Grandparents (particularly grandmas)...

‘I’ve waited 15 years for this moment’, my mum said excitedly when she gave my, at that point, nine-month-old son, Stefan, and his one-year-old niece, Marie, a pink cardboard box each. What she meant was that my brother and I had kept her waiting for a decade and a half for her to finally become a fully fledged member of the exclusive of all clubs: The Club of Grandparents. Ever since she and my dad had been informed of their future new titles, she had taken every opportunity to refer to herself as ‘mormor’ (maternal grandma) or ‘farmor’ (paternal grandma). My dad on the other hand didn’t seem to have a need to make any amendments to his current titles.

The build up to this pivotal moment had reached its crescendo in the weeks leading up to our visit to my home shores. Every Skype-call had ended with my mum exclaiming how much she looked forward to the moment the two cousins saw each other as this was to be their first meeting. What she had imagined, I’m not sure. How do two nappy wearing, crawling babies normally react to being introduced, independently of whether they share parts of the same DNA pool or not? Was it likely that they would recognize their genetic similarities, grasp each others drool covered hands and shriek wildly (but at an acceptable level)? Well, that’s not exactly how it played out. Basically, Stefan ignored Marie and was a lot more interested in the new toys that were surrounding them and Marie didn’t seem bothered that her presence didn’t cause a stir of emotions in her cousin. I’m still not sure what my mum expected, but I think they both passed her ‘cousins’ first meeting’ test.

When the moment finally arrived and my son took off the lid of the pink box, out fell a small plastic truck and a knitted ball with a bell inside (a bell that didn’t make ‘too much noise’, as my mum explained). I, perhaps a little bit sarcastically, asked if she’d kept those trucks hidden for fifteen years, and she replied with a little laughter that no, she’d just bought them yesterday. The two cousins showed far more interest in the pink bows, which had been intricately tied around the boxes – at some point I even got Stefan to wear his as a butterfly – than the contents. (Even the woollen balls with the quiet bells didn’t catch their attention.)

Back to the Club of Grandparents. My brother and I were 38 and 40 years old respectively, when we granted our parents access to this reverent club. At this point my parents were the only couple among their circle of friends, who didn’t have any grandchildren. It didn’t matter anymore how my brother and I were doing, which jobs we had, if we were or weren’t in a relationship, no, the number one topic of most conversations, as far as I understood, centered around grandchildren. Even though they (or mainly my mum) never specifically said anything about the tardiness with which my brother and I found lasting relationships, it was still there between the lines, when my mum told us about another future grandchild who’d chosen some of their friends as grandparents. I know for sure they’d (she’d) given up on my ever granting them this ultimate gift when I broke up with a longterm boyfriend at an age where most women’s eggs were outnumbered by their age. Luckily Eastern Europe came to save the day in both mine and my brother’s case (my husband is from Romania, my brother’s wife from Ukraine).

Where it’s obvious how much it’s meant to my mum to finally being able to talk about and show pictures of HER grandchildren, my dad seems to be a lot more, what can I saw, DOWN-TO-EARTH about these new additions to the family. I think the only change he’s made to his life is that he’s bought a child seat for his bike and a helmet, so he can take Marie on small bike rides in the area. My mum, on the other hand, started telling all her friends that from the day her grandchildren were born, she would prioritise them over anything else, hence any arrangement she made with a friend, could be cancelled at a moment’s notice, should her grandmother skills be needed. She also informed me that her services would be available within 24 hours – she’d checked out various flight connections and worked out that this timescale would be doable.

It’s lovely to have such devoted grandparents and I know that they (my mum in particular) wish that they lived closer by. Luckily they see my brother’s daughter on a weekly basis and with Skype and email it’s much easier to keep in contact than it’s ever been before.

Yes, Stefan also has a ‘farmor’, my husband’s mum, who’s as excited about him as his ‘mormor’ is. But she is it in a more contained way. It doesn’t bear thinking about two grandmas sharing my mum’s level of excitement…

Spot the Cranes

Switzerland is sold to tourists as a country of phenomenal beauty: Snow-covered mountains, lakes of all sizes and depths, waterfalls, bell-ringing cows in lusciously green and hilly fields, the best chocolate in the world and I could go on. If you purchase a calendar of this neutral country in the middle of Europe (without being in the EU), each month will confirm this image and so will all ad campaigns.

What is NOT as well-known about the Swiss landscape is the fact that cranes, diggers, roadwork, building sites etc. are as common a sight here as mountains. I kid you not as the pictures below show. These were taken from our balcony the other when we had a clear sky which made the mountains in the background particularly visible (second picture).

I should probably have added pictures from other parts of Switzerland in order to prove this (very interesting and not at all random!) point, but I usually end up focusing on the mountains, waterfalls, lakes etc. instead - and trying to avoid the criss crossing of cranes. 

Crane City

Check out the mountains in the back - still take my breath away!

Watch out for my next post, which might include a picture of a Grittibänz.

Lots of love,

Karen x

Cooking Update...

A miracle has happened in the Rosinger-household: Over the past three weeks, I have been found in the kitchen juggling with pots and pans, mixing ingredients, stirring and whirring, and finally serving up something edible! Unfortunately, our of sheer amazement of this change in my character, I haven't taken any pictures of the food that has been created, but I have witnesses, Paul and Stefan, who have both been there to support me all the way.

The most fantastic thing about this transformation is the fact that I'm enjoying my time in the kitchen and haven't had any meltdowns. I've even added ingredients not mentioned in a recipe, substituted where I didn't like the original one, and NOT always measured everything to the exact gram / cup / oz. I even changed the measurements in one recipe from 8 to 2 people! (Okay, I know loads of online recipes have a function set up that does this automatically for you, but this was a dish from an old fashioned paper cook book so I had to do the calculations on a serviette with an HB pencil and an abacus.)

Suddenly, all the hours spent watching MasterChef, Great British Bake-Off, Nigella, Jamie, Noddy etc. are paying off and I've found myself venturing into the vegetable and fruit section and looking for other items than the usual basic ones as well as scrutinising shelves holding spices and sauces, and even stopping in front of the fridges holding fresh meat and wondering, what one could do with this and that. 

During Stefan's and my morning walk today, I decided to set myself a cooking challenge for next year, starting in December in order for it not to look like a New Year's resolution: Every month I have to create a minimum of four new dishes from various recipes of my choice. There will be no restrictions apart from every dish being one I haven't made before. A dish can be a cake, soup, sophisticated or ordinary dinner, bread etc. I will attempt to take a picture of each creation, even the ones that didn't work out. (Emphasis on the word 'attempt'...)

Below is a list of what I got up to on the food front in November:

Cottage Pie, Chicken and Leek Pie (twice!), Lemon Cheese Cake, and a couple of concoctions involving ready-made puff pastry and cheese.

Once again thanks to those of you who sent me recipes - they'll come in handy over the next year!

Please feel free to send me more...

Lots of love,

Karen x

Stefan Kissing Petra and Kinderkrippe News

Today I caught Stefan kissing Petra (short for 'Petra the Snake') and managed to take the picture below as well as put a stop to things going any further:

I must say I'm impressed with his technique when it comes to locking lips, though I hope he'll also add a more tender and less sucking way of kissing to his repertoire in the future. Obviously, as a mother, I'm not looking forward to him kissing anyone on a more serious level when that time comes. 

One of my colleagues has apparently stuck a picture of Stefan on my monitor at work, which I think is absolutely lovely! (Thanks, Jess!) I've confirmed that I'll be coming back in January working three days a week and we've found a Kinderkrippe (combined kindergarden and nursery) for Stefan and he'll start in January as well - which is rather convenient. The name of the Kinderkrippe is 'Sonnenhaus' (sun house) and it's a ten minutes' walk from  here so pretty close. The manager is from Brazil and speaks Portuguese and Swiss German, two languages which neither Paul nor I master completely, or at all'ly. But she spoke slowly when we had our tour of the facilities and the confirmation letter we received was all in High-German and covered everything (I thought - rightly) that we'd discussed, hence the language barrier is luckily quite low here. I know some of her staff speak English so we'll be fine. Stefan met the person who'll be in charge of the smallest people (under 18 months) and because he smiled at her and didn't start screaming hysterically, I felt confident that we've made the right choice. (Ideally, I would like to have seen a couple of hours' CCTV footage of a normal day in the Krippe, to make absolutely sure the staff are on their toes at all times - particularly since we don't know anyone around here who can recommend a place to us. And I also think Stefan should have preferential treatment.)

Stefan is now officially Danish. His passport arrived earlier this week, so we can now cross the Swiss borders with him. His first trip abroad is likely to go to Austria, where Paul has some friends who have invited us over to visit them.

I'll leave you with a 'selfie' of Stefan and me taken in a lift. 

Lots of love,

Karen x

Stefan! (Warning, this post will contain images of a baby as well as words like 'breast', 'labour' and 'nappies')

Since my last post, I have had a baby and am now officially a mum. Paul and I are parents and Stefan has become the number one priority in our lives.

Labour:

Stefan decided to break my waters around 3am on Saturday 30 June but must have got cold feet, as he didn't turn up until 1.58am on Wednesday 3 July. I was at that point on my second epidural because the first one only seemed to work on one side. In my hospital papers it says that my labour took 1 day and 22 hours. My pregnancy was a walk in the park; giving birth wasn't... But hey, it all went well in the end and Stefan's a very energetic bundle of joy and cuteness! 

Feet like drumsticks 

Some of the things I have learnt over the past ten weeks:

Your life can get back to the way it was pre-motherhood IN YOUR DREAMS.

Eating lunch is mostly done standing up in the kitchen in front of the fridge and often consists of what's easy to grab and doesn't have to be prepared. Basically, something that can be eaten between interruptions.

Having an understanding and incredibly helpful husband is a true gift!

Having discussions about the contents of your baby's nappies becomes as natural as talking about the weather.

Breastfeeding is not easy: I would suggest that it's taught at school so one has some knowledge about what to expect before being thrown into it at one's most exhausted end.

One smile from your newborn magically erases all insecurities, frustrations, exhaustion etc. and gives you the strength to continue this exciting ride that's called parenthood.

Hey!

Lots of love,

Karen x

Preparing for Parenthood

Any minute now, my contractions could begin or my water break It's a rather surreal situation to be in but one that women are in all the time, every day all over the world and have been since the beginning of time. Paul's referring to my practise contractions as 'Stefan packing and getting ready', which I think is a very humorous way of looking at it. I just hope he doesn't have too much stuff to pack or needs to do lots of hoovering! 

To those of you who don't know already, we've decided to name him Stefan after Paul's late paternal granddad. The name is pretty common here in Switzerland and well-known in both Romania and Denmark. He won't have a middle-name. We've had to sign up with a paediatrician already, and even though he isn't born yet, he already has an appointment booked for his four weeks' examination. (Should he arrive sooner than his due date, which is 15 July, I need to reschedule the appointment.) 

Are we ready? Materially, yes (though I"m sure we've forgotten to buy some essentials, but Paul should have some time on his hands between visits to the hospital to purchase what we didn't know we needed...), but mentally? I don't think it's possible to prepare for this event on an intellectual level - to some degree, yes, but not as much as when it comes to buying a cot, a changing table, pram, clothes etc. I can't picture the feeling of unconditional love that 'they say' will rush through us, once Stefan has been born, nor imagine what it will be like to have to function on no / not much sleep for the foreseeable future. But everybody I know who've been through this adventure seems to have kept their sanity, so I expect the same will happen to us. 

I'm now on maternity leave and try to get as much rest as possible. I'm fully aware of the fact that it's not possible to 'bank sleep', but these weeks of waiting I want to make sure I'm as relaxed and rested as I can be. Physically, I'm still in pretty good shape, no major aches or pains apart from what can be expected when one's natural equilibrium is being challenged. Paul calls me 'Balena' which is Romanian for 'whale'. I'm sure he means it in a loving way. 

Last Saturday we picked up the bed and changing table, we'd ordered a month ago. We've gone a little bit Stokke mad as, after having done a lot of research in the jungle that is baby equipment websites and magazines, we came to the conclusion that their products offered what we were looking for regarding functionality, quality and design. Paul spent some happy hours (well, it didn't actually take him that long) putting the bed and changing table together (should he ever want to change career, he really ought to set up a business which offers putting together flat-pack furniture...), and I spent some happy minutes snapping a few pictures of him in action:

The two separate bits can later be used as chairs, apparently. Check out the sexy gym-ball in the background - this is my chair of choice at the moment. I still haven't fallen off but think it's just a matter of time...

Paul makes this look so easy. He didn't even need my help. (Because I'm well-known for my abilities when it comes to following instructions that include screws.)

Here's the finished bed in the bedroom adorned with Danish Kaj (frog) & Andrea (parrot), the French giraffe Sophia and English Whoozit; on loan from the sofa in the living room, the cushion Owen the Owl:

Below, the changing table:

The two bags on the floor are my packed hospital bags! If I get very flustered, I might take the Ikea lamp with me by mistake, I've just realised. Perhaps I should move it???

The clothes and sleeping bag below are part of the lovely presents, my colleagues gave me for my baby shower a couple of weeks ago:

Before I finish this post, I'd like to thank whomever is in charge of the weather here in Switzerland. I couldn't have wished for a better May and June weather-wise (apart from those three days of 30+ degrees recently). Please continue the good work of keeping the temperatures below 25 degrees...

Lots of love,

Karen x

Beautiful Bern, Boring Embassies, Brown Bears and Baby Equipment

Tuesday this week, Paul and I took a day off so I could go to the Danish Embassy in Bern. Not that I was unable to go there myself, but it's always nice with great company, and neither of us had been to Bern before.

The reason I had to turn up in person at the Embassy was in order to apply for a new passport. As newly married and having taken my husband's (I can almost say and write that without giggling...) name, it seemed only right to have that added to my passport - which means getting a new one. When Stefan turns up, we can go to the Danish Consulate here in Zurich and apply for his passport as he's under 12 years old. (Yes, we want him to be a Danish citizen. He won't get Swiss citizenship from birth, as neither I nor Paul is Swiss.)

I always think of Embassies as being slightly palatial, or at least housed in a cool old building with whitewashed walls and perhaps a guard outside. Hence I was rather disappointed to find that the Danish Embassy in Bern is placed on the second floor in an apartment building, and that the first person to greet me was the cleaner! The reception room did have the obligatory pictures of the Queen and Henrik, (though they could do with being updated), and there were also a couple of magazines promoting tourism in Denmark. My query was dealt with quickly by a very nice lady and I was out of there within 20 minutes.

Paul had been waiting for me outside a cafe and seemed surprised to see me back so soon. His dealings with embassies have always taken quite a while and involved queueing, but I guess this is one of the advantages of coming from a tiny country with few inhabitants...On the way back, we passed an embassy with a guard outside (furnished with a big gun!) as well as some housed in beautiful buildings. I might consider changing citizenship. Though then I might have to queue.

Bern is much more beautiful than I thought. It seems less busy and noisy than Zurich and even though we didn't see that much of the town, I still managed to take some great pictures which I think give a good idea of what the town has to offer views-wise (I'm sure that's a word!):

This could be Italy! But it's not.

An iron bridge over some river. And blue skies!

Another bridge over a river, forgot if it's the same as the one above.
 (I should work as a guide, I know.)

And let's not forget the famous bears of Bern, which we also managed to see. Some cities make do with ducks and swans and flying rats as part of the city ambience, but not Bern, oh no, they've opted to include bears. I even took a couple of videos (shot according to the dogme-rules) - unfortunately I'm unable to upload the best one, so you'll have to make do with the one below and a few pictures instead.

They have it good! Their own pool including two apples!

A barrel and sticks to play with.

Once back, I realised I'd overdone it with regards to walking around, so had to get a new appointment with the chiropractor. I saw him yesterday and he sarcastically asked me if I had more excursions planned over the next couple of weeks. I don't. But it's hard when one is so naturally active to cut down on exercising... ;-)

A couple of weeks ago we went to a baby-equipment store in order to get a few essentials before the event in July. The pictures below show the backseat and boot of our car after we'd finished part one of this exercise. The cot and changing table are on order and should arrive by the end of June. Should Stefan arrive before, we can borrow items from the shop which is good to know!

Stuff.

More stuff and the expectant dad.

Okay, we could perhaps have packed this a bit more cleverly -
it's just still such a novelty to have space in the back!

Thanks to those of you who've provided me with recipes, and especially to Jess for giving me a cooking lesson a couple of weeks ago. I have added a few things to my repertoire and will report on my progress soon.

Lots of love,

Karen x