people (probably most people) have harder lives than I do. But still. I have not accepted any hard thing with joy and trust. More like acceptance-with-complaining or acceptance-with-self-pity. For example, I struggled so hard with the possibility that I might not be able to have children. I remember thinking, "I'm sure I'm supposed to learn and grow through this, but I don't want to grow if it causes this much (emotional) pain!"

But we already know that a person who bears their hardships with joy and grace turns them into something beautiful. Or, more precisely, the person him/herself becomes beautiful in spirit. Christians often pray that God will heal those we know who are sick or even dying. We think, what a miracle it would be if God stepped in and healed this person. But I think that the real miracles occur when people of faith go through the most terrible suffering, through sickness or injury or (in some places) persecution or war, and yet retain their faith, and even their hope. That is a miracle from God.

So, what do I need to accept-with-joy? Not just big things, I know. Little things, too, like a day that starts way too early because my little morning-glory bounds out of bed before 7. Like the umpteenth time I pick up the same toys or say, "Do you have to go potty? Are you sure?" Some days it seems that I have a lot to do, but none of it is very important. Just little tasks. Just the same-old, same-old.

But this acceptance-with-joy thing haunts me a bit. Do I accept with joy that my role right now is to do the small things that keep my husband and daughter happy, secure, peaceful? Do I think how tired I am as I kneel at the feet of my little one to help her put on her shoes--or do I connect that posture with Jesus washing the feet of his disciples? Do I think of repetitious chores or activities as boring, or as a routine to give me and my family a sense of security and orderliness?

And can I approach the big changes in my life the same way? I've settled in here, but I still miss a lot about living in the United States. It's easy to nurse a bad attitude when I'm feeling a bit homesick. But acceptance-with-joy says that God has a purpose in this, as in everything else. Am I willing to look for that purpose?

Oink

Katrina wants a pet. She's told me wistfully a number of times that she wants a cat or a dog. My answer is always the same: "Papa's allergic to cats and dogs, sweetie. They make him sick. We can't have a cat or a dog." Truth be told, neither Jon nor I are interested in having a pet, anyway, so his very real reaction to cats and dogs is also rather convenient.

About a week ago, she said to us, "Is Papa allergic to bunnies?" (Two of her preschool classmates have pet rabbits.) Jon and I looked at each other, and then he said that he was allergic to anything with fur. "Papa allergic to fishies?" No, I said, Papa was not allergic to fish. (We inherited fish with the ornamental ponds in our back yard.)

Yesterday, walking home from the playground, Katrina said, "Do pigs have fur?"

"No, pigs don't have fur," I said.

"Papa not 'lergic to piggies?"

"No..." I saw where this was going.

"I want a piggie for a pet," she said.

Yikes.

Still Sick

After several weeks of coughing (both Katrina and me), we were finally forced to explore the German medical system hereabouts. Katrina went to one of the only pediatricians in the area on Monday, who had a bright and cheery office with plenty of interesting toys. She was so intrigued with the examining room, she didn't want to leave. She's 41 inches tall now, and about 39 lbs. That's from the quick math Jon did in his head, as her weight was actually shown in kilograms and height in centimeters. The doc did a quick listen to her heart and prescribed antibiotics and expectorant. She has more energy this afternoon than she's had for a few days (though only intermittantly), so hopefully the meds have started to work.

Me, I've been through two doctors. I made an appointment with an internal medicine doc last week in Kaiserslautern, thinking that with my weird medical history, it might be better to have an internal medicine person than a GP. But I think this guy was more of a specialist than I expected, even though I asked the secretary on the phone if his was a general practice. Plus, 150 euros per visit?

Then he didn't think I had anything that needed antibiotics, even though I had been coughing for 3 weeks. He gave me cough suppressant and expectorant. This was last week. Nothing happened except the cough got worse, I got head congestion added back to the mix, and I started running a low-grade fever yesterday morning. I decided that maybe a family or general pratice doctor closer by might be better after all. So I called (and called and called...apparently not a lot of docs have voicemail) and was able to get in to a family practice doc yesterday afternoon.

He also listened to my breathing, heart, etc., and said I had a minor bronchial infection. (Minor?! I'm coughing up my lungs over here!) I suspect he was also influenced by my mentioning that my daughter had just been diagnosed with bronchitis. And, so I finally got the drugs that I thought I needed a week ago. He gave me free samples, no less! And, cost of office visit: 20 euros.

Since I've had a reaction in the past to a penicillin derivative, no one gives me amoxycillin or the like. No, I got the heavy-duty stuff: Cipro!

Took the first pill last night, but still coughing my head off. I'm hoping that I'll feel better by the weekend. It's been a month solid of one kind of illness or another. It would be nice to feel well again.

And Now Back to our Regularly Scheduled Program

Katrina returned to preschool on Monday, and the angels sang. And then mom felt guilty for feeling glad. And then Katrina started begging to stay at school for lunch, or, alternately, go to a friend's house. So mom felt not so guilty, since Katrina obviously was as sick of staying in the house as I was (what with the weather and various sicknesses and the fact that absolutely everything closes for holidays, not a lot of outings in the last few weeks). So I signed her up to stay for lunch and the afternoon session today, and she was thrilled. And I dropped her off, and the angels sang, and then...I got all sad and lonely. All day (until 3 pm) without my girl. Oh, she's getting so mature and independent, what will I do when she starts real, all-day school? I'll miss her so much! Boo-hoo!

Even so, I know that I'm likely to be totally annoyed with her within a few minutes of picking her up this afternoon. (She often throws a mild tantrum or whines a lot either in the school parking lot or in the car on the way home. I don't know why--perhaps it's the transition? Or maybe she just likes to save all the joy especially for me?) Ah, the contradictions of motherhood.

We had a lot of snow starting the day after Christmas and continuing until about the 31st. Then it warmed up and started raining. The last two days have been relatively clear but cold. So yesterday, looking at a beautiful blue sky, I thought maybe I should take Katrina to the playground. But it was cold...the high was maybe 35 F. I was uncertain. I mentioned the idea to a few of the moms as we were waiting for our kids at school. Several looked at me like I was nuts and talked about how cold they were. One mom said "You're such a good mom. It's too cold for me." But is it good mom or bad mom to let my child run around in the cold, especially since she and I are still coughing from a cold or something?

Well, I took her to the big playground on base. Absolutely no one was there. A family was leaving just as we arrived, but that was it. But Katrina ran around (in her poufy pink dress, tights, sneakers, and coat with no hat because she will not keep a hat or hood on for more than 2 minutes), slid down the slides, pretended some dirty old snow was food she served me in her restaurant, talked me into pretending to be a monster and chasing her, and generally had a blast. She also had to wipe her nose every 5 minutes. I think her nose runs in the cold like mine does.

She did not want to leave, but after 45 minutes, I was cold and figured enough was enough. We went to the BX and got some hot chocolate for her and tea for me. And were sweltering inside of 5 minutes...it had to be close to 80 in there.

And she still didn't want to go home. She looked at books in the kids' section of the bookstore, and I had to drag her out with promises that she could watch "The Little Mermaid" when we got home.

That's my girl. In preschool in the morning, a quick lunch at home, and then out all afternoon. And still she didn't want to go home. The wide, wide world is so much more interesting.

I know this is long, but since I'm going on (and on) about Katrina this morning, I have to add a short list of questions she's asked me recently, both profound and prosaic.

• Who killed God? (This after reading a little prayer book that mentioned the cross. Katrina's theological questions and my inadequate answers are topics for a whole other post.)
• And her follow-up question: Does God live with us?
• The next day, during her bath, after pretending to be Ariel from "The Little Mermaid" : Does Ariel have a vagina? Does she go pee-pee in the ocean? (After I choked back laughter, I started to think about it--and it's a pretty good question. The mermaids have fins from the waist down. I suppose they'd have to excrete waste like fish do...but how do fish do it? Obviously, my scientific knowledge is also woefully inadequate to answer the questions of a three-year-old.)
• And today on the way to school: Is God in my tummy? (Um, God is everywhere, honey, but, um, usually we feel God in our hearts, not our tummies.)

OK, I am a college graduate, I read all the time, and I think I have a pretty good grasp of basic Christian theology, science, etc. But Katrina has a way of asking questions that I have no idea how to answer. It's humbling to be outthought by a three-year-old.

A Picture-Perfect Christmas

Merry Christmas!

Sick, or Why Our Christmas Cards Are Still in Their Boxes

First, Katrina got sick. Then, a few days later, Jon. A week passed, during which I felt a little ooky off and on. I thought I had dodged the worst of it. Nope. Tuesday night and Wednesday were, um, bad. Jon took off work on Wednesday to take care of Katrina (and did a great job). Thursday, Jon and Katrina drove to the airport to pick up his parents while I cleaned the house as best I could while moving at approximately half-speed. Yesterday we visited the Christmas market in Saarbruecken (relatively small, but nice). Today is last-minute errand day and wrapping presents day. Christmas Eve service tonight. I'm still feeling a bit more tired than usual, which fits right in with Jon and Char's jet lag.

Anyway, with all the sickness and the usual busyness, we did not get Christmas cards out. But, hey, I still have plenty of Christmas cheer to share...or at least random thoughts to amuse and delight you.

• The most popular Christmas house decoration: the hanging Santa. Yes, on at least one house per block, you can find a Santa clinging to a rope ladder that hangs from a window or balcony. The first one I saw adorned the side of a building that also houses a gravestone-carving business. It was rather...odd. Big granite gravestones in the front yard, and a stuffed Santa hanging out of an upstairs window. When I mentioned it to a friend who's been in Germany a while, she said, "Yep, the Germans love their hanging Santas. By Christmas, you'll see them on nearly every house." She was right.
• Katrina finds beauty in the simplest things. We made peanut-butter balls for her class snack. The first step is to mix peanut butter and honey together. As I'm stirring it, thinking how hard it is to stir, Katrina says in an awed tone, "It's soo bootiful." As I looked at the swirls of honey reflecting the light, I had to agree.
• A new version of "Santa, Baby" is in heavy rotation on German radio (in English). You know, "Santa, baby, hurry down the chimney tonight." When Katrina heard it, she said, "Papa, why are they throwing babies down the chimney?" Now she giggles and says "babies down the chimney!" because it makes us laugh.

And finally:

'Twas the night before the night before Christmas, and all through the room,
The radio was playing a favorite German tune.
Right after a Christmas carol, we heard it yet again.
Yes, at least once a day, "It's Raining Men!"

From Full-Speed to Full Stop

This week has been packed full, and next week will be little better. Friday was the last day to send packages via Priority Mail to have them arrive by Christmas, so I spent some time scouting out boxes that would actually fit the items we needed to send. A more complicated endeavor than I anticipated...a few things seemed to be exactly the wrong size.

Wednesday was the Christmas party for Jon's office at the base. When's the last time your company Christmas party was in a castle? Medieval costume was requested, so we rented costumes. Herewith is a picture of us for your amusement.




Katrina was thrilled to go to the "kids' party" --onsite babysitting--especially since Rory was there. Rory is the 3-year-old daughter of Jon's co-worker, and the only girl Katrina's age who is taller than Katrina is. We've been getting together on the weekends to socialize and for the girls to play together.

Anyway, Katrina has suddenly started smiling those unnatural, forced smiles whenever there's a camera around. So after the party, she had her picture taken with Rory. She had that fake smile, so I told her to smile for real. Here is the result.



Oh, well.

But on Friday night came a milestone you hope will never come: Katrina's first experience with a stomach bug. She was up about every hour on the hour throwing up. (Or, as she says, "fwowing up.") It came on fast; she seemed perfectly fine until about dinnertime. Even then, it seemed more that she was just overtired. Until about 8, when she said her tummy hurt. Then all hell broke loose. She couldn't keep anything down, including plain water. She would throw up (even tho' there was nothing in her stomach), cry, and go back to sleep immediately, only to wake up an hour later and do it again. It finally stopped about 2 am, so she got some sleep.

So Saturday, the only sunshiny day in the last three weeks, was spent inside with poor, tired, sick Katrina, who was very annoyed that we couldn't explain WHY she got sick. I made the mistake of saying that she "picked up a bug," and that confused her further, since she could not remember even touching an insect recently. I backtracked a little, talking about "teeny-tiny bugs, called germs or viruses," but I'm pretty sure she now thinks she swallowed a bug like the Little Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly.

Jon and I have felt a little off (lack of sleep itself can do that to you), but have not gotten sick ... yet. Here's hoping we've avoided it. I took disinfectant wipes to the door handles, light switches, and bathroom, plus washed all the sheets and towels.

So she's mostly recovered now, was running around Sunday evening. This morning she said she was tired and sick, but when I said she should stay home from school if she was sick, suddenly she wasn't THAT sick.

At school, we were greeted by the teacher with, "So did you get sick?" A good part of the class, including the teachers, had the same bug, most of them on Friday night. The teacher said, "Can you smell the Clorox wafting from the classroom?" One little girl threw up at school late in the afternoon on Friday (after Katrina was already home). Another classmate managed to wait until the family was out to dinner before getting sick in the middle of the restaurant. At least Katrina got sick at home and actually made it to the toilet for the most part.

Aren't you glad you read all of this? Go forth and wash your hands vigorously. And don't go picking up any bugs.