To My Sweet Violet

I remember today, 2 years ago as if it was yesterday. April 4, 2010 was Easter Sunday. The day before I had hidden tons of eggs all around the apartment for Lily to find in the morning since the weather was supposed to be awful and Easter egg search outside not recommended. I took tons of pictures that day; Lily searching for eggs, Lily finding her loot, Lily digging in. I am glad I took so many pictures that day, as we did not know yet when we got up this morning that it would be our last day as a little family of four. I was tired this day and slept a lot. I remember sometime I the afternoon I napped on the floor in the living room with Lily cuddled close to me with her little sister still in my tummy between us. For some reason I lived this day very aware of what was ahead. With my second pregnancy I had arrived at a point of natural spirituality I had looked for all during my pregnancy with Lily. With Lily all I remember is pain, confusion, lack of control. Prolonged prodromal labor, my stubbornness that told me that it was not time yet, that the doctors said it would take another 2 weeks, that the classes weren't over yet, that it was not time yet. Now, I had left work each day as if I would not come back; I cleared my desk, updated my colleague on open cases. It was the middle of my due week. My first due date had past on March 31st and both of my midwives were safely out of town not to return until the 9th, the day after my second due date on April 8th. The minute my midwife told me that the first time in the history of their practice they would both be out of town at the same time I knew that this was the week my daughter would arrive. This time around I was patient, knowing from the depth of my heart that she would come once she was ready, and in hindsight I am grateful that she chose this first Monday in April, giving me time to live a close day with Lily before welcoming her home into our new family of four.

I love you from the depth of my heart, my sweet little Violet! I cannot believe that tomorrow will mark the second anniversary of your arrival. We are so thankful that you have chosen us to be your parents and all the changes you have brought to our lives, my daughter, my little star, my heart.

Weird Post On Interpersonal Mechanisms

Is there something like the oldest daughter complex? This question came up between a friend of mine and me last weekend. She vented about a fairly stressful visit of a friend of hers to her house, and that her mother had not been happy with her helping out the friend by letting her stay. But what else should she have done? Told her friend no? And here it comes, the oldest daughter complex. Is it just a coincidence that my closest friends are all oldest daughters? That my friend and I like to vent to each other since we know that we understand each other?

 

The oldest daughter complex, we found, is the urge having to help any- and everyone who asks us, whether it is good for ourselves and destroys us; and even though we do our best, we still feel guilty for not doing enough. We try to be perfect, strive to meet a benchmark that is beyond a normal person. We feel lacking at all times even though we work until we are at the end of our strength. We accept the criticism from outsiders; we allow ourselves to be hurt by it and try even harder (and here the spiral begins). I have watched oldest daughters destroying their families because they were unable to draw the line. Those, who do not have their own lives any more and while themselves being at the verge of a mental and physical breakdown are still not able to say no.

 

As an oldest daughter myself, I started to analyze this behavior about a year ago. And here the problem really started: when I began to break out of this mold that had shaped me for most of my life, I crashed with the little sibling personality, which seems to develop alongside the oldest daughter complex. While the oldest daughter helps and works and supports and still feels inadequate, the little sibling personality often describes a failed person, who never had to take any responsibility for their actions or decisions in their lives but being constantly praised and lifted up so that at last they perceive themselves as some sort of demi-god who cannot do any wrong.

 

During my personal development, which started out of utter exhaustion and depression that became the refusal to acknowledging the superiority of the little sibling personality, I decided to embrace a way that made me the target of scrutiny yet again. After a fairly degrading fist fight and other mud-slinging incidents from the little sibling personality's side, I decided to let the person for once take responsibility for their action and when I was told either to publicly apologize for something I said (and meant) or all ties would be cut, I went for option 2. Of course, this decision was considered by everyone to be completely my fault, but for once I felt like a huge burden being lifted off my shoulders. I knew that for once I had made a decision that helped myself and in turn my family. Working a 40-hour plus week and being a full time mom and wife I cannot waste any of my energy on people who take advantage of me. I still like to help, but I know my priorities. I still overdo it sometimes, but I am learning to read the signs. I am not perfect, but I know that I do my best for my family, and this is all that counts.

Still Speechless!!

Last Sunday I went with the girls to see my parents (Richard had a well-deserved "day off" role playing with his friends). My parents had invited a little 3-year old girl who spends a lot of time with them so the kids could all play together. At some point during the day I got to witness the following scene:

While the girls were all playing upstairs I was having coffee with my parents downstairs. Suddenly, the 3-year old called for my mother. We went upstairs to check what had happened. Obviously, Lily had gone in one of the rooms, closed the door behind herself and was now playing there. The girl demanded from us to order Lily to open the door. Of course we refused and told the girl to open the door herself; the girl shook her head saying that she couldn't open the door because Lily had told her not to do so. We told her that if she didn't open the door she would just have to play outside (where most of the toys were anyways). There, she just lost it. She was getting angry, yelling, screaming and threatening Lily to open the door; of course, Lily did not. The girl started flailing at the door like a little maniac, continuing screaming and cussing without ever once touching the door handle to simply open the door. I removed Violet from the situation and waited until the girl recaptured composure, which took her quite a while.

To be honest, I have seen my share of tantrums with our girls, but this scene just left me completely speechless! Even not quite 2-year old Violet would have gone and opened the door which had not been locked or barred. Right now I am considering contacting her daycare providers, who have before mentioned to her custodian that her behavior in the group was strange. Obviously she was more often than not simply sitting in her corner staring in front of herself and needs to be almost forced to participate in group activities. Am I exaggerating and is all this still normal behavior for a 3-year old?  

PS: This experience will probably be part of another post in the foreseeable future, but I'm still digesting on this experience and will need some time to put it in perspective. Any comment is highly appreciated!!

Modern Cooking: Individual Salad Bowls

A couple of weeks ago my parents came over for a nice antipasti dinner. Among other things like smoked salmon, roasted peppers, and feta cheese I served up this little side salad, which is quick and easy to prepare and can be really versatile.

The side salad version (basic recipe):

You need per person:

ca. 3-5 lettuce leaves

1 tomato

1/4 cucumber

olive oil, balsamic vinegar, Italian herbs

How to prepare it:

Cover a small bowl with the lettuce leaves. Dice tomato and cucumber very finely and combine. Fill the mix in the lettuce-covered bowl and drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Sprinkle with herbs and serve.

Make it a meal:

Use a larger bowl and double ingredients using enough lettuce to cover the bowl. Cut a grilled chicken breast in thin strips and mix with the cucumber and tomato before filling it in the bowl. Serve with rosemary bread or simple French bread.

Make the meal vegetarian:

Instead of chicken breast dice some feta or goat cheese and mix in with the tomato and cucumber. You can also add chickpeas or thick white beans for extra protein.

Veganize it:

Instead of chicken breast or cheese use smoked tofu. Add chick peas or white beans if desired.

Live What You Preach

I think I can say that my kids have made me a lot more self-aware. I try to speak more clearly, try to be more self-confident about myself, eat healthier, and so on. But how much of the other things we try to our kids, like tolerance, acceptance, and the importance of diversity are we truly living? How far has prejudice and xenophobia penetrated our society and daily life? (Let's just remember the killer spree of a band of neo-nazis here in Germany being labeled the "Doener Murders".; seriously??)

A couple of weeks ago I was watching a documentary on Tolerance Week. It followed a so-called "wolf-girl", whose face and shoulders are covered in hair, in her daily life, showing her struggles to fit in and be accepted by society, her peers, and even her family. At some point Lily reacted much like a 4-year old would: she giggled and said the girl looked funny. Of course I gave her the speech of how people look different and that everyone is beautiful in their own way. But later on it made me think how much of what I had told my little girl I actually live in daily life myself?

Growing up I knew a boy, who, by false treatment in the hospital when he was born, had developed a condition of excessive hair growth on his entire body. To me, he was always just Tobi. When he first started kindergarten he was doing fine and made friends quickly. A few months later, however, that changed. I remember overhearing our moms talk about the names my friend was called in kindergarten due to his looks. Names, that definitely did not spring from the kids' heads but things they must have overheard their parents say. It took years for him to be accepted again as he was during the first few months, since kids easily learn, not only the positive things but also the cruelties.

I will be honest, I definitely catch myself in situation where I wonder: was this just necessary? Would I want my daughters see me doing or saying that? I am human and far, far from perfect, but I try not to be a bigot. I do not want to teach tolerance to my girls without heeding my own teachings. Thus, I am trying every day to become a better person for my children's sake, to make this world a better one, even if it is only by small deeds. I want both of them to be a better person than I am, and maybe even manage to become a better person myself on the way.

Walking The Line

I know it's been a long time since I've written a proper post. As I have already said, it's been a time of soul searching and trying to figure out where I am heading with all this. I had to take a step back to focus more on myself and the family, but I feel that it's time for me to start up again. I have long contemplated about this step but have decided, to start out again, that I would like to share a story with you about a girl, who has always known that she doesn't quite fit in. As long as she can remember, she has felt just a little different from the other kids, misunderstood. From an early age on she was an outsider, fleeing from her life in the world of books. Growing up she always striven to fit in, but never quite managed. She fled into different kinds of spiritualism, but eventually realized that it just was not in her to be a believer. She cut herself with everything that she could lie her hands on to dull the pain inside her with the pain on her outside. She starved herself to try and gain control of herself, her life, and her emotions, but failed. She saw therapist after therapist, who always focused on the issue on hand without looking at the big picture. The years passed and she existed on, went to school, fulfilled her duties, and kept looking for the tiniest bit of forgetting at the wrong places. She graduated and moved to the city to go to college, but nothing changed. She had friends but was still the odd one out. She was sad, she cut and starved herself. She destroyed her body with exercise and alcohol until she finally ended up with a therapist who confronted her with the big picture: Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). She was put on medication to ease her depression and for a while, she kind of felt like normal. She had a relationship, got engaged and was ready to settle down, until everything came crashing down around her. At this point she decided to quit the medications and start to fight. She decided that if she was sad then so be it. She would accept it and live with it. She would accept who she is and not try to fit in any more. She fought against the urges to destroy her body and use her will power that helped her to discipline her body into ruin to become healthy. She wrote down her pain and sadness. She fought to not lose her grip on life. Eventually, one night she met someone on the internet, someone she didn't need to explain herself to, someone who just knew. They met in person, fell madly in love and were married soon afterwards.

I now would like to tell you that the girl and the guy lived happily ever after, but it would have been a lie. Six years and two beautiful children later they are still madly in love, but the struggle isn't over. Even though the girl has experienced happiness beyond her wildest dreams, the black holes of sadness are following her wherever she goes. There are still days and even weeks when she is sucked in and fights through the darkness to regain the light. She has learned to live with it and persevere, even though sometimes when making a cup of tea she feels the urge to pour the hot water over her legs to dull the pain. But for her family she keeps fighting and is the more grateful for the truly happy times.

I am telling you this story to show that BPD is a real danger. Look around and there might be a person battling those demons without you ever knowing, with the smile in their face and the darkness within, walking the line between happiness and despair, between the night of their demons and the light of their love ones; walking the line between life and death.

Crafting Madness

I happen to be a person who generally likes to craft, but happens to have little talent bestowed on her. Therefore I am always excited to find interesting and easy-to-do inspirations that even let me hope for a success. My latest art project was totally inspired by my latest addiction, Pinterest. Several people have done this collage, unfortunately I didn't find the links any more in order to give the more creative people out there credit for it.

Finished piece

Even though we have moved into our place about a year and a half ago, I have been slacking decoration-wise. Therefore, our large living room wall is still bare. At the same time, there is no lack of random papers with little girls' scribbling on them, and I tend to be one of these mothers that I will not toss the paper once one of my girls has taken a pencil to it.

Bare living room wall

All I needed was a large canvas (I used 40cm x 40cm, about €7.00 at NanuNana), dark brown acrylic paint (€3.00 at the art supply section of a local drug store), a glue stick (the original poster used a hot glue gun, but I rather not fidget with that just yet), scissors and plenty of our girls' scribbles (only paper where they scribbled a few lines here and there, I did NOT cut up their artwork!!). A glass of red wine was also helpful!

My supplies (scissors and glue not in the picture)

First, I painted the entire canvas with the acrylic paint (don't forget the sides!). While the canvas dried I cut out leaves of the scribble paper. I cut them in 3 general sizes (S, M and L, having most of the small ones and just a few of the large ones).

Painting the canvas

 After the paint had dried I arranged the cut-out leaves in an asymmetrical flower pattern (you can play with that around as much as you like) and then started to glue the individual leaves on the canvas. I plan on getting some spray finish at some point just to secure the leaves better on the canvas, but it already has been up for a few days now and no fall scenery in our living room, so I might just leave it at that..

Close-up of the finished piece

A little hint: If you don't have kids' scribbles available but like the design, just use craft, wrapping, scrap book, or even news paper for the leaves!