Month: February 2016

Kindanotthatgood?

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Someone asked me how I was the other day. I mean really asked how I was doing. And it made me realise how long it had been since somebody made such an enquiry. I couldn’t give a coherent answer at the time but I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

So how am I?

I’m… I dunno

I’m a bit lost, actually.

I’ve been putting my energy outwards, out there, out and about. But am I getting much back?

I’ve been looking out for others, trying to be supportive, nurturing, educational and entertaining. But am I taking care of myself?

I’ve been distracted with busyness, paid work and paying bills.

I’ve been pushing the kids around and keeping myself moving while keeping things at arms’ length.

I tried to change things in my work situation but it seems to have resulted in stagnation.

I’m still waking at least once a night to feed or comfort the 1yo. I’m tired. Oddly: I don’t feel that tired. But I’m starting to dread my “shift” – the hours between midnight and 5am – in a putting-off-going-to-sleep-cos-I’ll-just-get-woken-up way.

I still lack a sense of identity here in Switzerland. As a sort-of-stay-at-home-mum. As an ageing alternative person. As … what am I? Do I need to be something?

I’m still struggling with minor-major issues around language. Silly-seeming things like putting off making a dentist appointment for my son, or booking swimming lessons because I know it will involve awkward-language encounters and cultural differences. (Although maybe I’d be procrastinating this anywhere, because I hate making appointments!)

I’m trying to be a decent parent. And I really subscribe to hands-off parenting, good-enough parenting, drop-the-guilt-parenting, all the slack-arse parenting I can read about, really. But sometimes days (weeks?) go by and I wonder if I’ve even “seen” my kids? Can that be right? Maybe I just forgot.

It’s hard for me to prioritise small moments and quietness over rushing and action. Shock?!

Maybe I’m not really connecting with anyone.

There’s stuff going on with our situation here that feels mostly out of my control. It makes me feel impotent and wary.

And I wonder if I should stop this silly, too-personal blog because what do I hope to achieve?

We’re good partners and parents together but we’re shitty lovers.

Feels like I might be playing a supporting role in my own life right now. And even though I’m totally nominated-and-likely-to-win the Best Supporting Actor gong, surely I should be centre stage?

How am I? Kinda not that good.

I wrote this last week on a particularly low day. We’re all supposed to talk about depression nowadays with no stigma, right? But I still feel weird about it. And, while I don’t particularly want sympathy or solutions, I guess I just feel compelled to put it out there, as they say. Anyway, so last week I didn’t do enough and this week I totally took on too much and I’ve been rushing about like a crazy mofo doing cooking/cleaning/planning/playdates/ good deeds/going on holiday and biting my nails and I feel better… sort of. Manic much? ha ha ha.

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A life in two languages

 

Flamingos at Zurich Zoo

Tell it to the birds? I didn’t have anything better to illustrate this post.

I’ve been thinking about language and identity again lately. Mostly, I guess, because I’ve finally managed to re-start German lessons (yay!). Himself and I are having a private tutor come once a week. It’s probably not quite enough for my ideal language-learning scenario. I’m starting to realise that when it comes to German, I want a bit of language S&M: I need to be tied down and whipped into shape with a fairly rigorous routine or my natural laziness / procrastination / fear of failure kicks in and I don’t do the homework. I probably need the “deadline pressure” of a more intensive course, because I’m also a people-pleaser who wants to get her gold star. Anyway… it’s a good start.

I’ve also been trying to get my thoughts straight about English and other languages and raising bilingual (or multilingual) children. I’m on a Facebook group about this and there are some interesting discussions. The ambition of some parents and the abilities of their children is truly astounding.

While there’s plenty of literature around now about the benefits of being bilingual, I was surprised to discover that up until fairly recently, bilingualism was considered detrimental to children … I guess they’re thinking of kids who don’t know the language struggling in schools and stuff? However, recent research all seems to suggest that bilingualism can help people become better problem-solvers and have more empathy, among other things. Here’s a post that debunks some theories about raising bilingual children.  And here’s a blog by Olga Mecking, a Polish woman living in the Netherlands, about some of the negative things people say to parents raising multilingual children. I like the latter because Mecking seems to subscribe to one of my own parenting mantras: Butt out of how other people are raising their kids!

There are still issues, however. I thought this blog post on code-switching by an Aboriginal writer (I’m afraid I don’t know her name!) was very thought-provoking about the power of language skills and how, even if you know a language well, being a less-competent speaker can reinforce negative perceptions, particularly if you’re part of a minority and/or ethnic group that people are already prejudiced against. I’ve also witnessed plenty of online snidery about people whose English spelling and grammar is not up to scratch. And while the ex-subeditor in me mostly agrees, the atrocious speller-of-German-words in me feels some despair at this. Of course, context plays a big part – I guess people aren’t excommunicating their friends who misspell your and you’re on fb status updates (or maybe they are) and it’s reasonable to expect, say, the teacher of your children to have a pretty good grasp of basic grammar and spelling! Anyway, it suffices to say: judgement based on language skills is definitely A Thing.

And this is not just something that happens to the disempowered. I had dinner with a Swiss friend recently who said that, when doing presentations at his work (a multinational consultancy), his “best weapon” is to have his colleague – a Londoner – do most of the talking. The Polish blogger I mentioned above also says in her post that some of the negativity she’s experienced from others in teaching her children her mother-tongue stems from negative perceptions about Poland and/or Polish people in Europe. This worries me a about speaking German too, which my mouth tends to totally mangle. But then again, I don’t feel like people are prejudiced against native English speakers in quite the same way.

Because, in terms of power and privilege, not all languages are equal, are they? In some ways, English is the Bully Language of the world: the one everyone needs, if not wants, to use to access a huge chunk of popular culture (music, movies, cartoons, video games…), get along in business, and use the internet. I was reading recently about how English is also the international language of the aviation industry (ie: those who build and maintain the planes), and who knows what other industries besides?! In this respect, English can feel like an oppressor that seems to exert an unfair dominance on many aspects of modern life. But English is also the language of cool. And protest – I see a lot of graffiti in English — “fuck cops” springs to mind, which I see often in Zuri.

Not that I’m complaining about winning the language lottery. Although, on some levels, being a native and only-English speaker makes me a bit sad. For one, I have try a lot harder to learn another language by the osmosis of popular culture (although being in a non-English-speaking country – sort of! – does help here). And then there’s the fact my “own” language will almost never be a “private” thing to me and my family – because everyone speaks a bit of English!

And yet, and yet… I do wonder.

I am starting to question if the sort of knowledge and understanding of English I have — as a native speaker, word spinner and language-lover —  is actually quite different to what a lot of English as a 2nd or 3rd language people have. Even so much as to almost call it a different beast. “Business English” or “Tourist English” as opposed to Anglophone English or even Australian English. That said, I have friends who are not native-English speakers whose language skills are, almost without exception, impressive to perfect. So English is certainly not an exclusive club only open to native speakers, by any means. In fact, having English as your mother tongue can even be a disadvantage, according to this article, which talks about how native-English speakers can run into trouble when doing business because their overly-deft use of the language alienates others.

However, for me, losing that deftness of language – skills I’ve spent my whole life honing and polishing – is a genuine concern. Because I do wonder if, by learning German and using German more and more, my English will suffer. Even if just a tiny bit, and that thought makes me feel unhappy. And I worry about this for my kids — I would hate to think of them ending up in a sort of Jack-of-all-trades,-master-of-none situation with several languages in their heads but no deep, wide and abiding knowledge of one in particular. (OK, probably unlikely to be an issue and certainly not at this stage!)

Back to the Bully Language thing: I hope I don’t sound like one of those Men’s Rights or White Rights assholes by complaining about this from my position of privilege. And hey, maybe I’m being a bit too precious about “my” language here. OK so it is one of my few marketable skills, but perhaps I should just chill the fuck out about it all. Is it true that you hold on tightest to something just as you’re about to let it go?

A disclaimer: I’ve been sitting on this post for more than a week now and I’m still not sure it perfectly expresses what I want to say, but it will have to do. I’ll no doubt revisit this topic again in future. In the meantime, I would be interested in your thoughts in the comments below, so… Publish and be damned!

Landfill

How many Poängs

How many days’-worth of 1-day Acuvue. Decades… Centuries?

How many Normal, with wings

How many Nokia dumphones. Gathering dust in that drawer.

Throw them all away

 

The Thermomixes of today will one day rest alongside the juicers of yesteryear

The coffee machines. And all those mountains of coffee pods

Don’t feel superior: take-away coffee cups as well.

Our parents’ fondue sets (still in use in Switzerland!)

Our torn Slip’ n Slides

 

One million, two thousand and twenty-eight discarded games of Hungry, Hungry Hippos

Ab Circle pros, Thighmasters and exercise bikes

Posca pens, tin soldiers, rusty matchbox cars

They all nestle together in the earth somewhere

Leaching their toxins into the sad and dirty ground

 

Cabbage Patch Kids, unrescued by Tree Change

Enough bubble wrap to cover the Empire State Building. And The Gherkin, And the Eiffel Tower. And the Sydney Opera House. And the Taj Mahal. With leftovers.

All the milk bottles that carried products from cows whose babies we aren’t

Shower gel

Orangutan-displacing palm-oil laced peanut butter

 

Electric toothbrushes, battery-operated mascara, torches.

Cans of Diet Coke, Coke Light, Coke-we’re-not-Monsanto-we-just-make-fizzy-diabetes-in-a-can-please-keep-buying

Pedometers

I’m no Lorax

But who does speak for the trees?