The Stuff Board (introduction): Part 1- a trip back in time

 I am such an expert at making lists (as referenced in this post about being overwhelmed just for any newbies out there) that there are lists everywhere, all over my house, and a plethora of notebooks, computer files, phone "notes" all covered in lists. Lists for Christmas presents from 4 years ago, lists of birthing supplies for Lina's birth, lists of knitting materials for that one scarf for Hejjo, and many, many, many lists, for Poland.

And then, one day, I got frustrated. I wasn't overwhelmed with the many things I had to do, I was overwhelmed with the many lists that were piling up.No master list. No one ultimate place where all info. was contained.

I thought about a Smartphone. (too expensive/overkill)
I thought, my computer. (too inconvenient (you know you're lazy when your computer becomes "inconvenient"...sheesh) )
I thought about some sort of online "list holding place" to be accessed from anywhere. (but what happens if the apocalypse happens and the whole "Cloud" thing, or whatever all that mess is, gets deleted from cyberspace? (never mind if the apocalypse happens and there will be no need for my lists...never mind that)

Nah. None of those would do.

So, I got old school on the list dilemma. I bought a big old poster board,in a traditional white background. I slapped some packing tape on the corners (the fancy kind in the blue dispenser with the bad smell and the incredibly sharp tearing-tape-teeth part...you know what I'm talking about), and hung it on the wall. And here is my master list... very 1985.

Not quite Marty, but close...close...

Behold.... The Stuff Board:

It has been torn down its fair share of times by my baby who was born just yesterday and is already about to be 1 year. But I hang it back up, higher.  I add to it when I can, when I remember. And I scratch things off when I get around to it/them.

I appreciate the nostalgic feel of the poster board and sharpie pens approach. It's quicker than getting out my computer and opening a file. Ditto for a phone app. It's simple and basic. If it was good enough for our ancestors, it's good enough for me. And if the apocalypse does happen then I can always refashion it into extra underwear for my family or perhaps a sail for a small water craft to take us across the melted ice caps. Either way, it works best for us, and it holds the precious list(s). 

The scariest costume - I win.

 

 Just an "old" lady  with her creepy pumpkin, knitting in the dark, yelling out, "I have candy!"

The Decision Tree bears fruit!

An update on home-schooling in Poland, thanks to Martin and his whirlwind trip of research ...


First I was here...





And then I was here..

.


And finally, I am here...





Because, if we want it... we can most definitely have this...








...all day, every day.

Just as I always imagined.



Not pictured: Reality, shown here...

Except I would never own a pair of green high heels.

Where I'm from (and there's nothing stylish about it, just the way I like it)!

Dwija, over at House Unseen.Life Unscripted. has passed along this blogger award to me...

This award is supposed to come with 7 things about yourself. I sort of followed the rules. Sort of.

1) When Martin and I first started preparing for our move and talking seriously about a timeline of events, I was feeling a little overwhelmed and, quite frankly, alone. Our families have been very supportive, but neither side really wants us to go. I know that. I assume that they know that I know that. We all know it. It's grandchildren and children moving far away. It's sad, and not as exciting for extended family as it is for us, the ones living the adventure. No one really wants to talk about it as much as I need to. So, being really excited, and dreamy, and nervous, and confused, and overwhelmed, are all emotions that I was going through, am going through, more or less, alone. (Martin is pretty much just excited all the time, which is fun, but not always helpful)

2) Until, this blog. Through the blog I have been able to converse with many people who have gone through some of what I am going through. People who have encouraged and supported, corrected and shared. And some who have just been really sweet and empathetic.

3) Dwija encouraged me to start the blog. She continues to encourage me. Her story is crazier, riskier, funnier and more inspiring than mine will ever be. If you want to get to know someone truly joyful and faith-filled and genuine, read her blog. I especially extend this invitation to my Polish family, because when I read her blog, as often happens with a lot of things I do, I wonder, "What would they (Poles, Poland) think about all of this?"

4) I am still a mixture of emotions about our move. I am still overwhelmed, and dreamy, at the same time. I am still naive about a lot of things, and wise about others. My blog is a great place to share just a little of that. And I am thankful that I was inspired and encouraged to start writing.

5) So this is for Dwija. Because I have told her on more than one occasion that I would not publish it. It is too off-topic for a blog about Poland or too cheesy (as Martin has stated). But I don't care... to quote Dwija... "This is my blog, and I can do what I want."


6) Where I'm From.


I am from swing sets, from peanut butter, and fun dip.

I am from the hot breeze, the big skies, the race to the chicken coop.

I am from the morning glory, the hay bale, and the carrots in the front yard.

I am from hiking up The Rock and blue eyes, from the McConnell's, the Steukejeurgen's and THE The Danze's.

I am from YOU forgot the camera and If you don't hear from me, I'm fine.

From respect your elders and we just want you to be happy.

I am from 1st Communion, Confirmation, and death til us part. And finally living what you always claimed you believed.

I’m from the hills of Italy and the Big Hill of Little Elm, Spaghetti and smoked ribs.

From the baby who wants to be loved the most, the storm chaser and the one with hair the color of gold.

From you can't borrow that shirt, and fights over the car keys.

From poor choices and Reconciliations.

From  sister to Godmother. 

From 5 to 10.

I am from the front porch, where all of our adventures were yet to come.

7) The garden markers were from me.

What's in a name?

When I was about 5 months pregnant or so with our first baby, Martin would come home from work and go straight to the baby, put his mouth real close to my belly and say "Hello, baby." Except that he said it using baby talk and when he got real close it was all muffled and it would come out sounding like he was saying, "Hejjo, baby." I joked one day that the baby was going to be born thinking it's name was "Hejjo." And, thanks to us, he did.

I tell you this story for two reasons. 1) No, "Hejjo" is not a Polish word. I have a lot of people smile and nod when I tell them that is his nickname and then ask me, with that twinkle of hope in their eyes, if it's Polish. Nope. It is completely made up by Martin and I, as weird as that may sound. You can rest easy that it is not actually written on any legal documents or tattooed anywhere on his skin. It's just a nickname. It was just too hard to call such a little person "Ignatius" so we stuck with Hejjo. And we like it.  2) Names are important.

Every time we become pregnant, the issue of the name comes up. Of course it does with every new life. The baby will be born and it will be called something. And YOU get to choose. It's kind of a big deal.

I believe very strongly that the name you are given is special. I don't care if your name is "Lollipop Vandoozle [insert surname here]," only because that was the first thing that popped into your mother's mind as soon as she saw your ginormous head on your little stick body (a baby's head is 1/3 their body weight at birth!). It's still important. In most cases, it was given to you by the person who gave you life, and these days, that, in and of itself, is a small miracle. It says something about who you are and where you're from, and sometimes, it may be all you have to link you to those people who helped create you.

Martin and I decided together that our children's names would be spelled in Polish. This was not a matter of him putting his foot down about "carrying on the family name." And it wasn't a matter of me not being proud of my American heritage or English language. We just decided. And it's fine.... if you want to live in Poland.

Marcin Franciszek   (pr. Marcheen Francheeshek)   Martin Francis
Olivia Mary
Ignacy Oliwier   (Eegnahtsy Oleevyehr)   Ignatius Oliver
Feliks Jan   (Fehleeks Yahn)   Felix John
Adelina Joanna   (Adelina Yoahnna)   Adelina Joan
Kacper Stanislaw   (Catspehr Staniswav)   Casper Stanislaus

But right now we live in America, and when someone calls our house and wants to speak to my husband, they call him "Marceen." At the doctor's office they call "Kackper" back to get his newborn shots. "Eegnaisy is a fine boy!" they say down at the passport office and later, "Fehlicks just has the prettiest eyes."

I don't care. So they don't get their names right. I don't really expect anyone to be able to pronounce them correctly on the first or even third try. I didn't even know how to correctly pronounce Martin's last name until shortly before we were married, and during our wedding vows, I attempted to say his first name correctly, and all of a sudden remembered that everyone was about to hear me pronounce it in Polish, and, out of a frozen stage fright moment, I totally said it wrong. None of our kids go by their given names anyway since Martin and I are prone to giving them cutesy/annoying-to-everyone-else nicknames ourselves. What I *do* get a little ansty about is something that goes like this...

Telemarketer: Hello, is Ms. Marceen Demcowitsy  there?
Me: Um, no, HE isn't.
Telemarketer: Oh, I'm sorry, is that a mans name, did I say that right?
Me: Um, yes, it's Marcin actually, it's just the Polish translation for the name Martin.
Telemarketer: Oh, ok, so is his name really Martin?
Me: Um, yeah, it's Martin in English, or Marcin in Polish.
Telemarketer: So what's his real name?
Me: (hitting head against wall) Martin, Martin is fine. That's fine.
Telemarketer: Ok, ma'am, well, today I'm calling MARTIN about...

Dude, seriously? Is it that hard to understand? "Pollo" is Chicken. "Chicken" is Pollo. Same thing, different language. Different language? Still the same.

And this happens in America, where we have so many different languages and cultures and spellings and accents, you would think it wouldn't be that big a deal.
 But get this. Once, when Martin was calling our credit card company to let them know we were leaving the country it went something like this:

Martin: Yes, I just wanted to inform you that we are going to be leaving the country and will be using our credit cards.
Lady: Alright sir, that's fine, what countries will you be visiting?
Martin: Poland.
Lady: Excuse me, sir. Where was that again?
Martin: POLAND.
Lady: Um, and what country is that in, sir?
Martin: Poland is a country.
Lady: Um, sir, where is that located?
Martin: Europe.
Lady: Um, ok, sir , I will make a note that you are going to ... Po-land. Thank you for calling sir, is there anything else I can help you with today?
Martin: Nnnnope.

So, you know, I guess if maybe someone doesn't even know it's a country, they can't very well understand the concept of a name being translated from that language.

But I will say this. If you have a name that is difficult to say, say it anyway. Ask others to try and pronounce it correctly. If you have a name that is a little odd or a little old fashioned, or completely made up...embrace it! Your mother gave you that name when she gave you life, she knew what she was doing, know what I mean?

And, if nothing else...

...  at least she didn't name you Lollipop Vandoozle [insert surname here].

(unless of course she did, in which case, you have an awesome name, and, I'm sorry for making fun of it...here, this winky should make it aaaaaaaallllllllll better...;) ) 

10 bullet points to catch you up to speed

I once had an entire conversation in college about the roots/origins, and overall meaning of the phrase, "soup it up," in regards to cars and what people do to them. You know, like, "man, his car was all souped up!" That just makes no sense...

But, "catch you up to speed," now that makes sense.

In no particular order.

1) Martin and Hejjo made it back to Austin safe and sound. The last part of their trip consisted of over 24 hours of travel thanks to lay overs on their connections. But it was worth it. They were glowing with all the news and excitement...lots of excitement...lots of news!

2) Kacio had double ear infections. Got hives on 9th day of drugs. Got new drugs. I didn't give him those. Hives got better. Kacio got better. The same day Martin came home Kacio was sick again. Back to doctor. Double ear infections again. Doctor mentions the "t" word. Goo. More drugs. Giving him the drugs. Drugs not working. Sleeping with us because he's so sick. Rolls off bed in the middle of night and gives himself a black eye. Finally, drugs working today. In a great mood. Got crazy chop-job haircut from me. All is well. (was told by another mother at the doctor's office that he looks like Jack Bower...I wonder if that woman knows that Jack Bower isn't a real person?) I don't know...you tell me...

Apparently his name is spelled Jack "Bauer" but I have never seen an episode of that show so I will spell it any old way I please.

                                                                                   

3) Decided today that the job of organizing and sorting the toys into appropriate boxes and groups had to be done...today. It had to be done today. I did it all. Today. All of it was done today.

And now it is all neatly stacked in boxes by the door, waiting for new families!

4)Having your husband and son away for 2 weeks is hard. The adjustment period when they return is also hard. Well, hard for the kids mainly. Poor Felix...such an angel the whole time they were gone. Hejjo is back and so is hysterical 2nd-born-complex-Felix. Boo. (oh yeah, and Felix has to go in to the doctor tomorrow for some booster shots...googedy goo.)

5)  Lots of videos of land to look at with Martin. We watched them ALL the night after he got home. We have settled on a place (I think)! I can't believe it! And, barring any unforeseen difficulties, we are moving forward. More on that later. Very excited!

6) We will be ordering homeschooling materials for next year and this year, in English, and Polish. That's right, friends. Homeschooling in Poland is happening and I am so relieved and excited! This also deserves its own post, but for now, just simply put....I am very much looking forward to getting started with all of it in Poland and am so relieved that we finally connected with the homeschooling community there and that they are extremely helpful and friendly!

7) Martin, without any need for discussion or convincing offered to let us celebrate Christmas Eve with my family this year. I couldn't believe it. And at the same time, I can. He is a loving person and also very reasonable. I also have no problem admitting that I wish this year that we could just have all the holidays with my family, and sort of just see Martin's side on the days around the holidays. Not because I don't like the holidays with them. In fact, I will miss Wigilia this year, I know. But, this is also the last year for a while to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. To miss it will be sad. I may just give up Penitential Meal for Thanksgiving.  It's so hard to choose. So, now I have what I  wanted, sort of, and I am not happy...sigh. P.S.  He just turned to me and offered to let us have all the holidays with my family, without me even asking (as if he was reading my mind)...are you kidding me? What is he doing to me?!?!

8)  I have about 8,000 projects I have started on the sewing machine and knitting needles because, of course, I have decided that Lina should have all new winter clothes made by me, including a Christmas dress, and she will also need warm tights to wear under those dresses, also made by me, and lastly, they will all need warm gloves, mittens, hats and scarves for Poland and I better start now since I am the slowest knitter know to man. Hint: if you want to knit quickly, don't knit stripes. (or you know, just chuck it all and go to Target... but, come on, where is the imagination in that?)  (I have also decided, quite randomly, that I need to know how to do wool felting projects, with the wool and the needles, etc. What am *I* doing to me?!?!)

My little cowgirl!

9) I have to learn to make Macaroni and Cheese, Tortillas, and about 8 other dishes/food items from scratch before we go, just in case they don't have them there or they are too expensive to buy on a regular basis. That's a lot of experimental cooking. I am going to need a lot of wine.

first attempt at homemade tortillas last week

10)  Today was Hejjo's "Name's Day." His name is Ignatius/Ignacy. He was named for St. Ignatius of Antioch, an early Church Father and a friend of Saint Peter's. In Poland Name's Days are celebrated much like a birthday, and even the new trams have a daily scroll on their screens that list the names of the day, so that you can remember to wish your  family members and fellow co-workers a Happy Name's Day. We don't have any traditions in our family as to how to celebrate Name's Days, but I know it will become a much bigger part of our life in Poland, so I am brainstorming to come up with something special our family can do for these days. Suggestions?

                 

Do they even have that in Poland? #9

Now *this* is the "Do they even have that" that started this whole "do they even have that" business. The "do they even have that" that helped inspire this whole blog.  The"do they even have that in Poland" that caused my husband to look at me with shock and horror and beg me to never start a conversation with that question again (so, of course, I have a whole category devoted to just that one question, what did he think would happen?)...

That's right. The clothes dryer. A miraculous invention that mimics the effects of wind and sun to get this:

The wet clothes, not the little boy. I would *never* put a little boy in the dryer. Wow, you guys are morbid!

To look like this:

Dry clothes.

Without having to do this:

There are clothes dryers in Poland. They sell them. Some people own them. But, I'm pretty sure that the majority of people do not own or use clothes dryers. 

Some reasons:

 1) they are expensive to use (Texas, in particular has lower electricity costs than other states), if you're trying to cut costs it's an easy one to axe.

2) they are huge, take up a lot of space, and a lot of Poles (in Krakow at least) live in an urban environment/ flats...

3) God gave us the great outdoors, suitable for air-drying anything that may get wet (except of course for the 6 months where it is too cold/wet to hand clothes outside and that's where God gave us...attics? bathrooms?  wherever you can fit one of these...)

4) They are, in fact, a luxury item. I'll say that again...they are a luxury item. Now, I never thought I would hear myself say that, but I do believe it to be true. Why I still think it is important, nay, necessary, for me to have such a luxury? I have a large family, and it's only going to get larger. And I plan on homeschooling, and taking language courses, and tending chickens and growing veggies, etc. I just don't know where I will find the time to do all that laundry *and* hang it up. Others have done it in the past, others will continue to do it in the future, but I'm not quite sure I want to join the "others" just yet.

5) Other reasons. I'm only one woman.

Last summer Martin and I rented a flat right in the heart of downtown Krakow. The entire week the children were the most sick I have ever seen them, all at the same time. I was 5 months pregnant with Kacio. And, to top it all off, we were on the 4th floor of an apartment building, with no A/C, during one of the worst heat waves Poland has ever seen. The children threw up (and other stuff. goo.) over every piece of cloth in that apartment, more than once. No towel, rag, duvet cover, pillowcase, sheet, or piece of clothing was left unscathed. And the majority of it was not ours. It belonged to the apartment owners. And we were there for a week! This was no hotel where they replace the linens for you on a daily basis. We were in charge of using what they provided and making it last a week. And yet, within 48 hours it had all been used up, soiled beyond recognition. 

I panicked for a bit. On the inside. What was I going to do? 

Never fear. The apartment came with one of these...

A washer/dryer combo, in one machine. No bother that I could only fit one sheet in it at a time. (European sheets are the same size as American sheets) No bother that I could only fit about 5 towels at one time. (again, towels, same size here, as there) I washed and dried my little fat, sweaty, heart out the entire time we stayed there (it took forever! why, when everything is the same size here, as there, do they insist on having such small washing machines!!!???) and I left that apartment manager lady with the freshest, cleanest linens known to man.You're welcome weird apartment manager lady. You're welcome.

I know, I know, clothesline are wistful and romantic. Sheets, line dried, smell so fresh and clean compared to machine dried. Having little baby clothes flapping in the wind in the backyard just gives you that warm and fuzzy feeling. One the inside. 

Yeah, well, you know what doesn't give me a warm and fuzzy feeling? On the outside? How clothes dried on the line are all stiff and scratchy. How any piece of clothing with the least amount of stretch doesn't "bounce back" into shape after being line dried so your pants just get more and more stretched out, and your t-shirts just start to look like big square sacks hanging off ya'. And how, when it rains unexpectedly,...you have to start all over. Yes, I'm spoiled, but then I could say the same thing about Poles, after all, they get rain at regular life-giving intervals, they have no right to point fingers. No right!

But, seriously,

For the first year or so I don't know that we will have access to a dryer. I might find at the end of that year that I just don't need one. I might just invent a new home-school class called "Hanging Clothes out to dry 101: the do's, dont's and everything else under the sun.  (get it? get it? "under the sun" like the sheets... under the sun... awesome) But, knowing that they exist, and that Martin has promised that we will have one in our house, if I want one, and even if I rarely use it, has made me a little more peaceful. On the inside. Where it counts. 

In closing, if we don't have a dryer, how in the world will we be able to do this?

Ok, so I *do* put kids in the dryer. But, honestly, who doesn't?