A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.
(And if you have a blog yourself, feel free to join in and leave a link to your photo in the comment section.)
Have a wonderful Sunday everyone!
…a thrilled two-year-old jumping up and down in the matress section in a popular Swedish furniture store (without shoes, at least)
…cinnamon rolls for everyone
…a full shopping trolley although we just wanted to test the matresses and nothing else
…a still thrilled two-year-old discovering that her beloved bear has in fact many, many relatives
…changing diapers in the boot
…and discovering (in said furniture store) that I forgot to close my breastfeeding shirt after I tried to feed the hobbit. Classy!
Together with sleepless nights and sour milk on your shirts, having a newborn also comes with a lot of bureaucracy. As German parents living in Switzerland, it means that we have to apply for a German passport so that we are allowed to travel with the baby. As you can guess, you need a lot of documents for this whole procedure.
Apart from various certificates (birth certificate, marriage certificate, confirmation of not living in Germany anymore, confirmation of living in Switzerland, passports, filled in applications, your shoe size and a five-year plan…all both as original and as copy…), you also need a Swiss residence permit for the baby. As a foreign citizen, you have to get a residence permit if you are living in Switzerland for more than three months – luckily, as a baby you automatically get the type your parents have, so the hobbit is allowed to stay in the country for another three years, I think. We received his permit last week and it always makes me smile, because as “date of entry” they will just write down the birth date which always sounds a bit amusing to me (we think they should add “via water way” as it was a water birth).
The biggest challenge when applying for both residence permit and passport is the picture. See, you do need a biometric picture for your passport, even if you are only two weeks old. Have you ever tried to take a picture of a newborn baby, looking head-on into the camera with eyes wide open and mouth shut, with a blank background and no disturbing shadows on the picture? After more than a week of trying, we finally got one shot that qualified for it…(yes, we could have gone to a photographer but I am pretty sure that it would have been even more effort because sure enough the baby will be either sleeping or be hungry when arriving at the studio!). When trying to check with the embassy whether the picture qualifies for the passport, they will assure you that there is always a photo booth at the office where we can try it again.
The next challenge is to actually go to the embassy and order the passport. When the little one was born, we had to go all the way to Bern as Karsten and I needed a change of name as well. It is necessary for both parents and the baby to attend this appointment, so Karsten had to take a day off from work, we went to Bern (at least two hours one way by public transport), spent more than two hours in a crowded embassy and went back during the brightest rush-hour. With all the needed certificates, the fees for the application and the train tickets it also costed us more than 700 Franks…). This time it was easier as we only had to go to the consulate in Zurich. 40 Minutes by public transport and a little over 100 Franks. Since you don’t get an appointment beforehand but you have to take a number, we left early in the morning with the little one on the buggy board and the hobbit in the pram. First irritated rolling of my eyes when the guy standing in the spot for prams wouldn’t move an inch when we entered the train. Second rolling of my eyes at the train station in Zurich when six people occupied the elevator although the escalator is only ten meter further. My eye-rolling was quite obvious this time as one of the women decided to get off again so that I could enter with the pram and the little one (after two years using public transport with a kid I am a master of the evil eye!). Arrival at the consulate: 8:45am. Opening time of the consulate: 9:00am. Number of people already waiting INSIDE when we as first people in line entered at 8:58am: three. Never underestimate Germans and their punctuality….
The procedure went smooth and we will now receive the hobbit’s international biometric passport within the next twelve weeks. It’ll include a picture of him being two weeks old and it’ll say that he is 51 cm tall. It’ll be valid for the next six years. Bureaucracy – don’t you love it?
Two hours later we were on our way home again. Including my third irritated rolling of my eyes in the train when someone decided to sit down on the one and only seat next to the pram area although all the other seats were still available. Followed by my fourth rolling of my eyes when he wouldn’t even get up for a highly pregnant woman with a pram. Unfortunately, my evil eye didn’t work this time.
For your sanity, I will spare you details of the rest of the day. Let’s just say that the little one was in an incredibly bad mood and didn’t manage ten minutes without crying. The hobbit was so excited by the trip that he didn’t properly sleep until 9pm. It was raining. And we were probably only saved because our friend and neighbour saw us (or rather my grim expression) on the way back home and decided that she’ll invite the little one over in the afternoon so that I could do the shopping with one child less. No need to say that during these 1,5 hours at our friend’s place the little one was one lovely cute button – right until we left again. The evening only turned into something good again after baking cereal bars (and after ignoring Karsten’s answer when I asked him how they taste…which was a long and thoughtful pause and a carefully expressed “gooood??”. Never expect a diplomatic answer when it comes to food…).
A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.
(And if you have a blog yourself, feel free to join in and leave a link to your photo in the comment section.)
Have a wonderful Sunday everyone!
Yesterday, the coarse sand (almost gravel) in our sandbox was finally replaced with fine sand, which can be used creating all kinds of things – cakes, animals, you name it…
Consequently, the little one and I went out this morning to test the new sand, and I dare say it was lots of fun. I practiced my skills in rapid sand object construction, because it never took long between the little one´s discovery of my new object and its imminent destruction. Consequently, my job was to distract her long enough to finish my job and then watch it fall apart in the matter of splitseconds. I felt a bit like Andy Goldsworthy – whom I adore – but despite my often criticized large ego, I won´t go as far as to compare my talent to his. The only similarity was the short-lived nature of the “art” creation.
Sand jellyfish and sea urchin, prior to the discovery by the little one
(Now deceased) Sand jellyfish and sea urchin after the discovery of the little one
Sand castle – just discovered by the little one and still unaware of the danger it is currently in.. (lurking in the shadows)
Shortly after the discovery, as expected, all hell broke loose, and without prisoners being taken the entire castle was wiped from the face of the earth within seconds, while the little one´s battle cries echoed over the playground
The sand castle didn´t put up a fight and victory of the little one was inevitable, who with a smug face turned to me after the mayhem was over, obviously proud of having forced my creation into oblivion.
Since Monday, Karsten has to work again and the little one, the hobbit and myself try to manage our not-yet-reinvented daily routine by ourselves. Two kids versus one adult, first time in our family life.
In Switzerland, the officially granted time-off when having a child is, by the way, one day. One day. Taking this into account, I have already been lucky to enjoy three weeks with enough time to get to know the baby while the little one didn’t feel completely left out. Karsten had, thanks to his employer, ten days at home (when the little one was born he had five days off) with a more or less regular time doing some home office stuff. Two years ago, his employer told us that he didn’t even have one single day off when his first kid was born. He had to work on the field, came home around midnight and then crawled into bed with his wife and the baby in order to enjoy some family time. According to him, it was a great time. I still wonder whether his wife would agree.
Managing the day with two children at home didn’t turn out as disastrous as expected. While I somehow didn’t find the time to shower and get dressed until lunchtime when the little one was born, I am now up and ready in the morning and wonder how I couldn’t manage it two years ago. Breakfast? No problem, I can do it one-handed while breastfeeding a baby and entertaining a two-year-old. Masters of multitasking, that’s what mothers are! Still, being somewhere on time is something that’s just not very likely right now and if we manage it, it includes a lot of organisational planning and cooperation from all three sides.
The little one still proves to be a caring sister. The hobbit is covered with kisses and cuddles, sometimes gently, sometimes in a kind of life-threatening way for a newborn so that I have to hold myself back not to scream every time she wants to interact with her little brother. Trust her, I tell myself, trust her and trust him and trust myself. The little one also adopts some very caring mother-feelings. We occasionally observe her carrying her little bear on her arm – she wraps him in a tissue, and rocks him gently while singing “everything alright, everything alright” with a high voice.
Being caring with her brother doesn’t stop the little one from living out her terrible two’s. Each day includes one or another impressive outburst, sometimes on our way home from the supermarket, sometimes on the playground, and almost every time I change her diaper (which still doesn’t convince her to use the potty instead). Good thing I am strong enough to carry her again, otherwise I wouldn’t know how to get her inside the flat when she starts acting like Rumpelstiltskin. On the bright side, however, she normally calms down quickly again and/or reconciles with me so that we can indeed talk about why she was crying and why I was getting angry. I do hope that it’ll help overcoming those tantrums a bit faster…
What else? I do feel like I am running a marathon changing diapers, getting children dressed, getting children changed, preparing meals and calming children down. The hobbit is still sleeping a lot, but it doesn’t stop his diapers from overflowing. Two third of my clothes smell like sour milk and I could do laundry every second day (at least). Within the last two hours, the hobbit spilled milk on his blanket once and right into my neckline twice…yummy. During the night, he started to struggle with stomach cramps. He is kind enough not to scream too often, but he does make some pretty loud snuffling and groaning and moaning which makes it impossible to sleep. Especially since Karsten is a loud sleeper as well – now I have two of them in my bed….I’ll add it to the list of things that nobody tells you before starting a family 🙂 My chocolate consumption is therefore up to new heights. And I am not getting anything done, although I am sparkling with thousands of things I would love to do (including the children! If they only would cooperate!).
I think I need to get faster. And even more effective.
Every time when my parents visit us (or when we visit my parents) I am surprised about how much coffee, and yet how different the ways are how we like our coffee best. I do come from a family of coffee drinkers (although we always appreciate a good cup of tea, freshly and loosely brewed), and there is no better way to start the day than drinking a cup of coffee in bed (something I always get when staying at my mom’s place….unless, of course, I am up early due to the little ones). My husband adopted this habit from my mother in order to make my weekends special (yet another proof of how great he is :-)). And the little one already started the tradition to wake up my mom with a cup of coffee in order to then crawl into her bed, drink a bottle of warm milk and read one or two (or three or four…) books with her. But according to the member of the family we are staying at, the type of coffee varies significantly.
See, whenever my mother comes to visit, we need to buy more coffee. I think it is safe to say that she is a coffee-holic. If she doesn’t get her coffee in the morning, she isn’t responsive for several hours. And it is not just one cup – no, god beware, she needs at least half a liter of strong coffee in the morning. She says it is because of her low blood pressure, which is probably true, but I suspect that raising four children probably add to a regular, strong coffee consumption as well. By now, she even brings us a bag of coffee beans when she comes to visit because she tends to feel guilty regarding her need for coffee (it isn’t restricted to the morning. She needs coffee in the afternoon as well).
My father is somewhat similar, yet completely different. How does that work, you wonder? He needs his coffee as well. Yes, at least half a liter in the morning. And in the afternoon. Even in the evening before he goes to bed. My stomach already revolts if I even think about it. However, he doesn’t like strong coffee. He wants his coffee as weak as possible. Which is only logical – the weaker he gets it, the more he can drink. So while we switch on our coffee machine for my mother in the morning, we simultaneously prepare a better dishwater for my father. My mother gets freshly ground coffee beans. My father gets already ground coffee in the classic push-down coffee pot – with a maximum of two tablespoons of coffee for the whole pot. This is, by all means, how I imagine him being content. Though one can’t be exactly sure about it, can one? My grandfather, for instance, was known to love really old cheese as he would always go for the oldest and hardest pieces of cheese in our fridge. My parents saved the cheese on purpose whenever my grandfather came to visit. Until one day (after years and years of eating dry, old cheese) he confessed that he only ate it because he thought it needed to be eaten and he didn’t want it to be thrown away.
My brother drinks coffee as well, but he prefers to brew his coffee by hand with a classic pot and filter. He then adds milk and a little bit of sugar. My eldest sister uses a regular coffee machine, I think. And my other sister loves GOOD coffee. Meaning that she got the fanciest coffee machine of the whole family. She also bought a milk frother and a coffee bean grinder for my parents place so that truly good coffee is always on hand if you need it. When you stay at her place, you will get a perfect cappuccino in the morning. And a second one, if necessary.
I belong, I guess, to the great majority of coffee latte drinkers. I like to have a coffee in the morning, but only if I add enough (hot) milk. After having a push-down-pot and then an espresso maker for the stove, we now have a coffee machine for whole beans which I very much appreciate, but everything more fancy would be unnecessary for me. Since the hobbit’s birth I also often prefer hot chocolate over coffee (which I didn’t expect as I really do like to drink coffee, but apparently preferences change during pregnancies…also, I try not to drink too much coffee when I am breastfeeding and hot chocolate has become kind of an equivalent).
Karsten is someone who doesn’t like the taste of coffee at all (unless it is wrapped in chocolate) but who sometimes sees the necessity to stay awake. He therefore only used to drink coffee at work, rating his tiredness in the number of coffees he needed during one work day. On the weekend, he would never drink coffee. Also, if he needs to drink coffee, he adds a lot of cold milk so that he can first of all not taste the coffee anymore and secondly doesn’t have to drink it hot. Still, he would always drink it with an expression of slight disgust on his face. The funniest coffee moment I remember was in Edinburgh when he ordered a espresso macchiato and the waiter brought a tiny little cup filled with an espresso and a little bit of milk foam. Karsten’s expression when he drank it resembled defiance of death…Nevertheless, he changed during the last weeks when I made him a “chococcino” one day. Coffee, lots of milk, even more cocoa powder and a hint of cinnamon and cloves. According to the last breakfasts, it has become quite an agreeable drink for him.
And the little one? Ever since she had her first “babyccino” in Scotland, she insists on drinking “children coffee”, as she calls it. Which simply consists of foamed milk with a whiff of cocoa powder on top. And I am pretty sure that, once she doesn’t spill the milk anymore, she will be absolutely thrilled when I wake her up with a babyccino in the morning 🙂
A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama.
(And if you have a blog yourself, feel free to join in and leave a link to your photo in the comment section.)
Have a wonderful Sunday everyone!
This summer, we have seen as many hornets as never before. Without exactly knowing where the nest is located, we are sure that it must be somewhere pretty close to our flat. That, or our flat just seems immensely appealing to hornets from near and far. Maybe it is our never-ending stock of chocolate, who knows…
It started about two months ago. Suddenly there were dead or half-dead hornets right in front of the entrance door of our stairhall. Not just one at a time, but two or three. And they didn’t stay in front of the door downstairs. They entered the stairhall and they went upstairs. With temperatures over 30° celsius and the resulting lack of socks and shoes on our feet (the little one indulged completely in the barefoot-season, and so did I, mainly because I didn’t fit into my shoes anyway), it became quite challenging to make our way outside without stepping onto a dying hornet. And I don’t think that the fact that hornets are, apparently, not more dangerous than bees and wasps makes it less comfortable to step on them.
After a while, the hornets didn’t confine themselves to the stairhall – they discovered our balcony! Although we never actually saw one outside, they did seem terribly excited about our well-lit balcony door. Whenever we opened the door in the evening in order to water the plants, it only took a second until a hornet entered our living room. It would then fly confusedly and slightly aggressive around the flat until Karsten would catch it and release it outside again. On the second evening, one hornet almost caused a small fire when it got burned in our floor lamp – let me tell you that hornets, due to their size, cause a lot of fume, and the smell sticked with us for the next hours. On the third evening, Karsten joked that we should bet whether or not another hornet will enter our flat once he starts watering the plants. I laughed at him, saying that it would be such an incredible coincidence if it happens again. Said it, opened the door and stared at the hornet that entered immediately as if it had just waited for us. This hornet suddenly disappeared in our living room and I found it after a while hidden behind our sofa cushion (not the nicest prospect to sit on a hornet, isn’t it?).
Last weekend, a hornet that we believe to be the queen was lying right in front of our door, half dead and therefore slightly pissed off, if I may say so, with its sting pointing right at us. I will memorize it as a perfect hands-on (or rather hands-off!!) outdoor survival lesson for the little one right in front of our nose….
Yesterday, I took the laundry rack inside our living room. I heard a buzzing sound and thought “Oh my, I am getting paranoid!”. Two hours later, Karsten wanted to fold the laundry and I heard him say “Oh dear, I think I am getting paranoid. For one second I thought there’s a hornet hidden in the laundry!”. That pricked up my ears. And indeed, in the middle of burp cloths and towels, there was yet another hornet hidden.
Well, it’s getting cooler outside. We should see less of them within the next weeks. And while I very much appreciate having endangered species around our buildings, I think I will breathe a sigh of relief if I don’t have to fear hornets in the hobbit’s blankies….
Lenzburg has been on our day-trip list for quite some time now, but since we don’t have a car and are therefore dependent on the public transport, it always takes some time to actually visit all these great places.
With my parents staying at our place for a couple of days, we finally managed to visit the castle which is, as we were often told before, an awesome place for children. Yesterday, however, we didn’t even visit the actual castle but the medieval market which took place in and around the inner bailey. How lucky we were! I do love medieval markets and the medieval christmas market in Dresden is one of my favorite markets during the christmas time. This medieval market yesterday was even better as there were plenty of activities for children. While many medieval markets include mainly food stalls, mead and handicrafts, this one had so many great things for children to try out and to make that I actually regretted not being a child myself. Making bees-wax candles, making ropes, sword fights, making juice, roasting nuts, making wooden buttons, carving stones, pottering, writing with quills, sealing and and and….the little one was still a bit young for most of the activities, but she was happy as long as she could pet one of the chickens. In the meantime, the hobbit was sleeping and sleeping and sleeping on his first proper outing. And the window recess in the great hall with a lovely view over the surrounding landscape proved to be a superb spot for the first outdoor-feeding…).
We will surely be back again in order to visit the castle and the dungeons and to spend more time on the adjacent playground. It is indeed a great place for children.
familial entropy 