Christmas and New Year greetings

For our first Christmas in Poland I will simply quote Ma Ingalls with, "All's well that ends well."

The Advent season started out rough, that's true, and it got rougher still. But in the end we had a lovely Christmas Eve, an even lovelier Christmas Day, and have been dwelling in the suspended bliss of no work or school for an entire week now. 

I gained a new sense of independence and confidence, out of frantic Christmas shopping necessity, and it was glorious. I got to attend an English Mass, which we haven't made it to in a couple months, and that was also really nice. So much like home to be able to follow along, understand the Homily and pray with everyone in my native language. My one and only Christmas gift under the tree was an entire series of one of my favorite shows. I cried a little when I opened it. Martin and I used to watch reruns in the evening back in Austin at the end of a long day, and it's nice to have this little escape again. Santa knows me very well. He also knows that I needed some sort of winter shoe so I don't slip every which way from the parking lot into the grocery store and beyond. Done! New winter shoes (I chose myself)! Nothing fancy or pretty but entirely functional, just like I like it. The boys received bikes, which neither of them know how to ride, and I am excited to teach them. And Lina has stepped into the expansive and expensive world of Sylvanian Families/Calico Critters. They have all spent hours playing with them, so it's slowly paying for itself. Kacio was just happy to be a part of everything. Martin and I spent several evenings chatting long into the night while baking over 12 dozen cookies (all from the same recipe) to give to family as gifts. They are all asking for the recipe, so I guess they were a success. And we had some good quality time to talk over some important decisions our family will face in the future. 

I am hopeful that this new year will bring the beginning of construction on our new house, a new understanding of the Polish language for me, and of course, little surprises for everyone, which have yet to be seen.

Tomorrow is our last day to have Martin off from work and the children will slowly start resuming their studies, but all in all, this much needed break was fruitful and, in the end, peaceful. Which is all I was really hoping for.

I hope the same can be said for all of you. You have all been so helpful and encouraging over these past couple months. Even going so far as to send me personal emails of understanding, which have helped me to know that I am not alone and better yet, that I'm not crazy. Thank you.

I am wishing you all a (belated) Merry Christmas and a Happy start to the New Year!

What to wear in the winter...when you live in Poland...

... and you want to prove to your family that you know how to keep your kids from freezing in the Polish winter (just a smidge of passive aggressive sarcasm there but I'm allowed every once in a while, right)?

In an effort not to spew too many of my feelings and thoughts about this coming holiday season and the fact that you can't even tell Christmas is coming in Poland unless you go directly into the Old Town. And even more especially in our house, where usually I would have wreaths and garlands of all kinds and lights up inside the house and music and what not in the air, cookies baking, nativity sets arranged beautifully, etc.... and this year...well, you saw the extent of our holiday decorating thus far a couple posts ago...

...in an effort to avoid all that... I thought I would take this time to share a funny (to us) anecdote from the past week.

Felek, with the attention span of a gnat, and the imagination of Dali, often "can't find" things.  Usually what he "can't find" is whatever he is supposed to be looking for, which, more often than not  is sitting right underneath his very nose. Sometimes, yes, even in this cold and blustery Polish winter, this includes his shoes. He has "sport shoes," rather rugged little things, I think. Certainly capable of being worn from the car door to the door of Church and back again, less than 100 feet. But no, Felix, wasn't wearing his sport shoes on this particular night of said anecdote, he was wearing....his Crocs. Crocs! And no one noticed until AFTER Mass, because silly me, I thought he would know. The temperature was -7 C/20 F. He had on socks. He figured that part out, thank goodness. The wearing of these Crocs prompted this little interchange between Martin and his Aunt...

(Martin's Aunt, walking directly toward him with such urgency and purpose that we thought she was going to comment on how well behaved they were during Mass, because on this particular night they were angels, on the very front row (actually, Kacio got away from me and ran up the middle aisle, all the way from the back where I was holding him in the freezing Narthex,  laughing, just as the priest was holding up the Host during consecration...but he doesn't count)...

Aunt: Marcin, the children need boots! Winter boots!

Martin: I know, I know. We just haven't had the need for winter boots yet. We go from house, to car, to building, we don't really spend much time in the snow...

Aunt: (whispering) Marcin, can you afford winter boots?

She had assumed that of course, if our children weren't wearing winter boots (kozaki) then we must not be able to afford them because there couldn't possibly be any other reason why they wouldn't be wearing them.

The very next day we went out and bought them these...

I have to admit, those little baby boots are adorable. And Lina now owns the most stylish article of clothing in this whole house. I'm still wearing my Birks.



And proof that Felix knows ...

My Advent Plan. Part 2 - the details

Another story.

The day before Thanksgiving, I really lost it. I had to leave the house. I had to get out. And I did it in a not so nice kind of way. I blew up about something but of course the blowing up part wasn't really about the something, it was about anything but the something and I just had to get away, from the house and the kids, and Martin. Grabbed the keys and ran out the door.

When you leave the house in a foreign country crying and you rarely drive yourself anywhere, and it's pitch black outside there really isn't much choice in where you can go safely. I'd say you probably shouldn't travel more than a few city blocks. An that's what I did, because the place I had to go, needed to get to, was, blessedly, only a few city blocks away.

I went to Church.

 I sat , praying so hard, praying for... I don't know... forgiveness, peace, humility, patience, understanding...at one point I'm pretty sure I begged God to miraculously make it so that I could speak Polish, sillily thinking this would solve all my problems. Problems, problems. And all I could think about were the problems. Feeling trapped here in this country where everything is so different. Lonely, because no one around me was going through the same things I was. And just plain tired. Tired of never having a day for myself because there are no babysitters that can take 4 kids all at once. Tired of feeling like every single tiny little thing I want to do is one big struggle because none of it comes easy. Easy, like it used to be. Confident, Independent, and Energetic, like *I* used to be.

As I sat there more and more people began trickling in, as up to this point there had only been dim lights on and a few people sitting and kneeling quietly. Soon, about a fifth of the Church was full and the same nun as always went around lighting candles...  A row of old women sat up to a microphone and began talking... and then I realized they were praying. They were starting the Rosary.

I know all the prayers of the Rosary in Polish, so I joined them.

And I came to that same realization that we all come to when we are honest with ourselves... I can't change anything or anyone else, including Poland, I can only change myself. I can't change the fact that I don't speak the language (at least not right away...there was no miracle in the Church that evening ;) ) or that they don't have all the ingredients I need for my favorite recipe, or the right office supply products for schooling. I can't change that I have to go to three different stores to finish a project and that I have to take at least one if not all four children with me to do it in my huge car that doesn't fit anywhere. I can't change any of that. I just can't! I can either rail against these "great injustice's" or I can accept them and find peace with them.

Finding peace with them! Oh, so hard!

 I know of only two things that will make it easier, bearable, and hopefully, in the end, joyful...

Time
Sacrifice

Like grieving after a loss and finding a way to live in a world without someone or something that is gone, time is necessary. Not only to learn the new things I have to learn and connect with new people but to grieve the loss of things and people that I miss dearly.

And I have to learn to offer those incredibly difficult moments up as a sacrifice. And find joy in that. Perhaps the hardest part of all. But I don't think there is a single parent out there that hasn't found joy in some of the sacrifices they have had to make for their children, and so, hopefully, what little practice I have will serve me well.

That's my Advent plan. With some inspirational reading and a new group of wonderful women that I have joined I hope that I can truly use these next few weeks and the Spirit which they convey to wait patiently for what I need and offer up my frustrations for some good. And do so with JOY.

“May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.”
― Thérèse de Lisieux

My advent plan. Part 1

It's been rough around here lately. For me at least. Real rough. I once read somewhere that the first 3 weeks you move somewhere new you will feel like you are on vacation. 3 months later you feel like you want this all to be over and you'll want to go home. And then, later, some months later, it will all start to work out and be "normal."

I'm hittin' that 3 month mark (although we are going on 5 months now , aren't we...goody) like a champ except  *it's* winning. And I feel like telling a story.

Last Lent - yes, Lent, not Advent - I "gave up" Facebook. I gave up Facebook for two reasons.

1) The internet and all it's attractions were taking too much of my time away from my family. Not only was I chatting with friends and family through Facebook, but I was also reading blogs, articles, doing research for Homeschooling/Theology class, etc. Just spending lots of time on the computer. Not actively *with* my kids. And I hated the thought of them always seeing my face in front of a screen. Hated it.

 2) Facebook was killing me. Literally.

Most of you practicing Catholics will know that the beginning of last year was a rough one for us ol' Papists living in the U.S. This year coming up will be no better, I fear. And any time anything controversial happens in America, it's not the news channel we switch on first, it's social media. Because we all want to discuss "it."  We had to talk about it. It was important. We had to change hearts! We had to stand up for those that couldn't speak for themselves!  We have a responsibility!! And I was *on* it. I entered all those debates. I read all the articles, I commented and posted and checked and checked and checked to keep the conversations going. Meeting the opponent head on. Because in my family, when someone is wrong, you talk it out to find the truth, until you both see the truth, and if you walk away in disagreement, that means you didn't talk long enough.

And it was killing me.

 At first I seriously just thought I was ill. I was pale, having trouble sleeping, I had no appetite, prone to bouts of crying. I was short winded. Couldn't catch my breath. And the scariest thing...my hair was falling out, in huge clumps. No joke. This is what sent me to the doctor where she took a whole bunch of tests, asked me a whole bunch of questions. I was hoping something was wrong. Please just let it be anemia, or Vitamin D deficiency, something that I could understand and treat and get on with my life, because right then I couldn't take care of my kids properly, I had no energy, no patience, no presence. I was wilting. And I was scared. Because nothing was wrong with me. In fact, the doctor's words were, "incredibly healthy." And that was worse. Because I came home thinking there was nothing I could do to make myself better. No pill or diet. I couldn't live like this!

All of this happened right before Lent.

I decided to go off of Facebook for Lent. I figured it would be a good sacrifice because not only would I be giving something up but I would also be able to use that time to spend being really present to my kids and it would also help cut down on screen time overall. I made a rule that the computer would only come out after the kids were in bed, and that  I would only check email. And I stuck to it.

Over the next 40 days, very slowly, my health began to improve. I felt some peace in my mind and heart. And I realized, as my body healed, that what I had been experiencing, was one long, drawn out, anxiety attack. Because I just couldn't shut it all off. I couldn't shut it all out.

Since then I have had people ask me why I'm not on Facebook and I try to explain (I leave out the hair falling out part because then they sort of just start moving away slowly ). I always get the same response, "just block those friends," "just skip the articles," "just get on there every once in awhile to look at pictures," etc. etc. I tried that. The moment I started to put in my password to reactivate my account I had a panic attack. Facebook represented sleepless nights and a sour stomach, not friends and pictures, and funny convo's about the smells you smell in a public restroom. I just couldn't do it.  It might help you to know that my personality type is an INFJ, and that I am a Melancholic, if you are into that type of stuff. Needless to say, these types of personality take everything to heart and can be passionate to a point of obsession. (they are also really friendly and kind, and make good cookies, and I promise I'm not weird, and  you still want to be my friend right?, right?!...*crickets chirping*.........)

And since then I have visited Facebook about 10 times. And for only one purpose...to see the people I love.

It's the only place where I get to see pictures of my very pregnant sister sheathed in all black accepting her doctorate degree. It is the only place where I can see that same baby wearing the knitted things I made for her just a couple months later. And it's the only place where I can see my godchildren. And when you can't hug people, you at least want to see their faces.

Darn you, Facebook! (keepin' it G-rated, but boy, I oughta'...)!

Why did you just have to read all that?

It's Advent. Advent is the beginning of a new Liturgical year in the Catholic Church.  In our house we try to celebrate the people, events and seasons of the Liturgical Year as much as possible. Advent is a big one.  We try to stress to our children - who are so young, and so very excited about Christmas Day - that  this is a time in the Church when we are preparing and waiting in joyful expectation for the birth of Christ. An event that changed the world forever.  I once told a friend (over Facebook, ironically) that I like to think of Advent in the same way that people like to look at New Year's Day. Purging, Clearing out, Preparing, Examining.

There are a lot of reasons why I am having a hard time right now, all related to the move of course. And while I promise that my hair has not been falling out (although I'd probably have to brush it to know), I have been feeling without patience, not present to the kids, and anxious. It probably doesn't help that along with the lovely peace and clarity that came with dumping Facebook, also came a complete void in terms of human, adult interaction. Couple that with moving to a new country, and you have complete isolation. That doesn't help. And as much as I would love to keep filling the blog up with crazy stuff that happens in Poland, and the plans for our new home (first drafts are in!), my heart is just not in it.

Something has to change. I, who had a handle on life in Texas, but apparently not  in Poland, am really gonna have to change things, because I have a lot of plans for this family and none of them include me wasting away in sweats, eating December 12th - 23rd out of the chocolate Advent calendar wallowing in a mixture of self-pity and resentment. "Deactivate."

I've got 4 weeks.
Starting now.
 So, only 3 weeks really...darn....

Yesterday. It has been snowing on and off for the past 3 days. It started Sunday night. A beautiful start to our Advent season.

Lina's new sweater! I am proud. (why is her forehead so massive? that's a picture of a talking house)

This happened while I was knitting.

Not one to be left out...

Veni, Veni, Emmanuel...