"I Want an Oompa-Loompa NOW!"

It's 6 a.m. Saturday morning and I can't sleep.  I rolled out of bed and
decided this morning would be a great day to start blogging again, but first things first....I need to go brush my teeth before I begin.  Ahh! Now that's better.

Hayden apparently is having the same issues with sleep as I am and is now sitting next to me playing computer games. Oh, to be a kid on a Saturday morning...in one of my friends' houses.

Rarely did we wake up to the sweet smell of sugar coated cereal, followed by hours of television.  Instead, the Banfield routine was one of a bowl of cornflakes and only if we had already finished our mandatory bowl of oatmeal or cream of wheat. And television? Definitely not on a Saturday morning.  Oh no.  We had what seemed like hours of weeding/yard work followed by our "normal" chores for the week. Once we were finished with our family "obligations" we were allowed to build forts, go swimming, play basketball, ride our bike...just about anything that kept us active and out of the house.

Growing up I so wanted to be in one of  those other families.  The lucky ones. The ones who live the life of ease and the children seemingly got pretty much anything they want. Like the character Veruca Salt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory screaming, "But Daddy, I want an Oompa-Loompa NOW!"  I didn't want to be a part of a family that the kids had to do so much.  I was robbed of my childhood. Or was I?

At another point in my life, and almost at the opposite side of the spectrum, I remember thinking, "I am never going to ask someone to do something for me that I can do myself."  That thought has turned into a bit of warped thinking.  For example, I would be changing a babies butt and run out of wipes. Instead of saying, "Hey so and so, will you bring me some wipes please?"  If so and so was doing something else, just about anything else, I would pick up the baby go get the wipes, come back and finish my task.  I know that is a minute scale, but everything trickles down. (no pun intended) into other parts of life.

Moving on, I think this type of  thinking has done a bit of a disservice to my children. I have good kids.  I know it.  For the most part they are really growing into great individuals.  There is however part of their lives that I am not doing so hot on and it is their "entitlement" attitude.   Oh boy.   A couple of them want their way NOW and if they don't get it their little bodies quickly get possessed by a demon with crazy red eyes and I am afraid their heads are going to do one of those 360 turns like on the Exorcist.  (I would like at this time to sarcastically thank Meagen Bergeson for introducing that show to me in high school.  One of the only scary movies I've ever seen...ugh.)

Uno Example:  Brent has worked for the same company and with most of the same people for a little more than 7 years. Last night we had a family work party.  One of these friends opened his home to the whole office for a pot-luck dinner and some horseback riding. My children were so excited to go ride horses.  Yee-haw!  There was a little pony for the kids to ride and some larger horses for the adults to ride or to help lead while the children rode.  One of my children, who does not have much knowledge or experience with horses, was determined to ride the large horse solo.  When told that was not going to be a possibility, you could see the daggers in their eyes getting sharped and ready to fly. The fit started. Goodbye feelings of excitement at just having the opportunity to ride a horse.  Hello crazy demon possession.

I could go on  with examples, but I'm going to slightly switch gears.  Even though I was raised differently that my children, I will embarrassingly admit that this "entitlement" demon who throws daggers lives in me too.  My Veruca Salt, crazy hair and all, comes out.  Sometimes I'm selfish and want what I want. Damn the cost. I can throw amazing silent treatments or fill the position of the "crazy swearing sailor" well enough to win myself an Oscar.

Oh, how do we find the happy medium?  Not giving and getting everything we want. Not taking on the responsibility to do everything for everyone, but expecting them to pull their weight.  I don't have any great answers yet, but I did just buy a book called 'The Entitlement Trap' by Richard and Lynda Eyre.  I am hoping that they have some ideas to help me help myself and help my kids.

In the words of the great Ozzy...."Mama, I'm coming Home"

Hayden-Not quite ready to leave Belgium...He wanted to stay.

The decision has been made and executed.  The 'old country' has been left behind, but not forgotten.  Brent dropped the children and I at the Brussels airport in the wee hours of the morning and was off to work.  He will join us in Arizona when business has been settled in Belgium.  It was a good thing that he dropped us off so early.  There was no waiting in the British Airlines line and we had a lot of luggage to move around and check.  (At least it seemed that way when you have your own luggage and that of your three children)

Logan

We made it through the security check-point with ease and settled in our not-so comfortable airport chairs.  We watched planes take-off and land, read and chatted a bit about the expectation of the life that awaited us.  It was almost time to board the plane for London, Heathrow when who do we see?  The mother of one of our good friends in Belgium, Scott and Sabine.  We had unknowingly booked the same flight to England and even more crazy, had each changed our assigned seats and chose those next to each other. It was a great serendipitous surprise.  Probably much to her dismay, we chatted the whole flight to England.  She had been staying with the Sturgges family for three weeks and was most likely looking for a peaceful flight home.

Upon our arrival in England, we said our goodbyes and off we went our separate ways, she for her home and I and the children for our plane across the Atlantic Ocean.  Once again we waited.  When it was time to leave, we filed onto the plane, found our seats, and settled in for the long flight "home".  We watched movies, read and tried to sleep in our confined arrangements.  After the 9+ hour flight, we were finally landing in America.  We followed the masses of people to retrieve our luggage and then entered the que for customs. We handed over our Belgium exit papers and with minimal effort and even less time, we were through.

Landing in Phoenix

On our way through the doors that separate foreign travel from everyone else, we saw a banner held by my parents. "Welcome Home Family"!!  We were home...for now.  The children and I would be staying in my parents basement until Brent came back to the USA and we figured out where we were going and what we were going to do.

We loaded up into two cars and made our way to the Banfield homestead in Mesa, Arizona.  My sister Bridget's children were anxiously awaiting their cousins arrival with a huge "Welcome Home Fishers" sign.  It was great to see the family again waiting with open arms, but I am missing my man and wondering, "What's next?"

Some needed Happy Attitude

Freezing our Keesters Off

Yesterday the water in our house never would get hot.  This happened once

before and we were told there was just a "bubble" in the line.  So I thought it would just work out.  Right?  No.

The oil in our boiler is OUT.  That's right.  1700 euros in 4 months.  Gone.  We called today to see when we can get it filled.  Monday.  They were closing in 5 minutes.  SOL.  Yes, they close at noon on Saturday.  Of course they do.  So no heat, no hot water until Monday afternoon.  And it's less than 50 degrees F. outside in the middle of the day!

Somethings in Belgium I will definitely NOT miss!

©ColleenFisher

Movie Night

We haven't been to a movie in over 6 months and tonight we broke that dry spell.  We went as a family to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows.

Interesting things of note:

• The movie was in English (YEAH) and there were double subtitles flashing (Flemish and French)
• There are assigned seats-we were told politely that we had taken someone's spot. (no really-they were so nice)
• There was an intermission (like Gone with the Wind-have to check and see if the movie was like that in America)
• The popcorn was already in the buckets-no loud popping noises and delicious smells wafting through the air.
• It was a Saturday Night and the theater filled up eventually, but there weren't a ton of people waiting for other movies or long lines for that matter.
• And why do they not shut the bathroom door.  Seriously.  If you know me you know I am not high on the propriety level, but come on people we came to see a different show.

©ColleenFisher

Feeling Blue

It all started the 8th of November.  The day before my 35th birthday.  I am not one who cared much when I turned 30.  Didn't phase me at all, but this year life seemed well, unbearable.

I think that is when the cultural shock really took hold and just about suffocated life out of me.  I would look in the mirror and think, "Man, I look old.  Where did all this blasted gray hair come from?  And the wrinkles with zits.  Come on already.  Make up your mind...teenager or adult. Oh, and next year you should just be a cowgirl because you already have half of your costume, Ole Saddlebags!"

This trip to Belgium has been such a romantic thought.  Who does this kind of thing.  Uproots her whole family, finds her cowgirl whip and cracks it behind her unwilling herd.  Giddyup.  Ok, that was just keeping with the saddlebag image.  It really consisted of 98%  bribery.  "Come on guys.  I will buy you Belgium chocolate EVERYDAY. You can choose a destination in Europe of your choice.  And on and on." (Feel free to add-lib here.  I'm sure it would fit perfectly)

But back to November 8th.  Complete and total meltdown.  I had cried that morning.  Listened once again to the daily (probably justified) whining, which I hear every school day I might add.  "Oh, no.  Not school.  Mom we hate school.  We don't understand what they are saying.  We just sit there all day.  Don't make us go."  Today it really hit.  I dropped them off at there school with hugs and kisses and then drove the 40 minute commute to my French class.

My usual route from Leuven to Overijse is really picturesque.  Through little provincial towns like Eiden, Huldenburg and Neerijse.  Next to century old churches and brick building with amazing character. There was a slight mist in the air and everything seemed dreamlike.  It was truly a gorgeous morning. But one thing.

A constant gnawing feeling.  I couldn't place it.  I arrived at my teacher's house and entered the classroom and then he asked, "Quoi de neuf?"  It means: What's new?  And my reply...crying.  Uncontrollable, body shaking, ugly crying.  My friend Wendy gave me a hug and said, "Power through."  I sat for a total of maybe 5 minutes and then I excused myself.  I drove home blinded by my tears and tucked myself into bed.  I just thought that maybe I was tired.

The next day was my birthday and I tried to rally.  Wendy took me to lunch and we had a good time walking the streets of Leuven.  My family and I went out for dinner and I cried right before I left.  No real reason that I can nail down.

For the next month I would curl myself up into the fetal position and cry at least once a day.  To say I was hormonal is a HUGE understatement.  Call it what you will.  Depression. Case of the blues. Or plain old cultural shock.  Whatever it was, I never want to go back.  The closest I can think of was my post-postpartum depression mixed with the feeling of getting kicked in the gut.  Now that I think about it, maybe it was a lot like those dark days of years ago.  Anyways....

December was here and I had done 0 shopping, 0 decorating, 0 baking and I didn't even care.  I finally bought a po-dunk Christmas tree at the local Carrefoure. (Walmart)  and some ornaments to paint.  We sat around the table that night painting our ornaments and something trivial was said and I was at it again. Crying and bed.  Crying and bed.

I am not sure what brought me out of the black abyss or blues, but right before Shea's birthday of the 14th things started looking a little brighter.  Thank you Shea for being such a sweet girl and Logan for his smile and laugh and Hayden for his ability to talk your ear off.  (He really can.  I wonder where that shy, quite kid who hid behind my legs went.)  And a big thank you shout out to Brent who loves me still through it all.  Silver linings. :)

©ColleenFisher

A Visit from Sinterklass and his helper(s) Zwarte Piet

Zwarte Piet/Pere Foutard

‘Twas the weekend before Sinterklass, when all through our house

Quiet commotions were happening and perhaps even a mouse.

Logan and Hayden were playing Monopoly with care,

Both wondering who’s the ultimate tycoon, and who’s the spare?

Brent was upstairs programming solutions to problems as usual,

Probably wishing those bugs would disappear faster than his struedel!

And Shea doing math and I sitting next to her workin',

Had just decided it was time to get dinner a cookin'.

When from down the street there arose such a clatter,

Shea and I looked at each other and wondered what was the matter.

We heard knocks on our window, laughter and voices,

Singing and cheering and all sorts of happy noises.

The doorbell then rang.  We got up to answer.

Opening the door to five Zwarte Piet dancer-s.

They were talking and smiling and we understood not one bit.

“Ik spreek Engels” and they changed language in a Jiff.

“Sinterklaas is coming, here’s a goody bag for you”

Then I said, “Can I take a picture, maybe two?’

They grabbed onto Hayden and held him in their arms.

Logan and Shea stood in front, engrossed in the swarm.

We grabbed our boots and jacket and ran to meet their St. Nick.

He was sitting in a trailer…fully equipped.

He asked if my children and been good that year.

They answered a resounding “Yes!” and were of good cheer.

He then turned to me and said, “Ma’am, how’ 'bout you?”

I said, “Absolutely Not.”...And he knew it was true.

“That’s alright by me.” He said with a wink and a smile,

And then they were off after only a short while.

A visit with Sinterklass and Zwarte Piet was just what we were needing.

To lift our spirits on this snowy cold winter’s evening!

©ColleenFisher

What's That you say?

Hayden did some painting at school today. When we got home he was walking down the hallway.

"Hayden, what is that on your butt?"  I said.
"Ass paint." Hayden said.
"What did you say?" I asked.
He said, "That's paint."
My old ears are playing tricks on me!

But, both would be correct answers.  (And no, it doesn't come out!)

"Pants a la mode"

©ColleenFisher