Hilfe! Ich Will Kein DIY Machen!

Wie jede frischgebackene Mutti festellen muss, Kinder kosten viel Arbeit, Kraft, und Mühe. Ich bereue meine Entscheidung nichts, und mache das alles gern, aber heutzutage wünsche ich mir dass ich zurück auf den Philippinen bin.

Ich will nicht arrogant klingen, aber fast jeder Mittelschichtfilipino hat ein oder zwei Dienstmädchen zu verfügung. Und auf den Philippinen, die Leute in den Westen tun uns etwas leid, weil wir denken, die Arme, sie mussen alles selbst machen! Tja, naturlich ist die Arbeit, die diese hilfskräfte leisten nicht zum deutschen Standard, aber das scheint die Filipinos nicht zu stören.

Ich bin mittlereweile sehr "eingedeutscht," in dem ich jetzt gerne sehr viel selbst mache. Ich koche meine eigene Marmelade, koche das Essen selbst, putze die Wohnung. Klingt alles doof, aber auf den Philippinen keine Selbstverständlichkeit. Aber ich bin nicht sooo Deutsch, das ich Hilfe nicht annehmen werde. Und Zeiten wie diese macht es klar, ich brauche zur Zeit ein Dienstmädchen.

Anders als Thomas. Vielleicht er ist sehr Ostdeutsch in dem Sinn dass er nach keiner Hilfe fragt wenn er denkt dass er etwas allein schaffen könnte.

In dem Auto am Freitag hatten wir für X Mal diskutiert, weil ich endlich Putzkräfte anheuern möchte um die Wohnung sauber zu halten. Seit meiner Entbindung habe ich einfach kein Bok die Wohnung zu putzen. Das Kind hält mich wach, ich muss ständig stillen, und ich möchte gerne etwas Zeit für mich genießen.

"Aber deswegen kriegst du Elterngeld! Um da für das Kind zu sein, und natürlich der Haushalt zu halten."

"Thomas, ich hab keine Energie mehr für die Wohnung sauber zu halten. Was ist dann so schlimm wenn wir Leute haben, die einmal pro Woche die Wohnung putzt?"

"Das will ich einfach nicht."

"Ich glaube, das hier ist ein kulturelles Problem. Ich hab nichts dagegen wenn ich zum Beispiel mein Leben einfacher machen möchte in dem ich jemand bezahle um meine Webseite zu gestalten. Aber du zum Beispiel wollte nicht mal das ich zu einem Steuerberater gehe!"

"Das kann sein. Ich nehme Hilfe nicht gern wenn ich etwas selbst machen kann."

Ich hab dann aufgegeben. Ich weiß nicht ob das Deutsch ist, oder ist er einfach Mann? Tja, wenn jemand vorbeikommen möchte um meine Wohnung zu putzen, lass uns über ein Preis reden!

I Now Pronounce You Mr. and Mrs. D.

We were not sure how to do the name thing when we got hitched. I kept my name, he kept his. But then he decided to take on my name. His reasons: I have a cooler name that is unrelated to hooves. Foreigners could not pronounce his name, and Germans could never spell it correctly, either. That's why he was so impressed that I got his name right three weeks after our first date.

As of yesterday, Thomas H. is Thomas D. Yes, it's official. We have the papers and everything.

Changing your calling cards and e-mails must be a bitch. Poor fella.

Gimme Freedom. Gimme Shelter.

One of the things that I like about my relationship with Thomas is that he gives me a lot of personal freedom to pursue my interests, something that I have always believed in and something that I reciprocate wholeheartedly. A lot of people, Germans and Asians alike, could not understand how I could spend three months here in Spain on my own volition, to pursue a dream, without having my husband constantly at my side. Or why am I willing to work and support our family in times that Thomas, who is also a freelancer, takes time off from his job to focus on his ideas (I am not kidding. As a kid Thomas's ambition was to be an "inventor").

As individuals, one of the most binding aspects of our relationship is that we both crave freedom. The freedom to be ourselves, and our dread of the stifling obligations that people expect from their partners when they are in a relationship. Actually, one of our biggest communication problems is that neither knows, or knows how to express in a way the other would understand, the personal boundaries that they have and wish that their partner would respect.

Not to say that we don't want a safe haven. Of course we want that the other person will remain a stable rock for the other.

It has come to a point where I am considering babies. Yes, babies. I see babies everywhere. I find them adorable. For many people, children cement a relationship. For some they are the catalyst for its unraveling. I think that our relationship can handle children. Thomas said that being the typical GDR kid, he is not averse to having children at such a young age. The catch is that it was only recently, he said, has he sensed my willingness to have children. He is right.

I look forward to having a bratty baby, then a bratty teenager, in the hopes and in my smugness that I will do a better job than my mom. Being a typical woman, I have imagined conversations with my future child and how I would raise him/her, give him/her "the talk" and how to handle issues.

I asked myself am I willing to raise this child as a single mother, if it comes to that. The answer is yes.

On the other hand, I also fear the loss of freedom. The loss of freedom to pursue my own interests because I have a child. It is true that it is easier to raise children in East Germany, for that I am thankful. Day care and Kindergartens till 4 p.m. is a blessing for parents. In the Philippines, I grew up with yayas or live-in nannys, so my mother definitely had enough time to be herself when she needed to be. One of my greatest fears that I might bite off more than I could chew and find out that I have too late. If I move to West Germany or any other country, how am I gonna deal with lack of child care? What about my plan to live in Japan for a year to learn Japanese? What's gonna become of that? I know I sound selfish but ultimately, wanting children is a selfish endeavor, and I think that wanted children are mostly better off than unplanned ones.

Anyway I know that children will restrict me in a lot of ways, it is up to me to still exercise my identity. I hope I I don't end up resenting my child for "lost opportunities" or stuff like that. Maybe I need to redefine the meaning of freedom. Basta.

Finally...the One?

One book that led me to view life from another frame of mind was "The Commitment," by Dan Savage. He put into question our concept of a "successful marriage." According to him, "til death do us part" marriages are not necessarily happy nor fruitful. There are several marriages, like his own parents', that did not withstand the test of time but from all aspects were actually successful.

Thomas and I had a dicussion last year about the fate of our relationship. He said that should a point in time come that we aren't happy together anymore, we shouldn't view our relationship with regret. That I, in case we break up, should not think that our journey together was a waste of time.

At that time, I didn't understand him, and I viewed his belief as a sort of defense mechanism developed by kids of broken marriages. I viewed it then suspiciously, like the way I viewed pre-nuptial agreements back then.

Reading my old posts about how I wanted my future husband to be makes me laugh! They sound so childish and immature, familiar and yet alien. Was this me? Was I really that crazy? Thomas, if anything, is the opposite of the guy with whom I imagined myself married. The guy I wanted to be with is moneyed, articulate, well-read, a city boy. Thomas is proud of the fact that aside from his school textbooks, he has only read one book his entire life, The Da Vinci Code. I met Thomas as a "poor German student," now he is a "stuggling young professional." Thomas is not verbally articulate, and we settled here in Erfurt as a compromise. He hates big cities.

Yet, we get along really well. We can occupy the same space for extended periods of time without killing each other. Are we two halves of a whole? Probably not. I would describe our relationship like a fusion dish. You never thought that chili and chocolate would taste so good together, but they do! I guess if ended up with my New York Kinda Guy, he would be so insufferable that we would implode.

Before Thomas, I was really wounded by a guy. On paper, we sounded so compatible. We liked books, we were both into the arts, we were both geeks. We wined and dined, and made love because I felt, this was it, he was the one. I rushed into things so strongly that I was blind to the fact that this guy was a neurotic who could crash into a hysterical breakdown at any moment.

So is Thomas the one? Could be. I don't know. I'm not saying. But it's fun having him along for the ride.