It'th tradithional"

While the USA prepare for the war on christmas and the rest of the world awaits the news of casualties, in Germany has come the time for one of my most favourite catholic celebrations: St. Martin's Day.
St. Martin is a catholic saint who, according to the legend, cut his cloak in two and gave half of it to a poor man who was about to freeze to dead. To this day, this is remembered at the 11th of November (or some day around that date) with children walking the streets with lanterns, the singing of traditional songs, a big bonfire and, where I live, a Martinsbretzel, a sweet bread that is only made around that day. Oh I love it.
I don't love it because of some supernatural humbig, but because it is a celebration of many things I like and find good:

• First the kids and parents craft the lantern together. Spending time with my kids? Hey, that's wonderful. Sure, we could do that whenever we wanted, but that one time a year is something to look forward to.
• The procession. Colourful lanters in the dark November evenings, singing songs together and watching the big bonfire. That's quailty time. That's being together. And a 2m bonfire (the wood, not the flames) is a sight to be seen.
• The Martinsbretzel. Sure, we live in a world of plenty, we could have that everyday. But we all know it's not the same. Looking forward to something is a pleasure in itself. After having walked on the actual street, at a time when I was supposed to be inside and getting ready for bed, having a hot sweet tea or coacoa and a sweet Martinsbretzel when usually I would only get normal supper, that was a real treat for me as a child. All the normal rules were abandoned just for one night.
• The story of St. Martin. It makes much more sense than the usual christian stories, at least at a child-like level.* Nobody killed for their own good, no magical mystery birth. It's a story that works without any religion at all. Being good, being kind, sharing, those aren't christian virtues, those are human virtues.

So, yes, I'm a great fan of great traditions. I will celebrate St. Nicholas' Day soon, and a full scale christmas. Only except the religious nonsense. I will celebrate for the sake of celebrating, I will celebrate being alive, and with my loved ones. Celebrations are good, and after all, they're tradithional.

*Well, actually he was a privileged asshole. How about taking the poor beggar up on your horse, getting him into your stables to keep warm, giving him a meal and finding him an odd job around the house?

Storytime: Thief's luck

Jock gave Wulff a slight thump and pointed at a man in the crowd. Judging his clothing he was a rich merchant from the Rabost province. Had he come here laden with precious goods for trade, or had he travelled lightly and quickly to Zasul to get one of the much desired licenses from the Prodnik?
It mattered little to Jock and Wulff. Their whole focus lay on the fat purse he wore at his belt and the little girl he had with him. The couple was standing in the crowd in front of a puppet theatre, waiting for the play to begin.
Wulff nodded and started pushing through the crowd. Recklessly he pushed and thumped as if he weren't a skinny boy but a guard in full armour. Already people were complaining, pushed back and mayhem grew and finally the little girl fell and scuffed her knees on the hard cobblestones.
 Immediately the merchant took his hand off his fat purse to attend to his daughter and as soon as he had let it go, Jock cut it off and vanished in the crowd.
They met again in the old warehouse. The purse was heavy, and made from a leather so fine that Jock had never seen the like, adorned with a strange golden fur. Jock emptied it onto the floor. They'd never had such luck before, never seen that much money. Most of the coins were pure gold. They were rich beyond their wildest dreams, but strangely neither Jock nor Wulff paid the heap on the floor much attention. Their focus was completely on the strange purse.
"I take that, you keep the rest", snapped Wulff and pulled the purse right out of Jock's hands. He wanted to protest, to fight, but what could he do? Wulff was not only two years older than him, but also a head taller and twice as heavy as himself. There was a reason why the small Jock was the actual thief of the team. He watched Wulff as he left the warehouse. He was strangely aware of the fact that this was the end of their friendship.
Shrugging his shoulders he packed the money which now seemed much more appealing to him. He carefully divided the coins into little packets, wrapped in cloth so they would not tingle and hid them on his body, but again and again his thoughts travelled back to Wulff and that damned leather purse. Still grumpy he bought a fried pancake which would usually have made him drool with delight and ate it while he wandered over the market.
Suddenly there was a turmoil at the other end of the market and the thief in him led Jock  there automatically. But what he saw let his blood run cold and erased any thought of thieving from his mind. The very moment he arrived, the guards were pulling back Wulff from a bloody mess that might have been a little boy, but worse than that was the look of Wulff. Between his teeth he had lumps of bloody flesh and he fought like a madman. The Captain of the guards took his belongings from him and for a tiny moment Jock glimpsed the leather purse which vanished unseen in the pockets of the Captain. Jock was quite sure that it wouldn't reach the Prodnik as the law demanded.
Maybe, he thought, maybe it was time to leave Zasul. The Guilds of the Free City didn't ask where thier fees came from as long as they were paid. Jock was clever and canny. Maybe he could become a goldsmith, or a writer. No, probably not a writer, he decided as he headed towards the caravan-market. Parchment was too much like leather.

When the girl fell, Eidan immediately tended to her. The moment she hit the cobbles the smell of her blood reached his nose and almost drove him crazy. Yes, maybe tonight. Probably tonight. Poor thing. He'd bought her from a peasant a few days ago. She'd starve there anyway come winter, he said to himself. He'd given her pretty cloths and good food. He wanted to take her to the puppet-theatre. He hadn't asked her name.
Suddenly it was gone. The greed, the hunger, the madness. He took the crying child into his arms. "Shooo, don't cry, it will stop soon and then everything will be allright". And then again, more to himself, "everything will be allright".
He looked at her and wiped away her tears. "How would you like if we went home, the two of us. No, not the tavern, really home, to Rabost. My wife has always wanted a little daughter and your new brothers will spoil you beyond belief. We'll leave early tomorrow and what do you think about travelling via Zeikul? They breed the best ponies in all of Z'amad and you'll learn riding on the way home. When we come home you will be such a good rider that you can go on the hunt already!"
And most importantly, that way didn't lead past the five tiny graves filled with child bones of which only he knew where to find them.

Do something now

I just got an e-mail that inspired me to this blog-post.
Some time ago I found out that the ultra-conservative Pius-Brotherhood is protesting against reproductive healthcare providers. This may be very old news for you, but not that common in Germany.
So, when I found out I took the 5 minutes it takes to write them a supportive e-mail, telling them "Thank you".
So today I got a reply. they were sincerely glad about getting a supportive slap on the shoulder once in a while, we all know that it feels good.
So, it's something you can do now. If you can't be an escort, if the nearest clinic is far away, if there's nothing else you can do: Write them an e-mail, thank them, tell them you're glad they're there for you even though you might never need them.
Just do it.

7 things I'd like you not to do to my kids (or other people's kids)

1.) Do not touch
It's sad that I have to mention that, but really, please, don't touch. I don't touch you, a perfect stranger and you'd be rightly upset if I did. My children are perfect strangers to you, too, and just because they're short doesn't mean they feel comfortable with you patting them. Do you want to look like a creep?


2.) Do not feed
I sound like I was writing about zoo-animals, don't I? Another basic one. It's nice that you want to give them a treat. Just ask me, please. Maybe they are about to have dinner, maybe they just had a huge ice-cream cup. And while my kids might simply puke in the car, there are many kids around with allergies. Your cookie could be lethal.

3.) No, it's not okay
It's nice that you don't mind my kids screaming at the top of their voices or sitting down at your table in the restaurant. I really appreciate that there are still some people out there who have a high tolerance for kids. But honestly, that's a bit too much. I'm trying to teach them some respect for other people's needs and you're not helping.

4.) No, they're not dolls
I know, they're cute. But please, can't you compliment them on something apart from their looks? Come on. You're an intelligent adult, you can come up with something better. You don't want to teach them that looks are the only thing that matters. Do you want them to judge you by that standard?

5.) De-du-du-du, de-da-da-da is only cool when sung by the police
Can you please talk normaly? How do you think they're going to learn language? Surely not by baby-talk. Especially not since they're already fluent in it. It only makes you look stupid.

6.) Wear your big-kid pants
So they're not talking to you? Believe me, they understood you the first time. If they don't want to answer you it's their choice. If that offends you, well, that is of course your choice. But I thought you wanted to be the adult.

7.) Yes, you're a stranger
No, of course you're not one of those strangers who give kids candy and then want to do evil things. You're only one of those other strangers who just give kids candy. Honestly, how are the kids supposed to know that, or for that matter, how am I supposed to know that? Because the bad kind of strangers and the good kind of strangers look exactly alike until the point when they don't. Don't make me worry about what kind you belong to. And please accept that my children will err on the side of safety. Oh, and for candy, please read #2 again.

On the non-existence of parental rights and why mum still knows best

If you're confused by the title, don't worry, it's intentional. I'm trying to explain.
First of all, there's this parental rights thing. We all know it. I'm a passionate mum. Mess with my kids and you find out why the most dangerous animal is a mother with young indeed. And don't start telling me why I absolutely must do X, thank you very much.
Sounds like I really like my parental rights, really?
Only that I don't think that such a thing exists. There are no imanent rights to anything that has to do with a child just because you ejaculated inside a fertile woman or poped a baby out of your vagina.
Because children are people, too.
Shocking idea, isn't it?
But I challenge you to cite a modern democratic constitution that starts with somewhat like "people have the right to life, liberty and free speech provided they're of age". Nope, those rights are granted to everybody, plus a bunch of other rights, like the right to vote and so on.
But rights come with responsiblities and consequences. And let's face it, if you have no clue what "100$" means, you shouldn't be allowed to spend them on sweets. If you can't understand what a pneumonia is, you don't get to make the choice to run around in your swimming trunks in a January snowstorm. And if you think "they promised me a lollipop" is a really good argument to vote for somebody, you shouldn't be allowed to vote*.
So, if you can't understand the consequences, you don't get the right.
Yet some of those rights are necessary for daily life. Unlike voting, which is something a lot of adults don't do, the decissions about food and clothing need to be made constantly. Others, like taking the kid to the doctor, are crucial and can't be left unadressed. So they're given to a responsible adult who's usually also the parent.
So, even though I get to make all those choices, I don't have the right to make them. I'm the stewardess of my child's rights.
I hand them back, little by little, until one day I'm not needed to make them anymore. There's a fully grown human person who can weigh the advantages and consequences of pancakes for breakfast herself.  And if I've done my job well, could make me some, too, please.
Now that I've established that I have no real right on that child, I still know best, well, most of the time. Not because of some magical mummy instincts. Not because I'm infallible. Simply because I know that kid best. I know their habits and characters. My experience tells me pretty well whether it's time for them to see the doctor or whether they just need a day on the couch with choclate cake, hot tea and lots of love.
That's why I generally don't care much if little Johnny is running around on the playground at 9 pm. Unless I've got reason to think that he's there because there's nodody at home or something like that, of course. But maybe little Johnny takes a long nap in the afternoon. Or he needs little sleep in general. Or a bazillion other sound reasons why Johnny's primary caretaker lets him run around that late.
So, don't look away when harm is done, because they have no right to do it.
But also don't judge people because they're making a different decision than you would make.

*I do notice that this is a problem with adult voters, too ;)

Have people ever thought about the afterlife?

It was comment from my mother in law that made me thinking about it. She's not a very religious person, I actually don't know what her beliefs are, she doesn't pray for people or thank god except in the way the phrase is used in Germany all the time: thoughtless, without really meaning it.*
So, what was it she said? Talking about my grandma who's in hospital and who seemed like giving up, she said "maybe she wants to be with her husband again".
My grandpa died last December.
So, if she really thought they would meet again, or if any believer believes in any kind of afterlife, how do they think it to be?
Would they still have their old, weak bodies? Or would there be a new one, perfectly healthy, perfectly able to do anything, unbreakable?
And most of all, what would they do for all eternity? Their lives were shaped by the struggles and the hard work they did. By WWII, emigration, hardship and also accomplishment.
So, what would that afterlife like, for all eternity, once you've gotten over the 10 minutes of joy to be with each other again?

* If you're talking to a German person and they're using a lot of religious language, don't assume that they are religious anymore than you'd assume them to have read Hamlet for saying "to be or not to be". We'll happily invoke god, Jesus, a soul and the appocalypse as idioms and metaphors.

Homeopathy is so strong, it works through closed bottles

On our recent holiday in France, the kids and hubby caught cold. No big deal, but I wanted to give them some cough syrup, the only medication I hadn't packed.
So I scratched my French together, went into the pharmacy and asked for something against a dry cough.
Well, since Mr. was parking in the second row, and my French is about as fluent as the Dead Sea, I just took the bag, paid the bill and left.
Back at our caravan I inspected the bottle. Yes, my French had worked. It said it was a remedy against dry coughs on the bottle.
On closer inspection it also told me it was a homeopathic bottle of sugar-water and if the symptoms hadn't become better within 5 days, I should see a doctor.
Well, what should I say? After only two days, the cough really had become better.
All through the magic powers of a closed bottle in the cupboard (don't ask me why I transported it another 1.000 km to throw it away back at home).
If I were any suceptible to woo, I would now be completely convinced of the wonderful power of homeopathy. I would probably drive the 50 km to cross the border just to buy that very cough syrup.
Bad luck for them...
What really annoys me is that in the European Union, any so called "functionyl food" has to provide studies before they're allowed to market their stuff as "beneficial for your cholesterol digestion whatever" . So why are they allowed to put the label cough remedy on a bottle of sugarwater?