Not what I was expecting

We spent last Easter in the US with my family. Rosie got her birthday cake on board the plane along with a card signed by the whole crew. She promptly vomited it all up, but the thought was very nice. We got to see lots of our friends, even more family, and our girls had a real "American-style" Easter egg hunt with lots of eggs and more importantly lots of other kids. I got to see my father for the last time, although I had no idea it would be the last time. I will remember that trip forever as one of the best in my life. I cannot believe how much has changed in the last year.

Unfortunately, this year we started from a funeral. The cemetery is in a quiet, wooded location. It's also just down the cobblestone road from the beautiful wooden church where my parents-in-law got married, and once at Christmas Eve mass when I thought I saw the Unibomber.
That's a story for another day.

We also visited some family members with their version of cobblestone as well.

modern cobblestone

Rosie turned 7 and celebrated with her Easter-themed birthday cake made by Mom ;)

I chickened out and bought little Mazurki.

Pickled eggs in waiting

Babki baked to perfection ;)

Pisanki decorated to perfection ;)

The Easter bunny didn't forget our girls.

It was bit wet out, but no snow so yay!

Pickled egg perfection :)

Honey-baked ham

And all the fixings

Rosie got this at the local Christmas ball factory.

Today we returned to work. The girls will go back to school tomorrow. Back to normal I guess, but a new normal, a normal I wasn't quite expecting.

Good Friday

My father-in-law was a quiet man. He was a handsome man as well. I can completely understand why my 15-year-old mother-in-law fell head-over-heels in love with him. So in love that at 16 she gave birth to their first child. Later that year they married. They went on to have two more children, 5 grandchildren, and 4 great grandchildren over their 54 years of marriage.

I learned Szczebrzeszyn from my father-in-law. It's his hometown. I knew Szczebrzeszyn before I had ever heard the tongue twister it's so famous for. Although my father-in-law taught me how to pronounce Szczebrzeszyn, it took me a bit longer to learn how to spell it. 

I learned who Violetta Villas was from my father-in-law. We were looking through an old photo album where we found a post card with a picture of Violetta Villas posing in a leopard-print bikini, of course with her trademark long, blonde locks of hair. My quiet and introspective father-in-law remarked that when he was younger he thought she was just about the sexiest thing going. I also learned that my father-in-law had a peculiar taste in women.

I called my father-in-law Ojciec although I'm not a fan of calling in-laws mother and father. Everybody called him Ojciec. Once when I was taking a nap on the couch, the mailman came in (!) and asked where Ojciec was. It was like his name.

My father-in-law was born 74 years ago on Good Friday. Today on Good Friday he was laid to rest.

Rest in peace Ojciec.

Przepraszam, że żyje

Grandmother’s Day and Grandfather’s Day are upcoming here in Poland (January 21 & 22) and along with that, various Grandparent’s Day celebrations in school complete with shows, skits, songs, and homemade cards. After a couple of years in pre-school and a couple of years in primary school I’ve gotten to recognize not only the parents of my children’s peers, but also some of the grandparents. Sometimes it easy to figure it out, you know, genetics and all that. Sometimes it is just a cross-generational affinity for big hair and leopard print leggings that gives the family relations away.

The other parents have got no chance to try to figure out if our Lizzie and Rosie take after their mother’s side or their father’s.This year for us will be the same – which one of us is going to stand in for the missing grandparents? You know because my parents aren’t likely to make it and the other grandparents, well, you know. Last year I stood in so I do believe that I am exempt this year.

 

Around this time of the year, I often get unsolicited advice about our grandparent (or should I say grandmother) problem. The latest from our neighbor in the village who advised me to do what he did when he had a huge conflict with his mother-in-law – buy a bouquet of flowers and apologize. Well, I suppose that might work if my violation were anything like his – getting his teenaged girlfriend pregnant (now his wife of many years) and later getting a bit rough with her in an argument. That I could apologize for. But the point of our argument is the fact that I exist. What am I supposed to do? Buy a bouquet of flowers and say, “Przepraszam, że żyje”?






And to think it all started because of something like this…



To all you grandparents out there, have a very joyful Grandparent’s Day hopefully spent with your loving grandchildren.

www.wolnoscodreligii.pl

As some of you know, the topic of religion and the role of religion in the public sphere is very close to my heart. Here’s my opinion in a nutshell. I feel that we shouldn’t press our religious or spiritual beliefs onto others. I believe that we should respect one another. I feel that many “believers” don’t realize that my lack of “belief” is in fact a “belief”. What I most strongly believe is that my right to not believe is just as valid as their right to believe. Whew, that’s a lot of “believing” in one paragraph.
Living in a quite religious country, I have learned when to keep my mouth shut (well, most of the time, well some of the time, ok, I’m getting better at it). I don’t talk about religion with people who seem to be sensitive about the issue. Just recently a new student, an IT guy in his early 30s, asked me if I was Catholic. I replied that I am not. Long story short, he’s going to pray for my salvation from eternal damnation…as is his right. He is an example of why many agnostics and atheists just keep their mouths shut and sometimes “turn the other cheek”. Not everyone is so kind and promises to pray for you when they find out that you don’t believe.* Why should I be embarrassed to say that I’m a non-believer? Hence, the billboard above which reassures me that I am not alone. (Don’t believe in God? You’re not alone.)
The next billboard states, “I don’t kill. I don’t steal. I don’t believe.” This message really hit me hard and here is why. My mother-in-law has disowned me. It happened about 6 months ago. We haven’t seen each other or spoken since, neither has my husband or my children. I’ve been debating if I should, could, would write something about it or not. The crux of it is that we are not going to christen our children and my mother-in-law finally asked why. Long story short, my mother-in-law said some horrible things to me and then I began defending myself and explaining what a good person I am – how I am a good wife and mother, how I help out at school and in the community. And then I realized what I was doing. I was trying to explain to someone that I am a good human being. What for? Even now, here, I feel the need to explain to you that I live a full life, that my family is part of the community, that my children know a lot about world religions, that we are good people. I will never, ever explain myself like that again to anybody…not even at the pearly gates.
*I also don’t like the phrases such as non-believer. I believe in something, just not what they believe in. The use of non-believer suggests that what the “believers” believe in is the one, true way and we “non-believers” are bereft of any of our beliefs or spirituality or even morality for that matter. But alas, I cannot find another way to phrase it, so I will stick with believers and non-believers.

VV

The original Polish sex kitten, Violetta Villas has died at the age of 73. Violetta whose career spanned more than 50 years was just as famous for her hair as she was for her coquettish singing style.

I got to know about Violetta Villas from my father-in-law. We were looking through an old photo album where we found a post card with a picture of Violetta Villas posing in a leopard-print bikini, of course with her trademark hair. My f-i-l who is a quiet and introspective man remarked that when he was younger he thought she was just about the sexiest thing going.

So, good-bye Violetta Villas. You have taught me a few things over the years. First of all, that “nie ma miłości bez zazdrości”. Second of all that “Józek wszystko wie”. And lastly, that my father-in-law has a peculiar taste in women.

A sad update

On November 1st, my nephew’s mother-in-law died of breast cancer. She was 50 years old. She did not go to the doctor even though her lump was so large and in such a location that it was visible to the naked eye. She did not go to the doctor even though her mother and grandmother died of cancer in their early 50’s. She did not go to the doctor even though the visit would have been free. She did not go to the doctor because she was busy planning her daughter’s wedding.

Being present at her funeral was enough to persuade my mother-in-law to finally allow us to make her an appointment for a visit to the gynecologist’s office. She has not been for a check-up in 35 years. It’s sad that it has taken an event like this to finally get her to change her mind, but I am grateful for this opportunity.

I am now reading up on the new guidelines for breast cancer screenings which has changed the recommended age to start mammograms from the previous 40 to the now 50. I’m still processing the information and haven’t reached my own conclusions yet. Considering the case above, an annual mammogram starting from age 40 may have saved her life. Or it may not have. Having said that, the guidelines released by the United States Preventive Services Task Force are just that - guidelines.

Ladies of Poland…

…of America, of the world – go to the doctor! I am starting my own campaign to encourage the women I know to go to the gynecologist once a year for a pelvic exam, a pap smear and a breast exam. That’s it. That’s all I want from you.

There has been a lot of talk in the media reminding ladies to go to the gynecologist and get checked out. The topic comes up periodically in the Polish media and then everyone forgets all about it. I usually forget all about it too. Why? Because it doesn’t apply to me. I go to the gynecologist once a year. Why? Because I have been taught since I was a teenager that I have to go to the gynecologist once a year. I don’t even think about it. I write it in my calendar and a month or two before, I call and make an appointment. I show up for my appointment, get examined, pay (if I’m going private) and go home. A week or two later, the doctor calls to tell me the result of my pap smear and that’s about it until the next year unless I have some medical problems, need a prescription or get pregnant ;)

This year, I am not forgetting about it. I can’t. I am going to nag all the women I know until they are shamed into going to the doctor. I can’t forget this year because my nephew’s mother-in-law is dying from breast cancer. She’s 50. One year ago, she was dancing at her daughter’s wedding and soon her daughter will be crying at her own mother’s funeral. And why? Because the last time she went to the doctor was after giving birth to her now adult son, and when she found something in her breast, she was too busy planning her daughter’s wedding to even go to the doctor.

According to a recent article I read (Seks i Antykoncepcja – Polki 2009), 40% of the women who live in bigger cities go to the gynecologist regularly. I thought that percent was pretty pathetic until I read the next statistic. 2% of women in the countryside go to the gynecologist regularly. The reasons given by the women for not going (according to the article) are many. They are ashamed to go, some citing unpleasant visits in the past. Others feel that regular visits are unnecessary, that doctors visits are for when you are ill not when you feel healthy. Some claimed that they cannot afford to go to a private doctor and the wait for an appointment with a public doctor is too long. Others say that they don’t know a good doctor and the rest admitted that they don’t have a good reason why they don’t go.

I have a mission. To get my mother-in-law to go the gynecologist. Her last visit was 35 years ago. We managed to persuade her last year to get a mammogram on the pink bus. Luckily, the pink bus caught her on the way in to Biedronka ‘cause if they had caught her on the way out, she probably wouldn’t have got on and been examined. Unfortunately, that exam only confirmed for her the idea that if you go to the doctor, the doctor will find something. They found something in her breast which later turned out to be nothing, just a left-over from a bout of mastitis she had had years ago.

This is just one of the pink buses that offers free gynecological exams

I asked my gynecologist about it and he agrees that the phenomenon described in the article does exist. He also suggested that some Polish women are prudish about a doctor seeing them naked. The strangest part is that after a pelvic exam, according to my doctor, some women do not want to remove their bra for a breast exam. I’d much rather expose the breast area than the pelvic area, wouldn’t you?

How am I going to get my mother-in-law to the doctor? That part I haven’t figured out yet. I’ve already tried the logical approach, explaining the benefits of preventative medicine, etc. She totally agreed with us and sent my father-in-law for a week’s stay in the hospital to get a comprehensive physical. We’ve tried yelling at her which ended in tears (hers) but she didn’t budge. We’ve tried the emotional angle explaining how we don’t want to lose her and…nothing. We even tried to work on her guilty conscience. What would happen to “father” without her?…and nothing. We thought for sure that witnessing the pain surrounding the illness of her grandson’s mother-in-law would certainly have an effect on her if at least out of pity for all of us but…nothing. Her defense –My pension is too little for a doctor’s visit. Our response- We will pay for it or you can go to the same doctor publicly. Her defense – You have to wait 6 months for a visit. Our response – 6 months is sooner than never! Her defense – You have to die of something. We don’t have a response for that one.

I think the best method is going to be just making her an appointment and driving her there. We’ll have to do it like we’re taking the dog to the vet. Don’t actually say the word “doctor'” so she won’t suspect where we are going and promise her a treat at the end. I hope it works.

We all know where babies come from…

but do you know where beets and potatoes come from?
I'm on an adventure trying to be a very good wife and mother so one thing that involves is cooking dinner everyday. Polish cuisine has a lot of interesting dishes with dough, pork, cabbage, potatoes and beets as some of the favored ingredients. I try to oblige the taste buds of my husband and include some of them in my cooking. Potatoes are no problem. We get them from the farmer who farms our land for us. (We have a small farmhouse in the village near my parents-in-law.) My farmhouse at least for me is purely recreational. Prior to that, I was getting potatoes from my parents-in-law who have a pretty well-stocked garden. In my father-in-law's gardening heydays we called him the garden nazi as all the rows were perfectly measured out and weeded daily. Now that things have slowed down a bit for my in-laws, they have cut back a bit on their gardening.
Usually the potatoes were just given to me in a bag on our way back home but one day my mother-in-law asked if I could get them myself. My parents-in-law’s garden consists of 3 parts. One part is a lawn for sitting. Another part is fenced for growing fruit and vegetables and the third part is like the wild west with the other neighbors. Everybody knows which part is his but there are no fences. The potatoes are planted in the wild west. So after examining a few patches of potatoes I thought it best to ask my mother-in-law which patch was ours. I shouted up from the garden to the open window, "where are the potatoes?"' to which she replied, "under the ground Chris, under the ground".
Beets were another story. I usually received beets from my mother-in-law too, but canned. No digging necessary. Once when my beet stash had run out, I decided I'd just cook them myself. What could be so difficult? There was one problem though. I had never seen beets in their natural state, you know, uncooked. Luckily, I know the word for beet in Polish. If you want to call somebody a country bumpkin in Polish you can call them a beet. So I began searching the signs in the vegetable department of the supermarket until I found them. I put them in a clear, plastic bag and took them to the veggie lady to weigh them. I presented her with my bag and proudly said, "these are beets". She looked at me and said dryly, "I know". Hmm, who's the country bumpkin?