Being a Good Partner (an Ode to Valentine's Day)

I know that's not what the picture says.  But for those of you that are saying to yourself, "Uh-oh, here's another one of those frenzied militurrry posts dem Kellys like ter do, ain't nuthin' I ken git from this one," stay with me.  This post is a feel-good one for anyone who's ever loved, been loved, or wanted to figure out how to do it better so they don't get yelled at as much.

(Side note:  Jackie, this post is due in large part to your fabulous Valentine's sentiment.  Thanks to you -- and Kenya's inspirational post for you -- for reminding me to speak from the heart when it strikes.)

Back during our first deployment... almost FIVE YEARS AGO (now I really feel like a veteran, too), I came up with this handy little wallet buddy:  "Being An Army Wife."  I had connected with two amazing, beautiful, hilarious, fabulous Army Wives (yes, I most certainly believe we have earned the "proper noun" status) -- Sarah and Jeanise -- and we became each others' wives for the time our husbands were each other's go-tos.  While we actually did call each other "wife" during conversations, voicemails, phone calls, etc... I'm guessing/hoping/curiously questioning that our men didn't call each other "hubby."  We may never know.  Or want to.

While we women knew with every breath and every moment of our days that life was unimaginably difficult for our soldiers, it wasn't a walk in the park for us.  I have a perfect analogy for you:  I took Miles for a walk to a dog park near our apartment in Chapel Hill, and I spent the 30 minutes silently sobbing behind my black sunglasses while Miles romped around with nameless pups.  Lord knows what I cried about... and only Him (ha).  While Miles could have easily walked home on his own, he pulled back on his collar and whined in his way that said, "Carry me home, Mom," knowing full well that I needed the hug as much as he.  I never told anyone about these striking everyday moments in my life, but I discovered that my very own Wives experienced similar moments and, thinking of them, and our sweet soldiers overseas, developed what I believe it means to be an Army Wife.

By a flick of Fate's little finger (because, by now, we should all know that Chance is a silly notion contrived by people who don't recognize the signs life presents to them on a silver platter), my wallet buddy fell out of my wallet the other day and it took until this morning for me to put it back in its rightful place for safekeeping.  Before I did, I studied its tattered edges, worn face and back, and oft-turned corner; I opened it up for the first time in months and rediscovered its contents. What my naive newlywed brain conjured up a half-decade ago holds true today.  For me, for Zeke, and for anyone who wants to get this whole Love thing at least somewhat right.

On the inside, I provided a list of seven thoughts to keep in mind.  With every exhalation and inhalation, with every tick of the clock, with every unsent text message or email, with every just-barely-missed call.  In my meager years of life, love, and experience, the pervading lesson I have taken from it all?  It's not about tallies, or who should do what, or what we think we deserve.  Maybe the greatest step you can take for yourself, for love, is the most humbling, least proud thing you can imagine.  We've all heard in some religious or spiritual form that the greatest gift we can give is the gift of our life to others, yet we often refuse to give much of anything of ourselves to love without guaranteed return.  What's the gift in that?

I now provide these seven thoughts for you, my fabulous lovers of life, to take with you and use as you please.  I tried to find a way to change my original version to make it incredibly user-friendly, but it's just not possible.  So, like I said, stay with me.  You might find your heart within these seven thoughts, or you still might find that this post is another one of dem frenzied militurrry posts from dem Kellys... but regardless, you'll be satisfied with the post, right?

So here it is, in its original glory.

Here we all sit in the afterglow of Valentine's Day, a ridiculously perfect holiday, with its shady establishment and questionable existence (thank you, my alma mater Meredith College's scholars of love lore -- Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Donne -- for fueling that fire).

Some of us received flowers, given to us either by a lover or by ourselves (there's no shame in self-sending -- I had a fake boyfriend named Steve Anderson living in CA for most of 5th grade).  Some of us ate chocolates, had dinner by candlelight, enjoyed bubble baths, got proposed to, celebrated new lives.  Or simply had a quiet, relaxing evening filled with the laughter of our loved ones, a dinner we didn't have to cook, a bottle of champagne we didn't have to finish (but a dirty diaper that did have to be changed), the music of our favorite artists filling the air and the gentle comfort of our favorite bedsheets welcoming us to an early bedtime.

We might spend this afterglow cherishing 14 February, chanting, "I love being loved."

Or we may spend it damning the holiday, demanding, "Did I feel loved?"

But here's the real question we need to carry with us -- yesterday, today, every day:  "Do I love?"

I leave you with a parting thought, taken (again) from my wallet buddy.  On the back cover, I scrawled an afterthought...which any good writer knows is usually the only thought we have worth repeating.  This one, however, is a bit of a paraphrase, meant for each one of you:

"Never forget the unique place you hold -- you are everything."

Go.  Love.  Now.

Lernen mit Liam

It's time for "Learning with Liam!"  What you've all been waiting for:  Some lessons in the basics, brought to you by the wonderful brain of a kid under the age of 2.  I tried to record Liam giving you some introductory German lessons, but he got all excited about the camera being on and refused to participate.  He can also count to 15, but getting that recorded has been a battle.  We'll add as we can, don't worry!

Jodi, my dear cousin, you were right.  We've got to tap into this kid's head and access the magic, because he is gifted and talented... and we're not just talking about that dimple, are we?

(Side note:  Jodi, Zeke and I LOVED the Prius post... and the "anonymous" response. We've shared it with a bunch of our buds here and they think you and your fabulous brother are hilarious).

All right, folks:  Get out your notebooks and pencils and take down everything you learn today from Liam.  There just might be a test.

The Alphabet

Turn up the volume a bit for this one.  Apologies for the lack of cool visuals, but I was spying on Liam while he was waking up from his nap.  This is how he typically wakes up; we parents of babes often call this activity "Knowledge Vomit."

Musical Proficiency

Identification of Everyday Objects

Spielen mit Liam

So we can't get enough of this kid and we're with him just about every minute of the day and night.  Here are some random glimpses (both pics and videos... get ready!) of what it's like to be spielen mit Liam -- playing with Liam.

Welcoming Daddy home after his training in Missouri

Daddy *thinks* it's naptime...

Okay, fine

He shared a few kernels with us

"Just as I suspected... this letter is NOT precisely symmetrical"

This kid loves these bead toys.  It's bordering on obsession.

Liam likes to read himself to sleep.  Literally.

Mommy was sewing, so Liam tried his hand at knitting

B&E expert in training

Don't Cry For Me, Argentina

Or any other country, for that matter...  Because even though I've had to go sans hubby for almost a month, Liam and I have been doing just fine.  We've thrown ourselves into this fabulous Deutschland and made some great memories, which I'll share with all of you!

1.  Playtime:  As you already know, we ventured down to Nürnberg for some time in Tucherland, and we've frequented our local Bamberg favorite -- Frankyland -- several afternoons during Zeke's time away.

2.  Athletic Prowess:  (No surprise here), I decided to satisfy the Crazy in me and take Liam on a SNOWSHOE HIKE.  We joined some other Army folks, drove 45 minutes east to the Bavarian portion of the Fichtelgebirge mountain.  The area is amazing; it extends to the border of the Czech Republic and is as treacherous and beautiful as the Bavarian Alps we encountered during Weihnachten.  Right in this moment, I realize that we trekked the highest mountain in the range -- the Schneeberg.  I remember seeing a sign for it.  We hit the summit of Rudolfstein about one-third of the way into our journey, which is at 850m above sea level, so it's likely Liam and I have some bragging rights about reaching the summit of the Schneeberg, at 1,050m above sea level.  Woo!

Oh, by the way:  Liam wasn't actually hiking in snowshoes.  I wore him in my homemade Moby wrap the whole time.  And he was a perfect companion!  We pointed out familiar objects, talked about the snow, shouted out colors worn by members in our group, and he even snuggled in for a nap for much of the journey.  He got upset only when I stopped for too long -- he would yell, "BUS! BUS!" commanding me to return him to our ride, or, "Walking, walking," like a motivational chant.  I guess he had the right to be upset when we stopped:  The snow was falling at 2" per hour and the winds were gusting in excess of 25mph.

Yes, it was crazy difficult to hike in snowshoes straight up a mountain with a 25-lb, 3-foot-tall toddler wrapped to me, but It Was Awesome.  Definitely one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences.

Crazy rock formation typical for Rudolfstein

Winter Wonderland

I took this picture thinking we were reaching our hike's highest point...

But after that, we still had to cross OVER this fallen tree...

Continue upward....

And further upward for another almost-kilometer until we reached our zenith (and, of course, had to walk back down)

3.  Par-tays:  I had a great birthday!  Even if it was here in a new land, without my dear, sweet hubby by my side.  On Sunday, my kind and generous friend Audra opened her home to me, Liam, and a couple of other families and friends for a little party.  We had pizza, a fabulous lemon cake, and a nice, relaxing afternoon.  There were 7 kids running around and entertaining each other, which was like icing on the lemon cake.

He figured out how to use these party favors on his first try!

With his favorite new girlfriend Eva (if she robs Liam's cradle 20 years from now, I'd be okay with that)

PARTAY!

Good times, good times.  And guess what?  Zeke just got home early, so I'm going to go enjoy both my boys.  Tschuß!!

SNOW DAY!

It's about time, too.  I mean, come on!  We live in Germany!  All we heard about before coming here is how it's soooo cold, the winters are sooo long, it's completely unbearable, only the strongest of humans can survive, it takes stoic, tough, unfeeling, German blood to make it through the cold, dark depths of winter, blahdee blah blah.

I still don't usually wear winter jackets here.  Then again, I have Minnesota blood coursing through my veins -- and anyone who's anyone knows Minnesota is The Definition Of Winter Places.

I digress.  Snow Day today!  I was telling my bud Myra that my fairy godmother granted my birthday wish a day early, because I have been jonesing for snow and was hoping to have a white birthday for my golden birthday -- that's right, folks.  I'm turning 29 on the 29th.  One foot in the grave.  Ha!  Age has never really mattered to me, whether it's mine or someone else's.  People are not defined by their years on Earth but by what experiences and knowledge they acquire during that time.  Now my random knowledge may sometimes peg me as an octogenarian (just ask Zeke how many ridiculous "old lady sayings" I spout)... but I still feel (and often act) 12.

I think that counts as another digression.  Oops.  So Liam and I woke up this morning to the sound of metal scraping bricks:  The neighbors were shoveling their walkways!  For the first time since we moved here!  Within 20 minutes, I got Liam to scarf down his breakfast, permit me to bundle him in all kinds of fabulously mismatched winter wear (on top of his pajamas, of course, since it is a Snow Day, after all), and let me throw him outside for some fun in the snow.

We Came...

We Shoveled...

We Built A Snowman!

As I cleared the front area, Liam stared up at the sky, and with a gaping mouth and protruding tongue, chanted, "Snow!  Snow!  Snow!" between tastes of flakes.  Only yesterday, he still called snow "Lahtohs" -- his word for "water" -- and here we are, reaching a new milestone within 24 hours.  "Snow."  Hooray!

'sup! Check out my wicked cool snowman!

Ich liebe Tucherland

Oh yes, I love Tucherland.  Almost as much as Liam does.

What is Tucherland, you ask?  If Heaven were a playground on Earth, it would be called Tucherland.  In the video I'm including below, I randomly say the place is 3000 sq. ft., but anyone who knows me knows I am awful with measurements... try almost 4000 square meters, which is like 40,000 sq. ft.

Shush.  I was just talking about the little stage area, okay?  Let's just go with that.

Tucherland is located about an hour from us over in Nürnberg -- a drive that is well worth it when you consider the prize.  This place is amazing.  Indoors, you have a large play area for the littlest of tykes; about a dozen different multi-story playmazes where kids can run, jump, and climb their way up to slides, tunnels, rope ladders, and ball pits.  One wall is lined with trampolines; there are multiple ball fields, bouncy castles, tricycle and go-cart tracks, rock climbing walls, and even a treacherous obstacle course that runs overhead in the building where you can strap on a harness and go through what might be almost comparable to the Ranger obstacle course (Zeke will have to confirm or reject that comparison once he gets to go to Tucherland).  There's also some great food and drinks at reasonable prices.

And you can't wear shoes.  Not even the adults.  I actually went in a public bathroom in my socks.  Truth be told, I think that place was cleaner than anywhere I've been.  Maybe the Asian culture's preference for "socks only" in the house is a stroke of genius.

All the equipment is safety-tested and rated up through adult-sized folks, so parents are strongly encouraged to get down and play with their children... although there is also a huge section of beach-style lounge chairs and massage recliners for the parents who would like to rest up while the kids wear out.

During the summer, Tucherland also offers an outdoor space (approx SIX TIMES LARGER than the indoor space!) -- there's a zip line/jump tower, several ponds and pools, a golf course, an area for kids to practice driving, and then your typical outdoor play offerings.

So awesome.

Oh, and once per month they open the place only to adults 18 and older for an entire night -- you get to play on all the equipment without worrying about crushing a first-grader.  Also once per month, for 25 euro (around 32 bucks), you can drop your kid off for a sleepover in Tucherland.  They're well-supervised, given food and bevs, and allowed to sleep wherever their little bodies decide to crash.  I can just picture Liam, Currywurst in one hand and gummi bear in the other, fast asleep in the middle of a ball pit.  I couldn't imagine something like that happening in the States... but for some reason, it sounds both acceptable and safe here.

Enjoy the following video, with your very own tour guide:  Liam Michael.  If you end up coming to Germany to visit, there's a good chance he'll want to take you there so you can have your very own taste of Tucherland!