tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12144822096368668852024-02-02T00:18:37.084-08:00HILLSTOPHawkward delights and thoughts on life
Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-75382530335694017362018-02-09T06:35:00.000-08:002018-02-09T06:35:16.140-08:00I have a new location!Visit my newest blog website! I will no longer be posting on this, so please refer here.<br />
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<a href="https://www.wordfromthebird.blog/">https://www.wordfromthebird.blog</a><br />
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Thank you!Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-30039763943319700842018-01-19T08:56:00.001-08:002018-01-20T09:12:37.687-08:00Once again here I am returning with the speedo man<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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Just a forewarning...I still have yet to figure the layout of my blog. It will seem as though my paragraphs run together and I randomly start a new subject. It's not the case, I just haven't figured out how to start a new paragraph. Hang in there with me while I get it figured out ;)
Here I am once again, returning to my blog for the first time in years. To my surprise, I am still receiving about 300 views per month on here. I don't know exactly how that is happening, but I'll take it!
Someone very special recently encouraged me to start writing again. It took some time to think it over, but I came to the conclusion that perhaps someone could learn from my mistakes about living abroad, managing children and husbands, being a musician, emotional breakdowns, and what to do when it comes to life in general. I now know that if even God doesn't hold me to a standard of perfection and never failing, then neither should I. We can all learn from one another, so journey with me again and have a little laugh at the silly things I do in life while living in the Fatherland. I've now gotten past the culture shock as well as the reality shock that I do in fact live here. Now that I am even more familiar with culture, I do so desire to understand it. I'm not quite there yet.
I am a person who rarely opens up. I used to be the opposite. I would open up to just about anyone. Living in Germany has taught me to be more closed off. Aloof. When I was a hairstylist, my job became an exchange of counseling sessions for both myself and my clients. Some of my most meaningful conversations have been when there was someone sitting in my salon chair. Unfortunately, after a few semi traumatic events in my life, I have locked up my heart and thrown away the key which has made opening up for me a thing of the past. After my quarter life crisis and my one-third life crisis, I've decided to open up again while accepting the fact that my face is wilting, along with my days, and asked myself many questions, (many times) "what will I do with my life?" I still don't know, but this is a start.
To catch all of you up if you are a returning customer, my son is turning 7 next week, my husband is old and so am I. 2017 was the year I turned 30, and it's surprisingly worse than I thought it would be. Not the part of turning 30, but the events surrounding this dreaded number for every 29 year old. I'm not going to go in depth with these events, but I will go in depth my heart (even though this is terrifying to me) to hopefully offer encouragement and laughter to those who might be going through some of the same things. It is a confusing time in life for women and our world in general. Visiting the states has had it's culture shocks for me, especially seeing how divided you all are. It makes me sad, but I'm also not surprised. I'll get into that at some point without getting super political.
Here are some pictures of our family. We look so happy. We are mostly happy, but I'm not a fan of sugar coating, even though I am American. So I'll give you one good picture, one real picture depicting the struggles of pregnancy, and one of a guy in a speedo i took while visiting the local pool, encouraging Germans and europeans in general to stop wearing them. Thanks for visiting or returning.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjxXxQZ4k8FO0iAZb9PaFT9aVKS7y0h4Ffzs1RmhEFFC9_gXrS-WFEPESfvpzTliUawgs-5vzpcL9BJc2K5UTl2IAAPx364msU_oV1DQS5iLbPZGkUsztDQa11WkOHi3ZhFXa0w17HW4v/s1600/26167915_10155503010454355_1806434066987526290_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjxXxQZ4k8FO0iAZb9PaFT9aVKS7y0h4Ffzs1RmhEFFC9_gXrS-WFEPESfvpzTliUawgs-5vzpcL9BJc2K5UTl2IAAPx364msU_oV1DQS5iLbPZGkUsztDQa11WkOHi3ZhFXa0w17HW4v/s320/26167915_10155503010454355_1806434066987526290_n.jpg" width="320" height="240" data-original-width="960" data-original-height="720" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLGKP6JiVxNOJgvOaySlqG-Xv4zCT0FmhvN62iMgAbwuro-OaJpglqVDFwNK83ZTKy8mFDqJWfGqQOYXQLOWw0Kp_JdQJVpI1-qZEUKDdjYNPOITZaVrF19isBk79j6c2LOXOA8t2OhM5/s1600/IMG_2520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLGKP6JiVxNOJgvOaySlqG-Xv4zCT0FmhvN62iMgAbwuro-OaJpglqVDFwNK83ZTKy8mFDqJWfGqQOYXQLOWw0Kp_JdQJVpI1-qZEUKDdjYNPOITZaVrF19isBk79j6c2LOXOA8t2OhM5/s320/IMG_2520.jpg" width="240" height="320" data-original-width="1200" data-original-height="1600" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28-DLw-HSMFMEiRMVno7ugEaqgCJEqKhybomB52LzvjmZLLu9LTc28n8dq6PZzB9dU-zRBe3mjFXxRF8VmPt6T0kuY2rHBr9mpi9vYtg0fNJh6VJ-uh2uxOlkKkL7fCkD0BRlO8OB01Ro/s1600/IMG_2657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28-DLw-HSMFMEiRMVno7ugEaqgCJEqKhybomB52LzvjmZLLu9LTc28n8dq6PZzB9dU-zRBe3mjFXxRF8VmPt6T0kuY2rHBr9mpi9vYtg0fNJh6VJ-uh2uxOlkKkL7fCkD0BRlO8OB01Ro/s320/IMG_2657.jpg" width="113" height="320" data-original-width="429" data-original-height="1220" /></a></div>Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-34092574471024825222016-02-01T14:35:00.002-08:002018-01-19T08:06:21.018-08:00Back again!<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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I heard recently that your seventh year of marriage is the hardest. Well, Christoph and I are currently in our seventh year of marriage and thought it would be a good idea to move back to Germany! We've always had the best timing for things.
Most of you know we have taken another dramatic turn in our lives. For those of you who don't...we are indeed, moving back to Germany. I know. What? I can't really believe it myself. It hasn't really hit me yet. All I know is the past month I have once again been preparing our family for another move across the world.
It seems like I have lost touch with my blog the last five years. There's something about living in the states that never made it as exciting to blog. Not that my life isn't exciting, just normal. It could also be the fact that my biggest adventures for the day are making a little trip to the grocery store, or going barre class at the gym and speaking english throughout it all. Yes, thrilling. Mostly, it's been the fact that trying to make time to blog with a child under five always felt overwhelming. On top of that - writing music, cleaning, making meals, preparing for a weekend full of doing hair, and playing shows here and there until 2 am. Goes to say, blogging has taken last priority the last five years and I've been totally fine with that.
Now, it's time to start again, cuz things are about to get CRAZY!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3r3qhsBO-sD_r34PYM2HizuvUJFNTZKMjR64k07Ctrxg06fKW5FwlYFDmNJKrXgfAV1aWGepZOPVBRPZb1Hj1TIklYToD9yTbyeTNgSsyRFr5Jnj_4i0V8aYHsRZuX7bnh9h9wc2YOmO/s1600/12105862_10153392395384355_1801172226232569984_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3r3qhsBO-sD_r34PYM2HizuvUJFNTZKMjR64k07Ctrxg06fKW5FwlYFDmNJKrXgfAV1aWGepZOPVBRPZb1Hj1TIklYToD9yTbyeTNgSsyRFr5Jnj_4i0V8aYHsRZuX7bnh9h9wc2YOmO/s320/12105862_10153392395384355_1801172226232569984_n.jpg" /></a></div>Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-28214537795265472782013-06-21T05:37:00.001-07:002018-01-19T23:05:29.205-08:00Back from whence he came...<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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Here we are. Elliott and I. It may sound a bit crass, but Germany is where he was conceived. I think that's why he feels so at home here. He he. We had to leave the full blooded German at home this time though. Too much work. Providing for a family is more important i guess. None the less, Elliott and I have had a wonderful time here. When you take a step back from something, you are able to better access the surroundings, and take it all in. Oma and Opa have done more than enough to make us feel home these past four weeks, and our time with them has been priceless. Not to mention all of the cool Aunts and Uncle Elliott has here. Elliott seems to think this is his home now, apart form me telling him we are flying home on an airplane next week. He looks at me a bit confused and reply's. "Go fly on airplane! Go see MiMi and BopBop, Daddy, and Liam!"
A week and a half had gone by and I awoke to a message on my computer saying, "Call me when you wake up, your dad is in the hospital with stroke like symptoms." I freaked out. Then after trying to explain the situation in German to my relatives, which was a calamity, I called home. Long story short, my dad said his goodbye's to me over Skype. I thought i would never see my dad again at that point. Never hear him ask me, "what is God doing in your life?" As a teenager, this was the last thing I wanted to be asked, but right then and there it was the only conversation I wanted to have. Miraculously he made it. Our whole church prayed for him. I prayed, but this time I felt a bit guilty. Here I had been living my life, most of the time not being thankful for the things He has given me. Now, when I needed something, i expected Him to let my father live. I felt selfish. But no matter how selfish I am, God decided to spare his life and I can go on telling my dad what God is doing in my life. It makes you think, when someone you care about is at risk. I know I have learned something from it. Live every day like it's your last.
A week later I found out about the fires. What a world we live in.
As soon as Elliott wakes up, we are off to the allgaĆ¼. The area surrounding the base of the German alps. It feels good to write again. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpatcK_zRnEhscrOVz9xO1XvQ4I_kw5NmXv1yOYOuqVuem_jfXTVoaB4UWuzWTDjHsTCHQ0n3mT1Uq7dbZifupAc7C-c0K3JpEf-sXfKF7KtMHA56IfwGPKgQsE0_fOnYbjxqWiqD04OZC/s1600/IMG_5841.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpatcK_zRnEhscrOVz9xO1XvQ4I_kw5NmXv1yOYOuqVuem_jfXTVoaB4UWuzWTDjHsTCHQ0n3mT1Uq7dbZifupAc7C-c0K3JpEf-sXfKF7KtMHA56IfwGPKgQsE0_fOnYbjxqWiqD04OZC/s320/IMG_5841.JPG" /></a> Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-74797934851573453122012-06-07T09:18:00.001-07:002012-06-07T09:19:34.998-07:00Rusty writing, rusty nailsIt seems like forever since I have posted a blog. Maybe because it has been forever. I love writing, and I don't know where the time has gone. It's unfortunate to have forgotten about this lost love of mine. Favorably I would prefer to drop something else in my life in order to have more time to write, but that is just not possible at this moment. If i could pick something it would probably be cleaning.
God, Elliot and Christoph are the priorities in my life right now. It's hard to imagine what life was like without those three amazing guys. I don't want to. I feel like I am the most blessed woman in the world at this point in my life, and each day gets even better than the last. I often ask myself how life would be different had we stayed in Germany. I think it would be just that...different. We miss things about Germany, mostly family and friends we left there, but we know this is where we are and where we should be. I have learned so many things the past couple of years. I have learned that being a mother is not about being perfect, but rather willing to make mistakes. I have learned that being a wife is not about winning, but rather willing to look at how I need to change. I have learned that people don't like being asked so many questions about how they think their hair should look; just cut my hair already. I have learned that I know how to write and compose songs. I have learned that I am more selfish than I ever thought possible. I have learned that sleep is one of the most valuable things to a wife and mother. So, you see I have learned many things. But the most important thing I have recently learned is that if I am not willing to surrender my life to God, I cannot learn much.
Alright, enough about me. I know what you really want to hear is what Elliott is up to these days. To put it bluntly he is up to a lot along with pooping, sleeping, and eating. By now I'm sure you assumed he is walking. Talking is getting there. He likes to say, "hot" and "light." I can pick up a few words that I am guessing are a mixture of English and German. Separating the two comes with time. I actually like the language he speaks right now. I think it should become a set language for people to learn, oh wait it is, it's called Dutch. No, really. I am pretty sure my son is fluent in Dutch right now.
Daily our schedule is pretty non eventful. We wake, eat, play, sleep, eat again, play again, sleep again, poop, eat, play, sleep. That's our life right now, which I am thoroughly enjoying. By nights after Elliott is sleeping I am either hang in out with Christoph, working, recording music, or sleeping. It depends on the week.
So, there is the best update I have time for right now. I have about fifteen minutes before elliott wakes, to clean the house, and then we will head off to get the second rusty nail this month patched on our tire. I love the tire place waiting room. It'<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhffmxcpeByxWtctclgSijocUvHueRHsxcDQQueUItMiTjH5giC2uDeOsGh3S7bkKRktAEG_D5yUWU69Gtc2VTMaN8Mxvn1X_HBI-AoiuYieR2XG9eaZVSzm96KZbxgH-nY-kFSeHWNdD5e/s1600/IMG_1104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhffmxcpeByxWtctclgSijocUvHueRHsxcDQQueUItMiTjH5giC2uDeOsGh3S7bkKRktAEG_D5yUWU69Gtc2VTMaN8Mxvn1X_HBI-AoiuYieR2XG9eaZVSzm96KZbxgH-nY-kFSeHWNdD5e/s320/IMG_1104.JPG" /></a>
s so cosy.
Oh, and we are under contract on a new house. My dream house. It's lovely and I can't wait to move in!Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-33163145289341709822011-11-03T07:31:00.000-07:002011-11-03T08:24:32.499-07:00Runny noses and growling gremlins<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgdv_WwsuNvSlQkrVFejVBDRw_BE4QaHEBf0ortdwfYSK3ZDff60i6kTAJS9YHLU3bBmRl0D1ayhPrKSh1GyjzK31-jYh3xXp1srLnyqH9z61NIiC-UzfETjAbKY5eNnWKi_UR_HLl44F/s1600/IMG_0717.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJgdv_WwsuNvSlQkrVFejVBDRw_BE4QaHEBf0ortdwfYSK3ZDff60i6kTAJS9YHLU3bBmRl0D1ayhPrKSh1GyjzK31-jYh3xXp1srLnyqH9z61NIiC-UzfETjAbKY5eNnWKi_UR_HLl44F/s320/IMG_0717.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670790767221168786" /></a><br />Back from a long break at writing. I feel that coercing myself to write would be pointless, so I don't. I am sorry to those of you in far and away parts of the world who like to be updated on our ever so exciting life. To be honest, the reason I don't write anymore is just for that reason. Our life IS ever so exciting, and to find time for writing about it, would mean I would have to sacrifice those exciting moments. Some exciting moments of the week were.<br /><br />1. An early start:<br /> Elliott has recently decided that if his dad is going to be waking up at six to get ready for work, he is darn well going to spend some time with him before he leaves for a ten hour day. At first I was a little sad that sleeping in (until 7) was becoming less and less habitual, but later I realized how amazing it is to spend an hour together before we go our separate ways. <br />This past week Elliott and I have been sick, first started by daddy, who likes to bring home the germs from the outside world. This is the first time I have been sick while having a baby. It's hard. I can't imagine what it would be if you had multiple children, and everyone was sick. I consider myself lucky right now. <br />11pm-I awake to Elliott crying, and by crying I mean screaming. I rush to get him, not wanting his little throat to get more irritated than it already is. This is the 3rd time already he has awoken from his 7pm bedtime. <br />12pm- He awakens, and I feed him to calm him down<br />4pm- There was no more putting him down again. He was ready to be up and play. My darling husband joined the gang, as we had an early morning cup of tea. Honestly, I was on the verge of a breakdown at this point. <br />5pm- I rock Elliott to sleep, hoping his medicine will let him sleep a little longer. <br />6pm- Elliott is up and ready to play again. I was crying at this point, worried for my little guy and in dire need of sleep. Christoph so wonderfully called into work and said he would be late. I was able to get a bit more rest.<br /><br />I am so blessed with such a wonderful husband who takes care of us, even when he works so hard each day. It took me of guard to be up so much in the night, and brought me back to when Elliott used to wake every couple hours in need of food when he was little. I am so proud of all of the wonderful mothers who sometimes have the hardest, yet most rewarding job in the world. <br />I would also like to thank God for creating coffee beans. I wouldn't be alive today, if it weren't for coffee beans. <br /><br />In these moments, it is hard, and you ask yourself if you are really cut out to be doing what you are doing. The reality is, if life weren't sometimes hard, we wouldn't appreciate anything. I am so thankful for this life that God has given me, and every single moment I have with my family. <br /><br />2. Elliott's little noises<br /> As time goes on, Elliott is beginning to discover the ability to make sounds. The first sounds of his life including crying, and farting, but i am glad to say he discovers new one's everyday. Recently he has found his natural ability to growl. I believe he picked that up from a very naughty little girl we met, while waiting to get my last name changed at the social security office. Elliott was so excited to meet someone new, especially someone his size. They were eying each other for awhile before us mothers brought them together. This little girl was a bit older, by a few months, and had starting walking. Elliott just stood there, waiting to softly touch her face as she approached. Then, BAM! This little girl attacked Elliott like a football player tackling his opponent, growling like an evil gremlin, squeezing his sides, as he helplessly let out a little shriek. His face looked as though he was wondering, just what kind of creature was this. I quickly took Elliott in my arms, faking a smile and said, "Wow, she is excited."<br />I never know quite how to react in these situations, as I have never been in a situation such as this. <br />Goes to say, Elliott has picked up his own little growl, but the difference between his growl and hers, his sounds more like a cute puppy growl while hers was something not of this world.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-69675990271330183282011-07-21T15:45:00.000-07:002018-01-19T07:38:48.903-08:00The Common Wedgie<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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Wedgies, have been a particularly special part of my life. When I was young, it was my older brothers more pestilent choice in provoking my sister and I to never want to wear underwear for fear of our daily wedgie.
<br />We three were on most occasions a team, but when it came to showing our love, we were always experimenting on how annoying we had to be to make the other siblings go nuts. I remembered a few occasions walking down memory lane, feeling a bit nostalgic as my in-laws and I were discussing what the German word for "wedgie" was.
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<br /> I believe that God made us all special and unique in our own way. Although, it is quite possible that God made my brother a little bit more unique than the rest of us. He always came up with, what he though were brilliant ideas, of how to antagonize his sisters, leaving us both baffled at the fact he so cleverly convinced us he was in the right.
<br />My dog Abby, was at the time my best friend during my awkward and lonely days of being a home schooled elementary student. She could do me no wrong, and as far as I was concerned, she held my heart in her paws. My brother knew my loving affection for my dog Abby, and of coarse used it against me in any which way he could. I remember numerous times being pinned up against the wall, starring into the hands of my brother holding a wet and tightly wrung kitchen towel, after the dishes were wiped dry, and put away. I would try to escape, but his craftiness proved otherwise. There I was, holding my precious Abby in my arms, while my brother awaited his opportunity. Thoughtfully, he would first ask who it was that wanted the actual whipping. "Do you want Abby to get it tonight, or is it gonna be you, sister? Make a wise decision." Looking back I am amazed at the pure satisfaction I would get upon pleasing my brother. If he was happy, then everyone was. I didn't hesitate to answer in a whimpering frown, "I'll get the whipping brother." He would never hurt me past a dull welt, and all of his fun was kept within bordered realms of normal brotherly love. In fact, I am grateful for those fond memories. It certainly gives me something to talk about when a story is needed. One other noteworthy event involved me holding a thick magazine against a wall with my head, until my mother came home from the grocery store. It usually lasted a good hour, and if I let fall, that meant me having to tell my mother what I did wrong that day. Throwing something heavy, like a paper weight, at my brothers head would normally be what I had to admit to.
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<br />Just to let you know my brother is a wonderful person, and only teased us because we were his sisters. He is in fact one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I love you brother.
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<br /> My in-laws and I continued laughing at what had just happened, vacationing in the beautiful Colorado mountain range. They are all German of coarse, and it often makes for extremely funny conversations, especially when a translation is lost. It was one of my many strange questions of what a certain word meant that had caused this hysterical event. My curiosity had come upon the word wedgie. "What does that mean in German?" I has asked my brother in-law, Dave. He replied "Ars frisst hosen, which means, ass eats pants."
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<br />Now, as this is both hilarious and important information, what made it so funny was the way he said it. In his matter of fact German accent he couldn't understand what was so funny that caused the entire table, my family, to roar with laughter. I thought my dad was going to end up on the ground. Ass eats pants, not only gives you an amazing visual of the meaning of the word wedgie, it also sounds amazing and makes you want to tell the whole world what the literal translation of the word wedgie is in German.
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<br />Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-73674736985573367672011-07-16T13:28:00.000-07:002011-08-23T10:53:29.230-07:00"Me want bread"We have been living in the U.S. for about 8 months now, and as I reminisce on the past couple years I can now look at it objectively and see it for what it really was. Among many different experiences I had in Germany, I would consider my language schooling to be the most noteworthy when it comes to giving you a little picture of what my days consisted of. Irritated, would be a word to describe just how I felt when I could not, on a day to day basis have the ability to express exactly what is was that I wanted. I found it difficult to say how much, and what type of bread I would like, or trying to explain that I wanted flat water with ice was as though I was trying to convince the waitress that I was indeed a hippopotumus. Even telling the clerk how much I liked here hair took considerate preparation, and any chance of spontaneous conversation was ended with a nervous laugh and a feeling of incompetence. I found myself settling for much less than what I actually wanted, afraid of revealing my inadequate German vocabulary. I would often resign with a nod yes to the chicken liver, instead of the actual breast meat, later throwing it out because the American recipes for chicken liver pleasantly disguised its taste with deep fat frying. A nod yes, or no had become my first language, and before I knew it my audacity for speaking without fear of sounding stupid had later turned me into an insecure head nodder. Otherwise I sounded like this. "Yes, I want these bread." or "I want milk in me." It was months later when my frustration required me to have Christoph make the phone call I was persistently avoiding. Not only could I not order the right chicken meat, I was certainly incapable of calling a German school and retaining necessary information for starting a course.
<br /> My first day of German class brought me back to my first day of high school, after being home schooled for most of my life. I remember walking in my biology class as the "new" student, and as it was a particularly small school in the first place I felt even more singled out. I was at first known as the shy ice skater, as ice skating had been my sport of choice for the past 5 years, but later got demoted to just the shy girl, after I quit my vigorous sport. I then tried a series of other sports, later settling with soccer. Cheer leading always looked attractive to me, but the year I envied the popular senior girls, was not the year I joined the cheer leading team. The following year I tried out and made the team. But, since all of the previous years squad consisted of seniors, our team then consisted of four girls, a teacher who had a peculiar admiration for the song, "Eye of the Tiger," and an embarrassing light show we performed to that exact song. I've never hated myself more than the moment our teacher had us swinging our light sticks to the beat, and still expected us to be accepted among our fellow students after that shindig. It was awful to say the least. Not that we were bad cheerleaders, but only that the choice of dances and songs were a bit outdated.
<br />
<br />I walked in to the emotionless classroom, where the name for our teacher was written on the white board. Mr. Andreas was only one of our three teachers we had in the three months I was there. I have described him in a previous blog, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. You can read that blog if you would like a visual. You could tell he was a narscisist, pleasured by the fact that he probably knew more than all of us combined. At least he thought so. It is quite possible the only thing he knew more than us was the German language. I heard him talking in a low voice to his mother one day, when my German had exceedingly progressed, and it seemed as though he wanted schnitzel for dinner instead of soup. I assumed from that conversation he was living with his mother, after a heartbreaking divorce that left him sad and alone. He implied this occurrence one day in class while on one of his hour long discussions about himself. I could not help feel for him, as people like that usually attempt disguise their insecurities with a facade of egotism. I was most likely the only person in our class to find him amusing. Amir, seated next to me seemed to hate his guts, and rolled his eyes every time Andreas went on another tangent of how knowledgeable he was. This usually occurred every ten minutes, and by the end of class we had accomplished barely any worksheets and were sent home with two hours worth of homework. I didn't mind though. He was better than the two other teachers, one of which voice was comparable to Ben Stein, the "Dry Eyes" commercial guy. He left me feeling depressed and in need of a nap. Andreas, spoke with such passion that it left you wanting to better learn German, just so you could know what it was he was saying in such a life or death manner. It later turned out that he mostly spoke of politics, or how the German culture is far greater than any other culture in the world. I thought it funny how comfortable he felt saying this as our classroom consisted of possibly twenty different cultures.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-78077904315567760672011-07-08T11:37:00.000-07:002011-07-08T14:49:01.450-07:00Hold on to your coasters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wb5CEe9GbO0LsOgRUcUkV_LWyPWl4_9M6IgEA2aefY95XPCXOAN1TzFKGC_bMBcZLLATWeu3NMs77kxm_kaYBsBCJg7KVOZmn2l8PZ4Hj4s-nrQUSFzjXOjuP-c3boId5azhGXR2UQ4O/s1600/DSCF0379.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wb5CEe9GbO0LsOgRUcUkV_LWyPWl4_9M6IgEA2aefY95XPCXOAN1TzFKGC_bMBcZLLATWeu3NMs77kxm_kaYBsBCJg7KVOZmn2l8PZ4Hj4s-nrQUSFzjXOjuP-c3boId5azhGXR2UQ4O/s320/DSCF0379.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627098705918222338" /></a><br />If I were still a baby, I think Elliott could be my best friend. What am I saying? He is my BFF in a totally normal and healthy way. His father is also my best friend as well as my best friend Jesie Steffes. They all have different roles as best friends of coarse. Elliott is first and foremost my son which is how it should be. What I'm trying to say is that he is the most chill human I have ever encountered. He watches me do my hair and put on my makeup, staring at me with such perplexity in his eyes. He is perhaps thinking, "Wow, woman are categorically fraudulent." He is pretty smart, so I'm sure those would be his exact words. Watching me work out is another adventure all in itself. I can do a pretty mean roundhouse kick to the jugular, if there ever was a jugular to kick. He silently gawks at me as if an eagle was watching her prey, but instead of the prey being food the prey is the best shindig you have ever seen. I can feel his perfectly round eyes on the back of my head. When I look at him, demonstrating my newly improved pilates move, he sends a smile my way and then immediately returns to his perplexed and concentrated look. It's as though he is trying to make his limbs move the same way in his head, but the physical aspect just doesn't work yet.<br /><br /> Today he was laying on the ground beside me as I was cutting paper with my legs, metaphorically speaking of coarse, and as I looked over, he imitated my exact moves. I think his daddy should take him to do more manly things like squishing worms or eating dirt. Our daily routine is usually consistent, as schedules are the best thing for baby's. It's important for him to know just when to expect me to break out in song and music while stares dreamily up at his home made mobile I fashioned for him out origami cranes. I couldn't have asked for a better audience to my daily life routines. I'm sorry other best friends, but I don't think you could bare sitting through my 45 minute kick boxing routine, and be absolutely amazed by it as he is. I always wonder what is going through his head, and am eagerly awaiting the day he can tell me.<br /><br />Elliott has many toys that people have so generously donated, or mommy has impulsively bought thinking. "If I were a baby I would love this." It turns out Elliott is more so a dedicated fan of household appliances. His apparatus of choice, coasters. As a wedding gift Christoph and I received MoMa coasters from a friend. They are totally hip, and of coarse they would be if my son were to admire them. They come in all different colors, and as I am partly responsible for Elliott's developmental progress I find it my responsibility as I hand him a coaster to tell him what color it is. In my opinion he favors red, which could very well be the case knowing that children see red as their first color. His second household entertainment choice would probably be the carpet. He would fondle our ugly burber carpet all day long if it meant not having to listen to me do another horrible rendition of "Falling Slowly."<br /><br />As I sit back and look at my life, it's hard not to think to myself, 'How do I deserve this?' How do I deserve to see my husband holding our son, making him laugh, getting spit up or pooped on? It's so amazing to see who Christoph becomes while holding a miniature version of himself. It makes my heart turn into a thousand butterflies and float away. He is an AMAZING dad, and better yet an amazing husband. I am so blessed to have him. Sometimes you forget how good you really have it. Then you put your little one to bed, hand him his red coaster after a long day of carpet frisking, and couldn't picture life any more perfect.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-28749304295443274442011-07-07T10:13:00.000-07:002011-07-07T15:05:25.638-07:00Charlottes web<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholpJTUAhOyAVFruiUKBFpE8MbXWSTaZ96cQhu2t7bqJbPznK1PwMT4ov295mTZesZAHNLhvtlCOO6xbMegTQrgzrbWcOgy-A9yByQlasVU9W_ctSSMzN11q_Qd6Teerkxhx8VcVsB-wGD/s1600/DSCF0433.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholpJTUAhOyAVFruiUKBFpE8MbXWSTaZ96cQhu2t7bqJbPznK1PwMT4ov295mTZesZAHNLhvtlCOO6xbMegTQrgzrbWcOgy-A9yByQlasVU9W_ctSSMzN11q_Qd6Teerkxhx8VcVsB-wGD/s320/DSCF0433.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626734816495415586" /></a><br />In our new neighborhood it is not uncommon to see elderly women doing things you would normally not see elderly women doing. Why, just today I saw quite an eyeful previous to pulling into our driveway. Upon first glance, I was almost certain that when this particular car conveying two people drove past I would see a pair of long haired hippies who were imaginably married on 4/20, listening to toker tunes like Bob Marley or Tom Petty, using words like "far out" or "uhhh?" They continued to drive by in their half painted maroon 1980's Subaru, with two much less than expensive mountain bikes tied to the rear and I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were indeed not hippies. Two elderly woman, most likely breaching their 80's with pink visers, suncheaters that were big enough to shade their entire face, fluffy white hair, cigarettes in hand, and husbands perhaps napping in their graves. Such is our neighborhood when finding an older woman with no partner. The sad thing is you never see it the other way around. Men are always the first to go. My explanation for seeing these diamonds in the rough, usually in pairs, riding motorcycles, scooters, or anything that could shorten their lifespan, is simply that they have lived their lives and are now free to do whatever they want while they can. How else would you explain such a thing? I think it's great. It brightens my day and I'm sure the rush of wind struggling to make its way through their teased cotton white hair, mounting a Harley, brightens theirs as well. I pulled into my driveway pondering what I just saw and continued to imagine what they had come from doing. My strange awareness envisioned them dodging trees on a treacherous biking path, drinking from a camelbak filled with mountain dew, an ipod headphone in one ear, the other left naked to hear if Mildred is still following close. I love my neighborhood.<br /><br />The other day...well it really wasn't the other day more like a couple of weeks ago, but the other day sound much less complicated. The other day we were stopped at a gas station before headed up to the mountains to meet up with Christoph's family. Like usual, Christoph was filling up the gas tank and recording how good our mileage was this time around. It has never really changed from time to time, but he still insists upon checking and telling me every time. "19.8 miles to the gallon! Much better than last time!" I had recalled that last time was 19.1 mpg. In the back seat slept our precious little Elliott, exhausted from the hardships of eating, pooping, and laughing. I looked back at him to see if Christoph's leaving and shutting the door had awakened him. Placed ever so spidery above his head was a perfect little spider, spinning her web and was centimeters away from landing her spidery appendages on my sweet sleeping child. My face turned from a satisfied smile to a horrifying scowl. How dare this spider. If I wouldn't have though Elliott was in Immediate danger, I would have snapped a picture because it was absolutely perfect. A sleeping child with a nasty looking spider about to land on their head. Unfortunately though, I crushed that spider in between my fingers as fast as I could, dismissing all my spidery fears. Poor Charlotte.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-63909230952941797482011-07-05T09:24:00.000-07:002011-07-07T10:07:48.110-07:00Poor little sausage linksIf you could think of the most uncomfortable situation you could be in I'm sure this would be one of them. Think of your self doused in Vaseline or some kind of sticky ointment to relieve a persistent itch, then forced to wear cotton clothing firmly mushing against your moist skin, repeated three times a day just so you can stop from scratching yourself inside out. My poor unfortunate little Elliott has to go through this ritual, fighting it to all ends. The culprit, eczema. From the time he was two weeks old I have not only been struggling to fit the puzzle pieces of an extremely arduous puzzle together, but also came to the conclusion that doctors are indeed idiots especially those with inordinately large fingers. It turns out nurses are in fact the smarter and more nurturing species. Traditionally not being one to generalize I would normally follow this sentence with "Not all doctors of coarse," but I just don't feel like it. I have reason for my doubts in the higher spectrum of the medical world, clearly pertaining to my own personal experiences. I am sorry if you are reading this and are either a doctor or know someone who is, but I'm sure whomever you are or whomever you know are quite splendid and are not in any way what I am about to describe. <br />I will tell you the facts and you can take from it what you will, but it's almost certain that many mothers in my situation would feel or have felt the exact same way.<br /><br />It was his six week birthday and Elliott's morbid looking umbilical cord had finally fallen off after much anticipation, and catching Christoph pulling a tad bit too strong on the unyielding piece of mom that just did not want to come off. Christoph enjoys pulling scabs off, and this was I'm sure the biggest one he had ever encountered. Given the okay to give him his first fully emerged bath and use soap, I reached for my Johnson and Johnson baby hair and body wash. On most children this is of coarse would have been fine, but Elliott is allergic to everything. As I was not yet aware of this information I generously and joyously lathered his little sausage links making sure I cleaned every tiny fold of his perfect skin. Shortly following his bath I observed swollen red bumps covering his entire body and I was forced to make an appointment with his pediatrician. Our original pediatrician was not available for such a short notice visit, which I was happy about. I did not trust her for reasons I will not say, but I was excited to see what our other options were. To my dismay it seems as though there are no other options other than an array of dismal doctors who would rather be eating. When he walked through the door he did not even look at us before he said, "It's blah blah blah blah blah," as if I new the rash he was referring to in his complicated doctors choice of words. Apparently he had talked to the nurse beforehand and knew just from talking to her exactly what he was dealing with. Annoyed with his know it all dominating tone and fat fingers I of coarse had questions, but found myself forgetting them as fast as he disproved them. I could have used the restroom, left without washing my hands and still would have taken a considerably longer time than our doctors visit that day. Left with no answers and a tube of trimilicone, a potent steroid I was left to believe that the rash would eventually just "go away." So I hoped for just that, trusting he knew what he was talking about. Wanting to relieve my poor son of such an uncomfortable situation and being naive of what exactly steroids can do, I later found out from none other than google, and not our pediatrician, that for such a little baby this can be harmful. Not lethal of coarse, but only that his skin could resemble a cow hide, permanently, among other strange things. You can understand my frustration at this point, I'm sure. <br /><br />Following this event, and noticing that nothing helped his skin during the two weeks off of steroid cream, I sought out to find another pediatrician. I had by this point on my own persistent research, while also asking friends with similar situations, revealed that he indeed had eczema and that it is very likely the cause of an allergic reaction to food, detergents, soap, etc. I guess that out ruled our first pediatricians suggestion that this rash was normal and it was just a coincidence that it had appeared first after his soapy bath. I changed everything. Detergents, soaps, watched what I ate, did not wear perfume. I was dedicated. Still I was at a loss. Getting a recommendation for yet another pediatrician, I felt as though this would be it. Thinking he would at least listen to my suggestions as a mother, I was yet again utterly disappointed. He told me that eczema is nothing more than a cause and effect of the weather here in Colorado. I almost punched him in the face. Not only did I know more on the subject than this doctor, but I found it exceedingly rude how sure he was about his facts, and bypassed my knowledge as a mother. He was a nice person, but you could also be the worst hairstylist in the world and still be a nice person. That wouldn't get you a nice haircut. <br /><br />Five months later I have finally found some things that keep Elliott's eczema at bay. Unfortunately these findings did not come from our list of pediatricians, but from other mothers, nurses and google. So, thank you for that. I am dreading our next pediatrician visit, knowing that the duration of the stay I will not take one word as truth. Regrettably it is that way.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-35077895460051649882011-06-29T11:32:00.000-07:002018-01-19T07:42:32.894-08:00Even though we ain't got money<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqWzYYI7FzKP8qADVllDHgdTFJrmLIqomHlzDY62WksGz-unOO3dKmkU1SE_f1hq_pC93TI6gFlcr76lE17lotyx8F6C9NP6yowoBTLOY5ujmM-O_Uj6N3VXSmjH_SG2aoXj_MjsRStZs/s1600/DSCF0476.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxqWzYYI7FzKP8qADVllDHgdTFJrmLIqomHlzDY62WksGz-unOO3dKmkU1SE_f1hq_pC93TI6gFlcr76lE17lotyx8F6C9NP6yowoBTLOY5ujmM-O_Uj6N3VXSmjH_SG2aoXj_MjsRStZs/s320/DSCF0476.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623722938351363378" /></a><br />Thank goodness for tortilla chips. I think if I had to be on a gluten free diet without having the pleasure of indulging in a bag of tortilla chips every week, then I would probably...well, I would just be mad. The food I most missed while living oversees.<br /><br />Our wonderful family from Germany visited a couple of weeks ago. During their stay I realized how utterly awful it is to have to choose where you live when one side of your family is from a different part of the world. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. If you can, don't fall in love with a charming, good-looking German. It's dangerous, yet totally worth it.<br />That being said their stay here was of coarse bitter sweet with activities arranging anywhere from fishing, playing card games, and being with one another trying not to think of the fact that they would indeed have to leave again. It's a sticky situation, and there is quite frankly nothing good about it. Thankfully God knows what's best in our lives and inquiring as to how it could be different is just downright irrational. That still doesn't stop one in times of the blues.<br /><br />Blue is just how I've been feeling lately. Feeling blue was different when I didn't have a child at my side at all times. I was previously able to wallow in self pity while shoving two pints of ice cream down my gutter. I just simply can't behave like that anymore. Not only because I am leading by example as a parent, and if little Elliott saw his mother doing such things it could later produce some serious ice cream phobia's. But also because, I dunno. You want to be and do the best for you child at all times, even if that means putting your emotions to the back burner once in awhile. I wouldn't call it faking it, but rather wearing a beautiful mask while attempting to withhold a giant pimple on your forehead. One thing I know for certain is that Elliott has this amazing ability to cheer you up by just being himself. That smile will light up your heart in an instant.<br /><br />I was wandering around in Safeway the other day, like I usually do tired, dazed, confused on whether I want to continue this couponing spree I have been on. It seems as though I am saving money on things I don't need. Just as I arrived to the apple sauce isle I realized I did not even have the coupon in which I could have saved one whole dollar on something I actually needed. Frustrated I sort of tuned out while a very familiar song provoked my attention. The song was by Kenny Loggins and Jim Messina, Danny's Song. If you haven't heard the song, it goes like this.<br /><br />People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one,<br />And we've only just begun.<br />Think I'm gonna have a son.<br />He will be like she and me, as free as a dove,<br />Conceived in love.<br />Sun is gonna shine above.<br />And even though we ain't got money,<br />I'm so in love with you, honey,<br />And everything will bring a chain of love.<br />And in the morning, when I rise,<br />You bring a tear of joy to my eyes<br />And tell me everything is gonna be alright.<br />Seems as though, a month ago, I was Beta-Chi,<br />Never got high.<br />Oh, I was a sorry guy.<br />And now, I smile and face the girl that shares my name.<br />Now I'm through with the game.<br />This boy will never be the same.<br />And even though we ain't got money,<br />I'm so in love with you, honey,<br />And everything will bring a chain of love.<br />And in the morning, when I rise,<br />You bring a tear of joy to my eyes<br />And tell me everything is gonna be alright.<br />Pisces, Virgo rising is a very good sign,<br />Strong and kind,<br />And the little boy is mine.<br />Now I see a family where the once was none.<br />Now we've just begun.<br />Yeah, we're gonna fly to the sun.<br />And even though we ain't got money,<br />I'm so in love with you, honey,<br />And everything will bring a chain of love.<br />And in the morning, when I rise,<br />You bring a tear of joy to my eyes<br />And tell me everything is gonna be alright.<br />Love the girl who holds the world in a paper cup.<br />Drink it up.<br />Love her and she'll bring you luck.<br />And if you find she helps your mind, better take her home.<br />Don't you live alone.<br />Try to earn what lovers own.<br />And even though we ain't got money,<br />I'm so in love with you, honey,<br />And everything will bring a chain of love.<br />And in the morning, when I rise,<br />You bring a tear of joy to my eyes<br />And tell me everything is gonna be alright.<br /><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4FDcTyyXQb8<br /><br />Yeah it made me cry a little bit. It also made me like Safeway a little bit more.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-48128589092214999512011-06-24T19:09:00.000-07:002011-06-24T19:22:50.947-07:00Motherhood<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcuOWN5m1p2Y1oNFd5bnA5exR35gUm1Qrl1Ihw-eEhBq6vchaEX_BrdU90dq3C2938RU9YEiYMABKAmEvoUuQDJi-c4lUX7GJLYZ4ONXlYr3ksgvTMRSQW8jR693ISi4C_Kubumo9d76t/s1600/DSCF0440.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUcuOWN5m1p2Y1oNFd5bnA5exR35gUm1Qrl1Ihw-eEhBq6vchaEX_BrdU90dq3C2938RU9YEiYMABKAmEvoUuQDJi-c4lUX7GJLYZ4ONXlYr3ksgvTMRSQW8jR693ISi4C_Kubumo9d76t/s320/DSCF0440.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621974050404186274" /></a><br /> The junctures in my erratic life have caused me to think cognitive in regards to time both meaningful and steadfast. In a positive sense I have come to terms with my current state as a mother in that God has so intentionally placed me and my husband where we are for particular reasons. I am recently enlightened to a whole new landscape of beauty in most cases looking into the eyes of what I can only describe as the most astounding being on this earth. My son. It feels so deep to say it, as it is the only way I can describe it. Deep. I cannot take credit for this miraculous event, but only look to the One who created me as the One who created him. How am I so fortunate?<br />Feelings of familiarity or recurrence in regards to raising a child come and go faster than the days. I find myself continuously surprised and amazed at each new phase of Elliott's life, considering myself the luckiest mother in world. I wont say its always comfy including sleeping on the edge of sleep, but I always come back to the certainty that I am exactly where God wants me. <br />Being a mother not only grows someone as a person, but ignites an entire new perspective on what is valid in life and what is not. <br />Before being a mother I would hate myself for having a bowl of ice cream. Now I am happy to say that I enjoy a bowl of ice cream almost every night. Before being a mother I would change my clothes ten times just to make sure I looked exactly how I wanted. Now I throw whatever isn't dirty, or extremely dirty on, glance in the mirror and head on my way. Before I was a mother I aspired to be someone great, someone who made an impact in this world. Now I wake up knowing I have made an impact in the world. Before I was a mother the thought of a child getting hurt by someone would upset me to a nascious degree. Now the thought of anyone hurting my child or anyone else's causes me to so intently picture myself holding a shotgun to their heads and pulling the trigger. Before I was a mother I took time for granted. Now I cherish every second I get to spend with my precious little bugger. I love being mommy, holding Elliott's tiny hand in mine as I kiss him goodnight and look forward to seeing him again in the morning. What a blessed life I live, always wondering how I deserve such a special family to go through life with. To live everyday as it's the last.<br />Today Elliott, Grandma and I went to the pool for the first time in his infant life. I can't read his mind but I would conclude that he enjoyed it to the degree of tolerated in again. Being in the water made him a little nervous and he gave me insight into more of his personality as we bounced around and I may have dunked him a time or two. If I am reading him right I can tell he is going to be an avid people watcher, observing and thinking about the world around him. I love how he takes everything in, and it reminds me to look at life as thought I have never experienced it. Appreciating every new adventure and circumstance.<br />After swimming and tolerating mommy putting sunscreen on every inch of his body it was time for a nap. After rocking him to sleep I carefully layed him down on a towel in the grass at my side. Fifteen minutes into his solid sleep from a tiring day, I was admiring how deep he slept even with screaming kids just feet away. As I was looking at him I noticed something crawling on his face. An ant! Better get it! No! A spider! Shreaking in disgust I flicked it from his face before it could crawl up his tiny nostrils. Poor Elliott was left dismayed and awake from his mother flicking away at his face. It was a short nap. WHat a great day for his 5 month birthday.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-28477058900279878912010-12-20T15:42:00.000-08:002018-01-19T08:09:33.686-08:00Treasure hunting<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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</script><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKNmV2SIUPvNKuO0I7eMWR8uSLp5lTYeLAef3-r2SN8PpIFNjRaidGlhyPh-DC4rlSHEO2Lmz6UmtHFUWFPlsRewTO8-EUXBKsrdTg2_7Gdswz924beeJqQmR1wHrFXAVeTBbtL5DLJsT/s1600/DSC01279.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKNmV2SIUPvNKuO0I7eMWR8uSLp5lTYeLAef3-r2SN8PpIFNjRaidGlhyPh-DC4rlSHEO2Lmz6UmtHFUWFPlsRewTO8-EUXBKsrdTg2_7Gdswz924beeJqQmR1wHrFXAVeTBbtL5DLJsT/s320/DSC01279.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553547124293936930" /></a><br />Belly buttons. Everyone has one, and every one's is different from the next persons. One thing I learned becoming pregnant was that my belly button does not connect to my baby's belly button from the inside. For some reason I have always thought that, but come to figure out, my belly button is my own and nothing is connected to it besides my body.<br />Along with my emotions, my husband, my cat, and just life, my belly button has also undergone some extreme changes. Before I started showing I could not imagine myself with a belly the size of a pumpkin hanging in front of me. Now I can't imagine myself without it. Curious as to what my belly button would end up looking like, scared that it might just pop out at any moment, I have to say that almost every month it has changed in some little way. At about 4 months of pregnancy, when i first started showing it became obvious to me that my belly button was turning inside out, which at first was very frightening but soon became a curious thought as to what the bottom of my belly button might look like. You are probably thinking, how in the world can this story amount to anything worth reading. Well, if your curious like me, it may be worth your time to hear what my little belly button has been hiding for the past who knows how long.<br /> <br />At months five and six of pregnancy my interpretation of my belly button was me pressing my lips together and squinting my eyes imitating the small opening of a balloon and telling Christoph...."This is what it looks like" as I was making the face and made a slight grunting noise. My interpretation of prego belly button is now hard to mimic as it is almost flat and protruding slightly. One day when the end of my belly button was in clear view, I found a little treasure and had I been a clam and not a human I would have found myself a beautiful pearl. Low and behold a tiny little pebble. Perhaps a rock or a large grain of sand had lodged itself in my belly button, never to be found until this day. The reason I knew it has been there for quite some time was simply this. It had become apart of my body, meaning my skin had grown and formed around it. I first examined it carefully, amazed by this rare occurrence and then pulled it from the place it had called home for a very long time. Not only was it weird, but it was ten times better than pulling out something from your teeth that had been stuck for years. Relieving to say the least. <br /><br />After removing the pebble I discovered there is now a permanent indentation of that little pebble only to be seen when I am fully baby loaded. It was exciting to find such a diamond in the rough, but now my Indiana Jones days are over and treasure hunting will soon turn from finding belly button rocks to searching and destroying poopy diapers. I literally can't wait to meet my little poop maker. I love my life.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-4821514586626402292010-12-02T10:47:00.000-08:002010-12-02T12:19:52.842-08:00Follow the Dotted LineBaby Hillstoph: Currently 5.7 lbs. and of coarse fully loaded with plenty of hair as seen on today's ultrasound, and being a child of Christoph is completely expected. <br />Hillary: Sleeping less, and noticing more and more lovely body changes. 'It's for a good cause' is what I constantly keep telling myself.<br />Christoph: Stress level high not only because he is moving across the world tomorrow and has spent the last 3 weeks preparing for it, but because he has to travel with our dear cat Velvie with a five hour layover in Washington. <br />Velvie: Doesn't realize yet she has to hold in her poop and pee for about 30 hours. <br /><br />Life has definitely changed a bit in the past month. I would say for moving across the world in one month, we have handled things pretty well. I have been able to observe the live out loud American culture since being back and little did I know it would be once again another culture shock from what I have been experiencing in Germany the past year and a half. From having a southern woman interrogate me about my baby on the flight over, to an elderly black man wearing sunglasses in the airport telling me, "That baby has overtaken your body sweetheart! Your giving birth to a miracle! Keep smiling pretty girl!" was not only a culture shock realization, but a realization that you wouldn't catch a German dead saying or asking those things, let alone even talking to you. Experiencing both cultures in many different ways has enabled me to come to a pretty good assessment of the two, and being married to a German has also aided in the process. Realizing that my cultural observations have only been in Germany, I can only imagine what cultural shocks would be experienced if a German or American were to move to Africa, or Asia... or visa versa. The way I see it, my cultural change trying as it was, was only an ounce of change compared to people who have gone from eating things like macaroni and cheese and pizza to boiled chicken feet, and fried frog legs. Fortunately my colon only had to adjust to things like delicious bread, pastries and schnitzel. I never got around to liverwurst though. No thanks.<br /><br />That being said, I have found pleasure in observing the two, taking what I like and what I don't like on either side. Not that there is a side, but rather a dotted line so to speak. When it comes down to it we are all people created by God, we all have insecurities and are determined to be accepted in some way shape or form, so finding common ground can easily be discovered between the spaces. I was talking to a dear friend of mine the other day who delights in everything about Germany. We were discussing the fact of relationships and interactions with both Germans and Americans. She thoughtfully explained that Americans are soft on the outside (meaning easy to get along with at first) and hard on the inside (later will you experience their true colors and be able to determine on whether they become sincere friends who will stick around or just another aquantence). Germans on the other hand are hard on the outside making it difficult to really get to know them at first, later melting with no tricks hidden under the belt and become life long friends. They are who they are. Now of coarse this is a generalization and I am not one for generalizations, but I would have to agree that this is the case probably 90% of the time, surface speaking of coarse. Dig a little deeper and you will find that every person is different and unique in and of themselves and any form of culture or labels is no match for determining who they really are. <br /><br />I just ate four chocolate chip peanut butter cookies and I am not feeling so well so I am going to go take a little nap to let the sugar settle. <br />I miss writing in my blog but have found my mind continuously leaning toward having a baby and not so much on explaining to everyone what is going on in my heart or life. Little baby is on my heart and literally in my life I guess you could say, which is probably the way it should be. I am going easy on myself knowing that not too many things can be accomplished right now, not just physically but also emotionally and socially. So who knows when the next blog will be. I have to be in the perfect mood to do such things. <br /><br />Thank you to all the people who are thinking about us and praying for us through all of this. It means so much to know we have such wonderful people who love and support us.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-36448926807921137682010-11-15T09:08:00.000-08:002018-01-19T08:09:07.074-08:00Humility feels good at times<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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</script>Here I am, once again in the basement of my parents house trying to understand and get a glimpse of what it is that God has planned for us. To be honest, this was a humbling experience for me. I have always been an independent person, wanting to do things my way and I'm sure my husband can vouch for that. I find it interesting that through this God has brought me to acknowledge who I am when I don't rely on Him. I look back on this year, back to Hamburg where it all started. The place I felt so lost both spiritually in who I was as a person and as a wife. I look further from that to where I came out of that, and how God truly showed me that it is not in what I do as a job or an occupation that makes me important. That as a wife, I have to be moldable in His hands. I look back to Ulm and the hardships I encountered there. They were all unique in and of themselves and all brought me to a place of absolute helplessness in and of myself. I look back to how many times I turned my back on God and said to Him, "You are not enough and there is no way you can get me though of this." How selfish I was. I look back to how devastated and angry I was at myself and at my circumstances. I look on from there to where I realized that my circumstantial emotions should not control me, even though pregnancy hormones were weighing down on me fully loaded. I look back to that sweet release when I finally admitted I needed a change of scenery. I look to today and how I will never be happy in and of myself unless that happiness is because I see who I am in Christ. I have thought so many times before...'If only my circumstances were different. If only I could speak the language better. If only I had some good friends....If only if only. <br /><br />I now realize my "If only's" were what was keeping me from experiencing true happiness in the circumstances that surrounded me. Sure no one wants to be put in a place where they feel uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean God is not teaching us something through all of that. Through my discomfort, or what I though was discomfort I realized that my agenda is not always parallel to that which God has for me. I thought that through all of this I was drowning. That growth was over for me, and this was it. How wrong I was to second guess the God who has brought me through it all. <br /><br />Self reflection is not something you come by everyday. It's actually something that rears itself to be absolutely necessary to take any further steps in life, and if experienced everyday would not be useful. Through our selfishness and inability to see our wrongs, we come to a point where we are so discusted with ourselves that in order to come to a place of true repentence, we have to first experience what it is like to be selfish. Although you would think self reflection is something we have to do ourselves, it is actually something we can't do ourselves. God has to bring about change in our hearts in order for us to accept the fact that we are selfish and wrong.<br /><br />It all brings me back to this. How quickly do I sink, and how quickly am I once again rescued by a God who has the world in His hands. What a beautiful thing.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-75863343521431008752010-11-01T06:35:00.000-07:002010-11-01T08:35:38.189-07:00Away we go<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_yDmrkF__lsnbl0mR-6ELEC7PCLkGoXCgEYbdicokcMwxyXkar7XPPC8AJTaoumffGyoVIQkKDHiPOtUMGKSa88LZjiEqNQ-ScF1OoYCXPdujZoTOsRFUCchaiXvrEdSXYw-cxL7L8cA/s1600/IMG_3410.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_yDmrkF__lsnbl0mR-6ELEC7PCLkGoXCgEYbdicokcMwxyXkar7XPPC8AJTaoumffGyoVIQkKDHiPOtUMGKSa88LZjiEqNQ-ScF1OoYCXPdujZoTOsRFUCchaiXvrEdSXYw-cxL7L8cA/s320/IMG_3410.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534605371546264002" /></a><br />I never thought I would say it out loud, but it came to the point where I had to. I believe that God gives us breaking points. Points in our lives where we just can't take anymore and send forth backed up anxiety from our souls stomach all the way out through our mouth. I recently has one of those breaking points.<br /><br />Seeing myself in Germany, or living in some European country has been a popular day dream of mine ever since I went to bible school. I had imagined myself living in one of those adorable German houses that is older than America nestled in some village in the Bavarian farmlands. Perhaps vacationing to Italy every so often to get a tan, and return when my tan had faded. I saw myself walking through old villages where kings and queens had once ruled and learning the history of a very old and accomplished country. After I met Chritsoph our dream furthermore expanded to working in or starting a church and being a part of helping Germany see Christ. The family business seemed like a good fit for us to work and be apart of those things with owning our own business as well. Everything was planned and set into play, but as many of you have experienced for yourself not everything always works the way you thought it would.<br /><br />Sometimes we see ourselves the way the world wants us to see ourselves. Through the worlds eyes, stepping away from something that looks good from the outside is a rather stupid move, especially if success is included in the equation. In our own situation people could look at it this way, but to us it is where God is leading us. That is enough for us.<br /><br />A couple weeks ago we packed our bags once again to go visit the states. In the very distance back of our heads was one thought. 'Will we ever move to the states?' A couple instances specifically had set off the conversation of this very topic. The fact that I couldn't even talk about life in Germany to other people without nearly having a breakdown said it all to us. Never thinking we would actually make such a drastic decision, we came to a place in our lives that we absolutely had to one way or another. I personally had not yet accepted the fact that I was going to be raising a child in Germany with only a year of experience under my belt. But in the depths of my heart I knew there had to be a decision soon and being in America once again gave me that extra gusto to finally spit out, "I don't want to live in Germany anymore." But actually making the decision I had to leave up to my husband. In my point of view as a wife I could never see myself telling my husband, "I have to go back" when all seemed to be going as planned with business and many other things. A couple months left and we would have to be signing a huge contract that would mean us staying in Germany for the next fifteen or plus years. I was willing to make the decision to stay here, and I know with Gods help He would have seen me through it. But deep down Christoph knew for a while now how I had been feeling. He said to me, "I have a responsibility as a husband to take care of my wife, and if she is not where she wants to be then I am more than willing to give up the business." That said it all. It went from there, praying, talking and finally discovering that God was moving us in a different direction then what we had thought for some time now. <br /><br />I simply can't explain in my blog or even in words face to face all of the reasons that led us up to this point, but I can tell you one thing. Even thought from the worlds eyes giving up such an opportunity living here in Germany and having our own business is stupidity, we just don't see it that way. After God, our family, meaning Christoph baby and I comes first and foremost. With that God gives us decisions to make, and what a beautiful thing that is. I feel relieved in so many ways and I wouldn't even know where to start explaining that. We are happy with our decision through and through and know that God will continue as He always has to hold us in Hands and take care of our every need.<br /><br />Our time here in Germany together will always be some of those most precious memories. We did get to live in a house that is older than America. Walked down the old cobble stone streets to go to the butcher, the baker, and the farmer. Traveled to places I have always dreamed of traveling learning about old German or Italian villages. Walked on a frozen seas. Biked along the Donau for hours. Hiked in some of the most beautiful mountains I have laid eyes on where we fed goats and saw baby lambs. Took long day trips to Lake Constance. Made new friends and met with old one's. Had family so close, and got to know and love them more everyday. Learned to be married, or at least started to learn. Made a baby. Freaked out for awhile. <br /><br />So here we are. I leave in a week or so to go back to the states, and Christoph follows three weeks later. Once again we sit on packed boxes, not really knowing what to do next but we are totally fine with that. <br /><br />Away we go.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-16280133081222060062010-10-09T01:24:00.000-07:002010-10-09T10:03:39.086-07:00When Animals Attack<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwPC-09kXDs-ryO0c99on9gnhMIbKR70MAznbDlwMWSGcIj0avjjyJCA8RywYHZUhodRKmVwNE5GHL8dFwqDE4gh5Okf3R1tC_m75uKE-WcZSOlMogu21T5nQVcREjq0a_HOd4QzWGq0s/s1600/IMG_3318.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwPC-09kXDs-ryO0c99on9gnhMIbKR70MAznbDlwMWSGcIj0avjjyJCA8RywYHZUhodRKmVwNE5GHL8dFwqDE4gh5Okf3R1tC_m75uKE-WcZSOlMogu21T5nQVcREjq0a_HOd4QzWGq0s/s320/IMG_3318.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525972541883909186" /></a><br />I love my cat, but sometimes I just don't know what to do when she gets crazy. Since she was a little kitten she has always been a feisty cat, and this comes as no surprise being that every animal I have owned in my lifetime has been either crazy or stupid, not including my childhood best friends Abby and Tiger. The best dog and cat ever. In general though, I have had some winners of animals including our cat Golda. She was evil, but on the other hand I was about 3 years old when I put her in the dryer before we went on vacation for 3 days. We later gave her away to a farm. There was my snake Balfazar that I shared with my roommate, and I couldn't stand having him anymore being that we had to feed it the cutest little mice every week. We kept one once because it was so cute. There was my sugar glider that didn't let me touch it unless I wanted to hear the creepiest noise in the world. My two turtles were pretty low key, not crazy or anything. I once had a rabbit that actually danced, leaped and frolicked in our backyard. His name was cookie and he later got eaten by a fox. My angry purple bird was eaten by my cat. I always caught bugs and kept them as pets in my pink Kabootle. Fish were of coarse one of my favorites, but they were quickly replaced as well. I once made my parents let me bring home 10 crabs in their shells that I caught on our Padre Island vacation. 15 hours in the car ride home with a bowl full of crabs in the back seat reeking the place up. I believe the only reason my mom let me do this was because she knew they would die and wanted the pretty shells they lived in. I mean, I can't imagine my dad actually thinking that table salt would turn regular water into oceanic salt water. They didn't really die but rather disintegrated.<br /><br /> Yes, it was one of my many childhood dreams to become a veterinarian. Then I discovered that even watching animals die on TV was an unpleasant experience for me and that being a vet would mean I would have to see this perhaps everyday. <br />Nowadays I am less interested in animals and more interested in paying the bills, which is what I believe happens to most childhood animal lovers unless they go so far as to be a member of PITA. This reminds me of the other day when Christoph and I were walking around Lindau (a small town on lake constance) and noticed a smaller, older female army of animal rights ladies marching around holding signs with pictures of ducks being force fed by machines, and baby chickens getting their feet stuck in wires, attached with the saying "Don't eat mistreated animal meat". The question that Christoph and I had was, how on earth are we supposed to know if our delicious chicken breast got its feet stuck in some wire? Very disturbing pictures to look at while you are trying to enjoy some ice cream. Two feet behind these people came walking an older, farmer sort of looking guy who yells very loudly with a smug smile on his face..."Eat more chicken and meat! Eat more chicken and meat!" He was satisfied with himself as the poor ladies turn around and gave him nasty looks.<br /><br />What I was trying to get was to tell you of my daily routine walking from the bathroom to my bedroom every evening. For some reason it only happens in the evening and it only hapepns to me. Our sweet little Velvie cat has some serious issues. You see, I get ready for bed, brush my teeth and so on to later head back to the bedroom as I am tired and done for the day. This is of coarse in my cats mind the perfect time for attack. Her victim is tired, and not so quick to block the attack. Perfect timing. <br />With my bed on my mind all of the sudden I hear the take off of kitty hiding behind the wall coming around the corner and if I am quick enough I can block her, but in most cases she is just too quick for me. Before I know it here teeth are sinking into my calves and I am screaming once again. As Christoph thinks this is very funny and is laughing in the bedroom, I am left frustrated and confused, wondering what I did to deserve such behavior. I lose it. And putting up with it every night is getting to be a bit of a problem. Curious as to why she does this I decided to research it. Turns out she just has some spasms from being cooped up all day and attacking her owner is the only way she can express this. i think an owner of PITA write that so I wouldn't hit her anymore after she did that. I decided it might be a good idea to start letting her outside. We'll see if it gets better, otherwise I am going to have to wear rubber boots in the trip from the bathroom to the bedroom. Posted above is the little devil herself.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-21290143045178878342010-10-07T00:32:00.000-07:002018-01-19T08:10:11.594-08:00Just like Samson<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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</script><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApcFbrxhDSI0J7C4XzttQ-7dSgCMX5flAUsxvI3rgYYVb0BCfpaEHWHeNGtmhMBCf9SD7-TtFyy6u_a88pT1BV7FaLoatT8eAjxGSOTtEIaSQETZMLYRR62zZYz0d5pGEPmZDENQw840G/s1600/HairyGuy1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApcFbrxhDSI0J7C4XzttQ-7dSgCMX5flAUsxvI3rgYYVb0BCfpaEHWHeNGtmhMBCf9SD7-TtFyy6u_a88pT1BV7FaLoatT8eAjxGSOTtEIaSQETZMLYRR62zZYz0d5pGEPmZDENQw840G/s320/HairyGuy1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525219719562802978" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Have you ever heard the song "Fly trapped in a Jar" by Modest Mouse? Well, this is the exact song that entered my mind the other night while watching some new Office episodes in bed with my husband. Christoph, as some of you may know has been blessed with luxurious locks of beautiful hair, including a generous amount on his chest. As we were sitting there laughing at the many wonderful things that Dwight does, I noticed a little miniature moth flying around my face annoying me. Then it started to annoy CHristoph, and I litarally thought to myself as I do when bugs fly in my face...'I want that dead'. Just as I thought that the little moth flew down and landed on Christoph's hairy chest and got strapped, like a fly trapped in a jar, or a moth trapped in a Christoph's web. Immediately after, CHristoph swatted his chest with the poor little moth underneath and this moths days of annoying people were over. When this happened I laughed because the whole situation was funny, but then I realized something. Christoph, in his wonderful little way has a way of giving me exactly what I want, even if that means trapping a moth in his chest hair and saving me from being annoyed. It's as if he read my mind and said,"I'll get it with my super powerful chest hair!" Just like Samson, his power is in his hair. Christoph, I promise I will never cut your chest hair in the middle of the night, otherwise you might lose all of your strength.<br /><br />This past weekend was our one year anniversary, so we decided to celebrate it at the a little place called the Hibertus in the Algoy, (that's not how you spell it) which is the beginning of the German alps. We spent part of our honeymoon there and had a marvelous time, so we thought repeating it would be a good idea. Unfortunately this time it wasn't quite the same. Along with our waiter ignoring us at dinner so that we didn't get to leave until 10pm, a great many other annoying little things happened that shouldn't happen at such a place. One of them was my fault and it's the most awful one so let me tell you that part. It was about 3 am when I woke up and needed desperately a drink of water. I had forgotten that I had left my water bottle next to my bed incase this would happen, but I also had to use the toilette so a trip to the bathroom would have been necessary anyways. After I went to the bathroom I looked in the mirror just to see how awful I look at 3 in the morning as I picked up the glass drinking cup sitting next to the sink. I filled up my water glass, gulped the thing down as I noticed something on the side of my face which had not been there before. Mind you I was half asleep, and when you see a giant pillow mark when you are half asleep you are caught a little bit off gaurd by what exactly it is at first. Startled by not quite knowing what was wrong with my face, being half asleep, and so on I dropped my glass drinking cup to bounce once off one side of the sink, bounce another time off the other side, and finally crash into a million pieces onto the tile floor. It all happened so fast that even if I was completely awake I would have not been able to prevent this from happening. Blame it on the pillow mark, or on the fact that 3am is not my best hour, it happened none the less and breaking the glass was not all that happened. After swearing a couple times in my head hoping I didn't wake Christoph up, I look down to see that a quarter sized chunk had chipped out of this probably 1000 dollar sink by my meezly little drinking glass revealing a nasty dark spot. Now I had to wake Christoph up. Do you know that feeling when something terrible happens and you try to justify it in your head of why it shouldn't have happened, I did that a lot in this moment. Christoph woke immediately but I don't really think he was actually awake, and asked me with a not quite pronounced yell, "What happened!" I explained the situation the best I could not even really knowing myself what happened and it went on from there. Christoph was tired, I was tired and in this stupid hotel at 3 in the morning we had a stupid fight because of a stupid drinking glass. <br />The next day we thought we would be honest and tell the front desk what had happened. Two days prior Christoph has just given me a speech about how the honest person is always the loser, even though he does the right thing. I guess in this moment he was quite right. The hotel decided they were going to charge for an entire new sink and installation for this little incident and probably with a very hefty bill I might add. To our knowledge we had no insurance for such a thing, and were prepared to suffer the concequences and tried to enjoy our anniversary day none the less with eating some ice cream and writing each other letters on the Lake Constance harbor. Despite the mishap it was the best anniversary I could have imagined and I can't believe that I have been married for one year with a baby on the way. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with my wonderful husband falling more in love with him everyday.<br />The good news is, Christoph later called his mom who gave us some pretty great information. We did have insurance through the Gruener business on things like your wife breaking stuff in hotel rooms. The perfect ending to the perfect day.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-25752534275429819702010-09-30T01:55:00.001-07:002010-09-30T02:51:08.728-07:00Hillstoph<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdWN2xDaa1dW5eqTlP-9pelQw9r5ypdRhKuzlFuInkL9zTmz_DATVIiD9_JsL8wkpXvI4QiRRexwexN6QzXnPNlZpqTojqny-eyYICN8c0JamVwhaYZod4MBOZ54avuz_6Idq8OqrloNw/s1600/IMG_3480.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdWN2xDaa1dW5eqTlP-9pelQw9r5ypdRhKuzlFuInkL9zTmz_DATVIiD9_JsL8wkpXvI4QiRRexwexN6QzXnPNlZpqTojqny-eyYICN8c0JamVwhaYZod4MBOZ54avuz_6Idq8OqrloNw/s320/IMG_3480.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522639964950552850" /></a><br />In attempts to keep our baby name a secret until his birth, the very opposite has happened. First it slipped with some friends, because one very lovely Polish girl got very nosey when she came to visit. I said to her, "I can't tell you because you will probably accidentally write on facebook, 'how is little.......doing?' and I accidentally actually said his name out loud to her. Then it slipped, well maybe not slipped my lips but rather slipped my mind that I should not be telling my parents without Christoph present. Then it slipped his mind when we were eating lunch with his parents, and his response to my "Hey what are doing!" was "Well, you told your parents." Then we had to tell my brother and his wife of coarse, which led to us having to tell all of the rest of the Gruener family realizing that our need to be fair in this situation overcame the fact that his name will no longer be a secret. <br />I am normally very good in keeping secrets, especially other peoples, but when it comes to my secrets well I think I have the right to tell my own secrets I guess. I need to work on that.<br /><br />A series of unfortunate events just occured in the past couple days. One, my brother and his wife( my very own little piece of America) left me from visiting in Germany for a couple days. Two, I am now sick in bed after I just had the longest "conversation" with my husband about how I need to set some actual goals for this year and get my butt in gear instead of playing sad little prego house wife. I agreed in a my stubborn little way and was fully prepared to get out there and make some genuine goals. Here are some of them.<br /><br />1. Finish my stupid book that I never seem to want to finish.<br />2. Get out of the house a little bit and hang out with people.<br />3. Read a lot of books<br />4. Practice my German for 2 hours a day<br />5. Translate, read and understand a German book. I started that one yesterday and so far this orphan kid has found a carrot in his soup. It takes longer than I thought to read a book in a different language.<br />6. Practice a lot more piano<br />7. Work out.....I hate this one right now<br /><br />I have many other ideas as to what I should be doing, but actually doing them has proven to be a bit more difficult. You see, when a little human is growing inside of you it has a side affect called....emotional laziness. That comes with emotional breakdowns, emotional fights, emotional complaining, emotional eating, emotional rationalizations. I am basically an emotional nutcase. There's nothing I can really do about it though. I just wished my mother would have warned me.<br /><br />As to an update on what is happening with our finding a needle in a haystack of a building for our kitchen business, I will give you the lowdown. As I am writing this very phrase, Christoph is in a meeting with the "chief" of Germany's Bultaup representatives. Meaning....We will find out in the very near future if we get this building or whether it is suitable or not, and when the store will open. This was a bitter sweet realization. Bitter being, if all goes well that means America is years down the road if ever, and sweet because I know God is in control and it feels pretty good to trust Him with our future. The verdict is in. <br /><br />This is just one small part in Hillary Gruener learning how to live and let go. There are some old jars I have held onto a little past their due date, but I'm ready to buy the new jars. Now it's just a matter of picking out the new jars. That made sense in my mind.<br /><br />3 more months!! 3 more months and this baby inside of me will pop out like a champagne cork on new years eve and a great many things will happen from there. I am counting down the days.<br /><br />Oh and you're probably wondering why I put a picture of a goat on here. It's only that I love goats and I think you should too. If I had to give birth to an animal I would want it to be a goat. But it's better that humans give birth to humans.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-69770558247750463732010-09-09T23:09:00.000-07:002018-01-19T08:10:34.859-08:00Just another day<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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</script>Looks like I brought my bad accident streak to Germany with me. Since I've been eighteen or so I have been in 4 car accidents, 2 of which I wasn't even in the car. One was in a round-a-bout....I could poop on round-a-bouts I hate them so much. One was a silly 16 yr old girl who ran a stop sign and t-boned me which still remains the worst one. And the final little dilly dally was yesterday of coarse when Christoph was out of town, in downtown Gerstetten. When I say downtown Gerstetten, I mean a 200 foot stretch with a couple stores along the way. This little village is where Christoph grew up, and all five minutes I was there, someone sought out my exact car just to hit. All I wanted to do was get some money so I could get some delicious bread and go home to make myself a delicious sandwich. This is what happened instead.<br /><br />I parked rather close behind some car,thinking maybe I should back off a little, but I was in too big of a hurry to go to the bank that I shrugged it off and continued on my way. Gerstetten is such a small town, that I happened to call my sister-in-law to ask her where the bank was. She told me she was actually just around the corner, so we met up and she drove her car up to mine so we could leave together to find the bank. You would think I could find a bank in such a small town. As I am walking up to my car this man starts talking to me in a really thick Swabian accent (This could be compared to a really thick southern accent but the German version). I've never been a fan of strange people coming up to me and talking to me for many reasons and I think you already know that. I am a magnet for that though, and obviously this guy I couldn't avoid. He was a larger man with white hair, tiny little glasses and wore a flannel red shirt with blue jeans. I could at least understood the part where he asked me if this car belonged to me and I couldn't help but notice that part of his teeth were gone. That would later on distract me from understanding at all what he was saying. I answered "yes that's my car", and he pointed his thick farmer finger in the direction of the front of my car and I followed it with a deep pit forming in my stomach. Did I do that? I can't understand this guy! Oh no, Christoph will be so mad at me, I thought to myself. But as I listened carefully I came to the realization that hillbilly man hit me, and all that had its last breath was our license plate. He picked it up off the ground, still talking, me in my own little world as he was trying his hardest to bend the plate to it's original shape and obviously failing. My sister-in-law pulled up a second later and helped me in communicating with this guy, having a hard time herself understanding him. He was most likely one of these German guys who has never left the general area in his entire life. He was very nice though and of coarse offered to pay for the damages which was probably a total of 10 Euros. Turns out he ended up living across the street from the Gruener business, but the Grueners had never even met him before. Small world.<br /><br />This then lead to me hanging out with my sister in law the whole day having a great time while my car got fixed. Turned out to be a good day, and I finished it off with a couple episodes of Leave it to Beaver then went to bed. Thankfully the last night without Christoph.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-84857564209253650242010-09-08T00:55:00.000-07:002018-01-19T08:08:36.073-08:00Swaddling practice<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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</script><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEfVa8VHmfeKmwKXI4FRQK1cQ1hlAXQ988IEIhk_lkmm9As7g_r1QPHe5iuifPNWzb4nzyx3cW7SDqvaqp09KX8MMWFVSbnMkxxwe2MyG-qAjAXHfa1mexIcHQAHDwYExNVnjBznL7fBZ/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEfVa8VHmfeKmwKXI4FRQK1cQ1hlAXQ988IEIhk_lkmm9As7g_r1QPHe5iuifPNWzb4nzyx3cW7SDqvaqp09KX8MMWFVSbnMkxxwe2MyG-qAjAXHfa1mexIcHQAHDwYExNVnjBznL7fBZ/s320/photo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514465621860895986" /></a><br />Who knew there would be so much to say on swaddling, swaying, sucking, ssshhhing, and side laying. I have been reading this book, "Happiest baby on the block" and I'm sure if you're an American who is having a baby you know exactly what I am talking about. This book is great for a couple reasons which you can find in pages 190-192, and the rest is just repeating itself. Actually the whole book is pretty good, but I could have done without the five time repeated explanation that baby's need another 4th trimester etc. <br />Upon learning the many techniques of swaddling, I decided to give it a go and try swaddling none other than my very own husband. It took convincing but he finally agreed to it. Even though it was hilarious and I haven't laughed so hard in awhile, I think wrapping a baby is a bit different. I am going to have to get a baby doll to practice with on account that my cat would NOT sit still.<br /><br />Apart from swaddling there is so much to learn about baby's, and mastering them comes with practice. But there is one thing that I have already mastered and that is loving him with all my heart. I know for a fact that I am already head over heels for our little guy, and that there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for him. I of coarse already feel that for my husband, but I surely can't roll him up in a ball and cuddle him every minute of every day. That would be unhealthy in so many ways. But that's what's so great when you have babies. They are completely helpless without their mom and dad, and I have complete joy in knowing I can be there for him. I just keep imagining that first day when we bring him home, and how it will be. I'm sure I will never forget that day.<br /><br />This summer has been absolutely unpredictable and amazing all at the same time. Unpredictable because I am a very unpredictable person that pregnancy makes even more unpredictable. Amazing because getting closer to having our baby grows us closer together as husband and wife. My husband has been the most wonderful and helpful man in the days that have past, and I definitely couldn't have done this without him. From letting me swaddle him to hearing me complain about how fat I am every day, I would say men like this deserve some reward or something. Dealing with a pregnant woman can drive someone crazy, and I know because I drive myself crazy. At the beginning of my pregnancy I hadn't yet felt any nauciousness or emotional instability and I thought to myself, "Maybe I will be an acception and not have all of the symptoms a normal woman has. Low and behold with my hormonal imbalanced history God knew that would never be the case and a week later I was on the journey to crazy land. Poor Christoph.<br /><br />As I have heard a billion times before, the second trimester exceeds the first trimester in many ways. I find this to be true. No more sickness, super power smelling, inability to eat, emotional outbursts, "poofyiness" as Christoph calls it. Yes, one day he said to me, "You don't look as poofy any more in the second trimester." Oh thanks love, I said as I held in my laugh. I would have normally been hurt by something like this, but the fact that he said poofy made think of myself as a freshly dry load of laundry and I let it slide. Poofy. Ha.<br /><br />As a matter of fact as a pregnant woman, feeling poofy is nothing but normal in an everyday thought process. You wake up, you feel poofy, you eat...poofy. You take a shower...poofy. I don't think there has ever been a time where I haven't felt poofy. Then my next thought is..."There's nothing I can really do about, so just don't think about it." And that's all there is to pregnancy. Poofiness.<br /><br />I know I am only talking about babies and pregnancy, but the truth is that's my life right now. Other than two days at the office, a hair cut here and there, I would say it's kinda how it has to be right now. I am ok with it too. I don't think I have ever been happier. The smell of fall in the air remind me that I am only getting closer to getting little Hillstoph our of my body and having his own. My brother and his wife are coming in a couple weeks, then we go to the states, then Christmas will be just around the corner, and then the baby will come. Oh boy. But for today there is the sad fact that Christoph is leaving me for a couple days for a managment training in the mountains. I hate being alone, but that's probably because I am alone most everyday. I am trying to enjoy it before I'll never get to be alone.<br /><br />Hopefullly that was somewhat of an update.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-31234036094037931672010-08-04T00:51:00.000-07:002010-08-04T02:37:43.160-07:00This is me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi663NMD9LNlwQHDdu2ARd5dDMNcm7WP6BiJ-TbsARLDPiplES3iSAlQCFY6HSZILdgt_0c3ZvVqz0r7fpAWfVGylPOIqR44Kmj3wrXcieLwZtTl7UNxbYSmcawArLyhd-Jg1z5s5L2OEe_/s1600/IMG_0338.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi663NMD9LNlwQHDdu2ARd5dDMNcm7WP6BiJ-TbsARLDPiplES3iSAlQCFY6HSZILdgt_0c3ZvVqz0r7fpAWfVGylPOIqR44Kmj3wrXcieLwZtTl7UNxbYSmcawArLyhd-Jg1z5s5L2OEe_/s320/IMG_0338.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501473636037042050" /></a><br /><br /><br />I as well as many if not all other women struggle with the feeling of inadequacy in who I am. There are a couple of things I know I am, some good and some not. God is first in my life. I am in love with my husband. I am weird and silly. I say and do inappropriate things, sometimes intentionally but most times not. I do not get along with everyone, even though I always thought I was a person who did. I tend to say things I don't mean when I am pregnant. I like my laundry to smell like the snuggle bear. I love it when people can enjoy something I cooked. I love people and getting to know them. The feeling of becoming a mother is one of the best feelings I have ever had. I hate it when people treat me like I am a child. I mostly find circumstantial things the funniest, which is why I like shows like Arrested Development and The Office. Sometimes the most awkward things in life are the best, like when we saw a guy riding his bike yesterday with tight spandex on and a very prominent hole on his right butt cheek framing the pushed white skin coming out. I know many things about myself, but trying to express them here is sometimes as though I'm trying to fit my finger through a needle's eye.<br /><br /> When I came to Germany I never thought that ever so difficult feeling of inadequacy would be so prominent in my everyday life. The culture, the loneliness, sitting at a table of people speaking German at record speed and straining to understand what is being said. Getting lost in translation, having it later translated and fake laughing ten minutes after the joke was said has never been something I have ever experienced in my life. When I first started high-school I had a similar feeling because I was shy, but I got over it. I started making myself apart of things. That's the thing, if you want to be apart of things it has to be you making the effort and not expecting everyone else to accommodate for you. I have learned patience in one of the hardest way's possible. For me to fit in is to learn the language and I certainly can't learn a language overnight. It takes years. People are very kind in offering to speak English, but the problem there is I will get used to it and not learn the German I need to. Understanding in the heat of the moment that this is life right now and I need to accept things the way they are is one of the hardest things I have ever experienced. Sometimes you just want to give up. I was talking to another American girl who married a German and now lives over here who is going through a similar thing as I. We expressed how we feel like a part of our personality is gone. We can not always express how we really feel, make jokes, or just be us. <br /><br />Last night after dinner with a bunch of Germans I realized something. I was not in control. That's the part I have a hard time with. Sometimes you feel invisible because people don't even look at you when they talk, they only look at the people they think are understanding them. It's not intentional, it's just natural. Taking little trips to the bathroom to pray and to remind myself it is temporary helps a lot. My heart now even more than ever goes out to the people who even in their own culture don't fit in. <br />I have learned that as much fun as it is to be apart of things and included, it's not all there is to life. If I thought that my life would be pretty pathetic right now. Yeah at times I tend to think that and I have a breakdown, then later realize it's not true.<br />I catch myself feeling sorry for myself when I over and over again feel like I'm an alien here, but it only makes it harder. Ultimately I need to turn to God for those feelings of inadequacy and reflect on being me and how fitting in doesn't make life happy or more complete.<br /><br />Some people may wonder why I share such personal things of my life on my blog. I don't really care. For one it's a way for me to express how I feel and hopefully other people get something out of the lessons I learn in my life. There's something about seeing some one's raw insides, then you know you can identify and perhaps learn a lesson from it or not make the same mistake I did. If I weren't sharing the shitty stuff in life as well as the funny and exciting things I would be lying and making my life here look like it's a fairy tale when it's not. It's hard. But to help me get through the hard God gives me the good. I do have some really great people here who care about me and are there for me, and I am so grateful for that. And the best part about it is that I am never alone, because God and my husband are always there. I have certainly gotten to know both God and my husband in ways that I wouldn't have hadn't all of these events happened in my life. Christoph has been there for me through thick and thin, and his life is the only one that being a part of really matters. He is now my family, and of coarse the grapefruit sized baby in my tummy. <br />Today is a wonderful day because God gave me breath and life, a husband who loves me, and a little bundle of love on the way. I would say that including the difficulties because those are the times that make you grow, I have a great life and I thank God for it everyday.<br /><br />This is me and who I am does not depend on things I always thought it would. <br /><br />There is a verse that reminds me of something very crucial in living my life to it's fullest.<br />Philippians 3:13-14<br />"....But one thing I do: Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-17793731722616605022010-07-31T00:00:00.000-07:002018-01-19T08:09:20.125-08:00The true story of American vacations<script async src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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</script><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.coverbrowser.com/image/sheet-music/2206-1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 420px; height: 531px;" src="http://www.coverbrowser.com/image/sheet-music/2206-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Some days I think to myself..."Am I really living the way God intended for my life?" And before I persist any further in that thought process I get lazy because even trying to figure out the way that God thinks of how He wants me to live, and figure out whether in most circumstances I have pulled through for the Big Guy I get my panties all twisted in knots. Then it came to me as it has before but then I forget again and again. It's almost like watching a great movie with an intense ending and coming back to watch it years later happy that you have forgotten what happened and the whole experience is new and exciting once again. That's the feeling I mean when I open up the Bible, and read the mind of God and the people He spoke through and somehow I had forgotten how yes, I should love my enemies, and yes I should be patient and kind, and yes it's not all about me, and yes I do need to trust God. All of these things I have learned over many years and still everyday God reminds me in His word that no matter how hard I try to live how I think God wants me to live, all I have to do is surrender to Him and He will do the rest. Well, first you surrender but that doesn't mean you sit at home waiting for God to physically make something happen in your life. I have to move forward, trusting Him with every step even if that means I could stumble from time to time.<br /><br />I am eating frosted mini wheat's while I am writing this and I am very disappointed in myself because I know better, eating them at a slow pace causes the white delicious sugary side to disintegrate into my milk. All I have left now is sugary milk and soggy wheat blocks.<br /><br /> I am sometimes mad at myself for not writing down in the moment all of the funny and interesting things that happen in my life. I forget so easily. But here is one, or rather a series of some events that mostly include my parents visit to Europe. While they so kindly visited us and slept in our living room for one week in Germany, we also had the pleasure of enjoying a wonderful short trip to Italy just the four of us. You know how I feel about Italy so I don't have to explain it again. The only part I would like to repeat is the "Stripes of chicken's chest" translation of good ole plain chicken strips. We went to the same restaurant where I first saw this. Entertainingly enough the German's are also at fault for this "Lost in Translation" series of words. Whenever traveling through Europe you must pay attention to the translations, they are priceless. So we ended up taking my parents to Lake Como, knowing that since that had never been to Bella Italia this would be a wonderful first experience for them as it has always been for us. <br /><br />Now, if you know my parents you would agree with me in describing them as "True Americans," straight down to the two large SUV's they drive and the American flag proudly flowing in the wind on their front porch. Once I caught my dad marching around the house, flag in hand, yelling the Declaration of Independence. Just kidding, but I did see him walking around with it in the house and it looked very much like he was marching....anyways. Now that I am older and MUCH more mature I can say that things like this make me love my parents all the more rather than embarassing me. Except when my mom fake's a German or Italian accent. Well, even that is pretty great. I love that they are "True Americans."<br /><br />Welcome to Italy. One of my favorite parts of going to Italy is the amazing drive through the Swiss and Northern Italian Alps. It will take your breath away. Four hours of this, and you will almost be looking forward to the drive back already. We got to our hotel, and while the gentlemen waited in the lobby for our room's availability, us ladies got straight to it and soaked up the sun on the lakeside pool. You had the option of cooling down in the hotel pool, or bading with the fishes in the crystal clear mountain lake that was the perfect temperature. Another thing about vacations that I love is people watching. We were mostly surrounded by Dutch people, which is a language I am not used to hearing and before Christoph told me who they were I was straining my ear in confusion hearing an English word, then a German word thinking..."what the? Are you English or German, figure it out!" Apparently that is exactly what Dutch is, a mixture of the both. Silly Dutch. If their personalities are also a mixture of the two, I would like to get to know some Dutch people.<br /><br />After the poor guys waited in the lobby for a couple hours they soon joined us, and like little boys they jumped right in the lake in the most dangerous way possible. Every vacation I can ever remember growing up, my dad has in some way or another tried to kill himself (figure of speech) in doing something stupid. If we are on a water vacation it usually has to do with swimming to the most dangerous place possible like the middle of the ocean, and swimming back. If we're on a mountainous vacation he would be jumping across cliffs having all the bystanders staring with jaws dropped, calling him crazy. He likes it. My dad is neither Micheal Phelps nor George Mallory (He died trying to climb Everest and yes I just googled that) but he thinks he is.<br />So that's "Vacation Kelly" in a nut shell, and "Vacation Josh" (my brother) was always following right in his footsteps. Of coarse since then my brother has probably exceeded my dad's series of stupid events by one thousand. My brother is no crocodile hunter but very very close. He once caught a 100 lb snapping turtle and kept it as a pet, so I guess we could call him turtle hunter. <br /><br />That night we enjoyed a delicious meal or should I say series of meals, 3 coarse, my dad had it in his mind it was a 5 coarse but he got over it. We enjoyed the Italian wine, Italian music, and Italian servers. 3 hours later, because this place was no Texas Road House, we were wined (well not me I am prego), dined and to finish it off my husband ordered the snops to settle his food (Apparently it's good for the digestion process) and my dad was a big fan of that so he tried some too. I don't know if it was the wine or the fact we were in Italy but my dad did a wonderful "Vacation Kelly" thing that night. We had a beautiful candle on our table, and my dad as he is trying to stomach this snops had a bright idea to stick his finger in the snops and then proceed sticking it into the candle starting his finger on fire. A four or five star restaurant mind you, and my dad the American is lighting his finger on fire. We were all laughing hysterical and I said. "If Josh were here he would take a drink and blow it on the candle." Totally true fact, I wasn't even kidding. I think the more Christoph hangs out with my family the more he can understand me. I once at a very nice place when we were with his parents at a furniture fair in Milan, thought the flower decorating my desert was edible. Christoph's mom caught me eating it and trying to hold in her laughs told me to just spit it out. There I am while we are making some important decisions in what furniture we are going to buy from our Georgetti sales guy gagging on a flower and spitting it out. Hopefully no one noticed. I felt like what's her name form Princess Diaries. It's not like I do it intentionally though, it's genetics of an American father.<br /><br />The next day in Italy we roamed through the city of Lake Como and enjoyed the day just laughing and spending time together. It was wonderful, not only to have a little piece of America with us but to have fun with my parents again. They are so easy to hang out with. I miss that so much. Oh and they were so kind to get Christoph and I our very first baby stroller. When everyone got together, the Germans an the Americans we all tried it out before we had a lovely dinner together. I think our baby is going to be pretty spoiled by it's grandma's and grandpa's:)<br /><br />I love you mom and dad!Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1214482209636866885.post-23710503583085140362010-07-25T01:22:00.001-07:002010-07-25T06:27:55.338-07:00Time is quickly fading and memories are being made that no pictures could capture to be put in a frame, but rather tucked away in the many treasure chests in my heart. I could write Hallmark cards.<br />But yes it's true for two reasons. Our camera broke from me (or Christoph, we don't really want to say who it was) putting an open water bottle in my purse for all the water to spill out and ruin our camera among a couple other things. So no memory capturing with pictures. The second reason is completely tangible, at least in my opinion. Have you ever seen something so beautiful that you know there is no way a picture could ever capture the essence of the memory? Well, living in a place like Europe and traveling to places like Italy for instance, I feel this way so many times. I find myself trying to capture the smell, the touch, the light, the food...everything, call it a name, and put it where it belongs to be treasured forever. <br /><br />Last week was full of doing such things as my parents visited us for the first time in our new apartment. <br />It started with my mom coming on Saturday and later my dad meeting up with us on Tuesday after he attended a work meeting in Bremen. Having some quality time with just my mother was just what I needed since finding out I was pregnant and going through different things that are so new and uncomfortable at times. I was pleased to take her along to our new church so she could experience what I experience in my German world. This Sunday church was particularly heartbreaking as I struggled to translate to her the testimony of a man who's wife died just days before of breast cancer. The attitude of this man, who was our pastor's brother -in-law was that I have never seen before of someone who has just accepted the fact that the mother of his two children at the ages of 8 and 6, and his loving wife was never to be seen again on this earth. Among some of the many beautiful things he said, he explained with tears withheld that who is he to say when his wife should pass away, and he is nothing but grateful to God for the beautiful times and memories he had while his wife was still alive. The last hours of his wife's passing was so peaceful because she was nothing but accepting of leaving this world and going to meet her Savior.<br /><br />As I was intensely listening, not understanding every exact word, I found myself realizing something which I am sure many others realized at that same moment. Life comes at us with so many unexpected circumstances, and to not enjoy our marriage for what God has given us is to deny ourselves of a beautiful blessing that was meant always by God to be some of the happiest times of our life. This man and his heart was such a beautiful memory of what it means to be married and to enjoy every minute of our lives for what it is. The little fights about whatever, the memories ruined because of selfishness, all of these things have been given to us to make a choice in the matter to give up our right and to choose our battles wisely. Everyday I have to remind myself of this, and of coarse everyday I struggle with it. My heart gets hard once again because for some reason I feel that I deserve to be right. I loved this man's attitude, and little did he know that through his wife's death if not only me, but many people would see that there is always something to learn in your marriage and to never take advantage of the time you have together.Hillary Handhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15308733967130525747noreply@blogger.com0