Family Photo 2011

And thus we enter the new year...

(... of course it's really more like this...)

Schneefrei... SAY WHAT?

Thursday. Roughly zero degrees and a handful of snow, and the local schooling system collapses and all schools close. Seeeeriously. Of course, I work for a school, so HA HA HA, I'm off too, and cuase no busses run, Jose gets stuck with us all at home. Brilliant! We're a family on a mission! Or rather, a few missions. "Mummy, FISRT we go on MY mission, which is a park mission, and a snowman mission. THEN we have coffee. THEN we can go on any mission you choose, which is going to be a house mission."
My, what a clued up daughter I have! So we wrap The Baby warmly into his pushchair and trot off into winter wonderland. Leo doesn't look too impressed, but really, he's just extremely displeased with being tucked away and patiently awaits his turn.


Mission one, The Park! Very idyllic, all of it, rather cold and luckily the snow is so flakey it's no good for rolling up a proper tall and abominable snowman, as I'm quick to explain to Tara. Suits me - I really want to get to Mission Three, which is a) all that interests me these days, and b) somewhat crucial gievn that we plan on moving in 9 days, and still have no kitchen, no bathroom and no paint on the walls in the one house, and not a single box packed in the other.


Unsnowmanable snow does, of course, say nothing about the potential quality of snow angels, and Tara plops down anywhere. Trodden down snow: fine. Head stuck under a bench: great! Flip flip, wave wave... and daddy's pretty good at it too!

Snow angels... whooooaaaa!!!

Leo is being kept happy with a now ball. Nice, cold and a novelty. Aaaah, that's a happy baby! I turn my attention to The Snowman and seconds later Leo begins to cry. Bitterly. Loudly. Inexplicably. Only daddy can explain: Mummy left Baby with The Snowball, completely forgot all about it, and Baby's poor little hands are freezing cold and hurting. Who wouldn't cry?! (Did I say I'm slightly distracted? That I want to be at The House?)

The Snowman (not that he really deserves the caputal letters...)

Mission one accomplished, I say, and we slither off into town on our coffee mission. Just a pit-stop really before the house mission, which deserves an entry in its own right another day, if I ever find the time.

Tara is happy enough with her mission. Also, there's plenty of things to do at the house. Talking to the builders, writing and drawing, dancing to the radio, singing along... All is a bit better still at home where my singing flapping angel can don her fairy wings and wave her wand, and where there's a choice of lots of pens in lots of colours, and a separate set for Leo when Big Sister doesn't fancy sharing hers.

"Mummy, Miss Flower says I sing like the radio!"

After Dinner Drawing, At Home

But then, "At Home" is about to change its meaning radically. The countdown is on, the boxes are still all up in the loft (flat, empty, ahem....), the kitchen is still at the shops und not yet paid for... What can I say, other than STAY TUNED!*

*(And, of course,חג שמח! , Nirite ;-)

My Family, by Tara

"This is me. That is daddy. They boys have spikey hair, don't they. Leo is teeny-weeny, like when he just came out of the hospital. You had long hair then, Mummy. I miss your long hair."

Signed, in her best attempt at writing her name in cursive script. The up-and-back-down of the 'a' doesn't quite flow right yet, so the 'r' gets lost... a proper signature is what that is!

I'm glad that Tara still sees us as a smiley bunch, mostly - if truth be told, I think of the two grown-ups, she's captured the mood right for daddy, not for her tense nervous tired and shouty mother. This house is doing us in and all we can do is remind ourselves that it's only for another just-under-four-weeks running from one errand to another, not eating right cause nobody has the time to cook, and not even reading Tara's little books with her each night (homework!). But hey - I'm glad to say that our bathroom (FUTURE bathroom) no longer looks like this:


It feels like sorting a house out takes a lot longer than growing long hair back! We're moving in on December 12. By then it will look just lovely. Of course. Everybody will be smiling, and Tara won't even notice that she didn't get a pink carpet, nor pink wallpaper. Hopefully.

Has it really been THIS long?

Who, gorgeous? Me? Thanks, Mummy!

Once upon a time, exactly one year ago, little Leo hopped onto my bed naked and voila, there he was: The most gorgeous baby boy I ever laid eyes on!
Well. Not quite. And in the same vein, one year down, still the most gorgeous baby boy I ever laid eyes on, he is still a bundle of joy and (a teeny weeny bit* of) trouble. Today, after a nappy changing struggle that, in its level of difficulty, resembles labour, the naked babe takes off with a giggle and pees straight onto my cushion. There it is: The liquid damage to the bed, anticipated one year ago - but, luckily, all absorbed by the shredded content of one box of tissues. We've come full circle, once. Thanks, Leo; and thanks, Leo! And, happy birthday, darling!

(and that pink thing on his head is not really ON his head...)

It's a regular day. I'm back at work, first week, day five, and already utterly exhausted by it. a school day for Tara, another day at nursery for Leo, and Jose got up before six and left before my alarm even rang. Cuddles and pee on the bed - plus a bit of Barbie for breakfast - got us a bit late, so - because I'm rushed and generally bad at judging where my car starts and ends, I scrape and scratch the neighbour's car (panic and tears), which is followed ten minutes later by a massive meltdown on Tara's part, thanks to the discovery of a packet of pink biscuits that were not for her but for Leo's friends at nursery. It's all a bit like homebirth gone wrong all over.
Maybe I should be a bit more grateful it's not all on the same day the bathstore delivery guy called me cheerily to let me know he was on the way to our current address with 3000 Pounds worth of new bathroom stuff and wouldn't take an address correction from me?
But wait, I'm losing direction - I was writing about Leo's birthday!

We have a tiny party for our tiny boy at home, after we've all made it back. Mummy has slipped into pyjamas (boobs-in-boobs-out at baby's convenience), Leo is in his dirty nursery outfit (he "ate well," as they call it ;-), Jose in reflective cycle wear and tight cycling pants and Tara in a very dis-sheveled school uniform. We're a bit of a mess really. To this we add cake (but only after Tara has finished watching Barbie. Priorities!), popcorn, cause Leo adores the stuff and scoffs it like a pro, a few balloons and one present. Yes, one. It's a mix of (1) 'we finally accept that less is more', (2) 'we're swamped and seriously depressed by the mess around us' and (3) 'didn't actually have time to even think of another present, much less go and buy one.' Jeez. Baby boy, I'd be sorry for you if I didn't know that our love for you knows no limits.

Leo loves balloons. Leo loves popcorn. Leo loves it when daddy comes home. Leo loves it when Tara hops and jumps. Leo loves Mummy. Leo loves his present cause it's balls and a hammer. And Leo loves walking up and down holding Mummy's hands. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Leo, I think, had a good day.




And at the end of a long day, he's out so quick after dinner I don't even manage to get a new nappy on him, nor a pyjama, and haven't taken his mismatched socks off him either. That is fine though - a nappy and clothing battle with a tired Leo is tenfold worse, and I'm way. too. tired.


Tara says: "Mummy, I don't understand it: How come Leo has a birthday, but he's not a different number now?" - "But he is a different number now. He's a number one now." - "WOW! That means that now he can walk!"
Well, he's nearly there. Just like we're nearly back to normal, I hope. The last months have been a stressful and tiring mess and I can't wait for that renovating business to be over. I do wish, however, Leo's first year had lasted longer.

Happy birthday, Little Man, and many many happy returns. You've been my number one all along.** I'd love to keep you small like this forever but it's time you work on turning into my "number two"!

* Just the nappy changing wars, and a spot of bother with a sleep association problem. Good as gold otherwise.
** Not fair but true. That's a whole other story which won't be written due to lack of time and energy, and because short changing one child for a whole long year is not something I should really want to admit to. (<-- The smalles possible small print.)

Nearly There!

Little Man is nearly one! What a journey it has been.

Tiny thing in the background...

...catching up...

Give us a cuddle!

But really, this baby can't be stopped

Schulkind

Und plötzlich war er da, der große Tag: Der Alarm klingelte um 7 Uhr, nachdem Jose um 6:30 schon behauptet hatte es sei "Viertel vor 7" - aber angesichts dessen, dass ich bis gestern verlässlich bis 9 Uhr verweigert hatte anzuerkennen, dass der neue Tag angefangen habe, war das eine zulässige Lüge.
Tara stand begeistert auf, und voller Vorfreude auf ihre Schultüten, die sie aber zuerst nur "für die Fotos" festhalten durfte (Fotos, die sie mir gar nicht zugestehen wollte). Zur Schule durfte sie nur die kleine von Tante Claudia mitnehmen, denn schließlich gibt es hier weder Zuckertüten noch Erstklässlerfeierlichkeiten, und wenn wir schon am ersten Tag fremdkulturell auffallen, dann doch bitte nicht gleich mit Karacho.
Zweieinhalb Stunden später durfte ich eine zufriedene Tochter mit entzauberter Zuckertüte abholen: "Everybody said, 'look, there's something lovely. Let's look at it!' So we all looked at it at snack time." Und die Lehrerin musste auch aufgeklärt werden, denn "We didn't know what it was, whether a birthday present or just a general gift?"

In den Klassenraum, am ersten Tag, haben Leo und Mama das Schulkind Tara bis zum Haken begleitet, Jäckchen und book bag aufhängen, und dann zu ihrer besten Freundin Sophie an den Knettisch gebracht. Blaue Knete mit Glitzer. Die Lehrerin half den Mädchen in einen Riesenpullover, mindestens Größe XL, damit die Uniform auch schön sauber bleibt (gegen Rotzspuren am Ärmel hat das leider nicht geholfen), und dann haben Leo und ich uns aus dem Staub gemacht, denn gebraucht wurden wir nicht mehr.
Hurra. Zu den Müttern, die sich heulend um die Ecke flüchten, gehört Taras Mama nicht.

Schulkind (deutsch-englisch!)

Schultüte

Schulweg

PS.: Dass Tara an ihrer Schultüte am meisten das Zuckerzeug interressiert hat, muss ja nicht extra erwähnt werden. Wir bleiben dabei: Schokolade, auch Smarties, sind out; lollies sind der Hit. Gleich danach: Die echt scharfe Kinderschere, mit der sie sicham nächsten Tag mal eben so zum Jux ein Loch ins neue Schulkleid schneidet. Schulkind und schlau, aber eben doch noch keine 18.

New Life (Preview)

School uniform, grey/red, one full set.


One heap of paperwork to sign and return to solicitor in the morning.

One baby with sleep issue, lured into picture with one rattling box of mini smarties, temporarily borrowed from a very heavy Schultüte. To his right: School dress, grey, Tara's choice.

One little girl, 4 years and 6 weeks, asleep among the treats she will receive in the morning. Braids for much coveted wavy hair. Sleeps like a baby, but is, as of tomorrow, 9am, an English Infant School Student.

And so, 7 years and 6 days after arriving in England, we are about to become house owners, and parents of a little girl at an English school. It's crazy, and we're all looking forward to every bit of it.