So I had a crisis a couple of Fridays ago when I went to the park and was iced out by a bunch of glitzy glam-mamas looking as if they've just come from the salon of really big hair, heavily accessorized by Coach and Vuitton (and one actually wearing spiky Prada heels), their children decked out in smocked linen with an overabundance of matching bows in their hair--again we're
at the park at 9:30 am on a Friday, stepping over goose poop as we watch our children play. Before happening upon the fashion show, I was happy just to have made sure that I had nursing pads on so I wouldn't be leaking too obviously, pleased with myself that I had my cutest post-partum outfit on (yes, everything still needs to have elastic waist bands so there are only about 3 outfits in rotation now anyway). Owen was in the sling, Ellie in her utterly mismatched outfit that she'd picked out herself, her cutie hair that is just now coming in in the front completely unable to hold one of those ubiquitous gigantic bows anyway. After pulling up, we got the once over and then a very obvious turning away without even a hello. Ouch.
Who are these people anyway, aren't I the normal one here, what in the world am I doing living here, how did this happen, will my children suffer here if they don't conform a little and how can I let them conform to this at all and will it ever be okay? In perfect seventh grade fashion, I actually started crying a little as Ellie and I shuffled away from the play structure towards the swings that were a little more secluded, me hoping that the feeling of having been rejected from the cool girls (who I was certain I wouldn't like to hang out with anyway--but that's never the point, is it?) and more importantly my despair with our current cultural milieu wasn't being picked up on by Ellie. That was Germantown on a bad day. I missed Minnesota and Maastricht in a way that I could physically feel in my stomach. I should note that I must have happened upon some kind of gathering (although I heard them introducing themselves to each other, so . . . )--those extremes aren't normal.
Two days later--on our 5th wedding anniversary--Ryan, Ellie, Owen and I went to the part of Germantown that called our names from Maastricht. We took a long walk on the greenway alongside the Wolf River, kudzu vines hanging overhead, using the double stroller, saw some cool looking people and loved being out and about. And to top that weekend off, Ryan put together the long awaited Pancake bike, shipped from Maastricht, and Ellie and I felt like we had our old selves back again. (Except that even though the streets are relatively safe, one still must wear a helmet around here--no fancy bike lanes like in Maastricht. As evidenced above, I have to be hopelessly unfashionable anyway.) That's Germantown on a good day. So yes, these days go back and forth for me--sometimes within the hour.
One final note in honor of World Breastfeeding Week, which was last week and exuberantly celebrated by Owen--Owen's quite fond of gazing longingly at our light fixtures. While the picture I've included doesn't do it justice, they all look like breasts--to Owen they are the giant glowing breasts in the sky, his dream. As our friend Pål wrote from Sweden, this fascination is something he may not outgrow.
Peace to you all--whether you're in Germantown or Germany. Oh--and check out Owen's shirt!
