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