About our living arrangements...

I thought I would take a few minutes while the kids are "napping" (aka. incarcerated in their rooms in the hopes that they will come out more obedient) to tell you about our apartment. Because, lets face it, our apartment is weird.

Many Germans, maybe most, live in apartments. I guess owning a home is something you do when you are fifty-something, or not at all. So we see lots of apartment buildings. Even so, they save lots of room for green space. I think they give up the space they would have used for parking. I see lots of cars on the side of streets, and lots of ramps to park under buildings and houses.

Also, when we managed an apartment building, we almost always had a vacancy. Here, the market is so tight that we would call from the US to ask about an apartment, and it would already be rented. They were always rented within 24 hours. This played a major factor in why we chose a furnished apartment, because we could actually rent one. We called, and they said yes. Well, the first 5 or ten places said no because of the kids and the cat.

After we had arranged to rent an apartment, and paid the first month so that it would be held for us, we were still not sure if we had talked(and given 1000 euros) to a simple German man trying to make a living, or to some scammer in Nigeria. About a week before we left, we tried to contact him through email - no answer. Then we were really worried. Finally, Jeff was able to call him. He remembered our names, and that we had three kids and a cat. So our hope of arriving in Germany and having somewhere to sleep was at least partially restored.

After we arrived in the airport, as I mentioned earlier, some members picked us up with a van and a car, and drove us to our new apartment. Our German landlord was there waiting for us with his wife. She looked like she was dressed up to go out to dinner, and later they admitted they were indeed going out to eat. My guess is that they were celebrating the arrival of their tenants. Seven months is a long time for a furnished apartment to be rented, and I am guessing they were a little nervous about us too.

When we first got our address, we thought that the "b" at the end signified our individual apartment. But it actually refers to the entire half of the building, all accessible through one entrance (shown above). Our mail is delivered through a slot in our apartment door because it has our name on it. We haven't actually gotten any mail yet, but the kids are enamored with the slot. They have also tried to peek into other peoples' apartments through their mail slots.

Another interesting thing about the building layout is that outside the main door is a panel of doorbells, with last names listed next to them. However, our doorbell doesn't work. So, several times when people have come to visit us, they have had trouble. When we first arrived and still had jet lag we slept through the bishop trying to stop by.

In the first couple of days we only had one set of keys. Almut took me out to go grocery shopping with her car, and when we got back we couldn't get in. Jeff had fallen asleep, and we discovered the doorbell problem. We buzzed a neighbor to get in the building, the went and pounded on the door till Jeff woke up. Our keys are sticky, not literally, but sometimes you can be standing outside the door key in hand and still not be able to get in. The inside of the door has at least 4 different ways to lock it, including a chain, and a long, thick bar that goes all the way across the door. We feel no need for these, and have not even tried to use them, especially with all the trouble we have with the regular locking mechanisms. We don't want to be locked out or in.

Here is our front door. We are on the European "first" floor, which is one up from the ground level. In our particular building though, we are only about 4 to 5 feet up from the ground. It still means we have to drag the stroller up a small flight of stairs to get in our apartment, and we also have a little balcony off our living room. In fact, almost all the apartments we looked at renting had balconies, so I think they are popular.

So we have a key to the main door, and a key to our front door. The key to the main door also opens the trash outside. The recycle is regular plastic cans like I'm used to at home (except they are covered with instructions in German about what should be recycled or not), and they are not locked. Jeff thought this was funny, because it says a lot about the culture here. They are really big into recycle, and in the city parks there are recycle cans right next to the trash cans. I always have to look inside to tell which is which, even though I think they are color coded. In the airports the waste is divided into four receptacles, but at least they are also labeled in four or five languages. It took nearly three minutes to instruct Ari how to throw away her apple core because I didn't want to get up and walk over to the trash can and point to the correct hole. Finally she got frustrated and gave up and brought it back to me. The second time she was able to do it.

The first thing I noticed coming into the apartment was the wood ceilings. I guess we wouldn't have seen them in the pictures in the online listing, because they didn't take any at that angle. The real wood ceilings are especially ironic because the floor is a fake wood of a completely different color and texture. Also, all the furnishings are this lighter color of fake wood too. When we went to IKEA, we saw every single item in our house except for the couch. Everything - down to the last spoon, rug, and towel.

One of the nice things about our apartment is that even though we live abutting a rather busy street, we don't hear much. As you can seen in the window here, the building is made out of brick. And the windows are very solid too. Even when the windows are open, it is usually just pleasant white noise. I only notice when an ambulance goes by with sirens, or when one driver gets really mad at another and lays on their horn (by the way, they drive...well, rather crazy here, by my perspective).

When we rented our apartment, I had really wanted to find one that had a tub, because I prefer being able to take a relaxing bath after battling an army of small children all day, rather than remaining on my feet. But the first priority was to find an apartment that would even take that small army - so in the end, no tub. The shower has a little basin at the bottom that we can fill with water and let the kids play. It even has a drain stop that is a round metal tube, so that once the water reaches a certain level, then it will drain. It gives them about 4 or five inches to play in. The shower surround looks nice, but is very flimsy, and the doors will not stay shut because it is not lined up quite right. So often when you get out of the shower, the toilet area is soaked, and you say "Oops, not again." My kids are having to get used to the floors. They slip when they are wet or when they run in their footie pajamas.

Okay, one last thing and then I have to quit, even though there is still more to be said about our apartment. Our water is heated by an instant heater. At first we thought this was the most brilliant idea even - unlimited hot water. However, that's about all you can get is hot or cold. So getting the right temperature to expose your skin to for a shower can be a little bit like solving a rubix cube. You turn it on scalding then thy to work your way down without turning the heater off. Once I was washing my hands and I turned the water off right as the heater lit up. This caused the pilot light to go out. By the time 8 hours had gone by Jeff was desperate. He wanted a shower bad, because he had been walking around town all morning and was sweaty. And we had tried everything those stupid instructions in German might possibly have translated to, all to no avail. We had to call the landlord and have him come show us how to do it. So that's the bathroom. In the kitchen is this ancient nondescript box mounted above the sink. Jeff figured out that you turn the knob, press the button and wait for the water to heat up. If you wait too long it boils over. It has just enough in it for a sink full of dishes. Then you have to run it again if you want warm water rinse with. But again, I think there's only really hot and cold. I'm not sure there's a good way to mix and get warm running out of the tap.

So, that's just the short list. I figured you already knew that the windows open two ways here, depending on how the handle is turned, and they have no screens. And I figured you probably also already knew that the power plugs are different. The only other thing that was shockingly different, and hard to get used to, was the size of the kitchen (and its appliances). If my weight corresponds to the size of my kitchen, as it affects the amount of food coming in and being stored and prepared, then I am sure that very shortly I shall be as skinny as I ever hoped. My plan is to go the store just about every day. It gives the kids something to do. I don't think we could go more than three days without starving to death. Luckily, we are still in the habit of stocking up, because the last couple of holidays (where the stores are closed), caught us unawares. By day three I thought I just might float away in the wind.

Anyway, this has taken me two or three days to finish, so by now we actually have received some mail, which was really exciting to see a pile of paper dumped on the floor. Maybe I will blog again soon. I have some more German tests coming up that I'm sure will eat me alive time-wise, but then I have also been up to some really fun things that I'd love to tell about before I forget, like taking the kids on their first trip sans-stroller, or going to a German course offered by the city for free for ladies (housewives). I also hope I will have the chance to write again soon because Ella seems to be feeling a little better, although now her sleep schedule is all out of whack again. Anyhow, now you know that we are still alive.

German Exams in Germany

So, a confession of my follies. I decided to take a German class to brush up before we came. No wait, I was flattered into taking a German class by a professor who is retiring. Yes, when Herr Stehr said sure you can take 213 ( even though I hadn't taken 211 or 212) my Ego jumped and said "YES! You can because you're so smart and diligent!" Oh boy. I must admit I am mortified to divulge the inner workings and little voices that live inside my brain. One would obviously know that at that moment I should have been struck by a bolt lightning for thinking such self-gratifying nonsense. No good can ever come of such thoughts.

Now maybe I can write off my stupid decision as pregnancy brain, but that made the situation all the worse. I guess Herr Stehr has never been pregnant or given birth, or been the primary caregiver for a newborn (okay I'm assuming here, but I think they're pretty safe assumptions). So, when he said, you can do it, I know you and you are a good student, he wasn't factoring in all those details that seemed so distant and minute at the time.

So, fast forward to last night. I am sick with flu-like symptoms (and so is the baby), and here I am feverishly studying German at 2;15 am German time....so that I can take a test, proctored by Jeff (lol), to scan with the bishop's scanner, to send to Herr Stehr, by today, because today is the last day he can give me an incomplete. That has to be the lamest thing I have done in my short life so far. I hope not to ever top it.

By the time Jeff had driven off to the bishop's house and been gone 5 minutes, I had already thought of three mistakes I had made. Luckily, I am still wanting to laugh, rather than dissolving into tears. Just capital dumb. And the irony of it all, being in Germany.

Also, I knew I didn't have enough time to properly learn the German this time, so I had to memorize the sentences. Then on the test, he changed some of them. Soooo...we'll see what grade I get. Hmpf.

Here are some of the sentances I had to memorize, for your enjoyment. I doubt I will go out and say them to some German stranger. Although I might, just for kicks.

After Franziska arrived in Cologne, she watched the parade. (got this one wrong)

These men would like to marry, and would gladly have a wife.

He sits down at a large table and orders himself cold mineral water.

Now I only have four more of these tests to do. :<

Hopping the Pond, with three little Frogs

We have been in Germany for only a week and a half, and already I feel like I've let everyone down in my promise to keep you informed. You can't really blame me though. It is finals week, Elle wont let me have peace for more than 2 minutes, and did I mention we are in an entirely different country? So, finding a spare moment...

(insert half hour of walking baby to sleep)

Okay, I'm back. By the way, in case you are wondering, Ella sleeps with her eyes slit so she can see if I set her down. It makes life a little difficult. Like forget taking a shower or eating a meal. On the upside, she has started smiling more.

(another ten minutes of walking)

Also, did I mention that she doesn't seem to like anything I have eaten in Germany thus far? Too many strange new tastes. This is why I haven't even attempted to write yet, because I don't see how I can possibly sound coherent like this.

Well, let me first tell you about our plane flight, because ten hours on a plane with three children under four is always note worthy. But I have to start telling you about it earlier than that. 5:15 am would be a good time to start. We wanted to have the kids sleep on the way up to the airport, but apparently being dragged out of bed and shoved into the car at that time in the morning is too novel to just be slept through. So the kids watched Snow White in Grandma's van all the way up to the airport. Jeff rode with his dad in the truck, because there wasn't enough room for all the people and all the luggage (that should have tipped me off with a sense of impending doom, but it didn't). We all got out curbside, and it took three luggage carts to get us inside. Luckily Grandpa stayed with us in the airport, because after an hour of being awake, David decided he had had enough. Unfortunately, our problems were just beginning.
David has never liked change. When we moved next door to my parents for the last 2 months he turned into a demon. My sweetest child had some monster invade his body, or something like that. Well, I guess an airport reeks the smell of change. David started crying before we even had our luggage checked. It is enough to say that he cried straight through the 3 hours at the airport and the first flight of about an hour.
It was to that background that we started to confront our next great dilemma. The night before, we had opened the safe to get out our passports, only to find that my passport was still in my maiden name. If you have flown recently, you know what that means. Well, lets just say it would be more fun to take whatever money you were planning on using on that arm-and-a-leg transcontinental ticket and drive down the road, throw it out the window, and see if you can cause a crash. Because you just bought a ticket for a different entity, and that's the only person who can get on the flight with that ticket. What a disaster. Jeff called the airline (and of course they were up at that time of night because we flew on a German airline), and all they said was to bring my marriage licence. No promises. Just bring it and hope for the best.
So here we are at the ticket counter, with three carts full of bags, David crying, Ariana pulling on those stupid line dividers, and we are trying to sort it out with a different airline on our route. They say they can change the name on their ticket no problem. However, my bag will only be checked to Vancouver, then we have to retrieve it and recheck it. This simple answer takes over an hour and several staff and a manager to get. Good thing we showed up early.
The first leg of the flight goes fairly well if you overlook David's crying. Ariana slept from the moment we got on the plane, as well as Ella. And David couldn't be comforted for anything, so we just gave up and let him be. I was just happy that things were going a lot better than they could have.
My big test of patience came at the next airport. We had a five hour layover, and just like the last airport, it turned out we needed every minute of it. When we got off the airplane we headed strait for the bathrooms, thankful to use a real toilet and have space to change diapers without offending anyone. Then we all headed over to a nice looking bench next to a very pretty water feature that symbolized Canada's pride in their native heritage. Jeff said he needed to figure out how to get my bag and straighten out the ticket situation. "Can you wait here with them for a minute," were his famous last words. I spent three hours in that one spot, with so much luggage and children that I couldn't move. All I have to say is that those three are lucky they are all still alive, because that was torture.
However, the relief was that those three hours turned out to be the worst part of the journey by far. After Jeff got back, he explained that he had had to go outside of the secured area to get my bag. After that he went to the counter to fix my ticket, but they were not letting people into the airport for that flight until 12:30 Then he had to wait in line to go back through security. He had been waiting in line that entire time. After that, we bought something to eat for lunch and got on the next plane.
The ten hour leg of our journey was the one I had dreaded the most. I had bought lots of little toys the kids had never seen before, and packed them in little backpacks. I locked the zippers together so that they couldn't get into them until I was desperate. I was prepared for the biggest showdown in their little lives.
However, because of the disaster with the ticket situation, the Lufthansa staff that helped Jeff upgraded our tickets to premium economy. This meant more leg room, better food, but even more importantly a bassinet for Ella (which spot had been already booked in regular economy), and because we were the last tickets to get seats in that area, we had empty seats next to us. Jeff sat in a row with the two older kids, and when Ella went to sleep for the night, I handed her up and got to sleep across the entire row of three seats for more than half the flight! So, so lucky.
Our last leg was a short commuter flight. Everyone else on the plane had very little luggage and short tempers from working all day in stressful jobs. We barely got to cruising altitude before we were on our way back down.
After we got off, we had to hurry to pick up our luggage. Our last plane had been delayed in taking off by about 20 minutes, and it had eaten up our time buffer to meet the church members who were picking us up at the airport. By the time we got to the luggage pickup, our luggage was the only thing going around. It was kind of a surreal sight. I guess with kids you don't move that fast. We loaded up all our stuff (you would have laughed your butt off if you saw us then). We had three carts again, and no one to help this time. Then, we found out we had to get on an elevator. But you weren't suposed to leave your stuff unattended, yet only one cart would fit at a time. Pretty much a fiasco. We finally got curbside, and Jeff went to look around for the members.
Almut and another lady from the ward had brought vehicles to take us to our apartment. On the way to our apartment they both got lost, even using a GPS, so it was pretty funny.
Our super nice landlord and landlady had a small collection of cat stuff assembled to welcome us, so it was very embarrassing to explain that we forgot to tell them that we had made other arrangements last minute. The lady from the ward also brought us a large basket of food so that we would have something to eat right away (lifesaver!). It also had some cat food in it, and it made me sad. But I was very glad we left her too, especially remembering that she would have cried all the way here. And everyone here seems to have dogs too, which they walk off leash. I've only seen one cat.
In the basket, she had thoughtfully placed some "American style" bread, and a tiny jar of peanut butter. Apparently she had spent several years in the states going to BYU. I was ever so thankful.

I will have to tell the rest of my adventures later, even though they are piling up far faster than I find time to write about them. But we are here safely, nothing went horribly wrong, our landlords are good people, and the church members have absolutely been wonderful to us. We have been getting our bearings getting around town on the public transit, and getting settled into our apartment. Ariana has already made friends with our friends' Almut and Tobias' daughter Helena. And we are lucky to have some amazing parks for the kids to play at, several within our neighborhood, and also the city park within easy reach on the transit system.

Here are some of the pictures I have already taken with my new phone (we got cool smart phones so that we can use the mapping software where ever we go...and it has already helped me get un-lost a couple of times, but having a camera with you all the time is the best)

This is the side walk outside our apartment. We live on a side street, but our apartment backs a busier road. It can be noisy with the windows open, but when they are closed you hear nothing. Also, when we walk around town we can always hear lots of bird songs. So lovely! It is a half hour walk to either of the two nearest U-bahn stations, but the bus stop is just around the corner and can take you straight there. The trains run about every 6 to 8 minutes, whereas the bus comes every 20 minutes or so. It can come more frequently near when work gets off.


Here's David at the top of the slide at the park near our house. It is maybe a one minute walk from our front door. It is a lovely enclosed playground, with all sorts off cool stuff that the kids love. It also has a picnic bench, so I sit there with the baby while they play. And it is surrounded by a fence, so the kids can't take off and I can just let them play. So far we have always had the park to ourselves. The kids are always asking to go here or to the city park. They are loving having Jeff at home to play with them right now, and I have a sunburn from being outside so much. Our friend Tobias said that this has been an unusually warm May, the hottest in a hundred years if I remember correctly. We are certainly enjoying the weather though.

And here is Ella hanging out on our new bed. She generally has five minutes a day right now where she will be happy and just lay and "talk" to you and smile. She is already becoming more rewarding to be around, even if she still mostly cries, eats and sleeps. I have to throw in a heartfelt thank you to the several German contacts, especially Tobias and his wife, who kept suggesting that we rent a furnished apartment for our time here. This was a pretty novel concept to us, and it seems you break even or that it would even cost you less to just rent a regular apartment and buy the stuff. However, we have realized that this was certainly some wise advice. We know little about our new home, and having someone else being in charge of things like appliances, etc is best when working with a different language. And you forget that when you get here you wont even have a single tool to install or put together the things you will need. So kudos to all those who talked us into furnished. I was thinking fondly of you when I laid my head down on my pillow that first night after a day and a half of plane flights and airports.

I'll save the rest for later. I hope you all are doing well (and enjoying very normal lives).

Monkey Number 3

Sorry, I have no pictures of her yet. But rest assured she is cute. There are some on my dad's blog.

Ella is doing well. The home health nurse said she has already gained 3 ounces, which is great for somebody her size. She certainly produces enough diapers to convince us that she is eating well. We wanted to do cloth diapers for her, but so far it has been quiet an adventure. We have not yet had a cloth diaper not leak on us, which is producing a tremendous amount of laundry. I am sure it is user error or a sizing problem. I'd really like to stick with it. Half of my motivation is my wallet, and the other half is the environment. The wallet is definitely the larger half though. And cloth diapers are much cuter. They have fun prints and nice colors. And they make her butt look 3 times bigger.

As for labor, this was my most exciting labor yet. Instead of starting out with contractions for a long time like the other two, it started with a cough. I coughed and I thought I peed my pants. But then it seemed like a little too much. So I woke Jeff up, read through the pregnancy book's description of water breaking, and still wasn't sure. But then I started to bleed a little, so I knew I needed to go in either way. All the way to the hospital I kept thinking about how embarrassed I would be if it really was just stress on my bladder. Turned out there was no need, I really had broken my water. So then came the horrible realization that I didn't get to go home - I had to have the baby in 12 hours or so.

I had stayed up late working on homework, and had just finished it before that fateful cough around midnight, so I was exhausted. And we had eaten a large late lunch, so I hadn't had any dinner and I was starving. I lay in the hospital bed and tried to get some rest. And I talked the nurse into bringing me some soda crackers and juice. The juice gave me heartburn. I was beginning to see that this labor might be even more unpleasant than the last...hmmm. Not a good sign.

I tried to catch some rest between contractions for hours, because they weren't very close together. We had my mom and Rachel, who were suppose to be labor coaches for me, stay home until things picked up. At about five in the morning I remember feeling like I just wanted to get up and do something. I was bored to tears, but I kept worrying about being tired. I told myself that I would just lay still for another half hour, and then I could get up. I never really got to get up again.

The nurse came in to fiddle with the monitors. She said that there had been some low heart rates registering, and that she thought because I had turned over that it might be picking up my heart rate instead. I told her I really needed to go to the bathroom. Alright, she said, just a minute to check things. I tried to relax. It was over an hour before I got to use the bathroom, and I was nearly frantic I had to go so bad. In the meantime, I knew something was horribly wrong when the nurse said "Here, I just need you to put this on for a minute," sliding an oxygen mask over my face. Jeff knew something was wrong too. He called my mom for her to come.

The doctor had been in and out since the nurse started really messing with the monitor. Finally he announced, in a voice that would have put me to sleep were I back in a math class, that there had been some "decells". The moral of the story was that the baby's heart rate was dropping precipitously during contractions, probably because the umbilical cord was getting squeezed somehow. Not good. Was I going to have to have a cesarean?

"I'd like to do a blah blah blah," the doctor announced. Apparently he was going to put a tube up into the uterus to add fluid to the amniotic sack in the hopes that it would relieve pressure on the umbilical cord. Since my water had broken, the decrease in fluids might be the cause of the problem. Oh, and while he was down there they were going to attach a monitor to the baby. No more getting up. You have got to be kidding me with how badly I had to go to the bathroom. I had been drinking water all night before this happened.

The extra water put an end to the decelerations in heart rate, so they let me continue to labor in bed. However my contractions were still far apart, and I was able to chat in between. After over an hour he came in and checked me a second time. My contractions were finally starting to really hurt. He announced that they were "ineffective" and that he wanted to start me on pitocin. If he had been standing any closer, and if I wasn't in the middle of a contraction, he might have gotten smacked. It's never a good thing to tell a woman in incredible pain that it has been useless. I guess being "stuck" at 8 cm is a crime when your baby has shown signs of distress. "No!" was all I managed to say. The doctor and nurse both looked a little stunned, but the doctor said he would come back and check in a half hour. He respectfully stayed away until I was ready to push, probably because they can see the results of the monitoring from the hallway.

I felt pretty peeved about being stuck in bed, feeling that this was the reason I wasn't progressing. Feeling that my only options were to do something or have pitocin, I got up on my knees in bed and leaned on the front of the bed while it was raised. I didn't want to ask permission because I didn't want to be told no. While they had told me I had to stay in bed, they hadn't specified laying down, so I decided to capitalize on the gap between what they had said and what I am sure they meant. Pretty soon the pain had tripled, but I was willing to do just about anything to be put on medication. I made it, and when I felt like I couldn't stand it anymore I announced to Jeff and my mom that "the baby can't come out this way". I laid back down and the doctor came in. He got yelled at for trying to check me, but in the end he said I was ready to push. I can't see how it was more painful than I remember with the other kids...I remember the head being the only hard part with them. Ella had shoulders to match her head. While I had done a good job keeping relatively calm until the end, I through in a good deal of yelling during pushing. I joked later that I realized that I was making it look too easy for Rachel, so I decided to scream some. She still says she might have kids someday. :>

My kids so far have been 6'7, 7'8, and now 8'7. So I guess it is logical after all that the pushing hurts more each time. At this rate (bigger by a pound each time), I am not sure I'd like to have anymore. We'll see.

So I was very blessed. Because of a great doctor and a lot of work on my part, I did not get wheeled into the OR. Looking back, I realized that is probably what the oxygen mask was in preparation for. But I made it. Now we are at home, trying to rest up (ha ha ha). I apparently pulled a stomach muscle lifting the older kids, so I have been having to be very careful. Ella is keeping us busy with almost constant diaper changes, three in the past half hour alone! And Ariana and Cyrus are getting used to their new baby sister. (Cyrus is not so sure about her - he doesn't dislike he, but he has certainly sensed a change in quality of life coinciding with her arrival that he is none too happy about!)

I hope to take some nice pictures of her soon, but it will have to wait until I am a little less tired. In the meantime, I can tell you she looks an awful lot like the little baby on the side of the Pampers' wipes box. Very cute. :)