An American Mama in Berlin Moves To Chapel Hill Then to Brooklyn

Blogging over the years and remembrance of things in the not-so-distant past...

2008-09-26T14:37:00.005+01:00

my blog kinda sucks. i was just reading through some posts. funny stuff. kind of haha funny, kind of just plain old stupid funny. since my memory is shit (no, i did not do drugs in college!), it is kind of nice to have a little record of what i was doing a couple of years ago, where i lived when i started this blog, how i spent my time, what my mood was like. berlin. babies. breastfeeding. boobs. strollers. diapers. my dear girlfriends. baking. germans. it kinda looks like i did lots of cooking, and really got into it. i think i had a frickin' cooking blog.

boy oh boy, things have changed....

well, sort of. i still cook, but largely as a function of what i like to call, "the coop" in which Mama Jens lives in.

and speaking of things changing, old friends (hi liz!) who used to remark that even my dirty dishes looked clean, would be pleased (or disappointed?!!) to learn that i have let the slack out a little. instead of cleaning my dishes before i wash them, now i just don't fucking clean them. no, no... i do. but they do sometimes hang out in the sink for awhile collecting fruit flies and other things.

mid-life crisis plus having to work your dang brains out to earn a living here equals forgetting to do things like eat, much less clean. screw cleaning. who needs it anyways?

but back to the coop bit...

when the school year ended last year and summer started, and we were like "holy shit, you mean we have to take care of these kids all day?!" we did something very brilliant. we got a nanny.

perks for nanny: free room and board. a weekly stipend. no bills. getting to sleep-in late on most days because one child doesn't need to be picked up from school until 11. delicious hot meals every evening from mama jens (i'll get back to that cooking bit in a minute). hi-def tv. presents and incentives because mama jens is so happy that you are here that she can't contain her excitement. two friendly little girls to talk your ear off all day. new york city at your doorstep.

perks for us: live-in childcare while we work during the day, not costing too much more than a room. one on one entertainment for the insatiable little ladies. once a week or so getting to go out and rock the house all night and not have to pay 8 million dollars for a babysitter. all of your husbands' friends and everyone you work with and basically any random person you ever talk to asking if the nanny is hot, which provides us with hours and hours of conversational entertainment that we would never have had otherwise, friendly energy (she is from the south), and very good vibes.

so cooking.... i feel like i live in a coop. and you know what i fucking love about it? it brings out the hippy in me. we have three adults. two kids. we all take turns with morning duty (getting the kids up and ready and to school), night babysitting duty (all three of us really like to go out and party all night like rock stars), and even cleaning up around the house and cooking. it sounds like heaven, because it kinda is.

our nanny rocks. she is awesome. she likes us. we like her. she is amazing with the kids. she is very low maintenance. she is cool. she understands how crazy we are and laughs with us. she drinks beer and watches project runway with me.

okay, i know you are all wondering if she is hot. hehehe...

so back to the cooking. mama jens is still doing all the shopping. i whiz through a store with lightening speed and come out with the exact amount of food for a week's worth of meals, lunches, and breakfasts without forgetting anything! its amazing! and by the end of the week, holy empty fridge. so i don't really know what i want to say about cooking. oh, yes, we do it every night, but its after work and before bed and i'm not writing recipes or reinventing the wheel. its basic, practical, meat and three vegetables, wham, bam, eat! feeding the coop.

so what am i trying to say? i am at work and all these people keep interrupting me. geesh!

so yes, blog entries of past...cooking then vs. now...those dreamy times spent at home, in stay-at-home motherhood and high unemployment bliss in berlin with all my friends and kids' friends on afternoons after kita....cozy in the kitchen built by our friend or at a playground or cafe, coffee with steamed milk, fresh baked something, a plate of nice cheese, rosy-cheeked sweet toddlers running around in socks...ahhh...it seems faraway from the 9th floor of this building overlooking the hudson river, a photoshoot for a magazine happening in the next room, my kids at school, the nanny chillin' at home, the empty fridge on a friday, the traffic, all the windows with all the lights, no breastfeeding. no boobs either. how life has changed...

its amazing how we choose our paths. some decisions are obviously more formative/transformative than others. but i think about it all the time. how little decisions affect the course of things, how much is conscientious and considered, how much is emotionally driven, how much is chance or even unnoticed....

happy friday.

love,

mama jens

My Bloody Valentine vs Ears

2008-09-23T16:18:00.004+01:00

i am enjoying the quiet coming through my window this morning along with a little light fall wind, and trying to work through a speedy ear recovery from the aural abuse i took last night at the my bloody valentine show at roseland ballroom. having never been to one of their concerts, and apparently being an unsuspecting and naive, though solid fan, i wasn't prepared for it. well, i had earplugs, so in that way i was prepared, but i wasn't mentally prepared.

we stood through two relatively uninteresting opening bands, though j. mascis did make a stage appearance toward the end of the set of the second opener, and man that guy has some nice hair. we kept thinking, wow, we are in nyc, my bloody valentine could get anyone to open their set, we were hoping for our other favorites i think.

anyways, mbv delivered right away with loveless hits. beautiful, ecstatic, nostalgic, all the things one could ever want from a mbv show. by the third song, i felt ear damage. i looked around at the people around me and saw that they were all wearing earplugs already. mbv on earplugs felt like a really woozy, tranquilizer experience. maybe fun 10 years ago, but just annoying now. so the earplugs went in and out, based on what i wanted to hear vs how much ear damage i wanted to inflict. the strobe lights had my head down and eyes covered most of the time. unfortunate, because kevin shields was a nice thing to look at, as was belinda butcher.

a guy behind us had a seizure of some sort and had to be taken out, stiff as a board and eyes big and glassy.

the assault continued beautifully, and peaked with the 20+ minute head and heart crushing feedback fest that felt something like death by sound. knowing that they were going to do that at the end of the set, i wanted to get out of there about 2 minutes in. i sort of ran around the venue - to the bar, to the basement, around the sides, hoping to make it get quieter. no such luck. i finally left the building when i felt my chest and my heart seemed to be undulating weirdly under my ribcage.

holy jesus.

it took me a good hour to calm down. subway ride. a walk from the d train. in bed at 1 am my ears were pulsating. i was thinking about how crazy it is that you can hurt people with sound. sure its a well-known torture tactic, but i wasn't prepared for it indie rock style. i felt like i had been abused. an expensive, kind of beautiful abuse.

tonight is the low show at union hall's new venue on 3rd ave. i'll be screaming for more noise.

enjoy the beautiful, fall day.

-mama jens

Its been a long time...

2008-09-03T02:31:00.010+01:00

holy shit. its been almost a year since i have posted. my two devoted readers are probably long gone. and anyways, who can follow all the title anyways. what does all that mean? maybe i'll simplify at some point. in the meantime, the fact that i haven't posted seems to parallel the first year in the delightful big apple.

sometime around the one year anniversary of living here, i started to feel something like being human again. it was like, we moved to new york, we got excited and blown away by the prospects, then a wave came and has kept us under for months. drowning seems to be a decent analogy, so i'll stick with that.

but remind me to get back to the being human again part...

one of the words that i learned living in berlin, a concept that never occurred to me until i gave birth there two times and dealt with midwives and birth houses and pelvic floors was "constitution." i think when i first heard the term, i thought something like bowel movement. i think the fifty times i heard the term after that, i was still stuck on you eat well, you have a good constitution. who knew? americans don't understand constitution. but germans do.

anyways, fast forward to a couple of years later, you find yourself going nuts in a crazy fucking city, and the term resurfaces again. this time, it takes on a different meaning, or the real meaning. hmmm, the overall strength of the body?

okay, i'm not a big lady, but i'm a strong lady. sometime last month, i started questioning if i had it in me to live here, physically.

stress. its loud, its expensive, its hard to find work, going anywhere requires some hearty, uplifting subway travel, people coming going upstream downstream on sidewalks with (get this!) overwhelmingly, tall fucking buildings, pollution, an energy to shatter the most calmed soul, millions of entertainment options, countless old friends that have congregated, visitors up the wahzoo, brilliant people, beautiful people, excitement, alcohol, and did i mention that its expensive?

in the back of our believing minds has been a feeling of sticking it out a year. in the back of our lease, it says that if you don't stick it out a year, you fucking owe.

so here we are. my late-night encounter with questioning the strength of my own constitution (a couple of weeks ago) has remarkably, peacefully, luckily challenged me to stick it out longer. lucky only because i know i don't have the constitution to move somewhere else right now.

after a trip to maine (you gotta get out of here once in awhile) this summer, i have a sense of i know i can handle this if i put my mind to it. those days (long ago posts) of being baffled by the amount of people running in prospect park and the beyond packed classes of type-A yogis trying to find a place for their mats are making sense in a new way. i once heard that new yorkers are among the healthiest americans, but i tell you something: its not all the walking, its not that they are more enlightened or that they don't want to eat fast food, its that if they are gonna live here, they have to learn to sink or swim. you can come here healthy and sink quickly (drown under the wave), you can come here healthy and get lucky enough to catch a nice wave to ride (surfing), or you can come here healthy, start sinking, and figure out that you will simply drown if you don't do something different (take surfing lessons). if you come here unhealthy, you're fucked.

as it turns out, i feel more in the category three of this storm. i'm signing up. what's outrageous is that i haven't really had a flight response, no matter how weak my lovely non-bowel movement meaning constitution has become. sure, i ache sometimes for the lovely chapel hill house, but still, somehow, i still want to be here.

call me crazy.

maybe the second year is different. right here at the beginning of september, i'm banking on that. with all the moves in my life (this is the 15th), i have never had a problem adjusting. maybe new york is just different, i keep telling myself. its bigger, so it takes longer.

not only are there the basic living stresses of being here. the surface ones. the ones that actually don't matter all too much, but there are the psychological/quasi-spiritual stresses.

though i'm happy to report that i still have this weird ironic satisfied feeling after hauling my laundry to the laundry mat when i pay INSANE rent, there are other things that have lost their punk rock charm (i know, i know...nothing punk rock about paying INSANE rent...). ease in the daily living things that one has to deal with is something that exists elsewhere. i can embrace that. everything is a little bit more challenging. options are plenty, maps must be navigated, blocks must be walked, people must be dealt with constantly, and well, when you are tired and don't think you can walk another step, you can't flag down a taxi to save your life. extremes downs are met with extreme highs, when you find yourself face to face with julia roberts because your old friend from high school is a reporter for a major u.s. publication, assuming being face to face with julia roberts constitutes (ahem) an extreme high.

julia roberts is absolutely star striking. taller than average, sun-glassed, a jaw-line and a smile that makes you question biology and symmetry in general. a fear, a wealth, an ease from living, fame beyond comprehension. some kids, some acting skills, a constitution...

and then there is the issue of meaning. far more abstract and complicated than fresh laundry and stunning julia roberts. we all confront those issues in life no matter where we are or who we are, but if you ever find yourself wanting to jack up your mid-life crisis a little, move to nyc and let your head spin. good stuff.

okay. i don't know if any of that made any sense. just talking for now. goodnight to all the internet and non-internet souls out there.

love,

mama jens

The People Next to Me and Anton Corbijn's Control

2007-10-23T02:12:00.001+01:00

One of the most beautiful things about living in a place like NYC is people watching. To top it all off, I recently got my first, very own iPod shuffle (right here at the ripe age of 32), which makes the people-watching that much more dramatic and cinematic.

Last night, I went to see Anton Corbijn's Control, a biopic about the late Ian Curtis and Joy Division.

But first, let me tell you about the subway ride there:

Sitting next to me was a young couple speaking in sign language. They were in their own world completely, laughing (silently, it all seemed), and totally unaware of all the wandering, curious, fascinated eyes and slight smiles stealing glimpses of their silent love affair. At some point, they stopped signing and started examining each others' hands - something lovers do, but these were hands they obviously already knew, hands that spoke to them, that held the key to everything between them in a way far more fundamental than in the beauty of their lines and muscles. They then started playing with each others' hands. First, slow, soft movements, then jokes -playful twists and turns of the wrists. He was speaking, she was squeezing to make him be quiet. Their fingers wrestled and tugged in this alien, communicative, sensual experience that they were both clearly completely lost in. Every single person on the bench opposite them was enraptured. An old, hippie couple - clothed in grey hair and glasses - riveted, eyes pointed over the newspapers that opened against their chests. A man with a bible - letting his eyes pass equally back and forth between the bible and the couple without noticeable preference for one or the other (he could have been a minister marrying them in this silent, emotional film). Another woman, piles of bags beside her, hid nothing in her expression as she watched the two - without reserve, unembarrassed to stare, and staring hard, like the intensity of a keen television watcher. And then me, beside them, watching them as intensely as all the others, but through the reflection on the window opposite. I had the special vantage point of seeing the watchers and the watched at the same time, and then the melodic filter of the music playing through my headphones to keep me at a safe, disconnected, anonymous distance. I stole occassional glances to my right to see them in color. In the window reflection, everything lacks bright tones.

I landed, several stops from the theatre, and much too early. I was in the West Village, so I decided to check it out. I thought of Berlinbound, and how he and HH must know those streets so well. I wished I had him as a guide as I walked in circles without a map through the cozy, criss-crossed streets.

I got to the cinema two minutes before the film started and had to take the LAST seat available in the second row next to a 60-something gentleman who was very well-dressed (business man style) and was hushing the chatty people behind us even while just the movie previews were playing. Being so packed into a theatre in seats so small, it is hard not to be aware of the strangers sitting on either side of you in a sort of forced intimacy. You can smell them. You can hear them breathing when the loud surround-sound pauses. This man was breathing so quickly, that I was worried he was going to die on me. The movie began, and throughout the film, he was reacting quickly in these funny laughs that made me think again and again that he was actually one of the people depicted in the film, or else used to have some close relationship to Joy Division. I even caught him feigning chords with his left hand during the performance scenes. Anyways, I thought about striking up a conversation with him afterwards to get the real scoop on Joy Division, but instead, just watched him swagger in this akward, jerky, mechanical way (much like Ian Curtis on stage) into the night, his suit pants actually hemmed about a half a foot higher than normal.

So I get back onto the subway, super late. I sit down, and again, there is a couple next to me using sign language. This time, they were older, more settled and mature. They weren't sitting together, but directly across from one another. They, like the couple earlier, communicated in a world that didn't seem to associate with the rest of the people around them, in that there were no voices to engage.

This is not to include all of the other people I "interacted" with over the course of the evening....people I asked directions from, people I made eye contact with, the waitress with the English accent and big glasses in the West Village. The personalities that come through in these small moments are so full, so expressive, so unguarded in a quick moving city way where people seem to be surrounded by walls, but when interacted with, are very quick to let them all down as though they are starving for human contact.

As for the film, it was beautiful. Well, to be honest, it was one of the most depressing films I have ever seen....but I appreciated the long, quiet spaces which say more than words...something one doesn't see in films or real life much anymore.

Good night and good lovin',
Love Mama Jens

Supermarkets, Fillo Dough, Laundry, and School Updates

2007-10-16T03:11:00.000+01:00

A couple of discoveries this week....

Fairway. Ever since we moved here, it has been like a buzzword...and finally, this past weekend, I went to check it out. Its a supermarket in Red Hook - about two miles away. It is right on the water and there are cool things to look at there like the Statue of Liberty. It is a supermarket which blends everything - your normal-chock-full-of-preservatives and packaged food items, which, let's face it, you gotta have sometimes, plus all the trusted organic labels that they have at the lovely, very inexpensive, fascist coop plus a huge fresh fish and seafood selection plus all the deli items and cheese you could ever lay at a German breakfast table PLUS all the gourmet and imported food items that we oh-so-savvy world travelers must re-experience from time to time. As if that is not enough, they have fresh produce for days and a perfectly French selection of fresh (hot) bakery and bread items, and even a goddamn cafe. And the prices, still much cheaper than Whole Foods and even competitive with the coop (but not the cheeses). So I went nuts and spent a million dollars there and loaded everything up in my car and drove back home feeling like a responsible and satisfied mother hen who is doing more than providing only one or two edible items in the refrigerator each day.

You see, I still haven't gotten the German-shopping-everyday thing out of my system, so the fridge always looks kind of paltry....but that's just how we do. You know, buy the stuff and eat it, and so there isn't much else there. So, when I really go crazy and stock up, it feels pretty awesome.

And it came just in time for the cooler weather, which I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT. First, a couple of days ago, it rained. This was awesome, because then our car got washed. And then the wind and cooler temperatures finally showed their reluctant faces, and this made Mama Jens Very Happy. So now things like leafs swirling around in little whirlwinds are happening on the sidewalks, and Mama Jens is starting to bake, which is always a sign of fall.

Fall and Spring are basically perfect in my book. These are the months where I don't bitch so much about the weather.

So speaking of what's been cooking, I have discovered the joys and beauty of fillo dough. I am excited as hell about this discovery....the family, on the other hand at this point, is probably like, "Are you gonna wrap every single one of our meals in this shit?!" Fillo dough, as it is spelled on the package, but is probably more properly spelled "Phylo" (but I am too lazy to google it right now) is pretty frickin' awesome stuff. I am sure the rest of the world is very familiar with it, but Mama Jens just discovered it, so let me just bask in my Fillo glory for a minute.

Fillo dough is super papery thin dough. It comes wrapped carefully - lots and lots of sheets of it. You have to let it thaw overnight in the fridge and then when you unwrap it, put a wet cloth or paper towel over it because it dries out very quickly. Then you make what you want, wrap it all up and bake it. The coolest part is that it retains its papery shape and so it has the creases and crevices of crumpled paper, and it is very flaky French pastry style.

So far, I have filled it with spinach and feta, quiche style but with far fewer eggs and also with apples that are tossed like you would if you were making apple pie, with cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg and flour. Both turned out really nicely - delicious and also very pretty.

If you want recipes, just post a comment and I will share them with you.

And now time for the laundry update. I am still doing it weekly at the laundromat. Instead of breaking down and buying a machine, I have only come up with more reasons to keep doing it the hard way. One, a washer and dryer unit would take up a whole closet in our flat, which is Very Valuable Space. And two, I just realized tonight, is that it is a perfect time to call friends and family faraway. Load the washer. Call someone. Before you know it, the clothes are done. Load them into the dryer. Call someone else. Perfect. This is a good example of using your time wisely, my friends. Three, lately, there is an older woman from the West Indies who is watching over the place. I have enjoyed how she very unlovingly barks at everyone that comes in and innocently takes on the basically already unpleasant task of doing their weekly laundry. For whatever reason, she has taken a liking to me, and so I tipped her last week. And let me tell you, folks, tipping goes a long way in this country. So this week, she told me which were the best dryers, and this saved me HALF of my usual drying time. Plus, in between her freak outs on random people, I got to hear her life story. She has lived in this neighborhood for 43 years, and so scoffs (uncontrollably) at all the people who write her off as an "immigrant who can't speak the language" as she put it. At the end of her life story, she said, "This country is a loser!" And well, I gave her another tip, not necessarily for that, but because she didn't make my life double hell while I was out doing something I didn't want to do in the first place.

So laundry and food are all cool. Let's talk about schools.

So far, the preschool in Foxy Brown's neighborhood is turning out to be quite the gem. The teacher is awesome and our younger bundle of joy is excited about going there, which is all we really need for confirmation that it is a great place.

As for PS 321, well, it is everything you've read about and well, worth the insane INSANE INSANE rents. So, every month, as I write my rent check, instead of puking, I just remember that curriculum conference a couple of weeks back when the incredible teachers told us about what the children are learning this year and how, basically, they are teaching children to THINK. It is not about reading and writing and math, it is about thinking about those processes and problem solving and learning to love the process, and therefore loving to learn and learning more. It is also a place where they give the discipline guides in the form of "community codes." If you break one of them, you are responsible for solving the problem you created. Seems simple enough, but for a public school, I find it kind of revolutionary.

Good night and big kisses,
Love, Mama Jens

This is How We Roll vs. Park Slope Yoga

2007-10-09T04:06:00.000+01:00

These are my new wheels. Thank the Good Lord Jesus for my new wheels. They only cost $14 at Key Foods and not only are they insanely practical, they make me feel like I have truly assimilated into the Park Slope lifestyle (I am sure they are all over New York City, but I can't honestly say I have seen them navigating the streets of SoHo). Not only that, they have spared my upper back many a neck massage and my stretched out post-baby stomach muscles many a hernia. And I know that these are the kind of wheels that would normally fall under the Non-Hip-Accessory category, but since my cart is black, the dang thing even matches all of my Jewish Mama outfits. Fuck yeah!

I don't actually know the name of my new accessory, but I have heard it referred to as a "Granny Cart," which I personally find a little offensive, but I am willing to deal with that, because:

A. The thing handles curbs and broken sidewalks as though they were smooth as ice.
B. The handle is well designed, with this slidey sort of grippey plastic-y material that makes turning a dream.
C. Never before have I felt so light and carefree when hauling 4 loads of laundry or 10 bags of squashed groceries.

If you don't have one and you live in the city, you should go get one right away. If you live in Berlin and have noticed that they don't exist there, you should contact an American company that produces them and see if you can start exporting the lovely things and make a shitload of unexpected cash (I would have loved to have one of these things in Berlin). If you just enjoy the pain of all that muscle damage from hauling your shit all over the place, then I have something else for you....

Park Slope Yoga. This is the new place where I like to hangout when all the kids are at school, when I want to distract myself from getting a real job, and where I find peace and comfort in doing yoga to indie rock music. Go there, enjoy, stretch your brains out.

Good night and good lovin',
Mama Jens

Making Old Friends, Crisis, and Being a Jewish Mama

2007-09-21T01:28:00.000+01:00

The adjustment is going slowly but surely...its humid still which doesn't help and to be really honest, disillusionment sets in....

But first, let's discuss the business of making friends. I have the experience over and over of meeting the same kind of person. I move somewhere new, I meet someone right away, and they have so many similarities to the same person I've met right away in other new places I've lived that I am not sure if it is just a matter of certain kinds of people attracting other certain kinds of people, or if I am just totally fucking crazy and I haven't moved at all and have known the same person all my life.

To profile this person, she usually comes in the form of a single mother, young, pretty, and esoteric. She is into things like healing through intuitive powers, yoga, organic food, and basically anything non-traditional western medicine-ish. She is usually bisexual, intense, and is positive and great to talk to.

Anyways, I met her here...and within days of arrival. I always wonder how I end up with these people, given the fact that I am not super esoteric, nor bisexual, nor a single mother, nor convinced by the powers of healing in non-traditional ways. I can, however, understand how the laid back, open types are attracted to the darker, neurotic types and vice-versa.

So anyways, this girl just moved here too. I love her of course, she loves me. Instant friendship. She moved here because her intuition told her that she should move here, of course. I told her that, initally, when I considered the idea of moving here, that my intuition told me that it was a Very Bad Idea. She got chills at the thought that someone would blatantly ignore their intuition like that. But that is what I did, and well, since I am playing the part of the skeptical neurotic, none of that should matter, right?

So that brings us back to the disillusionment.

I spent my entire childhood, then adulthood (=my whole life) moving every couple of years, so place becomes this huge theme. It is easy for me to blame feeling down on place...but it isn't that straightforward, now is it?

So let us turn to other possible causes...

In the last two weeks, I have experienced, for the first time since I decided 7 years ago to begin populating the earth, days with Nothing to do while BOTH children were in school for the good part of the day. I am currently enjoying that distinct feeling of a crisis coming on again...or at least, the pressure to get cracking on some work or a project of some kind or I'll start to lose my flippin' mind. C'mon, Mama Jens, get off your lazy little ass and get to work.

Which is basically what my husband said to me the other day. I had dropped everyone off at school, then I come home and get right back in bed. What? Don't all mothers do that? My husband came in and said something about its time to get a job, to which I replied, "I plan on getting some mother fuckin' sleep first." Thank the Good Lord Jesus for school.

But let's talk about something else, speaking of the good Lord Jesus.

Like, how Mama Jens is seriously blending in with the Hasidic Jewish community these days. Well, there is nothing new about my outfit. I have the Mama Jens uniform, which consists of a long, black, A line skirt I have owned forever, A black shirt (I have about 50 black shirts to choose from), and my black converse sneakers. My hair is kind of straightish and mid-lengthish. As it turns out, here in Brooklyn, I have found my people. Get this: There are blocks and blocks of people dressed the same exact way! The only minor difference is that the ladies aren't wearing converse shoes, but rather some fancy patent leathery sorts of things or else some tennis shoes of the non-hip variety. Oh yeah, and I usually have two or three fewer children in tow.

Well, I thought, when I started getting stopped daily by the Hasidic Jewish men that they think I am one of them. They stop me and say, "Are you Jewish?" to which I always reply, "No," but one of these days I'm gonna say yes, because I really do want to know what my people have to say. After a couple of days of taking great pride in the fact that I am now a real Jewish woman, I realized that they are stopping everyone they see, not just old Jewish Mama Jens.

This past Saturday, we went ventured out to Long Beach for the day. When we got in the car, my husband looks over to me, and says, "Honey, we're going to the beach, not a funeral." I of course had my Mama Jens, Jewish get-up on, black sweater, skirt and all. But get this, when we got to the beach, all the Hasidic families were out walking, and again, I fit in, which is basically all I ever wanted to do in this life for goodness sake.

So, keep an eye out, Mama Jens has some fashion changes in store for this community. In a couple of years, Jewish Mamas everywhere will be sporting converse sneakers with holes in them for better water flow.

Okay, enough for today. Have a good and godly day.

Peace.

Starting Preschool, Street Cleaning Parking Protocol, and the Delightful Economics of a NYC Lifestyle

2007-09-12T02:20:00.000+01:00

I am happy to report that we survived the first week at PS 321. This place is something else, I tell you. I still haven't gotten used to the thousands of people who show up on time for school in the morning and then pick-up in the afternoon. It is like going to a party two times a day...you drop off your little homie in the lobby in the morning and hope he or she makes it to class without getting trampled, and then in the afternoon, you wait and try not to have an anxiety attack as all the little fish come swimming out of every door searching for their parents on the crowded, skinny sidewalks. Madness.

And now, a new week to survive, as my younger one starts preschool for the first time tomorrow. I thought I was a Seasoned Mama, and that sending my second child off to school for the first time would be no biggie, as I have already gone through all those emotions of letting go and trusting a stranger to take care of my child, etc. but It Just Doesn't Work That Way. For every little human being you bring into the world, be prepared to suffer all the complex emotional sways again and again. So, on that note, another bottle of wine, up late, fretting, making sure all the lunches are packed and extra pair of underwear properly labeled, and so on and so forth. I wish the school gave me the warm fuzzy vibe and was just around the corner, but so far it doesn't, and it doesn't seem to be moving any further south either. So for now, I will summon up the good energy and positive outlook and hope that it all goes smoothly and the first day will change my perceptions. If you are out cruising the streets in Brooklyn in your car, remember there are a lot of kids walking down sidewalks in a line to playgrounds and such. Drive attentively and slowly.

Speaking of driving slowly, parking is a real mother fucker here. During the summer, it was like big, wide spots open everywhere...but now that school is in session and everyone is back from their vacation homes in the Hamptons, parking spots come open about every 45 minutes of driving around all the surrounding blocks. And boy oh boy you'd better read those street cleaning signs before you park. Every street has a different day - and it is just one side of the street on that day. So, very punctually, at 8am, all the cars on the side of the street being cleaned, move over and double park on the opposite side of the street. That means those parked cars on the other side are blocked in until precisely 11 am when street cleaning is done and the cars can move back. No one bothers to honk if they are blocked in...they just all know what the hell is going on. Then all the different trucks pick up the piles and piles and piles and piles and piles of trash. It is AMAZING, and one of those funny, quirky things about the workings of this neighborhood that I have already come to love. I am not sure why I love it...if it is the fact that between 8-11am one day a week you can get away with doing something illegal (double parking), or if it is because between 8-11am one day a week if you weren't paying attention to what was happening on the other side of the street, you have a pretty good excuse for not being able to drive anywhere (some jackass double parked and you are blocked in), or if I just like seeing neatly filed rows of cars all up together side by side...whatever it is I just like it.

So that whole double parking extravaganza is the cool part about owning a car in NYC (that, and you can leave the city when you need a breath of fresh air, seriously). The not-so-cool part is that insurance goes up by 4 times. And this, my friends, is something we are truly In Denial about. We can't bring ourselves to register the damn thing and change the insurance. Yeah, yeah, I know we have to, and we will, but we plan on dragging this one out a little longer. Unfortunately, that 4x rule seems to apply pretty widely to things around here, we've noticed. Preschool, for example...holy fucking shit...you have to be a millionaire to send your kid to preschool around here...or maybe that is the norm in the U.S., and we are just still used to preschool in Berlin, which means Lots of Government Funding which means Dirt Cheap (as in you can almost find the change you need in your couch and that includes meals!!).

Which brings Mama Jens down Memory Lane. A beautiful, sunny Chapel Hill Sunday morning. We go to ACME in Carrboro for a lovely brunch. (The food is incredible here, by the way, so stop in if you are every in town...their French toast with fresh strawberries and cream is to die for.) We are sitting next to an older couple who thinks our two kids, jacked up on sugar from the french toast and climbing all over the chairs and pouring out the salt and pepper and so on, are just adorable. We strike up a conversation with them. It turns out they just moved from NYC and bought an amazing 1960's Cogswell house in one of the downtown Chapel Hill neighborhoods. It was even featured in a recent book about Chapel Hill architecture. Anywayz, we were telling them about our upcoming move to the big city and the guy said they decided to head south (much to the disapproval of their children and friends who were like, "You are moving WHERE?") because of the warmer weather and because, "in New Yowk, ya make a hundjred thowsan' dahlas an' yur nahthing, here, you make a hundjred thowsan' dahlas an' yura king." He was right.

Anyways, it is Mama Jens' bed time. Gotta get ready for preschool tomorrow, so more later.

Good night and no more terrorist attacks, please. Love, Mama Jens

Back to School, Tips for Survival in NYC, and A Laundry Update

2007-09-04T01:00:00.000+01:00

It is amazing that it has already been a whole year since I was last up late with a bottle of wine, butterflies in my stomach, and trying to get through the night-before-the-first-day-of-school jitters (well, the bottle of wine part happens a little more frequently than once a year). Judging by the bag of nerves that I am, you would think I was starting second grade tomorrow. We are all excited, ready for our early wake up call, and thankful (because, you know, the bottle of wine) that start time is an hour later than it was in Chapel Hill. We had the pleasure of meeting my daughter's teachers a couple of days ago and getting to go into the school, and could already feel the good vibes and the progressive approach. The teachers introduced themselves by their first names to my daughter, and one of them was wearing converse, which naturally immediately made my heart melt (Mama Jens' basic uniform includes dirty, old, black converse with holes on the sides so that my feet can bond a little with the water when it rains.) I think it will be a good year.

Wish me luck as I join the 1300 children and their parents who will descend upon 7th ave tomorrow morning. Holy Jesus. We heard that the ice cream trucks are lined up at 3pm when the crazy masses launch out of the building. Maybe I should invest in an ice cream truck.

So, we are figuring out big city living. It will take some time for sure, and every little step making it easier is just rockin'. Until this weekend, I was feeling a little disillusioned by the part of living here that insists that you are somewhere exciting. You live in this great, gigantic city...there are 8 million insanely incredible things to do everyday...but it is so big and so crowded, that it takes forever to get anywhere and you feel dirty and exhausted by the time you get anywhere, not to mention a little freaked and tweaked by the flourescent lights on the subway and the level of awareness you have to keep up should it be your turn to be mugged that night. Whew. But here is the thing, all it takes is careful planning. You can experience your beautiful neighborhood and all the city has to offer too, as opposed to deciding that it is all just craziness and you will have stay in your beautiful neighborhood. Planning, that's all. A couple of examples:

You want to go into Manhattan and do things with your kids? Just wait until it is Saturday morning, then you go over the Brooklyn Bridge, then up FDR drive along the river (in a car, yes) and enter Manhattan where you want. Voila! No walking forever to the subway, no schlepping all the strollers and kids up and down subway stairs, no watching dirty ass subway germs go from subway window to your child's mouth, no walking eight hundred blocks in the heat trying to figure out which way is north south east west. It can be painless, fast, traffic-free, and there you go, you've had yourself a lovely Manhattan afternoon in Central Park with your children. I don't mind doing all the aformentioned on my ownsome, but with kids, holy shit, its like torture and child abuse all at the same time.

Same with Target. You HAVE to go to Target once in awhile, ladies and gentlemen, let's just face it. And if your local Target is on Atlantic Ave and Flatbush, then let me tell you how it works best. You get up on Sunday morning at 7am and you get to Target when it opens at 8am. You park in the parking garage next to the entrance to the mall, smile at the security dude in the garage on your way in (and cash in on a little of your good kharma to assume he is actually a security dude), go in, and Voila! You have yourself almost a suburban version of Target. No people, no lines, lots of cheap stuff, heaven. If you can't get your lazy old ass out of bed until 10 am and then decide to go, you can count on there being 8 million other people there too with not much left on the shelves.

So let's rewind to Central Park. After we took a walk around and enjoyed the lovely scenery, we went to a playground in the park. This is what I saw: Not nannies, but real-life Mamas. And some mamas they were. One had this sort of tight, thong work out suit on, loosely covered by some sweat pants. She had her blonde curls piled high under her sports cap, and the botox-y face revealed a sort of how-in-the-hell-do-I-control-this-child expression. I couldn't keep my eyes off the thong thing...me, and all the other people at the playground were like, is that woman seriously running around a playground all thonged out like that? It was freaky. And then, there was this other Mama. Huge boobs (of the implant kind), perfect hair, make-up only a stylist could have done that morning, and again, a botox-y grin. I was in such another universe watching these people, that it was hard to keep track of my own children.

And now for an update on the laundry....here is another reason to find some principles that would involve not owning a washer/dryer...and Listen Up Ladies: When your husband sees you hauling trash bags of laundry a couple of blocks to the laundromat, he will OFFER TO DO IT THE FOLLOWING WEEK! I am not shitting you. Try it. Just make up an excuse to have to go to a laundromat..kick in your wash machine and break it or whatever...and you'll see that this works. Voila! Fresh, soft, warm laundry - piles of it - and it was done by someone else - and your husband to boot. Ahhhhh!!!!

Allright, time to get back to obsessing over going back to school. Good night and good lovin'.

Love,
Mama Jens

Mama's Park Slope Integration

2007-08-30T04:03:00.000+01:00

Hey look at this...two posts in less than a week! I am so proud of Mama Jens!!

So this is what I did tonight: Laundry. This is a big production these days. But first, let me rewind.

In Berlin, we had a wash machine that cycled for something like three hours for a couple of lonely pieces of clothing. Then we had to hang those guys out to dry. And when you are doing laundry for four, two of them always dirty, that means you are basically perpetually confronted with looking at a record-breaking size pile of laundry sitting in the bathroom everytime you pee, and well, you are always doing laundry. I am sure I have blogged about that before. Visiting family members from the U.S. were always in awe of my patience with that situation in Berlin, happy to go home to their SUV size washers and dryers.

Fast forward to Chapel Hill, and there I was in laundry heaven...new washer and dryer (SUV size of course) and I could clean a million large items in record time and never have a dirty towel hanging around. I enjoyed every minute of it.

And, now, we are here in our bajillion dollar a month apartment in Brooklyn, and with no wash machine in the apartment. So I have been hauling my laundry in trash bags to the local laundromat to sit and spin. I have done it every week so far- about two loads a week. I could get real and order a machine from Sears...but somehow, I am enjoying this right now because a.) it makes one think twice before throwing a perfectly clean item of clothing in the basket for the poor old Mama to haul later in the week b.) it gives me the opportunity to get out of the house and converse with the locals for about an hour c.) when I put a five dollar bill in the money changing machine and all those quarters fall out, I feel like I just won something and d.) When I lived in Chapel Hill, I always missed that feeling of "living" that I got from inconvenient experiences in Berlin, so I am indulging in them now again, just to remind myself that I am alive. Call me crazy.

So go ahead and start counting the days it takes me to break down and buy a washer and dryer.

And speaking of meeting the locals, we joined the Park Slope Food Coop this week too. This is an amazing, organic supermarket in the neighborhood where every one of the 14,000 members work 2.75 hours every four weeks to enjoy the benefits of shopping where food is marked up only 21% above cost. This means that the food is cheap, like half-the-price-of-Whole-Foods-Cheap! Very nice. The trade-off is that you have to work and this week, we both did our first shifts. I had originally hoped that I would get the job in the basement dividing large quantities of spices into bags and weighing them and pricing them, but that job was full, so I got the job checking people in at the front door, and boy oh boy is this an amazing experience in social analyzation. I enjoyed it totally...and I especially enjoyed sharing this job with a 60- something lesbian who was full of punk rock stories to pass the 2.75 hours time.

So it is exciting to feel like my Mundane Mama Jobs - shopping and laundry- are fully integrated into the social system here in Park Slope.

The children, to continue with the Mamaness of this post, are doing well. They seem to be adjusting well to city life...though we haven't gone into the city (Manhattan) with them much. Their world here is parametered by a few different playgrounds and Prospect Park, which we have had fun exploring with them. They start school next week - one in elementary and the other in preschool, and so now all my energies are directed toward getting them situated right now. I feel very good about the elementary school....it is much bigger than the one we were at in CH, but it is just around the corner and the zone is quite small, so I am sure we will see a lot of those children when we are out in the neighborhood, and I think this is wonderful. As for the preschool, it is in Foxy Brown's neighborhood, so a little further and a little more funky, but it seems like an awesome school, and if I can get over the fact that they will be walking the little guys to the playground a couple of blocks away, I think everything will be cool. I'll keep you posted there.

Otherwise, all is good. Time to sleep, but more soon. Good night and big kisses, love Mama Jens.

holy shit we moved again....

2007-08-22T05:43:00.000+01:00

i know it has been months since my last post...and i am always promising myself i will be consistent...but whatever...here i am and we live in park slope now.

sometime after my last post, another crisis hit, and we found ourselves packing again. sometimes, i think our only real goal in life is to experience as many realities as possible, all the while trying to keep our sanity and financial situation in tact.

so here we are. it went something like this:

1. convince friends and family that we aren't totally crazy.
2. find renters for our beautiful house and pretend it had no emotional effect.
3. find an apartment in park slope and pretend it had no financial effect.
4. go through another marathon of getting rid of things you don't need.
5. clean your heart out to make sure the house is ready for the new renters all the while wishing that someone was doing that for you in your new place, but knowing that wouldn't be the case.
6. rent a uhaul and drive north, singing sinatra's new york, new york.
7. unload the uhaul on the hottest day of the year. add a couple flights of stairs for extra pain.
8. sit in your apartment at 2am in a corner overlooking the piles of boxes while your sweet family sleeps and think, "holy fucking hell, what did we just do?"

and now it is three weeks later and sometime in the middle of the night and i am eating some chicken from two boots - a little cajun pizzeria around the corner that we have fallen in love with that has the most amazing, hearty meals (and very good pizza too). they give the kids pizza dough to play with and so that is basically all we need for now at this point in our lives.

it is wonderful wonderful wonderful to be back in the city again. i love having everything right at our doorstep and all the people in between. the dust from moving is settling and we are anxious to get back to living and exploring. there is something new to see everyday, and that is what has always been interesting about moving so much. and here i get the feeling it will take awhile to exhaust that benefit.

if you are still reading, i hope you are doing well. if you aren't still reading, i hope you are doing well too. big kisses from mama jens and hopefully i will get my shit together and post more in the coming days.

Park Slope, Babysitting, and Caterpillars

2007-04-14T03:31:00.000+01:00

Am I seriously working on two months here since my last post? What tha f#$%@?? If it weren't for the sweet reminders of Berinbound that I actually have a blog, I am not sure what I would do. Thank you, Berlinbound, for reeling the Crazy Ass Mama Jens back to her free time.

So here is what I have been up to:

Going to NYC. Hmmm...I think I did that for like the last five entries or something.

Okay, but first, let me tell you what I am doing at this very moment. Babysitting. That's right, babysitting. The last time I did this was seriously like 15 years ago or something. So I am sitting in this big, rambling house and the children of our dear friends (they have like a million kids) are all sweetly sleeping and I find myself with not much to do but blog really. And its perfect. And so tomorrow, they are going to babysit for us. Awesome, right? Instead of paying $50 plus to someone you don't know that well for a night on the town with your amazing husband, you can just befriend some wonderful people you know you can trust and do babysitting swapping with them. Its revolutionary, I tell you.

Bartering rocks. I have gotten my husband recording and mastering through photography work ...now I am working on a acquiring a hand made bag from a friend in exchange for doing his portfolio. And I might even manage to get a discount on a kitchen renovation from another job I just took on. Fuck money.

Okay, back to NYC. We spent last week in Park Slope. We found an apartment sublet on Craigslist and it worked out very well. The couple were totally cool and friendly and even had cozy things like soaps and good olive oil and toilet paper from the natural food store. The location was perfect for our scouting...8th ave and union. And let me tell you, we loved this neighborhood. It had such a village feeling, very down to earth and friendly, and even quiet. There were several nights where I was trying hard to use my Mama Jens math brain to figure out how it could be so quiet and only a 10 minute subway ride to lower Manhattan. We enjoyed the experience of "living" in the city again...waking up and walking a block to fresh bagels and coffee, going into an amazing deli for delicious cheese and hummus and fresh bread, walking to the playground in Prospect Park, and abandoning the existence of our car for several days (and hoping it didn't get towed or stolen). My older daughter kept saying how much she loved how it reminded her of Berlin. And it was very similar to Prenzlauer Berg in terms of the general feeling and of course all the children everywhere we went.

We spent a lot of time looking at apartments which didn't go as badly as we thought it would. For a bazillion dollars a month you could rent actually a pretty good sized place. We were thinking closets, but actually it was more like spaces the same size as our place in Berlin, and very nicely renovated too.

We went back to Chapel Hill thinking it was all a done deal. But we get back here, and unfortunately the whole damn town bloomed like crazy while we were gone and there are frickin' flowers everywhere, and our backyard turned into a gorgeous wonderland of leafy oaks and dogwoods and azaleas and crazy stuff like oregano and other weird things we didn't know we had since we weren't in our house last year this time. So the place is beautiful...and what else....the stress of making sure our children didn't run into traffic was suddenly lifted...it was warm and sunny (it snowed three times while we were in New York)....I go for a job and the client gets a call from her mom saying she had just been arrested for protesting...the kids are happy to dig in the dirt and run around outside like wild crazy humans...and well, there was a big, fat tax bill sitting in our mailbox.

So the urgency sort of just went away. It was like, this place is great too...and why all the rush...and we can enjoy this now and do that later or at least when we feel the timing is better. This could be as early as five months from now, or it could be next year...but right now, it isn't a magic fit.

The curse of being able to work from anywhere is the constant questioning. Why are we here? Where should we go?

I find myself at the same conversation I was having with a friend about a year and a half ago in a park in Prenzlauer Berg....people can be happy anywhere...you only live once, why not have an adventure....just make sure the feeling is right...

And so it goes...another good complicated mess. Let's just see where it all leads.

But let's just take a break from totally neurotic, obsessive compulsive brain freak outs and talk about caterpillars. I never knew this, but these guys obviously have a season, because they are suddenly everywhere. Huge nests in the trees yield hundreds of these guys and as I watch my children carefully inspect them and move them from leaf to leaf, I wonder if they will be vicious cashmere eating assholes, or gorgeous butterflies. I am guessing the latter, but not being the Nature Mama, you just never know.

I love babysitting. I just raided the pantry truly babysitter style. I wish I had a boyfriend to call long distance or something else terribly subversive, but I just don't.

Work has been awesome...there is another plus for playing out the Chapel Hill card a little longer. In Brooklyn, photographer upon photographer upon photographer sleep in each and every building. You throw a rock, you hit 20 of them. Here, it is more like academic upon academic upon indie rocker...you throw a rock and you can't find a photographer to save your life.

Okay, I'll just post this now. Good lovin', Mama Jens.

Craziness, Anonymity, The Joy of Sound, and the Tar Heels

2007-02-04T04:32:00.000Z

Some old-fashioned randomness....

When you have little ones (like babies) at home, you are so preoccupied with the baby-ness of life that thinking about your own mental state is pretty faraway. I can imagine a life of perpetually having babies to keep all that at bay, but since that is Just Not Gonna Happen, I am simply cursed with the mental state part of the equation. What this means is that when your kids are old enough to make their own breakfast (or at least the older one can make breakfast for the younger one), then you have enough free-floating mental space to either A) do something productive with your life or B) just get downright weird. My impulse it to go with the former, but lately it is looking more like the latter.

Another thing I have been thinking about is that city life (Berlin) gave me a nice neurotic balance, among other things. This is something akin to a speed freak taking speed to feel calm, if that makes any sense. When you have city craziness, or when I do, it is easier to feel focused. Maybe that doesn't make sense...but when it is chaos around you, it is like you find center because you just have to for survival. For me, here with all this space, it is like there is this vast, unfocused world in which finding a center is just an illusory game. For some people, I think it is perfect. Space yields concentration which yield productivity. But for me, it is more like space yields lack of focus which yields downright craziness.

A similar thing happens in terms of anonymity. For some people, the city means piles upon piles of people living on top of each other in this chaotic human grid of humanity, whereas a smaller town gives a sense of privacy and the ability to be alone. But for me, it is more like the city allows one total privacy in anonymity and the small town is like a nightmare of standing out.

Take today for example. I go to University Mall, our sweet little local mall with only a few struggling shops. In the course of about 1 hour, I run into half the people I know here. That means small talk, and Mama Jens hates small talk, let me tell you. They were all asking the same questions, like, "Are you here for the summer camp fair?" to which I kept ridiculously replying, "No, actually, I didn't know that was going on...I am just here to buy some Mars Mud for my daughter."

Mars Mud is this goopy, slimey stuff that my older daughter has had her mind on lately.

So back to today, I had a lovely day with the children...We spent the morning reading books in our playroom, sunshine streaming in the windows. My two year old is lately preoccupied with sound. Anytime she hears anything other than the normal clatter of the household, she perks up, widens her eyes (bugs them out actually) and says, "What's that sound?" My answer is either birds, plane, or firetruck, but usually just bird - and we hear all the interesting ones too, including owls and woodpeckers. It got me thinking about what she would be hearing in this phase if we were in the city...do you still hear birds in the city? I couldn't remember if we hear them in Berlin, but I am sure we did...they were just muffled by construction site bangings and hammerings and drillings, trams, cars, trucks, sirens, people talking, etc...you know the usual, peaceful stuff.

So then for lunch, we went to Franklin Street Pizza and Pasta. If you are in Chapel Hill or ever visit, be sure to go here. It is on the first block of houses on Franklin St., across from the university quad (where I always imagine my husband streaking...think Old School). The owner makes the sauce himself everyday. No one else knows the recipe. And it rocks totally. With garlic knots, on pizza, on pasta, on a meatball sub (my favorite there) or just plain out of a bowl. It is the best. Our girls love that place. It has become our new Punk Rock Pizza (in Berlin, I am sure I have written about that place). Except it isn't really Punk Rock. If you're going for rock and pizza, try Pepper's Pizza a few doors down, which is ten times more punk rock, but the food just isn't as good as Franklin St. Pizza and Pasta. And oddly enough, today, while eating there, my older daughter asked why all Italians are punk rockers.

Afterwards, we hit Morehead Planetarium for the Lego Palooza, which always makes me think of Lollapallooza and days of early college debauchery. But there was no debauchery there...just a ballroom filled with Lego exhibits and then in a corner a huge pile of legos surrounded by a huge pile of children who were building their own masterpieces. The place was so crowded, and having a two year old who likes to run wild and free and a six year old who is always asking me if she can take off her clothes, I was feeling a little stressed out.

Which got me thinking about Berlin playgrounds. Man oh man was I a royal mess on those couple of days a year when it was hot and the sun was shining and everyone from miles and miles around would ascend upon Kollwitz Platz. I would come with or meet friends and then proceed to have no conversation with them for two hours because I had to make sure I didn't lose track of my children among the sugar infested masses. This would stress me out totally - and I am talking in a way that only a stiff drink could help.

Which led me to think, if I can't find a sense of calm in this ballroom filled with legos in an itsy bitsy town, how in the @#$%& hell am I going to maneuver my sweet offspring through a city of like a hundred million people? Of course I immediately dismissed the thought, rationalizing that life in the big city would be more calm once settled and in a neighborhood, and things like going outside were purely optional. Hmmmm.....

And so on to the present since it is taking me eight frickin' years to write this entry. I know I could divide it into two or three or ten, but you know, whatever. Feel free to take a break and pee or just log out, whatever you need to do.

So this morning, my two year old comes to her mama and asks for a tissue to wipe her snotty nose. Out of all practicality (and a little bit of laziness not wanting to go upstairs and rummage through the closet to find a roll of toilet paper), I decide to just use the bottom of her shirt (it was dirty anyways and I was about to change it, I promise). Well, this freaked her out totally, and she told me all about it: Don't wipe my nose with my Tar Heels shirt. Get a tissue! Now, what suprized me in this conversation wasn't the fact that the two year old was putting the Lazy Ass Pothead Fokker Mama (minus the pot part of course) in check. It was that she referred to her shirt, which is just baby blue in color, as being a Tar Heels shirt. This all started one summer evening when we decided to take the girls to see the Tar Heels girls soccer game. The two year old was intensely fascinated with the cheering part of the experience. Everytime someone got close to a goal, every time the crowd would get a little louder, my daughter stood up and started yelling, "Taw Heeeeeews!!!!" This carried over to any situation where there was a crowd, such as at the John Edwards rally. Every time the crowd cheered or started clapping, there was my two year old shouting, "Taw Heeeewwws!! You say 'number' I say 'one'!" Plain craziness.

Okay, I'd better get some work done.

Love and Peace,
Mama Jens

2007-01-28T04:29:00.000Z

Its late. Sunday or Saturday or whatever. Mama Jens is totally obsessed now with moving to the city. Give me an idea and I just run with it. So I'm not getting many votes here, but we're going anyways. We just know its time. And in a couple of months, we'll be back in the chaos. Life is just so dang weird, I tell you.

Speaking of weird, my two year old is saying the word "weird," which is just total craziness. She rattles on about things in her half-understandable speech, and every now and then, punctuates it all by saying, "That's weird." And it is weird. Right on.

And so it is time for a couple of things. First, another get-rid-of-a-thon. If you followed my last one, then you know what I am talking about. Moving makes me want to get down to the basics - and by basics, I mean a couple of suitcases worth of belongings. Of course, this time we have furniture that we can just drive north, so that is a little less complicated, but still. I look around, and even though most people see something like an empty room, I see clutter. I get crazy over that. So now, with thoughts of moving, I feel the need to purge, even if we're just talking about thoughts.

And then there is the living-in-your-reality-as-you-are-experiencing-it problem. That means, everywhere I go, I think, "Take me to the big city." I have to work on that one...I have to accept the here and now and just appreciate it and enjoy the love and friendliness and good weather and slow pace. It is cozy here, for sure. And I appreciate how easy it is to do things, to get from Point A to Point B, etc.

And so I am trying...despite recent chemical imbalances and all kinds of other mental disturbance, I am trying very hard to exist, participate, and even enjoy.

So on that note, I'll tell you what we've been eating. Very Heathly Food. I am cooking fish like three nights a week, these days. Salmon, Tuna, Talapia...and the guys at Whole Foods never fail to give good and interesting cooking recommendations, down to suggested accompanying herbs and broiling times. Those guys rock totally and I only hope I can find them in the city too. And what have we been doing? Working, taking photos until our eyes pop out of our heads, and raking leaves. We live among some pretty dense and sky tall oak trees and several months ago, those things dropped all their beautiful foliage. We have done a lot of raking and blowing and even hand moving the frickin' things, but we are still swamped with them. A little kharmic leaf note: If you blow the stuff into the neighbors yard, it will just float on back when the wind blows. Don't even bother doing that.

So back to the city. Park Slope seems to be the location calling us. As we haven't actually been there, we don't know the general vibe. But we do know the basics, that A) it is next to a huge park where we can assure our children that grass and trees still exist and B) there is a very good elementary school there. And so being a Mama, you know, these are basically the driving factors. The downsides...well, from what I can tell reading about the place...A) it is popular because of my aforementioned attributes and therefore rent is AMAZINGLY high and B) it is perhaps overgentrified to an annoying degree. I can deal with some of that, but it can get pretty annoying too. That is what annoyed us about Prenzlauer Berg, as it related to other districts in Berlin. Not enough of a mix, you know. Hipster parents drinking their cafe lattes at the playground, more or less all wearing the same clothes like a freakish clone scene from a movie. We were characters too, I will admit. So when we go there, we can see for ourselves. Is it totally awesome and perfect for a family? Or is it so frickin' hip that we will curl with embarrassment? Whatever it is, it is in the city, and it is only a few stops from lower Manhattan, and it is not too far from mountains when we need an escape and the park sounds amazing, and there is so much more for us there with the kind of work we do, and and and....

Are we totally insane or what? Don't be afraid to answer yes.

Love,
Mama Jens

Mama Takes a Trip to the Big City and Wants to Move There

2007-01-23T02:26:00.000Z

It is impossible not to feel completely blown away the first time you land in the big city. The buildings, the scale is so much larger than life, that you have no choice but to feel overwhelmed stepping in, no matter how many times you have been there before.

My first glimpse of the city through the windows of the airport shuttle was going over the Williamsburg Bridge. Along the highway, one sees acres and acres of rolling hills covered with headstones. And behind that, like a much larger version of the same thing, the Manhattan skyline.

After that initial scale shock comes the near-death-by-taxi (or in this case, Airport Shuttle) experience - which I always have. You see your life flash before your eyes, then SLAM on the brakes, and the people cross over the crosswalk in something like slow motion before you.

I drop off my bags at the Chelsea Lodge (cute, very cute, and not super expensive) and then set out to aimlessly wander for about four hours. Plans escape me and maps become obsolete. In any and every direction, I walk blocks and blocks and absorb everything around me. At some point, I realize I've had nothing to eat all day and I have no idea where I am. I see a subway entrance and go down, still with no direction. I get on a train, go a few stops and realize I'm in Queens. It is quieter there, but I am not ready for that yet. I turn around and go back. Central Park. 70 degrees in January. There are lanes of runners and bikers and families and people covering every little part of each path. Get a grip, Mama Jens. Jump into a taxi. Back at my hotel. Eyes red. Head dizzy. I look like I've been smoking crack all afternoon. I wash my hands. I sit on the bed and try to stop spinning.

Day 2: I wake up at 7am. Eyes wide, heart thumping in my refreshing morning panic attack style. I find my way from bed to shower (if the bed were any closer, it would be in the shower). I squeeze inside and wonder how anyone with body fat would fit in there. Then I'm off to find coffee and 4 GB cards for my camera. People are amazingly friendly, and I wonder why NYC has a negative reputation in that respect. Everyone seems helpful and loveable. I want to kiss them all. I get all my photo stuff together and jump in another death taxi. I think that if I have to spend $200 in taxis on my trip, it will be money well spent. For a moment, I like going fast. I like seeing all the buildings and streets and districts rushing past me. Mama Jens loves taxis, and if you you don't get me killed, you get a big tip. I reel from the chaos and wondering if the people that live there ever experience it any differently. I spend all day taking photos up in the big park. It is good fun and I enjoy interacting with the other humans. When this is over, I head to Tribeca via tea in Greenwich Village for yoga at Kula Yoga. This is the first yoga class that kicks my ass totally. There are like sixty people crammed into a teeny, 100 degree room and the teacher is this awesome, energetic, guy with piles of dreadlocks who just walks in 20 minutes late and is like, "Let's do some fucking yoga!" The beautiful men and women enter a space unlike any other for something like 2 and a half hours and I think, "Oh, this is how they survive in the city." At the end, I am sweating as though I had just run up and down 8000 subway steps and I feel amazing. Another taxi and I am back in my room, passing out at 10pm.

Day 3: It is raining, so I can't take more photos like I had planned. I go back to Cafe Gitanes in Nolita where we went last time and have a croissant and some coffee. I wander around in the rain for awhile before I decide it isn't such a good idea with the equipment getting all wet. I do some shopping and then stop at beautiful Italian wine bar somewhere around Broadway in Soho (I wish I remembered the name) and have an incredible glass of wine in broad daylight. In the evening, I meet an old friend.

Day 4: An emotional morning. Feeling fully adjusted to city life again and it only took 4 days. I go to the same coffee shop. I feel the comforts of a neighborhood feeling around where I am staying. I am in love with this city. I go down to the World Trade Center site and take pictures of cranes and business men getting their shoes polished around Wall Street. I head back through China town, where I really enjoy the eye candy. I buy a fan for one of my daughters and a silk wallet for the other. I head back to Chelsea for a bowl of soup at a nondescript restaurant where I have eaten most of my meals. Then, I find the galleries. Blocks and blocks of old brick warehouses. Not much info on the outsides, apart from the occassional, discreet sign that clues you into the fact that there is something inside. I go in a few. Galleries upon galleries upon galleries. I wander for hours and find myself impressed and inspired by the paintings and photographs within. Then, I spend some time being a voyeur. It is dark now, and I can see right inside those beautiful houses, many of them single family homes. I see their light fixtures and staircases and wonder about their histories. At 7, it is time for the Emily Haines concert at the Hiro Ballroom. Beautiful, stylish New Yorkers file in and sit down. Nothing here feels down to earth. I enjoy the music, but reject the scene. I find my way back to my room, and go to sleep.

Day 5: Jet Blue back to Raleigh. Without you, we'd just be flying a bunch of TVs around the country. Jet Blue rocks totally.

Very nice to make a Mama Trip, but VERY hard to adjust to the reality of life again. Days later, I feel whole again.

And so here's what's happening here, we are seriously considering a move to the big city, folks. I realized there, but mostly when I came back, that I felt infinitely more comfortable in the urban jungle. To check for idealistic projections, we will make yet another trip beginning of April to check it out family style and see if that is ultimately where our adventure is leading us. We kind of saw it coming, but it happened sooner than we thought. We love it here too, and it was perfect for the transition from Berlin, but boy oh boy is the big city calling us. Cast your votes today for or against. And make your recommendations on neighborhoods. Think: schools, parks, love, rent.

In the meantime, we are just doing our research and enjoying and appreciating life here. Namely the quiet. It is sooooo quiet. Outside, quiet (apart from the occasional prancing feet of deer and a distant car on Franklin Street). Inside, quiet (no TV this week...a nice, refreshing experiment in creativity and imagination for our children). Metaphysically, quiet. Give us our neurosis back!!!!!

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Love, Mama Jens

John Edwards (Again) and NYC (Again)

2007-01-03T03:10:00.000Z

Here it is, less than a month after my last post and I am blogging. Productivity. Apart from feeling like my feet aren't touching the ground lately, things are going pretty well.

We saw John Edwards speak at Southern Village (remember - Truman Show, swingers club, sex toy parties, etc...?) over the weekend, which was pretty rockin'. I was proud of the old guy, with his big time, hometown turn-out. He was lookin' good out there, but you couldn't hear him too well, since he was being quietly fed into all the tv station vans framing the crowd. But what I am more interested in than politics and the entire fate of the universe, being the Obsessive-Compulsive Real Estate Mama that I am, is the 25,000 square foot house that he bought somewhere around here. I gotta find that dang thing. I hear it has multiple drive ways, depending on whether you plan to enter the living room first or the kitchen. The dude's got millions, nice hair, and maybe even a chance (it would be pretty awesome if the Prez was from Chapel Hill...would make me feel kinda even then since I lived in Austin when George W was governor...and I remember my husband, then boyfriend, saying, "Can you BELIEVE he was elected GOVERNOR???!!"). So there you go. Rock it, democrats.

And here it is now, 2007. My feet, yes, they are still hanging off the ground, and on that note...I will go to NYC this weekend. I know it is only a couple of blog entries since my last NYC trip...but maybe we will just start seeing a pattern here. Maybe I won't be content with 4 trips a year. Maybe it will be more like every other week, and then we will move there! :) I tell you something, I miss the city life. So there you are. I am going there. On my ownsome. I will go to yoga everyday. I will take photos. I will paint some pictures. I will wander. It is a real Mama Escape. And you will be so proud of me... being the Real Estate Voyeur that I am, I have even set up appointments to look at apartments. Now that I know everything about every house in Chapel Hill, I decided to move on to Manhattan.

And speaking of Manhattan, the book about NYC that my husband lovingly gave the old city freako for Christmas, really keeps talking more about Brooklyn. And so this time, I will check it out. I'll give you the full report.

Ah, a short entry. I have to sleep now. Good night and sweet dreams.

Love,
Mama Jens

2006-12-16T01:34:00.000Z

I am pretty sure no one is really reading this anymore, but that's cool. I haven't been the Most Consistent Blogging Mama in the Universe. Ever since school started, it has been like this whirlwind. The days are busy and short. And well, I've been experiencing some good old fashion depression lately. I can't imagine why, its sunnier than hell outside. The weather is perfect. The town is perfect. School and kids and everything else is pretty much perfect. So what is there to be depressed about...hmm...maybe its just the Mama Jens Darkside, which you wouldn't notice just looking at me.

Speaking of a darkside, I recently discovered that Southern Village (a Truman Show-esque neighborhood where the colorful houses stand in perfect rows on teeny tiny lots and there is a "downtown" and everyone looks groomed and cleaned and happy) has got some pretty rockin' stuff going on in there afterall. You see, when I go to this neighborhood (which has an awesome cinema and pediatrician), my main impulse is to take off all my clothes and run down the streets shouting "FUCKER!" Since I know how readily the Mama Jens Darkside wants to jump out of my skin in that neighborhood, I figure there must be some pretty weird people in there, or a collective darkside consciousness, or something of that nature. Well, anyways, I find out lately that there is a swingers club in that place! Can you imagine?!! And they have sex toy parties in there and everything. I am not into swinging, nor am I into sex toy parties, but you gotta hand it to those people.

It also turns out that there are a few other Chapel Hill gems worth noting:

Bonne Soiree: A beautiful, tiny, cozy French restaurant tucked away off Franklin St. A husband and wife team opened up over the summer, and judging by the difficulty in getting a reservation, it is doing fabulously. The place is like a salon, as in French living room, with baby blues and luxurious drapes, and cozy, lovely tea drinking feelings of love and money well spent. I think there are something like 9 tables in there, but the way they are arranged, it feels like you are the only ones. You get that feeling too when the owner comes over and talks to you about the meal and the wine choice you made and makes recommendations for other wines and even lets you sample some with dessert. The hand written menu and wine pairing service were two other nice touches. The food was incredible. The final bill was incredible too, but not too bad considering the time spent there, the pure enjoyment of the evening, and the beautiful, imaginative, and tasty food.

Lantern and Lantern Bar: I mentioned this in a previous blog entry, but it is worth repeating. Go to Lantern. It is awesome and the bar behind it is awesome. The food and combinations of ingredients will totally amaze you. The cocktails in the bar are incredible too.

Crooks Corner: Now we've tried this restaurant a couple of times. I haven't been amazingly impressed with the food, but probably because I am not a huge fan of southern cooking in general (think deep fried pickles and shrimp & grits). But what is very sweet here is simply the local impression this place leaves. You get the feeling that this is really a Chapel Hill establishment like no other and that the owner is very connected to this place and surrounding areas in terms of food and local ingredients. I love the outdoor heated porch too.

Whole Foods: I am sure I have mentioned this before and it isn't like it is some secret, but Whole Foods rocks completely. I go there nearly everyday (I haven't abandoned my daily shopping ritual) and love to buy fresh fish and meat there. The people are so friendly and helpful and knowledgeable too. You ask about fish, they tell you everything about the damn fish, up to what it ate yesterday. You ask about wine, they give you the best, most accurate recommendations you could get, you ask about cheese, they open the package right there and give you a hefty chunk (and eat one with you!) I could kiss them all. And the added bonus of all the hotties working there that I get to check out while I am choosing herbs and my children are helping themselves to the samples is not bad either.

So those are a few of the gems we have discovered. And now for a check of the weather...

The winter is short and bright. It is sunny with long shadows all day long. Its a little chilly in the morning - enough for a sweater and light coat, and then by noon it is getting warm, in the 60's, and the jackets and sweaters come off. The sunlight in the early morning (8 or so) and in late afternoon (4ish) is that kind of golden light that you want for your movies, or in my case, for my photos.

So, being familiar now with how light streams around every corner and through every tree and in every window in my house, I like to do my photos here and have my models come here. So my neighbors have been getting quite a show if they are looking out their windows when the sun becomes glittery.

Last night we went to the community center playground in sandals and t-shirts. It was dark by 5 pm which was are only indication of winter. The children swing swang swung and we had a blast.

Speaking of children, they are growing quickly. The little one is starting to talk now, and keeps us laughing most of the day. Yesterday, she insisted on putting on her shirt by herself. "No, I do that BY MY SAUWS!" After a few comical, stretchy twists she got her head and both arms in. The shirt was still bunched up around her chest, and she peered down at the enormous belly still sticking out and said, "Belly in that shirt!" with this look of "How in the world am I gonna get that belly in my shirt?!" Cuteness. And the older one, she's amazing. First grade rocks. She is reading and growing and becoming more aware of herself. She uses words like "vague" and we talk about how she isn't supposed to tell the others that Santa Claus is not real.

And now it is almost Christmas and I know that the commercial feeding frenzy is in high gear and I have been trying to avoid that. Luckily we have a sweet little mall down the road, filled with privately owned businesses (not the typical mall with chain stores) and so I have been working on my own kind of frenzy there.

And I do have to admit that I am impressed by the charity efforts I have seen here during this holiday time. Everywhere you turn, there is an opportunity to support some group or fund or buy items for people in the local nursing home or childrens' home. There is one place that even offers an alternative Christmas market where you can buy gifts of donations to various causes in other peoples' names as their present.

And so after Christmas we will go skiing in Maggie Valley, which is in western North Carolina. I am a little spoiled by the Alps now, so this could be hard, but I am excited about the log cabin in back ass North Carolina thing and just the anticipation of a Mama Jens heavenly skiing experience. Skiing is awesome. Even though it is a lot of work to get all the gear and get ready and get up to the top in your big ass fluffy suit, it is such an awesome, freeing feeling to be on the mountain and skiing like a mad woman. I like.

So I wish you a beautiful holiday season. Big kisses and warm thoughts of gingerbread houses and feelings of gratefulness.

Love, Mama Jens

New York City, Real Estate, and Nights Out

2006-10-28T02:23:00.000+01:00

Hello from a rainy, Halloweenish October night in Chapel Hill.

First things first: We survived our first trip away (to NYC) from the little ones (and they survived too). But more importantly, I am happy to report that we didn't totally freak out and decide we had to move there this very minute. It was totally fascinating and amazing and exciting and I wanted to look at real estate the whole time just out of curiousity, but I did not have the feeling I could live there with small children (unless I had bajillions of dollars and could afford to live on the Upper East Side next to Central Park where my children could play all day with the other children who had just jumped out of their bugaboos, French-cottonly clad, rosy-cheeked, and nanny flanked). I could totally imagine living in the more interesting parts of town (south Manhattan-ish), if I were in the young, sexy, wealthy, childless twenties...but, that is just not the here and now. With kids it would be a little like torture (for both parties). In those areas, it just made me sad to see the little ones all glazed over in their strollers from too much noise and stimulation.

But the NYC adventure totally rocked, in terms of having a little parents' time away. No being at home by 7:30 before story times and meltdowns, no walking at snail speed, no waking up at 6 am, no picking-up-the-fork-and-spoon-exercise routine at dinner. We took advantage of every minute of our time and, I swear, saw so much in three days....MOMA, Whitney, The John Stewart Show, every part of town imaginable (thought we regrettably/regretfully did not make it over to Brooklyn), an awesome little French cafe called Cafe Gitanes, Chinatown, near death by taxi driving, H&M, rows of brownstones that made me curl with curiousity about the layouts and inhabitants behind the facades, and so on. What an absolutely incredible, mind boggling place. I would love to live there when I am an old woman.

And speaking of the here and now, it is fall and beautiful. There is a pack of children in the neighborhood that collect and walk to school, and then later back home together. Seeing your neighbors everyday is amazing. I love them. The neighborhood vibe is pretty good here and so I decided it was time to start a poker club. I made some trashy, home-made flyers, and I passed them out, and then last weekend, we had our first poker night. As far as poker goes, it was kind of a lot of people, but had two tables going and then somewhere around 2am after about 1000 beers and lots of spilled neighborhood psychology, someone finally won and everyone went home. It made us feel very 50's-ish, as in 1950's, neighbors, card games, old fashioned fun, etc.

And speaking of old fashioned fun, I am totally obsessed with real estate. I probably mentioned that somewhere along the line in here, but I can't remember. I spend so much time searching for real estate online that I basically know every frickin' house here, when it was built, how much it sold for, etc. It is kind of scary actually. My memory is total shit, but when it comes to house info and floorplans, I am like Professional Real Estate Mama. So get this: the buyer's agent, who helped us sell this house, wants to hire me as his assistant! I am a photographer and mostly a Mama right now, but hey, why not, maybe it is time I start a career in realty. What do you think?

What else? Oh yeah...cooking. Its that time of year and Mama Jens starts getting her groove on in the kitchen. Not only do I feel the urge to organize poker nights, I want to plan a whole stretch of parties just so I can cook and bake. Crazy, right? I don't know, but it is something in the air this time of year. My Martha (of the Stewart variety) comes out in full force (but with a freakish twist, not that that lady doesn't have the most hugest dark side the most twisted person can imagine...). So that has been fun...caramel apples, fresh sweet potato pie, gingerbread with homemade whipped cream, etc. and so on. And I am so excited about this time of year in America. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas....after years of celebrating them sort of half-ass in another country, we are excited to see how it is done here, even if the commercial, Hallmark, economy-fueling aspect is a little intense-like.

And speaking of freakish twists, I am letting go of my early 90's indie rock obsession. I have seen some of those bands recently, namely Mojave 3 and Built to Spill, and though they were great, I decided that it is just time for this old Mama to move on. I love you guys, but I have to let go of the past. Time for something new. M Ward, for example. Great show.

On that note, we have been going out a lot here. Even though babysitters can be 50$ a pop, we still have been spoiling ourselves and going out to dinner and shows and movies quite a bit. I am still so amazed that we can leave our children with our babysitter and she can put them to sleep and they are cool about it. It makes us feel so accomplished.

And that brings me to Lantern, an amazing restaurant on Franklin St. that we have been too about 4 times now (partially because it is amazing, and partially because there aren't exactly millions of options here). www.lanternrestaurant.com If you are ever in Chapel Hill (unlikely), make sure to go there. They also have an awesome red-lit bar in the back that makes you feel like you could be anywhere in the world. Strange, but true.

So I think that is about all for tonight. Have a great weekend. Keep up the good work.

Love,
Mama Jens

PTA Meetings and Indie Rock Super Heroes

2006-09-07T02:13:00.000+01:00

I am just barely getting one entry a month in here...

School has started. I am officially a mother of a first grader! What a trip down memory lane this has been...blacktops and school lunches, pencil boxes and walking in single file line down the hall. Music class and art class. P.E. I don't think much has changed in the twenty five-ish or so years since I was a first grader. The night before the first day, I took it upon myself to collect all the energy of all the awkward children in the whole universe trying to get to sleep the night before the big day. This resulted in a pretty intense emotional break down...but I recovered, somewhere around 2 am in the bathroom, repeating affirmations that I would be positive and strong for my daughter the next day as she began this new phase of her life. And it worked. The next morning, cool as a cucumber, I walked our excited six year old to school, bags under eyes and coffee cup in hand. I was a nervous wreck most of the morning too, hoping she wouldn't feel too lost in the sea of 500+ children, hoping she would feel welcomed and cared for and safe... And I just felt so relieved when the bell dismissed the little fish, and I saw her come out of her classroom decorated with a huge, confident smile.

And being the new American Mama that I am, I went to the school's first PTA meeting. Oh lordy. So I go there and am shocked that A. Everyone is so nice to each other...as in no one really says how they feel or if they do it is couched in so much fancy smoochy moochy language that you have no idea which side of the fence they are trying to say they are on. This is a BIG change from our kita meetings in Berlin where someone inevitably went home with they feelings hurt, especially the sensitive Americanos like me. and B. The whole flippin' meeting was about money and fund raising...and we aren't talkin extra cash for a few rose bushes in the front yard, we are talkin money for the basics - for the teachers to buy supplies, for different programs to function with the proper materials, for computers and other equipment, etc. Holy craziness. I knew this was public school, but holy frickin' where's the tax money, baby? If they could just scoot one half of one percent of that war money this way, our kids would be so much better off. It just takes a little. So this was a shocker for me, coming from land of the government money everywhere. I-mazing.

And on a totally different note, last week, I went to see Shellac, who are my new super rock heroes. This was one of the best shows I have seen in ages. I saw them at the Cats Cradle, which is a good size club in Carrboro, and which, for such a small town, gets an amazing line-up of shows. For all two of you indie Mamas reading, here is what is coming up...Sufjan Stevens, Mojave 3 (makes me feel old), Lambchop, Portastatic, and M.Ward, Rogue Wave, and Built to Spill. Very exciting. So, Shellac, ahhh...I was in math rock heaven...

And speaking of music, while watching the VMA's last week, I wondered (seriously) if I was too old to start training to be a back up dancer for hip hop acts. Now lets be honest, those are some amazing movements that those ladies make, and I kinda want to do that.

What else? Oh, yeah, we are going to NYC soon!!!! It will be the first time we have gone away without the little ones and I can't wait to go there and imagine what it would be like to live there. I know I will have a crisis about it, but I will try to remain positive a la the first day of school and keep in mind the following: 1. I am not a millionaire, so life in NYC would be kinda rough. We would have to work our asses off to make ends meet, and spend a fortune on rent for a teeny tiny apartment in probably a shitty shiny part of town. 2. We have a big house. 3. We have a yard. 4. It is clean here. 5. The public schools are good, even if you have to sell wrapping paper to fund the French program and 6. We only live an hour from NYC and airplane tickets only cost about 150$ so we can go whenever we want to get a little city fix. Okay, I'm gonna write that down and put it in my wallet, so that when I am walking around the awesome city and I feel that gut wrenching pain to live there, I can find myself a nice spot in a cafe and pull out that list.

Time for some sleep. School gets us up at 6.30 these days. Ouch.

Love,
Mama Jens

Vacations, Birthdays, Nostalgia, and More

2006-08-10T19:42:00.000+01:00

Hello again from Chapel Hill!

We have been traveling a lot and entertaining visitors from Germany. Here is where we went:

Blowing Rock: A cute little mountain town in the Blue Ridge Mountains about two hours west of here. We were calling it the Garmisch of North Carolina, except that there are only 1400 residents as opposed to Garmisch's 26,000. And well, there were no Bavarian men with big beers and beards and no cows parading through town. The Blue Ridge Mountains were beautiful and the vistas from the winding hills, breathtaking. The vertigo I experienced the night after the winding was also quite breathtaking. It is always fun to hold onto the walls when trying to get your blind ass self to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Then we drove to Myrtle Beach, to show the Germans some REAL hard core American loveliness. And loveliness it was, I tell you. That little strip of old-school Myrtle Beach (which we kept calling the Altstadt much to everyone's amusement) was intense. Think Las Vegas meets redneck meets hip hop meets foreigners-working-in-a-beach-town-for-the-summer and you can start to get a sense of the place.

Then we headed north for a much more civilized beach vacation on the Outer Banks. This part of North Carolina is incredibly beautiful. When you drive out there, you get the feeling you are heading toward the end of the world, but a beautiful one...there is nothing out there...just signs saying "Beware of Bears," which is super comforting at 2 am with a quarter tank of gas and two sleeping bundles of joy in the back seat. But the car didn't break down, thank the good lord Jesus and soon we were seeing those cozy, comforting signs of humans again like Food Lions and outlet malls. We stayed for a week in Kitty Hawk in a big, old beach house. Sunning on the sand by day and playing poker at night...it was heaven on earth, I tell you.

And now we are back, safe and sound, in Chapel Hill. The Germans have gone back to Germany, and I find myself nostalgic for Berlin these days.

It came to me (the nostagia) on my older one's 6th birthday last week and hasn't really left. We had a birthday party with about ten kids. I didn't (and still don't) know what the protocol for childrens' birthday parties here is, but I always had in mind that they were to be lavish and include things like clowns, rented blow up entertainment (of the jumping-on variety), beautiful dresses, Martha Stewartish theme coordination and hors d'oeurves and general Chucky Cheese-like overthetopness. Well, we didn't do all that, except of course the Martha Stewart part, since I am, as you well know, kinda like that lady, except a little bit more punk rock and socialist. We kept it low key...a craft (which all the sweet little Montessori trained girls sat peacefully and did in almost frightening silence), some old fashioned bingo, and a pinata which, since it was a million degrees outside, had to be done inside and therefore was quite scary with the broom stick and all. The birthday cake rocked, so did the snacks. All was running smoothly until present opening time. My daughter started to open them...present after perfectly wrapped present...big ones, plastic ones, colorful ones, noise-making ones...it was better than any flippin' Christmas we have had to date, I tell you. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I turned to another mom and said, "Wow, this sure is different from our birthdays in Berlin...." to which she replied, "Welcome to America."

After everyone left, my husband and I were trying to decide what to do about the presents we had bought for her birthday...should we save them for Christmas, had she had enough...? We decided to break down and just give them to her. But, despite the excessiveness of earlier that day, she was thankfully still her same present opening self that she has always been...that is the kind that takes days to open everything because she has to carefully inspect and fully interact with each and everything which can be pretty intense for the impatient onlookers.

And that night, as I tucked her into bed, feeling so American, so excessive, so plastic, we talked about being happy for what we have and for the nice friends we have and have made since we have moved here and how we are rich because we have love. I don't know what you think about all that sappy Communist stuff, but at least it made me feel a little better.

What else??? Oh there are so many things....where do I start....

Lets start with the weather. I hope you don't think all I do is bitch about the weather...In Berlin, it was tooooooo cooooolllld. And here, well, I think it is usually great, but right now it is REALLY FUCKING HOT. Mama Jens is sweatin' her ass off taking care of all those kids. Today, after I watched my 22 month old strip down, grab a magazine, and sit on her blue, plastic potty and before I went nuts and took out all my anger on a line of fire ants hanging out around my sink, I locked the whole lot of us out of the house. Among other things, I learned that our house is actually extremely difficult to break into. With my husband out of town, and all my kids going apeshit in the yard, I walked around and inspected all the doors and windows. Yes, they were all locked, just as they should be. Then I imagined myself on a super long ladder checking to see if the upstairs windows were locked too. Next, I considered finally introducing myself to the neighbors. And then, I called a locksmith. He came over, and then we watched him try every trick in the book to break into our house, all the while sweating our dang heads off outside in the 100 degree weather. Very enjoyable, to say the least. 2 hours and 75 bucks later, we were in, air conditioned, and happy, new locks and all.

And my Berlin nostalgia...I miss urban life you can't imagine. And today, after talking to a couple of different German businesses (an optiker and a florist) on the phone, again in my broken German, again with my sense of self-defense, I kinda felt a pang of love for those old guys. I realized that after all those years, I actually did learn how to deal with those interactions (which were always painful) quite well. I learned how to work my way through the mazes of "nos" and "its not possibles" in the way I needed to, and it is comforting now to be so many millions of miles away and to still be able to deal with it.

But what I really miss, much much more than the German businesses, is the closeness of the friendships I had there, something I have yet to really achieve here, something that takes years to foster. And why do those relationships seem so far away, when something like the internet makes the world seem so small? We look forward to spending summers there, which we will start next summer. I know it will be different, but I am excited to see the changes.

Okay, there is always more to say, but I will save it for another entry. If you made it this far, rock on. If not, I totally understand. Good night and much love,

Mama Jens

Mama Jens Update

2006-06-09T03:10:00.000+01:00

I am not a very Good Mama Blogger lately. Are any of you still with me???

It is June and it has been over a month since my last post. I will preface this entry by saying: we are so happy we moved here. Despite the things we scoff at in all our objectivity, we appreciate everything about the way things turned out. Life is so different, but we know we made the right decision.

Randomness:

The space of transition remains cloud-like even three months later. Fundamental things are so different. Time, for example, totally different. Food, sense of self, routines, different. People adapt and there is this innate make-do function not unlike what happens with birth. In our memories, it is all rosy - everything from birth (painless) to tantrums (cute) because Mother Nature can't afford for us to think otherwise. Suckers. I think big transitions in life are similar. Something happens in our minds to make these situations (marriage, moving, new job, etc. and so forth) very exciting, whether they are or not because that is the only way we can cope, survive. I am not saying that my mind is tricking me into thinking that this is all just a good thing. It definitely is a good thing. See...I can't know about the Trick. And so it goes....

Whoa.

The other night, we watched Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Prices. That basically reaffirmed our plans to never shop our Wal-Mart=Evil Bastard. It also addresses the America we don't like, but that we are not alone in not liking.

Debt is so American. Never in my life have I felt the impulse to accrue debt as I do these days. There is some evil shit going on right here. Everyone is trying to sell you something. And, well, you can afford it, even if you can't because you have 12 months to pay it interest free and you have a coupon, and you would be missing a deal if you didn't and and and... We will not be suckers. No. No. No. We don't like.

Nature. We have a lot of it. If you are one of my old school Mama Jens Blog Readers, then you know that I am no fan of nature, by nature. But one can learn. Maybe it is possible to take the big city out of the girl. Or is it just that I am protecting my investment? Whatever it is, I have the undeniable urge to keep leaves and big sticks off my little lawn. I have found myself, almost daily, doing such natural things as planting flowers, paving garden paths, mulching, and communing with the unavoidable constants of our property (squirrels, chipmunks, deer, spiders, birds, and a million other bugs for which I will never know the names). I won't squash anything, because I am pretty sure it will come after me in another life. I invite you bugs and insects and other things to live happily out here. Breed. Chirp. Dig holes. Eat my flowers. I will not squash you. You like. Don't bite me.

Anonymity. Moving somewhere new affords one the privilege of anonymity. Nice. Part of me absolutely loves not knowing many people at all because there is so much time!! Wow! Time to paint, time to sew, time to do the dishes. It is amazing. And I am savoring it because I know that, in this small town, one is only two steps away from the next person. This won't last long.

On the other hand, being outside of a city is very isolationist in that you have a house, you stay in it. You have your own swingset, you don't go to the park anymore. You drive to the store, you nod to the cashier, and thats about all folks. No people, nowhere. It is so easy to disappear here. Right now, I like. But in a few months, I won't.

OK, sleepy. Good night and good lovin'. Love, Mama Jens

First, Cut Finger...Then, Buy House

2006-04-28T03:39:00.000+01:00

Good evening, ladies and gentlemens.

My first realization tonight is that I seriously should drink more. I am so busy all the time being a neurotic freako that I always forget to sit down and have a drink and just relax damn it. But after a little glass of bubbly, I realize that thinking clearly is actually possible. Instead of racing from point a to point b in my mind all the time like a wild damn turkey, I can actually coast there and savor the thought, ponder it, even change it. Amazing.

So here is what I did today: I bought a house. That's right. I bought a frickin' real bonafide two- storey, expensive-as-hell, adult, mature house with a yard and trees and driveway and mailbox and everything. Whoa. During the closing (lawyers, realtors, wooden oval table, signatures, clean clothes, paperwork), our sweet little sweetie kept busy trying to see what she could find inside my shirt. That was super fun. But it all worked. All three thousand million papers were signed, no one ran out screaming, and it was all cool. And now we are real, American homeowners. We like.

This is what else I did today: Cut my finger real bad. I actually went to the doctor at 8 am before the closing on the house to get stitches. There wasn't enough time, so I had to go back later, but I did get a nice band aid and some neosporin (sp?) for closing which was super friendly. Its all very psychological you see...nervous, brain elsewhere, thinking about how I will tie the color scheme in the childrens' room together, contemplating how I will breathe under this mountain of debt, making lunch for the five year old, cutting a big, german-style loaf of brick-like bread with a little ole steak knife, etc...the knife slips...and wham-o!... Big, deep cut right on the ole index. It took me a couple of minutes to register...blood, no pain really, blood, lots of moving and finger-using to do this weekend, more blood, deep, oh shit really deep... and there we were...all four of us...suddenly completely consumed by Mama Jens' cut finger. Closing on a house becomes less important (for just a second), getting the children dressed becomes totally optional, getting to school on time becomes a ridiculous requirement. It was all good. It helped. It broke tension. It distracted. I would certainly recommend it to any of you who might be buying a house any time soon.

So, America...it is still strange...but I think we are getting used to it. We had a little panic a couple of weeks ago. We almost totally freaked and moved to NYC. But then we came to, and realized that such a move within a move wouldn't be the smartest thing we have ever done...and well, we kinda like it here. It isn't the most amazing place in the entire universe, but it might be that we just need to meet some people. Still, we miss the urban, the contact with people, the movement, the opportunity....

Let's look at it this way...there is short term and long term....maybe we'll head up to the big city in a couple of years when our kids can walk without whining (or at least can whine a little less while walking) and we can afford something bigger than a closet (because I think we might need two closets) and we are so calm and balanced and refreshed and healthy that we are bored and need a good dose of craziness to set us straight.

Life is short! Move around!! Do things!!! Change your environment!! Quit your job! Take chances.

Ah....I feel better.

Time for another glass of champagne....

I hope you are having a lovely evening. Love and big kisses, Mama Jens.

Driving My Ass All Over Town

2006-04-05T15:36:00.000+01:00

Driving is a major, unavoidable, American past time. Cars are outfitted to that effect...with TVs, DVD players, computers, cup holders, little fridges, etc. You can drive-thru for food, banking, laundry, etc. We could live in the dang things. No problem. They are air-conditioned. They are cozy. You can keep your kids strapped down. Perfect.

And driving here is very different. It is a little like everything has been designed for giants, slow giants. The cars are BIG, the lanes are BIG, the freeways are WIDE, and the shoulders are WIDE. And everything moves SLOOOWWWWLY. No zipping at amazing speeds like I did Mama Taxi Driver style in the big city with all my kids crammed in a teeny car. No flying past the inferiors in the right lane on the autobahn.

First of all, there is no concept of right and left lane here. Trucks will pass you on the left which totally weirds me out. And nothing is zippy. Instead of entering the freeway ready to fly, you just get on there and you sort of float. The lanes are so big that you can even float around in your own lane just for fun if you want. And everyone is going so slowly that you have time to do things like file your nails, put on your make-up, and turn around to make sure your kids are entertained in the back seat, though I wouldn't recommend any of these things. The larger problem I am trying to overcome while driving is sleeping. As soon as I get in the car and start floating, I just want to sleep. I start yawning like crazy and have to slap myself on my cheeks and roll down the window to wake myself up a little. No neurosis there, ladies and gentlemen...I kinda like.

But here's a big problem with the floating - exercise. I can already tell by this lifestyle that Mama Jens' tiny little ass is gonna start growing if she don't get her exercise on. You go home. You sit. You eat. You walk to your car. You sit. You eat. You get out somewhere. You sit. You eat. There is absolutely no mystery as to why there is such a weight problem in the U.S. Sure the food in restaurants and fast food are awful (and taste like cardboard mixed with chemicals and fried in grease), but a huge part of it is the lifestyle and the lack of exercise. In Berlin, I probably lost five pounds every time I went to the bank because I had to haul two kids, groceries, and a stroller over broken sidewalks and obstacle-course-style construction sites just to get there. Everyday life keeps you fit there, no problem. But here, one has to make an effort.

And we are determined to stay fit, damn it.

And on that note, our coolest discovery here so far is that there is a series of paths through the woods that link all parts of the town. You can get around by walking if you want to. Some of the paths are paved and some of them are not. They wind up and down hills, and they are beautiful. We have gone on them a few times and I feel like a real Nature Mama out there. And they are busy...lots of people walking, roller blading, riding bikes. See, America can be cool.

There is also a bus system in town that is FREE. Holy progressive town! We haven't figured out the system yet, but I will and will let you know how it is.

Can we manage to keep our car parked and do the town on bus and foot, using our car only when we need to? Cast your votes today.

Happy Wednesday. Don't drive. Walk.

Love, Mama Jens

Our First Month as Americans

2006-04-02T17:53:00.000+01:00

We have survived our first month in America!!

It has been a busy month with people visiting and taking care of all the things that go with a move, so I haven't been able to blog...I hope you are all still out there!!!

Wow! Where do I begin?? This past month has been a strange mixture of culture shock at times and feeling totally at home and comfortable at other times. It is amazing how hard it is to conjure up life in Berlin...it is like my mind won't let me too much...I think the sunshine is too bright to think.

The emotions go something like this....exhaustion and recovery from the process of moving and leaving Germany, the feeling like we are just on a long vacation, a sensation of leaving it all behind and starting life new again escape-artist style, feeling like I have forgotten very basic things like how to cook or what I like to do with my time, etc. and so forth. The good news is that this cloud of total disorientation - possibility, excitement, confusion, loss, hope, obsession, fear, anticipation, relief, freedom - is beginning to subside. People are amazingly resilient.

I think we like it here.

So far, Chapel Hill is:

1. Amazingly small. Everyone you meet knows someone you've just met. This is both cozy and a little furreaky. It also might explain why everyone is so dang friendly. No one wants to offend anyone who might know someone you know and so on.

2. Cute. Cozy neighborhoods with winding, hilly roads. The vegetation is wild and overgrown (even pre-summer bloomin'). There are magnolia trees the size of the jolly green giant and wisteria hangs lazily off trees just as you would imagine from any proper southern town. Cherry blossoms and apple trees flower purple, white, and pink throughout the forests. As you know, I am not nature Mama, but I think I have already been converted. I will grow a garden.

3. Left. You don't even have to talk to anyone to see that Chapel Hill residents are very politically conscientious and liberally minded. We knew we loved the place when we saw a group of old folks hanging out on a street corner engaged in their own little protest, picket signs and all.

4. A big supporter of small businesses. There are no big, ugly chain stores within the city limits. That's right...none...no walmarts, targets, best buys, lowes, etc. and so on. Durham has them, but not Chapel Hill. Buying local is encouraged everywhere, and we get the feeling that Chapel Hill residents are willing to pay more (even much more) to keep those cute, small businesses from being swallowed by the ugly suck heads.

5. Organic. There is the Weaver Street Market - a community owned, organic, grocery store with a big front lawn that seems to be the sort of town center. They have live music and its basically just awesome. They also have a restaurant serving up locally grown meals. I like.

6. Healthy. The people are fit (I didn't expect this) and you actually see them out walking, running, and cycling (I didn't expect that either).

So, I think we'll feel at home here. We have certainly had our share of moments where we're like, holy cow, let's move to NYC before we sign any leases, but then we kick ourselves a little and remember that, for children (and neurotic mamas), big city life ain't no fun no way.

Which brings me to my next thought. What I really want to do is speak with a southern accent. I was very surpized to find that not many people here do. Instead, because of the university and research triangle, there is this total international mix. I haven't met anyone that is actually from here yet. Weirdness. I guess I'll have to keep my southern accent to the confines of my own home.

So I'll keep you posted on small town life. Its pretty rockin'. I hope you are all well and happy. More soon. Love, Mama Jens

Hello Chapel Hill!

2006-03-10T03:56:00.000Z

Working through the culture shock....wow!! I promise a post soon! Love, Mama Jens