Is this a typical boys thing?

Stefan was taking part in a football camp all of last week (the word 'camp' is loosely used here: Basically, it was a week of playing football from 09:30-15:30 Mon to Fri, incl. fruit and weather dependant breaks one of them being lunch at a nearby hotel) and when I picked him up yesterday, he told me that one of the other players had asked where he lived so they could meet up here and play together sometime.

I'm all up for Stefan growing his social circle, so I ask the, to me, obvious first question: What's his name?

Stefan: I don't know.

Okay. I put on my detective cap, which is getting more and more worn out due to Stefan's, in my view, often total ignorance as to where he last put things, which YouTube video or song he's referring to etc. and move on with my questioning: 

Me: What does he look like?

Stefan: He has dark hair.

Okay. I have a couple of boys in mind and move onto more in-depth questions:

Me: Does he have curly hair?

Stefan: No, it's sort of like this: (he makes circle movements on top of his own hair. I conclude that yes, it's curly, but Stefan doesn't know the word 'curly')

Me: Does he have dark skin? 

Stefan: No.

Stefan then remembers some additional information and tells me that the boy won a trophy and wasn't on his team. This boils the number of potential candidates down to around six. 

I ignore his reply to the question about skin colour and ask him if it was Sharon (who's of Indian descent). But no.

Then I ask him if it was the boy he said 'Adé' to (I guess it's a Swiss-German version of 'Adieu') when we were going home and result!

Stefan's new friend, whose name he doesn't know, is a black boy with a short afro who won a trophy for being an allround nice player. 

Name: No idea. He doesn't go to the same school as Stefan. We don't know where he lives. BUT, I'm positive we'll bump into him again as this part of Zürich is quite small and the children tend to go to the same playgrounds. He might even be on the same football team when the new season begins next week.

And, now at least I also know what he looks like. 

This brings me back to the title of this post:

Is this a typical boys thing? 

Losing It

Losing It

Having danced on trails
Embraced mountains

And somersaulted into oceans

We got lost

In the roundabout

Of good-buys

This is a recent poem (2018).

Growing Up

We notice how you grow

not only by having 

to replace your 

clothes, shoes

(and our knowledge of

Netflix shows)

on a regular basis

but also from your

ever increasingly

(in your mother's eyes)

daring antics

on the playground

(June 2018)

My New Therapist

My new therapist is German, has lived in Switzerland for more than 20 years, is married to an American, and uses the F… word.

I like her.

She came recommended by my GP, when I mentioned, during one of several appointments last year (apparently, going to the doctor with diffuse symptoms on a regular basis can be a symptom of depression), that I was considering changing my therapist.

The thought of trying to find someone new and going through everything that had happened since my post natal depression once again had just felt too daunting earlier. But this day at my GP’s, I realised that the only benefit I had received from my weekly appointments the last two years was a very intense German conversation class (without the homework and discussions on finer grammatical points). My head wasn’t any clearer and I was still struggling with the same issues on a daily basis without having been given any tools to try and deal with them.

One of my friends, who’s also known to therapy, once told me she wanted to change her therapist. She explained that she found it difficult as she didn't want to upset her current therapist by leaving. At the time I didn’t understand her. To be honest, I thought she was being ridiculous. Now I’ve been in the same situation as her, I wish I hadn’t been so harsh on her and quick to judge. Because I totally agree with her sentiments about not wanting to hurt someone.

It IS silly, if you look at it logically. These therapists provide a service to you and if you’re not happy with that service, you should take your business (you) elsewhere. Most people would do that with their hairdresser, dentist, tattooist...

I’m so thrilled to have found someone who seems to ‘get’ me. She doesn’t agree with all my theories about why I might be feeling this way or that, but she gives me useful feedback and makes me think about why so and so and how so and so. (We're a lot more specific in our sessions.)

What I really appreciate about her is that she seems to care. Genuinely care. You leave her office with the feeling that she wants you to get better and not that you’re another patient (product) she should try to squeeze money out of for as long as possible.  

If you are in a similar situation and want to change your therapist, please don't make the mistake I did and wait too long. Had I not made the change in November last year, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have got the help I needed earlier this year. Or I would have got it when I was in a much worse mental (and physical) state.

It’s your mental health that’s at stake, and you deserve and need someone who’s right for you to help you get better.

Mail

Mail

sent my heart

through the mail

now my life

depends on

postman cyberspace

Lost

Lost

when you left

you took the directions

of my life with you

now I'm not only

heartbroken

I'm also completely lost

Another poem from my pre-being-a-mother and pre-married life...

Easy Spinach and Feta Quiche

I'm always on the look out for new ideas when it comes to what to serve for dinner - and as I know many of you guys probably feel the same, I want to share this healthy, time and family friendly, oh, and did I mention easy? recipe with you.

This quiche is so easy to make, delicious (both hot and cold) and a total hit with all three members of the family. Stefan refers to this as 'the second pizza' (we often have an easy-to-make home made pizza which I guess must be the first one) and he loves, loves, loves it. 

STEP ONE

Ingrediens and method:

Pre-heat oven to 220० C (or according to the instructions, see below)

Ready-made dough for quiche (32 cm in diameter)

6 large eggs mixed together

200 g feta - crumble and add to egg mixture

200 g defrosted or fresh (if fresh, blanche it first - 2 mins in boiling water) spinach, squeeze as much water as possible out of it and add to egg mixture

Salt & pepper

To fluff up the quiche, and / or if you happen to have some half / full cream left over, add 1 dl to the mixture

 STEP TWO

Playing with Dough:

Follow instructions on pack. 
Mine say to place paper and dough in the tray, make it look pretty, cut off extra paper and manically pierce holes on bottom with a fork.

STEP THREE

What to do with the Mixture:

Pour mixture into tray.

STEP FOUR

How Long to Bake and What to Expect Post-Baking:

Bake for 35-40 minutes in the bottom part of the pre-heated oven and it could look like this when it's finished.

If the quiche starts emitting hot air when you cut into it DON'T PANIC! It's not ruined and won't implode like a not-totally-baked-through souffle (not that I have any experience making souffles but I guess my explanation might work). I don't know why this happens but could come up with many theories. However, I won't. 

Suffice to say that this baking phenomena happened during the making of above-pictured quiche and as you can see and read below, everyone was happy with the outcome. 

BONUS PICTURE

History Behind Bonus Picture:

Don't ask me why I decided to illustrate what the quiche looked like inside by placing one slice on top of a dark pink spatula on top of the quiche itself. I don't know. The quiche was so delicious that it was eaten before I got around to taking a new picture. 

The few times there were some leftovers, these were served cold the next day - when they were as quickly devoured as newly baked the evening before. 

En Guete! 

Seduction

'Come here,' you say

with the voice of a new lover.

I go into the bedroom

and there you are

'Come closer.'

I sit down on the bed.

'Lie down and close your eyes.'

I do as I'm told.

'Good girl. 

Give yourself a hug.'

'Nothing or no one can get to you here.'

Are the last words I hear,

before I fall asleep 

under

the duvet.

The flight 

from responsibilities 

and (real) life

has begun.

Radio Silence

This post is an attempt to explain in a very brief way, why I've been off-line for a while:

On Thursday 25 January, I packed my bags and got on a train. My destination was a psychiatric hospital outside Zürich, where I would spend the next couple of months getting back on my feet (both the mental as well as physical ones).

Most of December last year I spent under my duvet in my bed or on our sofa watching Netflix and knitting. Outside was a scary place and meeting people was even scarier. I clearly needed help.

I know I haven't written much about my work situation in this blog and that's on purpose. Not that there hasn't been enough to write about! There's been plenty of drama: I've had five different jobs in Switzerland which have all (bar one) come to quite abrupt ends. (My CV doesn't include all my past jobs, as I would find it very hard to explain my obvious talent for job-hopping, so I've left out the ones which I just want to forget about...)

What all the positions had in common was that I tried to turn myself into (what I thought was) the right person for the job, even though it meant becoming someone else who looked like me but had to behave out of character eight hours a day, every day, five days a week.

July last year, I parted company with the latest company in the soap-opera of my professional life and since then, my self-confidence took me by the hand and slowly started to drag me towards my sanctuary - my bed - where we could hide from the evil world of responsibilities, office politics, inefficiency and pointless tasks.

Obviously, this state of affairs messed up everything around me (as well as what wasn't already messed up inside my confused head and body which showed all signs of stress) and with the suggestion from my new psychiatrist and the back-up from Paul, I willingly agreed to be admitted to a clinic that among other mental health areas, specialises in burnout and depression.

I came back on Friday 16 March, two days before my birthday, with a new zest for life, more energy, more optimism, feeling calmer, more relaxed and together than before.

To those of you who, during my stay, sent me letters, magazines, cards, thoughts and with whom I Skyped, thanks so much for being there for me, I'm so happy to have you around. To those of you I haven't been in touch with in a loooooong time, I want you to know that I haven't forgotten about you, and part of my 'new life' is to be better at making sure that the people whose company I thoroughly enjoy are aware that I cherish them.

Only time will tell, how well I've landed on my feet and if they can keep me standing up straight, when smaller and bigger bumps appear on the road ahead. With the daily therapies, introduction to a more active lifestyle and the camaraderie among the other patients, I should be well equipped to even perhaps start to run a bit from time to time. (And that's meant both metaphorically as well as literally.)

For various reasons, I've wanted to be open about the last couple of months. Firstly, because it's now been confirmed that I am prone to getting depressions, if I don't look after myself and ignore the first warning signs; secondly, I want people to know how important it is to ask for help, if you start to shy away from daily life and responsibilities (there are lots of other signs when it comes to being depressed and suffer from burnout) - don't ignore the signs - the longer you leave it, the worse it gets; thirdly, many of my future posts are likely to, in parts, deal with my stay at the clinic and what came before. And after. I really, really hope there will be a long and happy after. I will be doing all I can to make that happen. :-)

Train Journey

I found this poem in one of my notebooks the other day. It's obviously from my earlier life when I was a single woman with a daily commute. 

Train Journey

My recent crush

sits down opposite me

the recognition

in his smile

from hundreds 

of brief encounters like this one

makes the rest of my day.

Learnings from a 4-Year-Old

This year our summer holidays once again saw us soak up the sun and a controlled amount of ice cream by Italy's ever gorgeous Lake Garda.

One evening we decided to go into town for dinner and as the temperature had dropped to under 30 degrees for the first time in over a week, we each took an extra top with us. 

Paul had chosen a hoodie for Stefan, and for a reason still unknown to me, this hoodie was tied loosely around Stefan's head in the soon to become fashionable 'turban' style.

I thought Stefan would want to take it off within a minute or two, but no. He kept it on only to have it readjusted a few times during the walk to town, during dinner, and during the walk back to the hotel. And he even decided to pose for pictures (taken by us, not by strangers). 

A couple of times I saw him shake his head from side to side to let the sleeves move around in a pendular motion. 

With this headgear on, he proceeded to burn off enough energy to light up a small town by running around benches, trees, groups of people,  anything on the way that could increase the length of the walk. At some point he raced past an elderly Italian couple who turned around and exclaimed 'bello!' to the dust behind Stefan. 

We asked him a few times, if he didn't want us to take the hoodie and put it in the rucksack, but no, only when we were back at the hotel, did he take it off.

I loved how Stefan was totally unbothered by the looks he received and look forward to more similar episodes in the future. 

Lesson learnt: Who cares what other people think if you don't hurt anyone and have fun! (And in this case might even have started a new trend.)

Future profession suggestions: Conductor; DJ; yoga teacher...

'Daddy, could you please remove the pebble from my shoe?'

'Oy, waiter, please ask the group of people next to us to cut it out and stop practising the 'Cup Song' with glasses on a wooden table.'

Summer

then

hiding in the darkness

behind closed doors

despising the heat

now

protecting eyes and body

behind sun glasses and sun cream

embracing the warmth

always eating ice cream 

Pear, Feta, Red Pepper Salad with Lemon Ice Cube

This salad is my own invention - at least as much as I haven't seen a recipe for it anywhere. It's oh so simple to make but surprisingly delicious. My party trick here is to add an ice cube of lemon juice and leave it to melt a bit before tucking into it. Keeps the salad fresh and cold.

My own invention. Please note the lack of pointless lettuce.

Sleep

Instead of making New Year's resolutions, two friends and I have decided to each come up with a word or term which describes an area of our lives that we would like to improve on during 2017.

My word is: Sleep.

Even before Stefan was born, my nightly sleep was all over the place. I had huge problems falling asleep, would wake up several times a night and every night, I would eat something. Sweet. No wonder I always grabbed the opportunity to take a nap (which might account for me being a student for six years before getting a full-time job...)

The main symptom of my post-natal depression was my insomnia. I had plenty of opportunity to sleep as Paul got up most nights to deal with Stefan, when it was obvious that I was struggling, but I couldn't fall asleep. And when I finally did, I only slept for two hours max, before waking up again and then being unable to go back to sleep again.

This vicious circle was finally broken during my stay at the hospital and I am ever so grateful to the medical staff for letting me sleep as much as I could the first week of my stay.

My ability to fall asleep and sleep quality have greatly improved over the past two years. BUT, I still have a pretty crazy sleeping pattern, which is what I want to change this year.

Basically, I go to sleep between 22.30-24.00 and then get up between 06.30-08.00 (Paul usually takes Stefan to the Krippe in the morning, I then pick him up in the afternoon.) This doesn't mean, however, that I get my recommended seven to eight hours' sleep every night due to the fact that I usually wake up two to three times to go to the toilet, often stay up for an hour to read (the hour between 03.00-04.00 is my preferred one), and most worryingly, regularly eat a LOT of chocolate. (On top of that, Stefan occasionally comes to sleep in my bed which also wakes me up. But I kind of like having him snuggle up next to me as long as he keeps his feet away from my face.)

Consequently, I take a nap lasting from one to two hours most afternoons and feel sluggish for at least one hour afterwards. This adds up to a lot of wasted hours during the week, month and year. And this has to change!

(NOTE: One of the luxuries of having a three bedroom flat is that we all have a bedroom each. Paul and I are one of those couples that don't share a bed as then neither of us would ever get a good night's sleep.)

Hence, in 2017 I want to focus on getting a normal sleeping rhythm going and this is how:

• Be in bed and ready to sleep by 23.00
• Getting up no later than 07.30
• No eating during the night
• No reading during the night
• No napping during the day

What would you like to change this year and how will you go about doing it?

I'd love to hear from you! 

Happy 2017!

Oatmeal Rolls

I wanted to make these rolls for a while as I liked the fact that they contained cardamom which I love! The recipe is from a Danish magazine.

I thought this set-up looked very professional - 

I didn't really use the wooden spoon much - it's more there as a prop.

The first batch - the second one is in the oven at this point.

These rolls were easy to do and I liked the consistency of them. The next time I bake them, I will add more cardamom. They freeze and defrost well.

Traditional Bolognese Sauce with Pasta / Spaghetti

This dish our weekly and freezer-stable. Either Paul or I made a batch once a week, have a portion on the day and then freeze the rest. That's how you realise you're a parent and have turned domesticated. But in the best possible way. The recipe is one Paul has picked up from some REAL ITALIANS that he house-shared with at university. So it's as authentic as it can possibly be. It's really very yummy and incredibly quick and easy to make.

A+ for presentation.

Speaking Danish and Monkey Tummy Land

At the beginning of this month, our little family visited my parents, brother, his wife and daughter in Denmark. Not Copenhagen, but the part that sticks up from Germany. In order to get there, we first flew to Amsterdam from Zürich and then from Amsterdam to Billund (where the  FIRST and ORIGINAL Legoland is). My parents live twenty minutes' drive from Billund in a place even people in Denmark have only heard about, if they either come from there or have had an unhealthy relationship with the law.

The weekend was all about the children, so we spent most of the time in Lalandia  - or more correctly, in Monky Tonky Land (Stefan: 'Daddy, I like Monkey Tummy Land!') among over-excited children and exhausted-looking parents. Considering the chaotic nature of the place (imagine loads of padded cells of various sizes containing either soft gigantic lego blocks; slides; colourful balls; child friendly assault courses; trampolines etc.) there were surprisingly few tears. And, I realised something totally amazing: If an unruly child even looked at Stefan the wrong way, I could tell him/her off! And they would understand me!

That's one thing, both Paul and I have discovered about living in Switzerland with a child: It doesn't matter if you speak some German when it comes to children if they only speak Swiss-German. They just give you a pretty puzzling look, when you begin a sentence directed at them with: 'Können Sie bitte Hochdeutsch sprechen? Ich möchte Sie gerne tell you off.' (It's SO much easier to use the formal 'Sie' than the informal 'Du' grammar-wise...) So the couple of times, a child has dared to be in Stefan's way, I've done variations of shouting: 'Oi! Achtung bitte!' and giving out the death-stare.

Not only are the Danish the, apparently, happiest people around, Danish children might also be the best behaved, as I didn't get to raise my voice at someone in my mother-tongue.

Which could have been a blessing in disguise...

During a conversation with my sister-in-law, who's originally from Ukraine but speaks fluent Danish, she said something which just didn't make sense to me. I understood all the words but not the meaning of the sentence. Apparently, this was some newfangled Danish slang and her comment to my bafflement was: 'Karen, I speak better Danish than you now!' Which is evidently true.

Luckily, Stefan impressed with his Danish speaking and comprehension skills.

Paparazzi moment by the slides.

In order to get this very rare incident on camera (both cousins in the same picture) my mum and I displayed our, very well-developed it turned out, paparazzi skills. When we saw that Stefan and Marie were likely to go down the same slide, we basically pushed away anyone who could potentially ruin the shot with the shouty explanation: 'They're cousins. We've never seen them go down a slide together at the same time before.' Because that makes such a slightly manic behaviour totally acceptable - and a lot of sense. But as you can see, we got the picture. And what a fine one. It's Stefan on the left (this is how they do it in Zürich), and Marie on the right.


Enjoy this longer than usual weekend.

Puzzling

I love doing puzzles and sharing pictures of my progress on the puzzle I'm working on at any given account with all my 53+ (and counting, albeit slowly) Instagram followers.

During one of my puzzling sessions this week, I started thinking about what I find so attractive about this activity. And there are many reasons:

1. It's meditative.
2. It's relaxing.
3. You can wear whatever you want and don't have to comb your hair.
4. The excitement I get from the feeling of tidying up; from accomplishing something that takes patience and concentration.
5. It's a great way to do something whilst listening to Podcasts.
6. It's a good alternative to knitting, when the needles are almost on fire from having been producing yet another yoga sock.
7. It can be looked at as preparation for a life as a retiree.

I think all puzzlers out there (and according to Instagram, there are many) secretly wanted to become surgeons as I believe many of the same skills are in use in both fields: You need to be highly concentrated; you work best on a flat surface in a non-crowded room; good lighting is important for both types of operations; you need to have abundance of patience; you have to accept that something that looks like an easy part (moving a bullet from behind an eye socket or finishing a stack of cup cakes) could end up incredibly complicated and leave you drained after completion. But puzzling is the safer option and can't lead to anyone's death, if you get it wrong. And you don't need to study medicine to become a puzzler. Though some knowledge of shapes would be an advantage.

The first puzzle I did was during my first week at the psychiatric hospital. There was a table in the corner of the common room with a less than half-finished puzzle, so I figured I could help that along to completion. I discovered that sitting there, quietly putting a shattered Zürich together, momentarily took me away from all the dark thoughts and feeling of hopelessness that had lead me to this place.   When I moved to a different ward after just over a week, (I had been waiting for a private room to be freed up at the women's ward, where the staff were more specialised in women with post-natal depression), I went out and bought a brand new puzzle that I could sit and do in my room, when I wanted to be alone. Psychologically, one could say that as it's not always possible to bring order in the chaos of my mind, at least I can mend a broken piece of hard cardboard with a pretty picture on it. And later frame it and hang it on my wall.

At the moment, I have four 1000 pieces puzzles decorating the walls in my room, one is waiting to be hung up, one is waiting to be glued together, framed and then hung up and I'm working on a 'triptych' which is three individual puzzles that belong together. (Or as Google puts it: a set of three associated artistic, literary, or musical works intended to be appreciated together.)

You can see some of the puzzles under 'Craft Projects'.

Revelation and Motivation

I don't consider myself the fastest learner in the world, but that it's taken me until very recently to realise, actually realise, that the most part of getting and feeling better is up to me, has come as a bit of a surprise. Basically, having failed yet again to do anything from my to do list on one of the two days during the working week, when I don't work, and blaming it on me not feeling up to it and that this is part of my condition, I had a moment of clarity: All the external areas where I can get help are covered: Medication, therapy, support from husband, family and close friends, less work. But, there are still a lot of areas, where only my efforts will make a difference. And that's where my hard work comes in. And this is where I really struggle.

Being able to bottle motivation and sell it, would be a licence to print money. How often isn't motivation the missing link between wanting to do something and actually doing it? The wanting is easy, finding reasons for wanting to do it, also easy peasy. But putting the effort into doing it in order to get the wished outcome (learning a new language; getting fitter; changing careers etc.). What? I have to actually ACTIVELY do something. I can't just sit on my ass and think of all the scenarios where I'm asking for extra cheese on a pizza in Italy, in Italian; greet the sun with my eyes closed; do what I've secretly wanted to do forever?

...

To be continued...

I'm off to do stuff.

Grazie mille.

Birchermüesli

This is a traditional Swiss breakfast dish invented by some Dr. Bircher many years ago. I remember eating a lot of it at the maternity ward as it was so delicious. The main ingredients are oats and fruits (dried and / or fresh) unless you're Jamie Oliver and then skip both. I have a feeling that each family have their own recipe and the one I've used here for my first attempt was given to me by one of my colleagues (who's Hungarian and married to a Dutch guy, but they have Swiss neighbours, I think).

The finished portion on the left. The black bits are chia seeds, not banana flies. 

Close up of one portion. This is the last picture of this glass, as it broke afterwards. I think this was a reaction to being used for something other than a wine glass.