This was a huge month.

At the start of this month, we had verifiable good news – we’d be moving to Munich! Of course, by then, you were all comfy at Oma and Opa’s, and quite frankly, we were dreading pulling up your roots again, but it would have to be done, and so we were eager to get it done and over with as soon as possible.

It looked, in the beginning, like we’d move into a house, and so Papa and Mama scoured the Internet for leads on where would be good to live. Munich has great public transport, but we had no intention of getting a car, so we’d have to be very careful. Fortunately, we were able to come up with some reasonable possibilities fairly quickly, and in short order, Papa and Opa were planning a trip down to have a look and see what seemed reasonable. It went really, really fast.

Now, normally, Mama would have gone with Papa on such a trip, but there were some complications the Internet doesn’t need to know about, and in any event, I didn’t like the idea of leaving you for three days. So Papa and Opa went on their own, and you and I decided to have an outing somewhere, because Mama likes to travel, and you just like trains.

On Papa’s advice, we ended up in Gerolstein, which in addition to making tasty mineral water is quite lovely.

Of course, Papa neglected to tell me that the only way to the hostel is to walk there from the train station (no big deal, but it is a ways away from the station) and that it is at the highest point in the city (and is a very steep walk up in the summer heat), but never mind that – we went to have a good, relaxing Mama-and-Baby time.

And that we did!

First, of course, there was the family room you and I got, which effectively meant bunk beds and new closets to explore, something you just can’t resist

Hehehe... you'll never find me in here...

Family room in Gerolstein - regular hostel room, but we moved a bed up to the side of the bunk so Torsten wouldn't fall out

But the town is beautiful and quiet and there’s lots of forest and nature outside, and so we did our best to enjoy that too

Youth Hostel Gerolstein

There was a sandbox which your cars immediately decided they should play in…

Sandbox

And of course the requisite swing, which you could see from our room window and made you very happy…

Torsten's really getting the hang of these big boy swings

Lots of room to run around, which is a large part of the reason why we came here to begin with – by this point, you’d gotten so competent at walking that you had started to really run, and you needed space to develop coordination.

View down into Gerolstein from the hostel

And of course, you explored the hostel as well. One of the best things about the place is that there was plenty of room for you to explore without Mama holding your hand or being right next to you.

Wandering around the youth hostel in Gerolstein

We played a lot of hide and seek, too

Hide and seek with Gerolstein in the background

And you just had a great time. Mama had a blast watching her little guy able to be so free as well.

Here I come!

Flying by

We took a couple of nice forest walks as well – at this age, you’d discovered you could push your own stroller and liked to push it along with Mama and Papa, so the trails and roads at the time of the hill/mountain through the forest were perfect.

Forest walk

We walked to a little chapel not too far from the hostel together.

Zur Bueschkapelle

Forest walk

Forest walk

Bueschkapelle

Torsten, running around at the Bueschkapelle

You, of course, wanted to break in

Torsten storms the gates

Forest walk

In the stroller, at the end of our forest walk

There was a lot to see, and the forest was cooler than the rest of the town (and most of the rest of Germany – it was hot everywhere while we were there), so we had a good time. (N.B. The bare feet in the picture above came after T had given up on walking – he has big feet and doesn’t really enjoy shoes much…)

And so we had a couple of days of just playing and walking and running around and eating, and with the exception of a really creepy 8-to-12-year-old girl who actually hurt you and who I got the distinct feeling enjoys hurting animals when her parents weren’t looking (I can’t really explain this except to say that when you mean one of these people, you just know), it was a lovely time. Very relaxing, and it helped Mama unwind, which, I think, also led to a happy Torsten.

Happy fun Torsten!

Superguy (and his chipped tooth)

And happy Torsten you were! When we got back, we got the news that Papa and Opa had found a house – the details just needed to be sorted. This was very exciting indeed, because it really was moving quickly, though because the house was partially unfinished (very common in Germany these days is to finish everything but the floors and a few details so that the buyer can customize at buying time), there would be some lag time before we could move in (possibly as late as November). Mama wasn’t too thrilled about the lag time, but one accepts what one has to, and really, this all was happening very fast.

Except that over the course of the next few days, as legal details were discussed and other people’s involvement and desires became clear, it became clear that this was, in fact, too fast. There were some costs, some monetary but mostly other, that were difficult to overcome and that we at some point decided they were too much to pay, even if they were within our means. And so Papa and I found an apartment online, and made the crazy move of arranging to rent it sight-unseen and move in a few days later.

Because what the three of us really needed was the space and freedom to be our own little family again. Don’t get me wrong – you were having a fantastic time at Oma and Opa’s and they were extremely accomodating in having us in their home and helping us prepare to move, etc., but it was definitely time for us to have our own place again. And so Papa and Opa loaded up a truck full of collected furniture, Oma and I loaded a Torsten into his stroller, and Papa and Opa drove to Munich while you and I took the train.

This time, however, there was no Kleinkindabteil. And you know what? You did wonderfully You drove the guys in front of you nuts by opening and closing the trashcan 50,000 times, but, eh, isn’t that what little guys do?

ICE from Wuppertal to Munich - Torsten reads the worst pop-up book IN THE WORLD

And about six hours after we left Wuppertal (we were delayed because, joy of joys, the entire network in North-Rhine Westfalia was having trouble and the ICE wasn’t allowed to go over a certain speed limit), you and I got off the train in Munich. And about 40 minutes later (after buying tickets and figuring out where we were going), you and I got off the S-Bahn in the city where we now live. And 5 minutes after that, we walked up to the front door of our apartment building, and I do have to say…

We made the right decision.

The estate our apartment is on has playgrounds and places to run and bike and generally be a free little kid. The city we live in is not only super-convenient (everything is walking distance), but lovely, quiet, and really made for children. We effectively have a yard without having to care for one, we have quite enough space in our apartment for all of us, the view out of our windows is nice, the neighbors are good and they all like you, and we are all just generally happy here.

I worried that the move would unsettle you.

I was wrong… you settled right in. Of course, it may have helped that your Tante Conni came down the first day to help us out as well – she was not only a terrific help, but you fell madly in love with her (again).

Torsten charms Tante Conni

You haven’t stopped talking about her since, which, at the time of this writing, is now three months ago…

Come with me, Conni!

So then we began the process of getting settled in. Our things (books and computers) from Denver weren’t there yet, but we still had a bunch of stuff that had been collected and waiting for us that Papa and Opa had moved in and which had to be assembled.

You were having a great time exploring (and wrecking) the house, but there were other adventures too. For example, for the first time in my life, I had a toddler and no kitchen. Now, I knew European apartments did not come with built-in kitchens (oh, there’s a room there, but nothing else), but I’d never thought about the challenges of feeding a kid for a month with only a microwave, a coffeepot, and a waffle iron. (N.B. We did survive.) And then… then there was The Hair Incident. Now, you may remember that last year there was a Hair Incident ™ that had nothing to do with me, but this time, well… Papa and I are probably equally culpable.

Your hair, dear son, is very fortunately tempered by your father’s genes, because in most respects, it’s all Mama. Oh, it’s mostly straight and it’s not nearly as coarse, but thick and unruly? Yup, that’s the hair.

And while I’m not of the school that says kids must get their heads shaved the minute their hair might possibly accidentally get in their eyes, Torsten’s was getting thick and floppy and, well, let’s face it… it was starting to get ideas. And we couldn’t have that.

Now, I’m just not a buzz-cut fan. I’m really not. I have a lot of reasons for this (at least half of this is because the boys at school I knew with buzz-cuts were inevitably bullies), but it certainly wasn’t a look I planned on for my sweet-faced little guy. Everytime we got your hair cut, I’d say, “short, but not too severe”, and generally, I got what I asked for.

But you really needed a haircut, and while I may not allow Oma to deal with it whenever and however she pleases, it is my job to make sure you can see, and it was definitely getting in the way.

We were trying desperately to be careful with money, and since your father had raved about this trimmer he had been using at Opa’s and it was hot outside, I decided we could just put it on its longest setting and cut your hair with it, knowing that the buzz-cut effect would soften eventually.

This was a fine idea, except… the trimmer we had was not in fact the one your father had been talking about. It was an old one with dull blades and which was, for all intents and purposes, broken.

Unfortunately, it was not dull enough NOT to cut any of your hair, and in between our attempts to cut your hair down with the awful scissors we had in the house to help the trimmer get through your thick locks and the actions of the trimmer itself, well, let’s just say that anyone who got too close to your hair would have thought you’d had an accident.

With a lawn mower.

And so, in the end, we ended up getting your hair cut anyway. The stylist was remarkably nice about it, and very nice to you, but by this point you were terrified of haircuts after the home experience (I had sworn I’d never cut your hair, and I’m right back to that promise now), and so you cried the whole time, and the dude crooned to you in his thick Bavarian dialect, and in the end, it all turned out ok.

Yo.

No really, you didn’t even need the hat. See? Cute new haircut, which I have named “The Bavarian Bruiser” in honor of all of the bullies I have known.

Not that you look at all like a bully… you still look just as sweet, and I don’t know what I was worried about

New haircut!

Mama can't resist me in a hat.

A lot is different about your new home than in Denver, and it’s taken you some getting used to.

No backyard, for example. And a very high balcony to make Mama nervous, especially since you like to launch things off of it when you think no one is looking. Unfortunately, you’re damned fast.

Out on the balcony

Oh, and thanks to Papa, you make Mama nervous by climbing up on the balcony table, as well. You are intrepid most of the time

Unapproved activities out on the balcony

And you want to get into everything.

Getting into stuff

And then you manage to look innocent and cute when you get caught!

Who, me?

Well, ok, you are innocent and cute.

Still can't refuse that smile anything...

Of course, life is not all moving and haircuts and stress. We’ve started to do things to explore your new city as well.

For example, we’ve been to the zoo, where you terrorized/stroked baby goats and sheep

Torsten, Mama, goats and sheep. And sh*t.

Torsten knows the word "gentle", but sometimes he needs a reminder...

You were trying to be gentle, but Mama had to work a little to keep your enthusiasm under wraps.

And you did try to kick a goat for walking away from you (we think), but you weren’t successful, and it was just the once…

Bah, those sheep are boring. Time to find me some new sheep.

And then you saw this goat on a rock and decided that you and he could be buds.

Ok, so here's the plan... while everyone watches Billy break into the feed machine, you and I will make a run for it..

Torsten demonstrates "gentle"

Chillin’ with Da Goat.

Torsten and his new goat friend

In addition to zoo trips, Papa got a new bike seat, so it was time for bike rides again, something that makes you both very happy. Riding in back is a bit different, but you seem pretty chuffed about the whole business. I know Papa is…

New biking world order

In spite of everything, you’ve settled in so well… you’ve turned into this funny, sweet, intrepid little guy with tons of personality, and we adore you.

To be... or not to be... that is the question

(And yes, those are Mama’s glasses. Your eyesight is just fine.)

Of course, you’re going on two, and the tantrums can get a little ugly…

Ah, let the tantrums begin...

But two seconds later you’re back to climbing and trying to take over the world.

Whoosh... he's up, and your computer is in danger...

Hey little guy? We did it!

Welcome to your new home

Love,

Mama

Boy, was this month one for the record books.

It did not start out easy, of course, since it started out with you feeling like you’d been dropped on another planet. Your bed was different (Papa’s and Tante Conni’s amd Oma’s old baby bed, in fact, and it was one you could get into and out of on your own), your room was different (still in the same room with Mama and Papa, but bigger, more Torsten-friendly, and looking suspiciously like Opa-and-Oma’s attic), and there were these two people you didn’t know very well suddenly very present in your lives. The last bit thrilled you to bits, but all the change was a bit much.

It started, though, with one of your first forays into Opa and Oma’s backyard.

It was, in fact, on our first day in Germany.

Papa had promised Mama that since she’d taken you alone to Germany and spent almost a full week taking care of you alone before that, that she was going to get a full 24 hours where no one was going to bother her after we got to Wuppertal.

This plan did not take into account the fact that you might fall off their back step on the first day and break one of your front teeth.

Now that you’ve got a few more teeth and we’ve all had some time to get used to it, it’s not such a big thing, but at the time, Mama and Papa were devastated. You were remarkably chilled-out about it, though your lip was bleeding and you were poking it with your tongue a lot, and in the end, the dentist said it was all right, even if it looked less-than-appealing, and that at your age, we couldn’t do much about it anyway.

I admit it – once we knew you were ok, Papa and I couldn’t avoid thinking how sad it was that this happened to our beautiful little guy. But you’re beautiful anyway, and now it kind of adds character. (Pictures will have to wait until a later post – there are some at 22 and 23 months, but we didn’t get a good shot of it until then)

The first couple of weeks in Wuppertal involved a lot of Torsten-gets-to-know-and-play-with-Opa-and-Oma time, Mama readjustment time (I had a lot of internal trouble for reasons that shouldn’t matter to you, but the important bit is that it meant that Mama was not always in great spirits at first), and Torsten-gets-to-go-to-a-lot-of-awesome-German-playgrounds time, which was nothing but good for you.

You are, after this month at Oma and Opa’s, wild about your grandparents, and that makes me nothing but happy. I know that with distance, it would have hard for you to be this close to them, and they seem to be thrilled to have a Torsten as a grandchild they can see more often. (They should be – everyone should want Torsten as a grandchild! (not everyone gets to, but that’s another story…)) But it is not easy for parents to move into the grandparents’ house (nor is it easy for the grandparents, and they provided us with a safe haven which was a wonderful place for you, for which I am profoundly grateful. We could not have done this move without them), and it was a fairly stressful time. Papa was still waiting on pins-and-needles to find out if the job prospects we’d been crossing our fingers for would come through, and Mama was still feeling a little bit out-of-place, and mostly, we were just killing time hoping for word and waiting for some talks and interviews Papa had.

And at first, it was tough for you too. You stopped really eating, and certainly not by yourself, you went back on the bottle you were almost through with when we were in Denver, and you were definitely clingier. It was ok – we’d expected a lot of this kind of stuff – but it was hard to watch. But you did eventually adjust, and you were always excited to see Opa and Oma (who I think you found a little overwhelming at first, but remember, you’d been almost exclusively with Mama and Papa at that point), so it all worked out.

Unfortunately, our only pictures of these few weeks come from the end of the month, but that was the exciting part anyway.

See, Papa had an interview in Austria. And at around the same time, he was going to find out about whether he would get a grant which could have landed him anywhere in Germany, and one of the places he was strongly considering was Munich. Since he had to go to Austria anyway, and since Mama really didn’t want the two of us to stay alone in Wuppertal for several days, we decided we’d all go to Austria, you and I would tour the town where Papa was interviewing, and then we’d all come to Munich to have a look around (if Papa got the grant and was going to consider Munich seriously, we would have some more information to decide with, and if he didn’t, we’d have gotten a nice couple of days in Munich – win win ).

And so the three of us packed ourselves onto a train and discovered the miracle of… The Kleinkindabteil (Small children’s compartment).

Breakfast with Papa in the Kleinkindabteil

Woo hoo! These guys flip up and down... excellent...

Now, if I can just get these open, the train will be mine!

Oh, the Kleinkindabteil… it was the most wonderful thing ever. Now, I have since learned that on most trains it is not this wonderful, and that it’s particularly wonderful on trains going between Germany and Austria, but still… It rocked.

See, we were dreading a long ride with a toddler who wanted to move, and when we made seat reservations, there was this “Kleinkindabteil” preference field we could check. And practically speaking, what it meant was that for the vast majority of the trip, you, me, and Papa had a compartment all to ourselves where you could run around and play without a) destroying the train, and b) getting lost or hurt.

It was wonderful. I mean, it had a rocking motorcycle for your climbing pleasure, and seats you could move up and down…

Ready to ride

It made you very happy

This goes up and down too, see Mama?

You need to look the other way while I do this important sneaky business over here...

You played…

Playing on the floor

Mama dreamt of wine…

Mmmm... wine grapes...

You were very very silly…

No really, these are my *hands*

Captain Silly entertains passing German livestock

We napped…

Passed. Out. (Mama must love you, because the Internet did not need to see HER like this...)

And then we were there. St. Poelten was quite lovely, and the view from our hotel wasn’t bad, either…

St. Poelten from our room window

You and I walked around and enjoyed our day, but it wasn’t really enough time to get to see that much of a very old, nice city.

One day, two nights, and then… we were off to Munich. (No, Mama didn’t take tourist pictures there either, sorry)

Playing around in Munich at the hotel

You have a great time in hotel rooms – don’t ask me why, except that there are a lot of doors to open and shut and buttons to push and new things to explore, so it was all ok with you.

Cuteness

My two favorite peas in a pod

And when I say new buttons to push, nothing, and I repeat nothing, beats the toilet…

Muahahaha... the power, it is mine!

You never had access to the toilet in our house in Denver, and now that you know how to flush them, you just… can’t… stop.

See Mama? I can flush too!

We really enjoyed Munich; the only downside was that you were a bit sick, coughing at night until your tummy decided to return your dinner, but we weren’t too worried, and you were lively enough during the day.

Papa was suitably impressed by his potential new workplace, you and I took a nice trip to Garching to see about the housing situation near the Research Center, and mostly, you and I just enjoyed trains.

And then Papa found an awesome playground near the Theresienweise, which was happy for all.

You rode a motorcycle…

"Mococycle", as you call them

And swung on one of the big-boy swings you’ve been using all month in Europe…

On the big boy swings and smiling for the camera

American playgrounds rarely have these views...

And Papa took a nap…

Childcare, by Papa

And you guys played with sand…

Wait... mechanical stuff AND sand? Count me in, Papa...

Now if I just connect this to the flux capacitor...

It was really lovely.

My two boys at the Theresienweise

Hair!

Cutie

Of course, then you decided Mama should ride a motorcycle, and Mama cannot refuse you anything…

Am I being paid for this?

Maybe I could do it myself..

Then some older boy wanted to come along and play with you. Now, I don’t know why this is, but older children are always wanting to play with you, and by older, I mean much older. Boys, girls, it doesn’t matter… Torsten Monster is fun for all!

Swinging with the big boys

Swinging with Papa

At first it was just swinging, but this is Germany, and so the football had to appear sometime…

Fussball!

You actually played, and Mama had a great time watching – and laughing.

Whoosh...

Torsten wants to get in on the action

Hrm... now that I've got it, what do I do with it?

Yes, we decided we liked Munich very much indeed.

Ok, that's it, we're moving to this playground, ok, Mama and Papa?

It doesn’t seem like a bad place at all for you to grow up, and that’s a very happy thing.

Of course, now, at the end of the month, that you seemed so settled, you know we were going to throw a wrench into the works, but that comes next month…

Love you,

Mama

Dearest Torsten,

I think this month must have been one of the most confusing of your life. It was rough on everyone, and this time, you noticed.

Oh, it started out ok, and you were cool with life, your daily trip to Sherice’s, and everyone making trouble around the house. Even though you and Mama were getting on a plane on the last day of the month to fly halfway around the world together, there was a lot to do before that, and the havoc started at the beginning of the month.

At first, it was the usual playing and troublemaking… as I said in my previous month’s letter, most of the changes were taking place in the basement, where you rarely went. Upstairs, all was as usual.

Super T, in the kitchen

But a few days into the month, things started to disappear.

Like the couch.

You know, the couch you played on every day and climbed on every day and even watched Olbermann with Mama and Papa on every day?

You went off to Sherice’s one day, and then the couch was gone. This kind of shook you up, and you started being a bit more fussy. Then again, so did everyone. You were really starting to talk and eat and be yourself, but at the same time, the world started to shift under your feet, and it make things hard.

And then, though, we all got sick. Really sick. As in I-think-we-had-the-swine-flu sick. (N.B. After I wrote this bit, we appear to have gotten the actual swine flu, much later, so I guess it was just some random nastiness) Boy, were we sick. So sick, in fact, that you stayed home for a few days with Mama, even though she really needed the time to pack. Sick Torstens are sweet and cuddly and lovey, but it’s just hard to watch a little guy be so ill.

Sick as a dog (swine flu or allergies? No one knows...), cuddling Papa's Australian penguin

I admit I probably missed more of Torsten this month than I would have liked. We had to take you to Sherice’s for more full days than usual, and we were busy busy busy trying to make sure stuff got boxed up and administrative stuff was in order and all of that.

Still, we got to have some fun in the house, even as furniture continued to disappear…

While Papa is away, cute Torsten (and his toothbrush) will play!

Teethy grin! (Unfortunately, mere weeks after that, one of your beautiful front teeth got chipped...)

How can anyone resist this guy?

When you have days that look like this, and random strangers are popping by all the time to take stuff (some of it yours) away, it does tend to upset your sense of equilibrium, though, and at some point it became unavoidable that you were in the middle of it.

Selling off your life sucks.

There were a lot of lasts this month.

Last times in our favorite parks, last times seeing our friends, last time playing in the backyard…

A last look at the backyard

Hardest on you and Papa, however, was the last time riding with your first bicycle seat. For a long time, you and Papa had been riding around Denver with you sitting in front of him, singing and watching and enjoying the view, and Papa was really sad the last time he got to ride with you before he sold the seat…

Papa and Torsten return from their last bike tour with the front bike seat

Biking bliss - hi Mama!

Still hating the helmet, after all these months...

And of course, any time with Papa has been good time. Papa’d been very busy all quarter, and at the end of last month was in Germany giving a talk; a week before we left the house to go to Germany, he was away again, this time in Brazil, so buddy time was precious. (It always is )

Best buddies forever

Farewell

In addition to being sick, it was also hot in our oven-of-a-house, and so Popsicles were in order. You decided that any and all popsicles must belong to you, and preferably one in each hand, so Papa got smart…

Heat and recovering from illness/relapse made popsicles a must

Lime is yummy, even for sick, tired little (and big) monsters

No one wants a dangerously hungry Torsten Monster on their hands.

RARRR! Now you see how I got two... I scared Papa and stole his as well as my own. And I'll chomp you too!

The last week was the worst, frankly, for all of us. Our caregiver had a family tragedy, Mama needed to get rid of all the furniture and finish packing and cleaning, Torsten needed a lot of love and reassurance, and did I mention Papa was in Brazil?

Mama was going nuts. And you were not unaware that things were not all ok. Fortunately, you were very sweet and accomodating, and there was one benefit – all the stuff being gone gave you a lot of room to play.

Hardest for me, strangely enough, was saying goodbye to the rocking chair where I’d put you to sleep almost every naptime and bedtime since you were born. The damned thing squeaked, but it was our snuggly cuddly place. No more was I going to be able to pick you up, put your too-tall-for-this form across Boppy, give you a bottle, and sing you to sleep while we rocked, head-to-head or head-to-shoulder or head-to-neck.

Byebye, rocka-rocka chair...

But in the end, we did get it all packed up. Towards the end, you were at Sherice’s all day, and then Mama would take you out until bedtime, since the house was so disasterous and so much needed to be packed. The last day, you went to Sherice’s, and we cleaned out the rest of the place and all headed to a hotel. Papa asked if we should bring you back to say goodbye, I figured that since you were boarding three planes alone with Mama the next day, you didn’t need anymore shocks to your system. Mama was ready to cry, Papa was jetlagged, and you were confused, but in the end, we made it out of Denver.

Table gone, chairs gone, high-chair disassembled... what's going on here?

The flights really went as well as could be expected, but it was still tough. The only real trial was the domestic flight from Denver to Minneapolis. It wasn’t actually hard to fly with you, it was just really hard to get your carseat settled on the plane, and the Northwest stewardess wasn’t really all that nice about it (and let’s not start on the passengers, who were downright evil. I’m not sure what they expected from a solo-travelling woman with a toddler, but you put up with it a lot better than I did, because you are an awesome kid The Icelandair staff on the first overseas flight were at least super-helpful about it, even if it was an annoying thing to install. I’d done as much homework as I could do about it, but it was still a real pain.

In truth, you slept through a lot of the first two flights (and the entire flight from Minneapolis to Reykjavik), so I can’t complain. There was even a playground in the airport for our long Minneapolis layover, although a bunch of high school students came in to try to take it over. It got much easier when the Icelandair staff, even when I told them I’d bought a SEAT for your carseat, told me the plane was too full for me to take the seat on. You’re so big and I was so tired that I just thought, “Hell, I’m not going to fight this, I’ve been dreading installing that thing again for the past 6 hours”, and so I let them gate-check it and you sat happily in your seat with your seatbelt on and played cars until we got to Frankfurt.

I’d never want to try to entertain a toddler on a plane again (your favorite thing was dropping your cars where Mama couldn’t reach them and then crying when they were gone), but it went as well as it could have. That said, 24 hours of solo travel with a little guy is NRBM (Not Recommended By Mama) in terms of sheer stress on the parent’s part. It’s not like I could sleep

Anyway, in the end, we got here, and we got you here, which was one of our biggest objectives. Papa met us at the baggage claim (after dubious negotiations with the customs and immigration folks to let him reenter), and Opa was waiting to help take our luggage, and the three of us and our Mountain of Luggage ™ got on the train and met Oma in Wuppertal.

I have to admit to you that at the end of it all I was so tired I didn’t notice was what going on to be able to tell you about it, but you were happy to see Papa and Opa, and in the end, we all ended up tucked into bed upstairs in Wuppertal, not travelling any longer.

We may not have had a permanent place to live (or even a job to come to), but we did have a place to rest for a little while, and boy, did we all need it.

I think it’s worked out for the best, though, little guy, and now that you’re thriving here, I don’t regret it for a minute.

Lots of love,

Mama

We moved. To Germany.

But wait… weren’t we already in Germany for the summer?

Um, yup. But that was, as far as we could predict, only a vacation. We were *hoping* we’d be able to move, but it was only a hope. Applications had been filed a few months earlier, and some signs were good, but there was nothing to take to the bank. We were going to move out of our little house in Denver anyway – it was too small for two adults and a baby (after nearly two years of having him in our bedroom, it was *ahem* time for us to have some privacy and for him to have his own place to play) – and so we packed up and prepared for any eventuality, which is why I was so damned busy at the end of June. There was no certainty about whether it was going to be across town or across the ocean, which is a really sucky way to pack, let me tell you.

Well… a couple of weeks ago, while we were at my in-laws’ place, we got the news – C got a job at arguably the best university in CS in Germany, and so now… now we live in suburban Munich.

This has all gone so fast you wouldn’t believe it – we found an apartment online one day, moved into it two days later, and have been running around like chickens with our heads cut off ever since. And we’re quite lucky – the apartment is great, the location is fantastic (20 minutes by bus/train for Christian’s new workplace, and 20 minutes by S-Bahn from Munich Central Station, not to mention incredibly child-friendly, a 3-minute walk for us to the grocery store/post office/city hall/train station, and quiet), and all in all we’re quite happy.

Internet-less and exhausted, but quite happy.

More when things get settled and Deutsche Telekom decides we’re worthy of being connected to the rest of the world.

I am a nomad. I didn’t particularly want to be one, but I am. I lived in my birthplace for less than a year. I’ve lived in nearly as many houses and apartments as I have years. I went to five different elementary schools (six if you count kindergarten), and have lived in 10 different cities just since I left high school (and many more before that). Aside from being cursed with wanderlust everytime the going gets rough, the major impact of this is that it makes it so much harder to make friends and find a social group each time I pack up and go somewhere new. Some of that’s age, but most of it is having lived through the mourning of old friends and the uncertainty of acquiring new ones over and over and over again. The idea of just waiting your time out in solitude in each new place becomes seductive, if not particularly happy or healthy.

Every time I move to a new city, I have to start over. It’s easier when you’re younger – you have a built-in peer group at school or in college, even if you do have to find a way to fit in with them, but it’s still starting over from scratch. Sure, you keep some of your distant old friends – for example, my dearest friend is a South African living in Bahrain who I met in Holland, and I still keep in touch with my best friend from high school – but it does become something of a burden to have to find like-minded individuals (since you can hardly depend on the bonds of shared past experience) to go grab a beer with.

Finding new people to hang out with, to be comfortable with, has its share of dangers too. At best, when it goes wrong, you just can’t find anyone you click with. At worst, you end up running into someone who shares a common interest, and who seems nice enough, but three weeks later is clearly desperate and wants a copy of your entire minute-by-minute schedule for the next month and starts getting pissed off if, you know, you want to spend time with your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse. Neither situation is much fun, and I’m finding that the older I get, the less I’m inclined to risk either.

It gets really hard, and it seems like too much effort.

Now, I know that for me personally, it’s really a matter of just giving in to the permanence of my current situation and biting my lip, ignoring my (covertly) introverted nature, and getting off my butt to do social things. Nothing pitiful about it, it’s just a matter of being less lazy about it. It’s just that the inertia is a bitch. It’s something I always remedy over time, but it does kind of suck. It’s hard not to envy some of those people I know who’ve stayed relatively close to home for most of their lives, who have the benefit of old friends who know all of the old stories, and who are comfortable parts of the new ones. Us nomads get a little sick of trading our life stories with virtual strangers each time we’re transplanted, I guess.

So, anyway, the upside of being a nomad is that you get to see new places; the downside is that you end up with a massively dispersed social group, and finding a new one every couple of years is a pain in the ass. I am really glad we’re staying put for the foreseeable future – maybe that will help this time. But I do really miss my old friends I used to go grab beers with, whether in Indiana or Amsterdam or New Orleans. E-mailed beer just doesn’t cut it.

Listening to: Marillion – Kayleigh

First of all, let me just state again that we love Denver. More to the point, since this blog is my little spot of vanity on the web, I love Denver. While it’s true that after Los Angeles, I probably would have found Yankton, South Dakota a pleasing and exciting place (this may be a lie – I’ve been to Yankton and, um… it’s main advantage over Los Angeles is that it isn’t Los Angeles), Denver is particularly wonderful. The area we live in is right next to a huge, lovely park, which in many ways reminds me of my beloved favorite park anywhere, the Vondelpark in Amsterdam. Biking is easy and, more to the point, supported by the infrastructure; this is particularly important, since we don’t really want a car here. People are really quite friendly (after a year of trying to avoid eye contact with crazy and/or evil people walking down the street in L.A., I have to admit that I probably look like a deer in headlights when someone says “Hi!” to me on the sidewalk, but it’s nice anyway…), and the basics of life are all nearby. And it doesn’t hurt that our house just happens to rock – all for less than it cost to live in our one-bedroom in L.A. So let me just say that as a well-known (involuntary) nomad, this is a place I could stay, thankyouverymuch.

For the most part, we’re finally settled in to the new house. I haven’t been working on the garden much of late, due to an insane case of hay fever and a whole lot of research reading to do, but Christian’s been out there keeping an eye on the berry bushes (and mowing the lawn, and watering the plants, and… ok, so he’s been taking care of the garden). They’re not doing terribly well, but they’re not dead yet, so we have some hope. What’s surprised me is how the nearly dead rosebushes that were out there (that I, quite frankly, thought we might have to get rid of) have blossomed since they’re no longer dying of thirst and some of the weeds throttling their roots are gone. They’re quite lovely, actually. I’ll post a picture if I ever get around to it, but I think that next year, the garden will be a really pleasant place to be.

We’ve been here almost a month now (I’ve been here for 3 weeks of that, due to my trip back to Wisconsin and Indiana to get the rest of our stuff), and the house finally feels like home. My study is still a mess (there are boxes and boxes of half-unpacked things still sitting outside my door instead of in the study so that I can work), but I love having my own space again. This is probably more room of my own just for work and play than I’ve ever had, and it’s making a gradual but marked difference in my demeanor. I don’t know what it is about me that requires a sanctuary, but as it comes together, I’m really liking it. I’m also getting more research reading done with a quiet, comfortable place to do it, and it’s an unbelievable pleasure to be able to listen to music without worrying about the neighbors. (Note that I probably worried about it more than I ever should have in the first place due to the fact that I grew up with a mother that has seriously amazing supersonic hearing; growing up in her house, I got rather used to having to take extreme care not to be loud. I am trying to break that habit – it’s so stifling!!!! – but it’s amazing what you take with you when you leave home, even more than 15 years after you left!)

Research is starting to kick into gear as well. I’m doing a lot of reading and idea-crunching for my prelim paper; while at the moment, it does feel a whole lot like I’m trying to grab threads from all over linguistics to figure out how to weave them together, there are moments where I really feel like what I’m reading is zeroing in on something crucial for synthesis. This is what I missed most when I was working in industry – and what I love most about the scholarly life. Say what you want about the White Tower; being intellectually engaged rules.

Anyway, more when I get to it. Enough for now

So Christian has been working hard lately. Really hard. You can see him here during thesis preparation time a week or two ago, and, well, did I mention he’d been working really hard? He didn’t exactly want to be messed with. Wives taking pictures were particularly discouraged.

Friday was his defense, which went beautifully. Except for some minor (and quickly-corrected) typos, no further revisions were required. I have the pleasure of informing you all that the newly-minted Dr. Grothoff is now currently lounging in the hotel room with a much happier look on his face. And, of course, a computer in his lap.

Yes, here he is now, today, at his leisure, squinting into the sun at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere:

Hey, squinting he may be, but he’s relaxed, and that’s important. He put everything on the truck by himself, with minimal help from me, and we got out of town on time with no trouble thanks to his excellent 3-D Tetris (read: truck-packing) skills. I’m still impressed – defend Friday morning, deposit Friday afternoon (ok, there was a glitch, but it’s still in process), pack Friday night, load entire truck Saturday morning, and start the move Saturday afternoon, all while keeping his beloved wife’s head from popping off during the process.

Although, as you can see, that last bit could still happen at any time (I hate driving…):

Fortunately, there’s only one day left of driving, and then we’re in our new home. And for the record (this is not a celebrity endorsement), this Penske truck we’re driving rocks. It’s in great shape, runs even better than advertised, and has not yet caused me to inadvertently drive into a ditch, run over pedestrians, or burst into flame.

Yet.

In good news, though, our tenure here is almost over with. It’s been good in many ways – professionally, it’s certainly been good for both of us. The hellacious commutes (worse, the hellacious commutes on public transport!), the constant pollution, the dirtiness and the heat, however, I’ll let the Angelinos keep for themselves.

It’s off to Denver for us next week, and in the meantime, we try to stay sane!

(I am not looking forward to driving that moving truck through the mountains, though… Going to Denver is lovely. Getting there, on the other hand, may be less fun…)