Where is the Wittiness?

At various moments throughout the day (normally involving an infant suctioned onto me) I ponder witty entries I could make about expat life, since this blog is almost as neglected as our two adorable meowing furs. I finally realized that there is very little witty about my life right now. I feed a baby, I change diapers, I take pictures of the baby, I feel sad my e-mail is so far behind, I attempt to get some chores and packing done. Essentially, except for some things like learning about doctor's visits, my life is about being a mom right now, not about being an expat. But, dear readers, I will continue to look for the witty sides of expat life and post them when I find them!

Language Progresses

Filling in the claim forms for insurance, I caught myself reading the top line for each category, completely ignoring the bottom line. Why is this significant? The top line was in Dutch. The bottom line was the English translation. Yippee for me!

November is Here

Thanksgiving is this week, but I've barely thought about it. For as long as I am in The Netherlands, I think my November will be marked not by turkey and cranberries, but by oliebollen, stamppot, and Sinter Klaas.

I've blogged plenty about oliebollen. O, oliebollen, how I love thee.

Regarding stamppot, I'm growing fonder of it each winter. We aren't making it ourselves, but we do buy the premade ones at the grocery store. Zuurkool stamppot is my favorite so far...just mix sauerkraut with mashed potatoes, add a sausage and there you have it!









And finally, Sinter Klaas...Santa celebrates quite differently in Holland than in America. OK, I prefer Santa to Sinter Klaas, but I AM American. Nevertheless, the celebration is very creative and fun for everybody. It starts with the arrival of Sinter Klaas, which Dan witnessed last Saturday!

2200 + 1

Why, oh why, couldn’t it have been 2201?

Yup, you guessed it – we are STILL WAITING for our permits. Case worker contacted, complaint letter filed…

A Day in the Life of…

The Consulate General.

Dan, Rebecca, and I decided to hang out at the Consulate General’s office in Amsterdam for a couple hours last Wednesday. I’ve been to the office before, but I’ve never spent any length of time there. Wow! What an interesting place. In the couple hours we were there, I witnessed a lot:
-It was easy to tell who was American and who was Dutch: all the Americans’ heads were turned toward the TV screen to learn about the election results.
-There are two rooms in the office, one mainly for American citizen services, best I can tell, and another for visa applications to get into America, among other things, I’m sure. The visa application room is a perfect representation of America: Asians, Africans, Europeans, Indians, Latins, and Middle Easterners all waiting to be interviewed.
-A Dutch lady applying to work in America, but who didn’t have the correct photos. It was a “big problem”, she exclaimed. She was sent away to the nearest photographer, being urged to hurry. I wonder how much that photographer makes in a day doing U.S.-sized passport and visa photos for people like her.
-A very nervous American businessman who lost his passport the night before. It looked like he was going to be able to have one reissued so he could make his meeting later that day AND leave the country.
-An American father with 2 or 3 kids who needed to renew their passports. Obviously married to a Dutch woman, he spoke only Dutch with the kids.
-A Dutch mother who needed to renew a passport for her adopted son. I’m curious how he is an American citizen. He liked the puzzles in the waiting room.
-A young man who lost everything. I think he only had his passport and the clothes on his back. The Consulate’s office helped him get in touch with people back home in California. I’m sure it happens everyday, but it made me thankful I’ve never had such an experience.
-Oh, and it was fun being ushered to the front of the (outdoor) security line because we had a “minor” with us. And because I could barely stand – there are better things to do two weeks postpartum than run around Amsterdam.

A Glimpse of Myself

My mom was here for 2 weeks and 2 days to help with the baby. Oh! It was fun to see her get acclimated to the life that I’m getting acclimated to. Not being able to read, she jokingly asked what she was about to put into the dish she was making – it was cinnamon, not pepper. It brought me back to the day I bought that cinnamon, discerning it only by sniffing all the spices till I found cinnamon.

We – ok SHE – did a ton of laundry (babies and mothers right after giving birth are messy), and she couldn’t get over how long a load of laundry took and that’s WITH a dryer (2 hours to wash, 40 minutes to dry). That took me back to the American in Moldova who wanted to stick a load of laundry in our washer 30 minutes before he wanted to go to sleep. I laughed, and offered to do his laundry for him the next day. But despite the time it takes to do laundry, baby poop and other various stains come right out!

And then there is life without TV, life connected to life on the other side of the Atlantic only through a high-speed internet connection, life of walking, trains, and buses, life of stores closing at 5:30 or 6, and a life of admiring the quaint little village of Rhenen.

“Be a Princess”

The last time I visited my physical therapist for the zwangerschap pain I was having, she encouraged me to “be a princess” in the days after birth. At the time, I laughed at the thought. How could I be a princess in trying to learn how to care for this new little life?

Somehow, it has happened. My mom and my husband have whisked Little Rebecca away from me whenever her diaper needs changing and returned to me to hold or to nurse. Thanks to my mom, I’ve had meals placed before me, laundry done, and the house cleaned. Thanks to my husband, I’ve had all my post-delivery aches and pains tended to and all the extra, unanticipated items bought and delivered to my bedside.

So, yes, my mother arrived the day before I gave birth and has been able to help in ways Dan and I could have only imagined. And I have an incredibly doting husband. But in addition to their help, I have the Dutch on my side. The Dutch, you see, treat a “kraamvrouw” just like a princess. In the days after the birth, Rebecca and I were hospitalized for 3 nights, with first class treatment from the nurses. (As in, hospital bed rolled to the shower so I wouldn’t have to walk – ok, ok, it was after I nearly fainted, but still…)

Yet it was after we returned home that the royal treatment really started. Since we got home, we’ve had seven – SEVEN – house calls from medical professionals, and there is at least one more next week. We’ve had the home health nurse come twice (my eight days of care was cut short because of the extra time in the hospital), the midwife has come three times, the regular doctor came once (just to introduce himself), and the pediatric bureau has come once. They’ll come again next week. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have to leave the house until the baby is 1 month old for her 1 month check-up. The midwife and the doctor would both make housecalls until 6 weeks after delivery.

That, my friends, is how to make a princess out of me.

The Results

Well, we have our Little One! I know now that Dutch healthcare is very good, though in many ways very different than healthcare in the States. That’s for another post, however.

Here are the results from my predictions.
1. Boy/girl? I predicted LO would be a boy, but we have a little girl. Rebecca Lenore is precious, and it took less than a second to fall deeply in love with her.
2. Arrival date? I predicted Rebecca would be born by October 19. But her birthday is October 24.
3. Shoe size? Big was my prediction. She certainly uses her legs and feet, and I think she has big feet…for a newborn!
4. Overall size? I thought she would be big, thankfully my prediction of 16 pounds 9 ounces was wrong, however! (ha!) Rebecca was a very good-sized baby, weighing in at 3910 grams, or 8 pounds 9 ounces.
5. Labor and delivery time? I was planning for a 4-hour labor and delivery, then asked for a 14-hour one. Contractions that actually progressed somewhere started Tuesday morning at 1 a.m., and Rebecca was born at 3:30 p.m. That makes for a 14 ½ hour labor and delivery.

I give myself ½ point for the shoe size (it’s rather objective) and ½ point for the labor and delivery time. 1 out of 5 – hm. I hope I learn Rebecca a little better!