New Yorker Seeking Fun this Autumn in the Motherland!

So I don't know if you've heard but a certain someone is heading to Berlin this fall. To those of you who know me, go ahead and commence the giant eye roll accompanied by the equally giant sigh. I can just about hear you now. "Yes, YES! For the love of God, we KNOW you are going to Germany. Enough already!" (P.S. Don't think I'm going to stop talking about it once the trip is over. Then it will just be a recap of all the uber-cool stuff I did/saw/consumed in beer batter for a good five year stretch, I'm guessing).

But just in case you haven't heard, here's the dealio:

I'm going to the homeland via one of my nanny gigs. Although I currently work for a bunch of families in the Brooklyn area, I've most consistently worked for two. Most of my time is spent taking care of two-year-old Ethan and one-year-old Jack. Jack and I have been hanging out since he was a teeny, weeny eight-week-old. Not only have I established a good relationship with the little nugget over the past year, I've gotten to be friends with his fun, hip parents, too. Over coffee with Jack's mother one frigid day last winter, as I complained about how I'M NEVER GOING TO GET BACK TO SPAIN AGAIN, she asked if i wanted to accompany them on a trip. She had received a grant to do some work in Berlin and needed someone to take care of little Jack while she did her research.

I don't think the entire question had left her mouth before I began to shriek, "Yessssss!" and performed the happy girl dance which in my case, involves a combination of hopping, shimmying, and some sort of hand jiving. The thing is, I really, really love Europe. When I did my teaching stint in Madrid six years ago, it was supposed to be for two months only. Yet every few weeks, I'd call home to tell my mom, "I think I'm staying one more month. I mean, why not?" (May I add that on top of digging the Spanish culture, I was also gallivanting from Segovia to Sevilla with a tall, dark, and handsome foreigner, drinking copious amounts of sangria and dancing til dawn? There wasn't really an urgency to return to northern Wisconsin in the dead of winter.)

Regardless, that "Why not?" was answered six months later by my nearly wiped out bank account. Plus, that little war in Iraq that had started and a whole lot of concerned people back home just wanted their girl stateside again.

But ever since then, I've been dying to get back and now I have an awesome opportunity to do so. When I was in Spain, I did the quintessential backpacking trip through Europe and spent three days in Berlin. Even though it was the dead of winter, I LOVED it! I mean, I adored Spain, too, but in a much different, non-binding way. It didn't hit my gut the way Berlin did. I remember turning a street corner near the central train station, the Hauptbahnhof, and getting hit by the smell of my grandmother's kitchen. No, my 90-year-old grandma was not stuffing links on the streets of Berlin; rather that very distinct smell wafted over to me from a sausage cart on the street. It gave me chills.

Another reason I immediately felt at home? GERMANS KNOW THEIR BAKED GOODS! (This requires caps because I'm the kind of girl who cannot get through the day without a cookie at the very least). Where else can you get a bubbling warm apple strudel, a creamy Bavarian doughnut, or a sinful layered torte in the very same spot, whether it be a bakery, restaurant, or corner store? These are most definitely my people.

In the meantime, I have done pretty much nothing to prepare for this trip except to post a "Hey, I'm looking for friends!" ad on Craigslist. So far, so good. A few cool ass chicks have responded who I will meet up with once I'm there. And very recently, I got my hands on a 5 disc series called "You VILL learn your mother tongue, ja!" with a cover of a menacing red-faced dude in lederhosen, pointing a bratwurst at me. Okay, maybe I just made that up. I can't help but poke a little fun at the Germans. It's only because I can relate to them in so many ways (mostly in that stereotypical high strung, "Get outta my way, there is work to do!" sort of way). Anyway, I can't wait to come "home" and be one with my people. And despite what some people say, they are trying to warm their hearts! (It IS cold there, people! Let's give 'em a break!)

So I just tried out disc one. Holy crap, I've got a lot to figure out in four and a half weeks. How do you say "Wish me luck!" in German? Is is synonymous with "I am heading up shit creek without a paddle"?

I DO Live in an Killer City!

Well, hello there.

Sorry for my infrequent posts as of late. You see, it's summer in the city and I've had the great fortune of wonderful friends visiting the past few weekends. Although we tromped around, melty puddles of sweat (this 90 degree/90% humidity thing has really got to go), fun was had by all. Both guests were ridiculously easy to please. Awesomely chill chicks with no huge expectations, they just wanted to hang out and absorb the city. However, we did manage to take in some sights: Times Square, the former World Trade Center, the Brooklyn Heights promenade, Central Park, the absurd shops of 5th Avenue, a comedy show at the United Citizens Brigade Theatre and of course, we managed to gorge ourselves along the way. (Pizza? Hot pretzels? Hot dogs? Check, check, and check).

And in typical New York City fashion, my lack of planning worked to our advantage. Last Saturday, while strolling down 5th Avenue, a mere hour after her arrival, my friend and I were accosted by a dude on the street. "Are you American citizens?" he asked. Oh Jesus...here we go, I thought. I was waiting for him to make some dumb, borderline offensive comment about Americans which would have been followed by "Ha! But seriously, how about coming to see me at the Comedy Cafe tonight?"

Fortunately for us, this was not the case. He was actually in a tizzy, needing extras for a Nokia commercial pronto. He said that if we didn't mind riding around on a bus for an hour of two, we could make a quick 50 dollars. Sold! (Did I mention we were in the midst of window shopping on 5th Avenue?) I'm not sure when it will be aired but if you ever see a Nokia commercial with two girls bopping their heads from side to side (I seriously don't know what that was all about but it took them two hours to appropriately synchronize head bops), look two rows beyond them and you'll spot two sweaty chicks, chatting away while playing it oh-so-cool.

Throughout both of these visits though, I found myself screaming at myself, Why don't you get out and do this stuff more often? At the very least, get your ass to Central Park on a regular basis! Even though I live in this amazing city, I continually get caught up in the day to day/trying to make a living thing while missing out on all kinds of cool stuff. I am reminded of this when friends visit and I see that glint of excitement in their eyes as we stroll down the avenues of Manhattan. I'm not proud to admit that in my two years living here, I have only been to one museum, which I hated anyway. (Let's just say that I am not a fan of the modern art). I mean, really? The laundry can't wait?

If there is one tenet of healthy living that I've been trying to incorporate into my daily life, it's been the necessity of balance. Work is mandatory, of course. Laundry, too, but so is playtime and it's high time for me to break out of my ingrained Midwestern practicality and take advantage of what the city has to offer on a more regular basis.

Having said that, "Edward Scissorhands" is playing under the Brooklyn Bridge tomorrow night. The weather is supposed to (finally) be lovely, too. Who's in with me? Maybe we can even do it up all NYC style and enjoy a slice with a fat slab of cheesecake on the side. Yes?

Oh, Ethan!

I recently found out that Ethan's mom is going to be quitting her job which will make me as their part-time nanny pretty darn obsolete. I'm okay with it, though. Change tends to excite me. I start to imagine what awesomeness is just around the corner. But don't get me wrong...it's a little anxiety producing that once again, I need to figure out how to pay the bills. However, considering what I've managed to put together these past few years, I know it will all work out.

Along with all the financial nuts and bolts, I also need to prepare for the massive shift of no longer being a caregiver/playmate to little Ethan twenty hours a week. I have been caring for him since he was a tiny six-month-old. (Now he's a shrimpy 2 1/2 year old). In all of my years with children, I've never spent as much individual time with a kid as I have with him. Since I first met his drooly self, he has learned how to sit, scoot, hurl massive amounts of food on the floor, toddle, shake his booty, talk (and speak a little Spanish, thank you very much), throw the most entertaining temper tantrums, swear (oops!), find the one thing in my purse that he should NOT have, climb a jungle gym, run like the dickens, and in general, turn into one of the most fun, inspiring little people I've ever met.

Today was a day like many others. We just got back from taking the ferry to Staten Island and back for the sheer hell of it. We stood along the railings, enjoying the breeze, spotting boats and seagulls. During our ride back to Manhattan, both entranced by the whirring motor, Ethan looked at me half-dazed and said, "Go home now, Rachael?"

Once home, we colored together and he managed to pummel half a dozen stickers from his Elmo Goes Potty coloring book on my left arm. In fact, they're still there because I dread that something along the lines of an arm wax is in my very near future. But I also have kept them there as a reminder that I won't have many more days with him like this. I need to treasure these moments, even if it means staring at the Cookie Monster sticker that seems to be shouting, "GREAT JOB!" at me.

Hmmm, I think the tiny one might be waking up right about now. We will probably have more coloring to do or banana bread to bake or a fort to build. All I know is that we have lots to do in these next few weeks whether he likes it or not. This little peanut isn't going to get away from me that easily.

So This is What You Do When It's 90 Degrees Outside...

Much like the days of frigid winter or stormy spring, a brutally hot summer day like today is reason enough for me and the kids I care for to STAY IN amidst the goodness that is a well-regulated temperature. Of course, if little 2-year-old Ethan could have his way, he'd be out and about in any kind of weather conditions. His fingers could be icy red, sweat could be pouring from his temples and he'd still be tearing around the playground. I, however, as the caregiver need to set the appropriate boundaries. (And thank God since I am no fan of extreme weather).

So on a day like today, it's as if it's a rainy/"what the hell are we gonna do for eight hours?" kind of day. We played "picnic" for an amazingly long time; I then got one of his little friends to come over for a while, and then later in the day, Ethan's own creativity went wild. Out of nowhere, he began galloping around the house, yelling "Yee-haw!" and waving his arms (lassoing?) in the air. (This is what I love about toddlers. Who the hell knows what sparked horses/cowboys/rodeos/etc. in his mind? But suddenly, there it is, full force).

After a good few rounds of hooting and hollering, Ethan suddenly announced that we were going to play "horsey". I honestly didn't even know what he meant at first but as he began to push me over from my sitting position (how are teeny kids so freakishly strong???), I quickly remembered.

Suddenly, there I was on all fours. As he scurried up my back, my shirt bunched up and I couldn't help but notice the deafening silence. I knew that he was looking at the tiny Chinese symbol tattooed on my lower back. (Side note: ON MY DEFENSE, I GOT MY "TRAMP STAMP" TEN YEARS AGO WHILE IN COLLEGE BEFORE EVERY DAMN GIRL IN A BELLY TOP HAD ONE!) I laughed and said, "Do I have an owie back there, Ethan? Can you get that off?" He rubbed it and said, very matter-of-factly, "It's stuck".

However, the tattoo didn't keep his attention for long. He was more bothered that the ties of my empire waist tank top had come undone, informing me that he was going to "fix Rachael". He scampered off and after a ton of racket from his bedroom that I prayed would not result in any violent screaming (it didn't), he appeared before me with his play tool-set. He then pushed me forward again (this time, not so much on all fours but in a quasi-child's pose that my yoga instructor would not approve of). It was not a very appropriate position for a nanny to be in, I thought, and I tried to sit up but Ethan kept pushing me down. Apparently, this was the "fix-it" position. I seriously hoped that his mother wouldn't walk in at this moment, so rudely greeted by my ass.

Ethan then took his hammer, wrench, screw driver, and level out, using each one to tap me on the back to "fix" my shirt. This started out very gently (probably because I screamed, "GENTLE!" before he even started) but then as he got more into it, he managed to whack me a few times right on the spine, jolting me back into a sitting position. "I sorry, Rachael, " he said in his ridiculously perky tone (clearly an imitation of all the adults in his life) and once again guided my face down to the floor. With my cheek pressed against the rug, he tapped a few more times, and then out of nowhere, popped his little face next to mine and he said, "Don't worry, Rachael. You're gonna get a lollipop" which almost caused me to pee myself, right then and there.

But seriously, how great would it be if every sad, painful, or frustrating moment was eased by a lollipop? How fantastic would it be if a painful memory, like a tetanus shot, could be washed away with a tiny cherry dome of sugar? Hmm...there could be a little experiment in my near future. So if out of nowhere, I whip out a Dum Dum and ask you how it makes you feel, just be honest, k?

Later, kids...must get close to an A/C unit again. Let's pray that this heat wave is on it's way out. My spine can't take much more.

Spain Remains in my Veins (and Not Just in the Plains)

Although I love rich, buttery anything, I maintain a pretty darn healthy, mostly vegetarian diet. (Okay, there's the occasional butter burger/fries/chocolate malt extravaganza but damn, what's life without doing that once in a while?)

Although I do try to eat a lot of fruits and veggies, I detest making traditional salads. For some reason, they just never turn out all that good or interesting. I've found, though, that the less traditional (read: no greens), the better I seem to do. While paging through one of my fave magazines, I found this awesome gazpacho salad recipe. It is super quick, totally healty, and pretty great for those hot summer days when even turning on the microwave seems to be labor intensive.

Although not all are as healthy as this one, I'd highly recommend checking out the recipes at the Real Simple website on a regular basis. (P.S. They list awesome comfort food come the winter months!) With an impressive variety of dinner ideas, they tend to cater to the family on the go, offering many modifications to hasten preparation. Also works for a lazy singleton like me. Speaking of lazy, after chopping up all those veggies, I think it's time for a siesta.

Hasta luego, amigos...

So We Don't All Poison Ourselves and Die at Age 42

As I mentioned in a recent post, I'm delighted that more and more people are getting on the "Where the hell is my food coming from?" bandwagon. It's exhausting and expensive to do but when we learn about the grossness that is so neatly packaged in much of what we eat, I think it's well worth it.

But then there's that source of frustration, too...that "What, for God's sake, can I eat anymore?" and I totally hear you. If it's not cancer, mercury, or a frightening level of hormones, it's carbon emissions and animal cruelty that we need to worry about. Hence, I am thrilled anytime a "how to shop" article comes out. Now I realize it's not necessarily fair to post an article that makes reference to local grocers and restaurants but I wanted to share it because it's still chock full of good, consumer conscientious advice. And you all know how much I love that!

Damn, I love New York Magazine with its pretty front cover font and awesome articles. And these folks just got awesomer with this article, "Eat Good". Check it out. I'm gonna check out the shade-grown chocolate at the Brklyn Larder and report back. (All in the name of research, of course!)