Urlop
British Airways just emailed me (yep, they totally know me; we, like, email all the time and stuff) and says: "Dear Mrs. Souzek: as summer approaches, thoughts turn to vacation planning." Uh, yeah. I just can't make up my mind... should we do Bermuda again or try something new, maybe Bali? It's sooo good to know I can count on you guys for "best choices and highest standards of service for all my leisure travel needs".
Why don't they just send me a ticket already? With all the caring and sharing for me and my travel needs, they are quite shy about making an actual commitment. Instead I pour over my travelocity fares and see the little blue dates that guarantee the lowest fare get less and less as the weather gets better and better. Not that it really makes a difference. I don't have the time nor the money to go, but ah, wouldn't it be nice! *Drifts off dreaming about drinking wine in a dirndl with violins in the background singing about blooming trees in slightly rundown amusement park*
Posted at 02:55 PM on April 30, 2004 | Comments (4)Have the baby
Claire Fisher has an abortion. It was all part of a numbing catastrophic finale, darker than anything I've seen on this show and the show is pretty damn dark. I felt like I was still reeling from all the pain and dysfunction the day after we watched the last episode (purchased the whole season online from someone who taped it, we can't afford cable (yet) thankyouverymuch). The abortion was just a small story line but it's what stayed with me the longest. I've wanted to blog about abortion so many times, but I just can't. It's emotionally impossible. Not that I don't have rational, logical thoughts about it. I do. Plenty. But the feelings on the subject are far stronger and I know I could not be coherent. Then this happened around the same time and it was really hard not to log on here and rant away.
Maybe one day I will be able to express myself on this topic without falling into any political rethoric, but today I'm not ready. Instead I'm letting someone else speak up for the real choice, someone who has a lot more credibility than me: "If I think women should have abortions on demand, at some level, I am arguing that I shouldn't exist."
Having Veronika has made me much more sensitive to things. I feel like a whole protective layer has been torn down without my consent and there is nothing I can do about it. Every disaster, every tragedy or pain is somehow related to me and my daughter. It's pretty insane, I know, but there it is and is to be dealt with. I suppose she also has lots to do with my inability to talk about abortion calmly - because it's her fault that I became a mother, that I had to rethink the whole "birds and the bees"-issue and realize that I still don't know where babies really come from and it is her fault that I lost my personal freedom on 8/3/03 although I wasn't ready for it and still am not ready for it and it is her fault that I AM SO GLAD about it all.
People will disagree with me, but I think whoever claims that the best life lived is the one that turned out exactly as planned is a lier. God save me from a life planned and conceived just by me, my brain and my self-delusions.
Posted at 07:51 PM on April 27, 2004 | Comments (1)Another reason to enjoy spring
You know it's spring when these come out:
And these:
I've never planted tulips before, so I'm quite proud, these survived the winter and came out so nice. But then again, I did a pretty good job with those wiggly toes, too! You should have a baby just for the feet. Trust me, they will make it all worthwhile!
Posted at 03:28 PM on April 20, 2004 | Comments (4)I will let you go... but later.
When the baby comes, it's all happiness. Five minutes later it's paralyzing shock. It's the shock of the expected unexpected. You knew everything would change, but this? It's beyond exhausting, it's not humanly possible. Please, take this baby back, I can't do this. As it turns out, I am not a mother after all. Oops, my bad. I'll think about it next time, now please, release me from this house arrest and take the little one with you. The diapers are on the dresser.
Then a few months pass and things settle. Mother gets better at mothering and baby gets better at being mothered. You still dream of escape but more on a part-time basis, sort of like a part-time mother. And then one day someone asks you if you like being a mother and you say yes before you had time to think. Uh, I do like it. I can't get enough of this child. I look at pictures of her when she's taking a nap, I want to plan her birthday 5 months ahead of time, I can't wait for the teeth to appear... I feel proud. I see her happy and thriving and I feel satisfaction. I like the job, I'm an accomplished mother, I have something to show for. My daughter will be a great person, a wonderful human being. She will owe it all to me, she will be grateful, I will be her best friend, she will never want to leave me. All my hard work will be returned thousandfold and I will have her all for myself forever and ever...
You are surprised to find that those feelings that tell you, you could die for your child anytime the worst possible death, those same feelings tell you to hold on to your baby as much as you can. Do not let go, they say. You fed them, you gave them life, they are yours, plus where would they go? You know their favorite food, you tuck them in at night, you drive them around, you make them birthday cake, you wipe their butts, you eat their soggy leftovers. YOU! They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. It's all about you and the enormous sacrifice you made and still make every single day.
It's a trap. I don't know how I will get out of it, but I can not let this happen. It sounds like the parent from hell. "Oh, but I love her so much, I can't bear the thought of not having this love returned in just the same amount." But then you remember the times you were growing up and felt that grip, the heaps of guilt your parents could mount on you at any desired moment by implying your ungratefulness, or your non-compliance with their expectations. You remember the joy you felt at the prospect of being your very own person, just the way you decided to be, free to give and to love without the pressures to adapt the way you dress, censor the music you like and submit your dreams to someone else's idea of what they should be.
"But I know what's best for my child! I've known her since her very first day, what could she want that I don't know about yet?" It's incredible what sense of power motherhood will give you. It will twist your mind and make you think that you are being so selfless giving it all, while all the while you are doing it for yourself, trying to keep this baby around to return the love. It's a fine line between giving and demanding. It will be my biggest exercise in honesty yet. Is this a gift or is it a little bit of obligation put upon my child, an advance payment for services never offered? A question I will have to ask myself over and over. Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a mother after all. Anyone wants a cute little girl? The diapers are on the dresser...
Posted at 10:58 AM on April 14, 2004 | Comments (2)Deda Pajko
Last week my Grandfather died of old age after a long and full life. He died peacefully with one of his sons by his side and prayer in his heart. He was the only Grandfather I knew, my mother's father died before I was born. I couldn't go to his funeral, it was in his hometown, so this will have to do instead.
Most of my memories of him are when I was little. Before we moved to Austria I spent a week or more at my grandparents house every summer. I loved it. I was a city- and apartment kid at that time and my grandparents had a house with a big yard and a bunch of cute fuzzy animals. Actually it was my grandpa who kept a gazillion rabbits and a couple of cats. According to my grandma they were a nuisance but my grandpa could not be dissuaded of keeping them inspite of her daily nagging. He had the rabbits in a small wooden shed that looked like it was going to tip over any time (it almost did at some point), it was dark and damp inside and smelled like hay and rabbit poop. I would sneak in and feed the rabbits fresh dandelion leaves through the tiny nets on their cage doors, feeling so happy for the rabbit, thinking he must feel a whole lot of gratitude to receive this tasty treat compared to the dull hay (as if the rabbit could consider any kind of food dull) my grandpa fed him. I was not supposed to do that and tried to not let my grandpa find out although I'm sure he did.
I was in love with those animals. One summer while I was staying there by myself we were having lunch, my grandma, grandpa and me. I was going on and on about how cute the rabbits were and what they did and how their mouths moved when they ate and how many I counted in one cage and... All of a sudden my grandpa shouted: "Enough with the talking already! Silence at the lunch table! This is the time to eat and not to talk!" I was petrified. I don't think I moved a muscle. Now, you should know my grandpa didn't talk much, he hardly ever addressed us grandkids unless he was playing chess or cards with us (more on that later). He had an air of authority about him and the silence made it that much stronger. Having been a lawyer he put a lot of emphasis on "order" around him and kids in his eyes were obviously notorious for making a mess and it was better to be safe than sorry, which meant keeping a good eye on them long before they made a wrong move. So I am sitting there feeling scared and guilty, not knowing what I did but it must've been bad, because my grandpa broke his silence only to yell at me! Then my grandma started laughing and looked at me: "Look at her, she can't even eat that's how scared she got! Don't mind him. He is so happy that finally someone appreciates his rabbits, that he can't bear listening to it!" Back then I thought my grandma must've lost her mind. Today I know she was right. My grandpa was too shy when it came to showing affection. When he came out to greet us, I would give him a kiss and I could feel him feeling all uncomfortable yet quite honored with the attention.
Besides taking care of the rabbits my grandpa loved to rest. If he wasn't in the yard, he was lying on his sofabed in the living room watching TV or reading the paper. Sometimes I would join him and we watched a hodgepodge of news, movies and shows, some of which were probably completely inappropriate for kids my age, but hey, he was the grandpa, not the parent. One time we were watching the news with all its gore and drama and when they were over we went to the yard to get some hay and let the rabbits out and as we are out there, - in silence as always-, with the bunnies hopping around, he turns to me and says: "See, the animals are never cruel to each other for the sake of it. They eat what they need and they let each other be, but humans, no. They kill and kill and can never get enough." I will never forget this, because it was the only time my grandpa actually adressed me and let me know how he felt about something as well as deemed me old enough to understand a topic so grave. Again, I was too surprised and shocked to reply. It meant a lot to me. I supposed if I had seen him more often, he would've shared more, but this in a way was enough. I felt like I was let in on a secret realm - his thoughts and I felt honored.
Besides that the only time he would acknowledge me was to ask me if I wanted to play cards or chess. I hate playing cards and chess (it's a long story). I did do it anyway most of the time because I was either bored or didn't dare to say no to him. So we played and I always lost (like I said I hate those games) and he had a grand ol' time watching me lose. He laughed and always asked me if I wanted to play again to see if I would win and again I would lose until I finally suggested we played the "normal card game". He asked what that was. I looked at him funny and said: "You know, the normal card game." See, when I was little, I thought that every board game or set of cards had its regular game and then there were variations... like, you play chess with the chess figures and then there are a few other games you can play with them but mainly the figures are made for chess. So I thought, let's play "the" game intended for cards. He had a long long laugh at me after that one. I think he even told my uncle and they both had another long laugh after that.
As I said before, my grandfather used to be a lawyer and it seems to me when he retired he kept putting on the same clothes he used to wear to the office and wore them to feed the rabbits, cut grass and take long naps. You'd seem him every day in dress pants with a matching vest and a white button-down shirt underneath, most of it dirty and wrinkled. My husband would say he looked like Al Pacino going back to Sicily in "The Godfather". It sure helped his strict image. In winter he'd add a cap and a dark square coat. For years I thought he looked like the picture perfect grandpa, you know like the books show them. (My grandma had her hair in a bun too, so it worked well for a 6-year-old's view of the world.) He was also really skinny and was famous in our family for mixing and mashing all food that was served together and then eating it with a spoon. It was somewhat disgusting but given that he only had a few teeth it made sense. He also was hard of hearing and did not want to get a hearing aid. Some say he welcomed the silence, especially around my grandma who did not spare him with criticism, but who knows, maybe he just didn't want to stick anything in his ears. Instead he would put his hand on his ear and say: Excuse me?! We loved to imitate that as kids.
I will miss him, although I didn't get to see him much in the last year. I wish I had gotten the chance to get to know him better but those were different times and I was a really young kid. I wish I could say something conclusive, something more than talking about who he was in my life, but I don't know how. Instead I imagine him seeing his parents and brother and sister again and finally finding out what it was all about.
Posted at 04:10 PM on April 09, 2004 | Comments (4)It's not enough that my daughter has her own website
You still haven't seen enough of her.
Let's be honest, can there be a cuter baby? Have you ever seen a girl more beautiful? I don't think so. Look at that smile. Could I be a more obnoxious mother? I could, but I will spare you. :)
Posted at 04:18 PM on April 01, 2004 | Comments (4)