I haven’t had much time to blog recently. Last sunday went by without a “this moment” post, not because there weren’t any moments last week that I want to remember – on the contrary, there are plenty right now! – but because I don’t always manage to take a picture of them. It’s hard to take picture when you are carrying a baby around all day long.

The last two days were kind of a test for me. With Karsten gone to Germany for two days, I was on my own with the kids. While the days are fine, the evenings are always a bit of a challenge right now. The hobbit is usually grumpy in the evening and the little one struggles to fall asleep (sometimes due to the hobbit’s crying, but I sometimes think that the lunch time nap might be too long. However, she doesn’t manage without one so far, so it just seems to be a difficult transition. And boy, I do hope she’ll keep her lunchtime nap a little longer!!!). So I found myself with even less time than usual. We managed the two days very well, though. Everything was fine, no major catastrophes. Not at our place at least.

See, yesterday we were sitting at the breakfast table. It was still dark outside. I lightened some candles and the little one and I were having coffee and hot milk and some cheese scones that we made the day before. While we were eating, we listened to some classical music. It was a perfect breakfast, well worth a picture for next sunday. I didn’t take one though. Because despite this perfect breakfast I was feeling pretty sad.

The evening before, I watched the news while breastfeeding the hobbit. I watched it without sound, just the pictures because I didn’t want to disturb the baby. I watched mothers with babies and small children, sitting somewhere along a border fence. It was dark, rainy, windy and obviously cold. The people tried to cover themselves with a thin plastic canvas. Those pictures got to me, I can’t get them out of my head anymore. We see pictures of wars and suffering almost every day, but somehow those pictures where different. I try to imagine how horrible it would be if I would be there right now. If I would be outside in the dark and cold and rainy late autumn weather with the little one and the hobbit, with no warm clothes and no place to go. No food, no diapers and no idea where to spend the next night. Knowing that my children are cold and hungry and I can’t do anything to change it. With no idea what the future will hold, whether I can stay somewhere safe or whether I have to go back to war and suffering.

And here I am, sitting at the breakfast table, with candles, food and a warm sweater. I am so incredibly thankful right now for everything we have. That I am able to care for my children. And at the same time I feel so helpless and sad and frustrated with all the suffering that is going on right now. And angry that there are parents in Germany who take their children to demonstrations against refugees instead of teaching them a little bit of empathy.

There are plenty of moments these days that I savor. I savor them even more than usual. But they do make me sad at the same time.