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!
It has been eleven days now since we welcomed our baby, can you believe it? Time is, however, still running slow in our household – we are trying to relax, to adjust and to take one step at a time.
Giving birth the second time was, indeed, easier than the first time although we still spent around 15 hours in the delivery room (or waiting outside) until the baby (I still need to find a nickname for the blog) finally joined us. We went for walks in the middle of the night, passed sleeping sheep and were almost run over by a badger (my first, wild badger!). I spent a considerable amount of time in the bathtub, with dimmed light and jazz music in the background – would have been almost romantic if it wasn’t for the labour pains (in the meantime, Karsten was sleeping on the delivery bed…). I was also spared all the uncomfortable actions to speed up the birth, and when I finally decided that I can’t bear it any longer and that I would rather quit giving birth, our son decided to join us as quick as possible.
He and myself spent the following days in the hospital. While the little one, my mother and Karsten were fighting a cold at home, I was fighting the noise and the restlessness that comes with a multiple-bed-room (and mothers who suddenly start to watch soaps on their iPhone at midnight, without earplugs). I was also fighting painful breast engorgement and some hormone-driven feelings, but all in all, we were well taken care of. However, we were glad to be able to go home after three days.
Home! What a wonderful place to be with a newborn! The baby seems to feel very comfortable around here. He is a happy little fellow anyway. His voice can be enormously loud, but he quickly calms down once he gets something to drink. He sleeps a lot, even during the nights, which gave me the chance to recover a bit (something that took me about three months after the little one was born). So far, his only weak spot is between 8pm and 10pm when he starts to be a bit grumpy. He looks pretty much like his sister, with some small exceptions. And the smell….mmmh. I must admit, I truly enjoy feeding him and cuddling up with him (well-knowing that it’ll only last as long as I have the support of Karsten and my mother who are taking care of the little one during these days).
I also truly enjoy the pregnancy to be over. I fit into my shoes again. My carpal canal syndrome is gone. I can bend down again. I am eating plenty of smoked salmon, soft cheese and air-dried meat again. And I can finally sleep on my back again. Aaah, so good!
And the little one? So far, she is absolutely thrilled about her brother. She pets him and talks to him and looks after him (with me looking after her…) and is, as far as I can tell, quite happy to be a big sister. It is really heartwarming!! Let’s see how it’ll work out once it is just me, her and him at home (I try to ignore that this day will come sooner rather than later. So far, I am not sure how I am supposed to handle a newborn with unforeseeable feeding times and a sometimes rather froward little one at the same time. But I am sure it’ll work out somehow. Others have done it as well, right?). And gee, with a newborn on the lap, the little one suddenly appears to be so grown-up and big – she must have grown at least 5 cm during the three days I was away!
So, as you can see, everything is well. We are pampered by our friends with cakes, pumpkin soup, tartes, diapers and many lovely offers to help whenever we need something (chocolate, for instance).
And with the birth came the change of the seasons. It’s suddenly autumn outside and I am so glad to breathe the fresh air and to see everything change. The weather is a bit changeable too, with wind and rain in the morning and glorious late-summer-sunshine in the evening. I am making plans that include lanterns, acorns, and candles. And psssst, even some christmas preparations, gifts and handicrafts already. Let’s see how much I can actually do and how much has to be postponed…
More from us in a while.
Ps: I spent some thoughts on the name again. I guess I will stick with the nickname that he already had during the pregnancy. Which was “the hobbit”. Not only because he spent nine months in a comfortable, warm and round hobbit cave (without the end of worms), and not only because I have a pretty good idea about the precise day he was conceived, but also because he seems to be someone who appreciates comfort and a good meal. Seems suitable, that name.
On Monday morning, the newest member of our family was born (50 cm long, 3,5 kg and a loud voice). He is just the cutest little thing you can imagine! Welcome to our family, my darling.
Everyone is well and finally at home and we’ll move slowly during the next days to have enough time to settle in as a family of four.
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!
I am getting nervous. The baby could theoretically come every day now and while I am eagerly awaiting the end of this pregnancy (by now I need at least half an hour every morning until my fingers don’t feel numb anymore and my back is killing me), I am also very much aware of the upcoming sleepless weeks and the walk on the tightrope that automatically comes when having to care for two little kids at home.
Most of the work that needed to be done has been done. Though I am still waiting for Karsten’s final nesting instinct to kick in. When my first pregnancy came to an end, he suddenly felt the urgent need to clean our windows. What an amazing urge, seriously! It was the first time in his life that he ever cleaned windows (and the last time so far) and it completely amazed me. Therefore, my darling, I have saved the windows for you. Some of them haven’t been cleaned for more than two years :-). But so far, he only felt the desire to build me a bow. Which is quite amazing as well, considering my non-existing ability to move…
When it comes to mental preparation, I noticed I am not at all prepared. Which doesn’t matter because I have no idea how to prepare myself mentally for the birth anyway. We don’t have a birth plan except that it would be great if Karsten could cut the umbilical cord. In fact, it would already be great if he could be there. If, however, it will be similar to the last birth he might have to get back to the little one at one point. Maybe that’s what I should prepare for mentally….
Instead of deciding how I want the birth to be, I have a wish list of comments which I don’t need to hear this time (reduced to the top twelve):
So, dear baby, let the fun begin!!
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!
Slowly but steadily, our garden starts to look like an autumn garden…probably due to the high temperatures during the last months which caused everything to flower and grow incredibly fast. Vegetables are being harvested, beds are being cleared, the strawberries are almost all relocated after growing on the same spot for more than four years in a row and I am still trying to do a little gardening here and there although I almost always regret it in the evening – the bump is getting to big now.
Also, I am a bit frustrated this weekend because last weekend the best husband cleared one of our composts and decided to fill the beds with the newly composted soil, professionally ignoring my objection that I have solely put flowering weeds in there during the year. The result? Hundreds of newly growing thistles, millet and grass on my newly weeded beds…. Almost unbelievable that this action was done by the same guy who tried to burn down our neighbours garden in order to avoid the spreading of the flowering weeds.
But instead of more weeding I decided on another plan for this evening: to fill the cleared strawberry bed with water and create a mud pool for the little one as she seems to love mud right now. Followed by a bathtub session….
Today was a big day for the little one. It was the first time she joined a playgroup!
As I mentioned recently, childcare is very expensive in Switzerland. Kindergarden, which is more like preschool, doesn’t start until the age of four. Until then, it is up to the parents to either hand your child over to a nursery (if you are working) or let the kid join one or another playgroup. The problem with the nursery: it is too expensive if you are not working. We checked it out last year and it turned out that for two mornings a week (excluding lunch, so just four hours a day) we would pay over 700 francs per month. That’s more than 700 dollars. Way too much for us. And even if you are working, it doesn’t pay off anymore with a second child. The problem with the playgroups: they normally only take children starting with the age of 3.
In Germany, I would have put the little one into kindergarden (or a nursery) a long time ago. Simply because she is such an independent little kid who truly enjoys to socialize. Oh yes, she is.
For instance, she never really had a phase when she was shy with strangers. The weeks in the development of a baby where it doesn’t want to be anywhere but on mommies arm? Somehow we seem to have skipped it. When we joined the music class more than a year ago, my friends were always quite amused because when the teacher would say “Please put your child onto your lap” it was always an equivalent for “the little one starts running away and prefers to sit on the teachers lap”. I was the only mom who had to gently swing a soft monkey back and forth while my kid preferred to be somewhere else. It hasn’t changed, by the way. While the kids of my friends are always close to their mothers, mine is the one running around and exploring. At one point she even started to hand me the soft monkey herself because that’s apparently how it is supposed to be.
When having playdates, she would laugh and run and jump and always end up with my friend. We tried it: she and her little friend had fun running down the corridor, my friend and myself were sitting at the other end, with open arms, ready to hug them. My friend would always end up with my child in her arms.
While I am always told that it is a good sign because the little one seems to have a basic sense of trust that I will be there for her if she needs me, I nevertheless struggle a bit from time to time. For instance when she had her first laceration and she preferred to walk to the emergency unit holding the hand of her music teacher instead of mine. That hurt.
Or when I haven’t seen her for a day or even a day and a night, like at the beginning of August. I am incredibly grateful that she has so much fun staying with her grandparents or with friends. But does she really have to start complaining when she sees me again?
When I started working at the family centre, she started to visit the so-called “Hueti group” which is provided by the centre. It is not a playgroup but a group where you can leave your child for two or three hours when you have important appointments or something similar (doing your shopping in peace, for example). The difference being that there is not a regular group of kids but it’s completely dependent on the day. They also don’t do many rituals, it is really more a babysitter service. The little one was 1,5 years old when she first went there. I was skeptical whether she would like it or not, simply because it is not a closed group and I often read that kids need continuity and steadiness. Well, turned out she loved it. She would immediately walk into the room, not looking back but starting to explore and to play.
It still hasn’t changed. She asks about playgroups every day. Every time when I pick her up from the Hueti group after two hours she will start complaining.
And today? When it was time to pick the kids up, all the mothers waited in front of the room. The door opened and the kids were running into their mothers arms, ready to be hugged. I waited. And waited. And then resigned and walked inside only to find my kid sitting on the stairs, complaining that she has to go home already. She really loved the time at the playgroup…
Good thing is that I know she loves me. She cuddles up with me, hugs me and kisses me as soon as we are at home. We do have a great mother-daughter-relationship. If I wouldn’t be so sure about it, I would end up being really depressed sometimes. I guess she is just incredibly independent. No idea how we brought this on.
But I am often really sad that I can’t provide her with more opportunities like that. As I said, she was ready for a nursery more than a year ago. She needs it. I never thought I’d have a child that’s so keen to socialize. It is completely strange to me, because I myself wasn’t someone who really longed for company. While the little one gets excited when she sees children on the playground, I always preferred the playground being deserted. But that’s who and how she is. I can’t entertain her at home anymore, not 24 hours all week-long. The playgroup is a start, but it takes place only once a week for three hours. A drop in the ocean. Let’s hope that she’ll keep her enthusiasm until she can enter more playgroups. And that I’ll survive the days with her and a newborn baby at home.
And maybe next week she will run into my arms as well, like all the other children…
I haven’t posted a “this moment” post for some time now, mainly because SouleMama (a very inspiring woman in the States whose blog I very much enjoy reading) has stopped her photo projet after many years of regular posts. However, with all the daily routine and work taking place these days I decided that I would like to continue this project on my blog because let’s be honest, even with a daily routine there are numerous moments each and every day that are worth to be savored and remembered. Therefore, every Sunday I will try to post a single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment to pause, savor and remember.
(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!
Saturday morning, 9:20 am. The husband and the little one leave the house in order to do some shopping.
Until now, I have:
dressed the little one, read a book with her, made breakfast, had breakfast, cleaned the breakfast table, filled and started the dishwasher, written a shopping list for my husband, drawn a shopping list for the little one, collected and sorted two big bags of dirty laundry, collected various rubbish from the floor and watered the flowers on the balcony.
I have also heard that I am smart-aleck because I draw the attention to the fact that one shouldn’t put the cream-cheese knife in the jam (one shouldn’t, really!) and that actually I could water the tomatoes from time to time as well.
My husband has:
read the news while sitting on the toilet, read a bit in his book, filled in his personal details in an application form, watched a few youtube-clips with the little one, had breakfast and had a shower.
To be fair, he was also told not to put the cream-cheese knife in the jam and to please water the tomatoes.
On mornings like this I just struggle a bit with my good mood. And boy, good mood I had when I woke up. The little one slept until 7:30am! I slept until 6:30 without my usual two hours break during the night. The sky is blue, the air is cool and there is a slight breeze. We’ll have pumpkin soup for lunch and later we are invited for coffee and cake at our friends place. It’s all good.
But sometimes it is just so hard to ignore this little mean voice in your head that says “Why do I have to bend down to collect the rubbish which is not even mine? Why am I called smart-aleck at the breakfast table on a Saturday morning just because I don’t want the jam to get moldy? Why do I, with my big belly, still have to carry the watering can? Why do I actually have to clean the breakfast table although I was the one who made breakfast? Why, why, why…??” And when you listen to said mean little voice you suddenly envy the women in the 18th century who had never heard of emancipation and gender equality. Who didn’t get these crazy ideas that a Saturday morning could be used for something nicer than cleaning and washing. But then again, they didn’t have a coffee machine nor a dish washer or a washing machine, poor souls.
Sometimes I feel like a whining old woman. And I don’t like it. Really, I don’t. I am fully aware that I have the best husband in the world. I couldn’t imagine a better one, neither could I imagine a better father for my kids. I guess it is just this funny little difference between men and women. The difference that for most guys the comment “Uuuuh, the potatoes in the fridge are pretty moldy!” doesn’t automatically imply throwing them away. Or that it is completely normal to jump bare feet into mud puddles with your child (which is an awesome idea!) and then afterwards enter the flat with the little one, walk into the children’s room and show your completely muddy feet while asking your wife to take a picture of them (now it would be interesting who of the readers will actually notice what could be wrong with this situation). Or the fact that the flies in our flat are killed and then accurately placed on the window shelf. Or left on the floor or the table. A part of me loves my husband for these situations. Everyone needs a bit of absurdity and surprises in his life. But it is my relaxed, healthy, I-feel-like-a-student-again part. Unfortunately, that part doesn’t play a big role these days. Instead, I try to keep the flat and everything else clean, I try to prepare everything for the baby, I try to finish the last bits of work and instead of feeling healthy and fit I feel heavy and immobile with back pains, carpal canal syndrome and a kickboxer inside me. And I really don’t understand why I still have to get up to open the door although the person outside the door has a key.
What to do? Well, I decided to pick a big bunch of flowers in the garden. And I just watched the best husband in the world and the little one playing and cheering on the playground and my heart overflows with love. For the time being, the mean little voice is banned again. The Saturday morning can continue.
familial entropy 