Learning to Ride

 

Shortly after our arrival home after our huge European Vacation we decided our 4-year-old was well past the age to be learning how to ride a bike without her training wheels.  The kids in the Netherlands seem to be riding their bikes before they can walk.  Granted, you see the few who still have training wheels, but it always amazes me to see these kids who are no taller than their bikes who are riding right alongside their parents.  I don't know how they do it, but I think the Dutch were just born to ride their bikes.  Some friends who came up a month ago or so were amazed to see the rows and rows of bikes and lines of bike traffic weaving in an out of the auto and foot traffic.  It is often likely to find one or two of these small fry being escorted alongside one of their parents.

I am afraid to say that Squirrel Monkey did not attain Dutch citizenship this day.  She gave up after a few failed attempts and preferred to pose for the camera in front of the slide leaving her father let down and exhausted after his workout.  After a month or so of renewed attempts he resigned defeated and put the training wheels back on, albeit a little lopsided just for some extra encouragement.

Now I've got a "real Dutch person" teaching her on a smaller bike and with a little peer pressure as one of her little boyfriends learned how to ride just last week without training wheels (his mom volunteered for the task).  Still . . . she'd rather look all cutsie than show off on two wheels.

 

What a little stinker!  Think she'll ever learn?  Sure, but not on the Regular Dutch Standard Timeline.

Loving Baby Time

A few of my baby's favorite things.

This morning we went for a walk, my baby and I. A girlfriend informed me of a bad throat ache so I took it upon myself to bring her some of Grandma's famous cure-all tea. It gave me a chance to walk with my girl without the usual rush involved in transporting the other girls to and from school. We met some friendly puppies along the way and investigated dropped rose hips all mushy on the ground. She informed me in her baby Dutch language that they were "bahx", that last part being a lovely guttural "g". She's progressing about the way I did: I turned everything from "ck" to "ch" into a guttural "g" in my journey to incorporate it into my regular vocal sounds.

I began the process of teaching her the difference in paths, a vital survival skill here in the Netherlands. She has a tendency to wander freely between foot path, bike path, and auto path and there is no better time than now to start the training as to which path her own two feet belong. As we walked down these paths and I repeatedly pulled her off of the red-paved bike path and either scolded her, scared her, or explained the differences in colors and their meaning I watched the grandmas walking their dogs eye me in curiosity. Actually, I understood their look quite clearly (as you may remember all emotions are betrayed quite clearly on the faces of the Dutch women, good or bad); they were giving me the look which said, "Oh, I remember those days . . . if only they had lasted a little longer." And for once I was not looking back at them challengingly and wishfully thinking they could trade places with me any moment they chose to step in. No, I was thoroughly enjoying every moment with my little toddler. She'll likely be my last and I am not going to let these little moments slip out from between my fingers so easily. Likely, no matter how hard I try to hang on to them I'll always be one of those grandmothers walking her dog on the frosty morns gazing at a young mother and wishing time hadn't run away with me so fast anyway.

Last night after I gave her a hug and kiss before turning out the light and closing the door she held her bunny (pictured above) up to me to land a goodnight kiss onto as well. When I gladly bestowed a precious mother's kiss on her bunny she held up her other favored bunny for another. After I'd kissed them both she delightedly tucked each under her arms and prepared to sleep with a huge smile on her face. I am glad those simplicities still mean so much to her. The older girls were just as charming in the things which gave them a smile before sleep, but these were more mature. Spider Monkey felt happiness with a bit of pride over the breakthrough of actually liking school and her school work. Squirrel Monkey was just thrilled that her dress that Grandma Nett made for her still fits and a new discovery was made: when sitting on the floor with it on she can spread it out in a large and beautiful circle of satin around her. Both of these are precious, but there is something so sweet about a baby taking joy in the mother's shared kisses with her snugglies.

Conveniences

1. Our toddler, Screech Monkey, discovered how to open the doors just after we bought a kitten whom we'd prefer to trap inside and on the first level of the house only.

Why is it that when I really wanted her to learn how to open the doors she would not? Rather, she would scream and throw a temper tantrum the minute she got to the door dividing our lower level to the entryway/stairs regardless if I was standing right on the other side or not. Suddenly, the moment we get a kitten and actually had a need for that door she can open it multiple times a minute out of sheer pleasure of the accomplishment, unfazed by the frantic yells and screams as I try and keep the kitten caged. Just as this new accomplishment is getting old she discovers the backdoor works the same way. This is actually convenient because . . .

2. Squirrel Monkey has suddenly formed a sleep walking habit.

We heard the girl wake up and walk downstairs in the middle of our peaceful sleep. We often joke about her because it never seems to fail; the minute we drift off she will awake and let out this long and dreadful whimper as she pitter patters as fast as her little feet will take her down to the toilet. This happens almost like clockwork every night and it normally gives us a giggle. This last time was void of the accompanying whimper, but upon her return to bed the whimper began in an additional state of panic. She'd returned to bed and couldn't find her blanket and worst of all, she had to go pee. Hmm . . . something just didn't add up. While she went to the toilet we searched the house for her blanket which was hanging out around the open first level door. Upon further inspection she'd also moved around some of the furniture (the cat slept through it, even when she was sleeping on the same chair which was moved) So, we'll be keeping those doors locked now. But this is not the only way she has amazed us lately.

3. It just so happened that the day my diaper dumping toddler decided to use her toilet training it was in the presence of her big sister, Squirrel Monkey.

This is what we heard exclaimed from the lips of our overjoyed child after the incident. Somehow the youngest let it be known that she required the use of her training toilet and the older thought it best to remove all lower articles of clothing along with the diaper. What to her surprise, her little sister sat on that provided toilet and used it for more than just the liquid excrements. She then proceeded to let the little sister run loose as she disposed of the little extras into the toilet, wiped it clean with toilet paper, and flushed. Then they both proceeded to storm the room with huge smiles expecting cheers from the stands. I knew I was putting off training that kid for a reason . . .

Battle Lines Drawn for Nothing

Continued . . .

So we've experienced the long period of expectation and let down concerning the addition of a little kitten into our already bungled jungle, but this was all for nothing.  As it turns out my man had already waved his white flag in the air, just where none of us could see it.  He knew the minute he walked through the door that night and saw the kitten in the house that we all needed a little cuddly kitten.  He's a very smart man, you've got to hand it to him.  I personally think he just wanted to see the lengths I would go to get a kitten because he has not been particularly happy with the cleanliness of the house the past few months and maybe wanted to see if any of us would or could forget about the little joys a kitten/cat could bring.  At some point in this train of events he began the secret hunt of a kitten to no success.  He had not put as much effort into the search as I had silently behind his back and did not know you could rarely find kittens in a pet shop and if you could everyone here knows you just don't get them from there because they are usually infested with all ranges of illnesses.  He unceremoniously confessed his failure in the search and gave me leave to take over for him.  He only requested to be able to pick up the kitten and present him/her to the family as a surprise on his way home from work so that was my aim. 

I had a girlfriend help me with marktplaats.nl (the Netherlands version of eBay which I do not particularly get along with) to see if there were any remaining litters of little kitten in the Netherlands.  To my utter surprise there were several "nests" within biking range giving me my choice of leads to follow up on.  It all happened rather quickly because I did not want to miss out on any of these last chance offers, so after we arranged a viewing ASAP.  My man had only one request: striped and friendly demeanor.  The baby and I were assigned to the project. 

The trip wound its way along canals and past old country homes and pastures of cows and sheep.  When we arrived at the address a typical Dutch farm house awaited us with large barns surrounded by large pastures, a pen of geese and ducks in the front yard and a rambunctious puppy to jump up and kiss our faces in welcome.  It very much reminded me of my childhood home . . . just another countries version of the same.  I never had luck taming the wild kittens born on my childhood ranch, but I was certain the farm breed was the best there was to find.  The kittens were born and raised in the farmhouse kitchen and a few greeted us by running to the door as we opened it and licked our hands.  I made note of these who showed the obvious signs of preferred social behavior and the first one to the door had caught my eye particularly.  I followed her back to her siblings and picked her up to see how she'd respond.  She purred and curled up in my arms long enough for me to become convinced I'd better put her down if I wanted to ever consider another kitten.  The kittens were of all colors and temperaments and I was particularly tempted in a beautiful white cat with blue spots, but was disenchanted with her shy temperament.  The dominant male of the litter was fat and happy and rolled over to let me rub his belly without so much as a nibble, but when I was informed he was actually the most feisty of the bunch and woke everyone up in the house with his howls at 6am I had to reconsider.  Screech Monkey was taken with every striped red male she could grab, but I did not want another cat which looked so much like my favorite childhood kitten so ignored her interests.  Then she found the kitten I had first laid eyes on and quickly nabbed her up by the tail.  Anyone in his right mind would have quickly grabbed the helpless kitten from the godzilla of a child, but both adults in the room held back their instinctual impulses to observe the outcome.  The kitten didn't resist a single bit and instead limply succumbed to the abuse while hung upside down by it's tail in the hands of this little monster of a child.  It was settled.  She was the cat for our household.  Mother cat cuddled her rescued kitten, the monster was reprimanded, a deal was made, and I left knowing I had gotten the pick of the litter.   Even the owner admitted she was most smitten with the very kitten I'd had my eyes on during the intercourse of the viewing.  Now I only needed to wait an extra week for the rest of the weaning to take it's course and my man could pick up the surprise.

I was all atwitter for the entire week of waiting and could barely keep my joy a secret from the children.  I dreamt of the kitten every night and could barely keep the smile off my face.  I secretly went to our friends pet shop, bought the supplies, and hid them.  We arranged the date to pick up the kitten but Mr. Monkey seemed shocked when I refused to let him carry the kitten in his jacket for the trip home.  Not only did I think neither he nor the kitten would survive the ordeal, but I'd gone and bought a carrier just for the purpose.  We do not have a car, but we have a bike cart; one that he couldn't reason into dragging behind him all the way to work and back when we could meet him at the farm after work.  It just so happens that the day we'd arranged to pick her up was the coldest, wettest, and windiest day we'd seen in the Netherlands all fall.   To convince the little monkey's the trip was worth it I told them we were going somewhere where a surprise was waiting for them.  They'd falsely assumed we were headed towards a theme park or indoor playground and at the sight of a farm at the end of our long and cold journey they were in no mood to be excited.  Our little adventure only charmed the Squirrel Monkey and she joined me in entering the farmhouse where a few remaining kittens lay in a box awaiting their new owners.  My precious dream of a kitten hopped into my arms and purred and my little daughter jumped up and down in excitement upon realization of a dream come true.  We tucked her away into the carrier and returned the long cold journey home.  I have to admit I was a little unsure that the long and cold trip was worth it after such an anticlimactic end, but once we were home and the man and his children were acquainting themselves with the newest addition to our family with smiles and giggles all doubts were forgotten.

Welcome home, Antje!

Six weeks old

The Long and Silent Battle

Continued . . .

The war began when he blurted I win every argument we ever have.  The object was no longer about a cat, it was the fact that he could pinpoint one of my major human flaws.  He was right.  I do normally win every battle there is to fight in our relationship, but for the most part he can manipulate me into thinking his way is just another avenue to get my way.  I set out to prove to him that I would not fight with him, because I really didn't want to be proven once again to get my way.  Did I want a cat?  Yes, but I did not want a cat at the expense of our relationship.  I'd much rather have a happy husband than a cuddly cat.  Did I secretly hope he'd love me enough to go out and steal my little kitty back from the afore mentioned undeserving household he originally came from or find another little kitten?  Yes, but I also knew there were other issues to be dealt with first. 

As it turned out, he had begun a cold the night he stepped through the door, saw the kitten, and sneezed.  So it was still unclear as to the status of his allergies.  I did some research and found out you can drastically reduce the symptoms by cleaning daily and using special HEPA filters via vacuum or air purifiers.  We did not have anything HEPA but I looked into them (along with the prices of return tickets to the states, the cost of shots, food, litter, and passport).  I also began the routine of daily cleaning according the standards it would take to keep the allergens down to minimum.  All this I did in silence.  Though I have to admit I hoped he'd notice the cleaning.  He did and when he asked I mentioned the fact that I'd looked up how to keep allergens to a min.  He said nothing more.  At some point I became ill and, satisfied that I could keep to the rigorous cleaning schedule and that he was no longer interested in my attempts, I stopped.  Why clean so hard when you don't actually have the allergens to deal with in the first place?

The kids were set on a kitten though and brought up the topic repeatedly.  They also were rebuked by their father and soon they held their heads as low as mine, but I would often hear them mumbling amongst themselves solemnly, "we can't get a cat because daddy is allergic."  I refused to encourage them and started bracing myself, like them, never to have a cat.  Okay, so I wasn't completely silent about the issue.  At one time I do remember mentioning something along the lines of "I will never have a cat, at least not until you die or I'm stuck in a nursing home."  But surely he understood that as an irrational outburst during an overdue heated conversation about this silent issue, right?

I refused to blame him for our lonely circumstance.  He had not shown signs of allergy to cats after he'd been taking the allergy shots for a while, but you never know if the trick worked until you've tested it after having not had the shots for a while.  He also had experienced the same wild and obnoxious trailer park cats and certainly that memory still weighed heavily on the side against getting a cat.  He was also reasonable to consider the cost of a cat and the difficulties it could bring in finding a place to live once we get back into the states.  Though ,after talking with a friend back in the states who has two cats of her own, I had my friend have her husband send my husband an email detailing their easy experiences with finding an apartment.  Surely it was just happenstance that we broached this topic and upon hearing my yearning desires nothing could keep her from forcing her husband to write this letter . . .

Maintain my silence I did.  I kept quiet until I was quite certain the time of kittens was long gone and even if he did want to surprise us he would never be able to find a kitten until next summer.  All hope was lost and I began my silent mourning.  It was painful to know I would never have a kitten, but I would not let him know.  I would only let my tears fall silently down my cheeks in hopes that he wouldn't see.  He did and mentioned that he'd even considered getting us our own kitty, but that I didn't seem to be able to keep the house clean.  Maybe a normal wife would have gotten on her knees, begged, and promised to keep the house clean if only she could get a precious little kitty.  Instead I took quite an offense at this and seeing as the time of kittens had already passed I opened the floodgates and began the argument anew. 

"I will not barter to get a kitten.  I will not promise to keep the house spotless in return for payment of a kitten.  And why keep the house spotless when the house is barren of kitten presence anyway?"

Famous last words . . .