OK, the ringer must be switched off. Hm? Ooooooooo-eeeeeeerrrrrrrrr-HUH! Whoosh! Twas a few nights before Christmasand all through the house, Reading MammyWoos hilarious, harrowing and award-winning (oh yes) blog, led me, via The Mads Awards, to another inspirational site - Imagination Tree. was it a mouse? Being pregnant and eating half a plate of something that seems innocuous before someone informs you of a study that found that the comestible is somehow lethal to foetuses. Bloody hell! Don't worry, I'm not coming over all sappy, optimistic, glass half full (hey, at least we didn't take off in a faulty plane and DIE! to the dark, snowy air Or as Stephen King says in his book On Writing, "what do you want, a name tag with Writer on it?". Second, it was a pair of tweenies sitting at the top of the slide in the playground so my son couldnt use it: Them: blah, blah, boys, shoes, homework, boys, blah, my stupid parents, blah, blah, boys. 
Now quit whining about the heavy pumpkin Im putting a crate of beer in your backpack in the next aisle. As usual, I had a list and I had a deadline and I had Things To Do. So what? Still, I hear that watch-makers are also in high demand. Why wont it bloody PLAY! On three, grab this pumpkin, 1, 2, 3. Why? Why havent I ordered the new 4S yet? Sadly, nein. Finishing up at a vegetable stall, I turned to see her peering into a grubby, stainless steel box on the pavement. Every morning rose earlier and earlier until I was getting up before I went to bed, in a stumbling cycle of pain and surrealism that owes more to over-tiredness than Monty Python.
I read the blessed Annas incredibly perceptive passage about her non-perfect life with the kids (or is it actually perfect in its own unique way? 
2 - Alpha Blondie - tiny, hungry, male. Should I beat it to death?, Oh no! I called out I only want some bloody music, not the moon on a stick pissyshittingbollockybastardbloodyarsekickingcrappycrappycrappyfrickingcatbollocks. So Im struck by all the magic in my house. I do that. *nothing* The lovely little pool became the very symbol of my reluctant idleness and unmerited life of luxury.
Then he needs to walk round and round and round and round and round and round on his cushion in order to, presumably, dislodge the pea that discomforts his pampered, noble, stinky-dog posterior. Like most mothers, Id love them to be perfect in public, (no shrieking, no biting, no snatching), but only to make my life easier and Im well aware that its not possible to be perfect it would only ruin them to even try. Just WORK you pieceofshitetotallyannoyingletmedownallthetimewasteoffrickingleccyoverhypedarsingApple-Crapplebollockypileofbollockedbollocks! So, what? What is WRONG with it?! Youll wake up the kids, and besides Call me old-fashioned, but I thought kids were supposed to respect adults, which of course is a polite and modern way of saying I thought kids were supposed to be shit-scared of adults?
I feel pity for those troubled by Not-Entirely-Perfectism. See our privacy policy. Gahts nd, for those unaccustomed to Swiss German (Schwiizerttsch), means roughly we both of us know, this thing just aint working out. Attention deficit or free spirited? 
Except when we go, when the rain in Spain falls mostly on our pain-ed faces, which are pressed up against hail-lashed windows as we shiver in the lowest temperatures since records began (presumably they only began after our last visit, cos it was just as bleeding cold then) and listen to gnarled old Spanish men announce that they can now die happy after seeing snow for the first time in their long, olive-oil soaked, sun-drenched lives. And there are other reasons to be fearful. The Curly Girlie accepted her place in the natural hierarchy of children and stepped back to let the bigger kids see. Oh yes, that makes sense. All very good but back to the Lost Items. No, gahts nd. Is it actually a test? *fiddle* No, ringer is on. Then, when the Husband asks for his nuts or Curly Girlie demands a wooden carrot or Alpha Blondie wails OOOoooOOOoooOOO! (which roughly translates as I need a shoooooe so I can go outside and fall over on the stones) I can just say: under the sofa, Darling! What a neat solution. What seemed like hours later, I was still sweating and swearing, she was moaning and thrashing and so, of course, Alpha Blondie baby brother chose that moment to tip an entire box of beads onto the floor. The latest in a long line of rest-robbers, slumber-stealers, catnap-kidnappers.
I really like this one too. After a quick calculation, I worked out that financial dependence = guilt. Right. This is what childhood is FOR. And when Ive got no music, I just think about how much my thighs hurt all the time. - being stranded during a diving trip by a violent storm on an uninhabited island while five months pregnant and having to be rescued in an elderly helicopter by the Omani Royal Air Force.
Just the other day, while cutting up a lemon, I was hit by the realisation that, under my own steam, I couldnt afford the lemon. Which brings me to today, Migros and a toddler having a tantrum over a pumpkin. And then something very alarming happens. Then he needs to scratch his claws down the wall to improve his position enough that he can fall into a deep slumber and have an energetic dream about god only knows what but it involves running, growling, whimpering and, apparently, laughing. Discuss) and felt a weight lift from my shoulders. Eventually, with a level of exasperation that only a mother of toddlers can reach, the other mums came over and noticed the light, the glass, the well. What IS it all for? Today was one of those blessed days: husband available to umpire the children (check); no-one beset by illness (check); calendar empty of birthdays / weddings / christenings / bar mitzvahs (check); Mummy awake, willing and adequately fed (check). Ah, happy memories. And that makes me feel, really you know. Back to the plot. First, that Im not perfect (that bit isnt an epiphany) BUT I can accept it (that bit is). So I dashed down the stairs to confront the intruder, assuming (hoping?) Then will the Great Cosmic Sleep Fascist call off his dogs of war and let me lie in? Rolled up our trouser legs and dabbled our toes in the mineral-rich waters of the Mar Menor and then ordered patatas bravas at a pavement cafe while the kids dropped ice creams down themselves and ended up rabbit-punching each other in a fight over some shells that were discarded and forgotten three minutes later. but a tiny gourmand Really, it might as well be magic, because I sure as hell cant explain it: WiFi I just walk about the place, accessing the Internet in the office, the kitchen, the garden, halfway down the front drive, printing things out willy-nilly as I go; the ground-source heating system it takes heat directly out of the Earth and uses it to make the floors agreeably warm; the hob it cooks the food, but it doesnt get hot. Right in, out, in, out, in, out. had a fine dinnertime, This time last week, thinking I still had plenty of time, I printed out my list of instructions. It got a spanked bottom and sent off to bed without its dinner, I can tell you. She must have at least two pairs of gloves, one of which should be thin ones that she can wear while eating znni, the other pair should withstand the weather. Or grab an over-sized model of a human mouth and run up to the receptionist screaming Im a teeth, Im a teeth. God (if, indeed, He is in any way responsible) only knows, it feels like a bloody test sometimes. There - have a handful of personal issues to stir into your culpability cauldron. However, there were two toddlers involved, which effectively takes it to a whole new level of suffering: It all happened on the way back from Spain. After Cameroon, we went to live in Singapore, where we put up for a short while just off Orchard Road in a nice little flat with a lovely pool. Shes giving herself a hard time - shes really a perfectionist, huh? And there you go. Not my own kids or my friends kids, of course, but strange kids who wont let me onto the slide I want them to be scared of me. Piss!
Today the Curly Girlie went off for the first time to waldspielgruppe. The front door swings open and a bunch of roses appears.
Can you come down so my boy can use the slide? My kids are born of parents who do not go to the ballet, watch films with sub-titles or listen to music that doesnt have lyrics.
But no, Hi-Ho Hi-Ho off into the forest we did go, with the Curly Girlie blundering out of one puddle and into the next because the rain was streaming off her rain hood right into her eyes, with Alpha Blondie screaming for reasons unknown (I think he also wanted to get soaking wet and filthy, but he may just have sensed that the attention had shifted away from his majestic self for a fraction of a while and was making his feelings known on the matter), and with me trying to ignore the rivulet of water going down my bum-crack because Id forgotten (of course) to bring any kind of coat for myself.
But as I lay there, jaws and eyes wide, I thought how I could enjoy life as a dental hygienist. Such a funky nod to this shop's historic roots. NIGH! Wouldn't it be better to admit defeat and embrace the staycation that's so fashionable these days? Forgive me for gushing, but I read this and had a bit of a wobble. Splosh! Anyway, after arriving at Alicante Airport at 11am, we took to the skies just before 10pm, landed back in Switzerland at midnight and finally rolled home after 2am. The whole incident strikes me as distinctly Swiss. So where is the music? Everyone I speak to, every book I read and every ounce of common sense that I own, tell me that you have to leave them sometime. He dashed cross the room Back in the day, before I turned all expat, I had an actual job.
Not being able to lift Child One onto the slide at the playground because one is pregnant with Child Two.
a mouse appetiser.
I think I was so stunned by this revelation that I failed to absorb the rest of our conversation: presumably, I asked if that means bullying doesnt occur in France (its exactly the kind of thing I would normally ask, were I not stunned), but Ive forgotten her explanation. Them: blah, blah, *sigh expressing infinite disdain*, blah, boys, Twilight, hair, blah. I havent actually put the headphones in my ears. Unfortunately, her definition of sleep is not lie down, close eyes and drift off into silent unconsciousness. Good Night to All Do Swiss delivery people truly have no angst? Curly Girlie echoed Isch gwet gsi!. In my local town, Winterthur, this cunning window display. Some people might have shared hobbies or lifestyles or sexual depravities, we have our mutual lack of snoring. And people always need time For a lesser Gluckspilz than myself, my latest holiday "experience" might be proof that I am a travel companion to be avoided on account of my dismal luck in foreign climes. So did the experience "ruin a perfect holiday"? J'adore even if I am veggie! Show some compassion, So we opened a window I am a NEPP. by a furious gnawing. *Nothing* Goodness, dont I sound like a tyrannische Kerl? But heres the thing they go once a week, from now until the Spring, whatever the weather. Well, my choice of language there belies what I think. Now lets take some deep breaths together to calm down and get on with our shopping, they imagined I was threatening, look here, useless girl-child with a lower-than-optimal potential earning capacity, just stop making a fuss over this pumpkin-carrying. Maybe this random scattering of Things had a ceremonial purpose? they will ask. All The Gear was purchased, labelled, found to be inadequate, either returned or sewed and otherwise altered, and eventually packed.
I thought I was going mad, but turns out its genetic. But then I read this, written by the Imagination Trees author Anna Ranson, who shall henceforth be known as the blessed Anna, (on my blog at least): We don't rise at dawn to play and craft and bake and sing.
In fact, my experience not only provides empirical evidence that German-speakers can indulge in a spot of bullying, even if they are at a loss to talk about it afterwards, but also suggests that all the above-mentioned European languages require at least two new words: one to describe a child who is so self-assured that s/he is not in the least intimidated by or respectful of adults; and a second to express the discomfort of a mother who realises that she has no clue how to handle such a child when one is giving her a hard time in a playground. Do I want my kids to sit nicely with their knees pressed together, singing sweet ditties while sewing a crochet doily to give to Mater?
The worse thing about starting the day at 5.50am is not that kids TV doesnt start until 7am (Central Nussberg Time), or that I am as cross as a wet cat when tired, but that the kids themselves are shattered. Then Alpha Blondie fell arse-first into a water trough, so we all came home. as I woke up, yawning, * The author would like to point out that this statement in no way implicates any blood relative as a NEPP. So I ignore the door.
Youre getting all wet and dirty! Just under an hour of sitting in a big circle, shaking our maracas along to such classics as Wer rttled und schttled?, Kasimir the sleepy hedgehog and Miin Drache (which confused me no end because I thought a drache was a dragon, but turns out its a kite all the stuff about it flying in the sky and having a long tail made perfect sense, it was only when it got stuck in a tree that I started to have my doubts). Happily, the snoring coincided with a lot of business travel to China, so that resolved the issue without my having to raise the issue of gum shields, separate bedrooms or wee-small-hours strangulation with a bathrobe belt. I lay face down in the prime grape-drying area between the couch and the footstool, and dislocated my left shoulder in order to better sift through the quagmire of Things. This is the third time the third time! Like the once-unyielding stones of Angkor or Borobodur, the voracious tentacles of the Stuff have engulfed me, weakened my foundations of cleanliness, and pulled me down under their crushing weight. Oh, for goodness sake, its a bin I grabbed her hand. Over-tired kids are accident-prone, irrational and inclined to random acts of violence. And secondly, because this is the Order of Things: once, I was small and scared and I jumped when an adult told me to, but now Im big and scary and I want kids to jump when I tell them to. and with mouse trapped inside I could go on. Ah. Isnt it feasible that some short-sighted, paranoid old crone could be hunkered on the stairs with a shotgun or do they assume that people like that are unlikely to be on the receiving end of Interflora? Pause. And they always have a Beginners Mind they see the world afresh, because they are fresh. EMF tune! NIGH! But now we both stood, in the middle of a busy market, apparently peering into a bin. That didnt mean much to the present-minded Zen toddler. I dont deserve this lemon, I thought, guiltily. En masse: a mass buggering off of unhelpful, judgemental, supercilious, schadenfreude-motivated people who make me feel all discombobulated in public. We met the gruppe. She should be pre-coated in anti-tick spray, with special attention to certain vulnerable areas, which were highlighted. Check. Darn her if she hasnt been alive for less time than Ive been learning German and shes already better than me.
Oh - Iggy Pop! According to my dictionary, a bully in German is a tyrannischer Kerl, which hardly trips off the tongue: pick on someone your own size, you tyrannischer Kerl!.
So my fresh hell is the cat, who has taken to climbing up the house and crying outside my bedroom window in the early hours of the morning to come in. Playgroups, dance classes, pony riding, swimming lessons - she does NOT care that all the other kids are doing it, she does NOT care that Mummy paid good money for this, she does NOT care to perform in exchange for a crummy sticker. The scratchy, needy, nocturnal cat, who thinks my role in life is to lie motionless and unsnoring in bed, waiting to let her in to the house through the window when theres a perfectly functional cat-flap downstairs, not five yards from all her bowls, bed and other business. We could have driven home in that time, and then I would have had space to buy more shoes. I must have walked past it 500 times its right on Steinberggasse, for those who know Winti and never seen it. awaiting their filling You already messed up the job I got you in a textile factory, you keep falling out of chimneys and youre not cute enough to model, so youve got to earn your keep somehow. What kind of country is this, where delivery people will just let themselves into someones home? Its dangerous - let him get up. ), "let's recognise the learning experience in every ordeal" on you. Its all dirty!. Right. You win.
Does bullying really only happen in English-speaking lands? The thing is, even as I write that, a tiny voice in the back of my brain mutters well, you should work harder at it then. But I apologise to all those who left messages of support for my slovenly hiatus sorry for tidying up and letting the side down. Maybe theyre open on Sunday? In the past, Ive been able to hide behind tight lips just a smile of greeting and remembering to say merci vielmals instead of danke schn. So I end up asking myself why am I trying to fit a square peg in a round hole? I give in. A bucket of water deals with sleep-thief number one. Adele. Its a well, I told them, and the Curly Girlie showed off her Great Discovery the light switch. and clementine. Now I really dont answer the door because suddenly they are hassling me and I am stubborn. My iPhone has packed up. To be honest, I had expected Muki Singen to be a little more high energy.
We stayed at the flat with the lovely pool for six weeks, during which time I was so riddled with guilt about To Do List item No. I think I had in mind something a bit like Zumba, but with less booty and more biscuits. I know, I know you feel my pain. Hairy students with Bristol accents will one day chip through the sediment. Failing to be a good role model by not going to work. We have to go, come on. Giving them beans on toast for their tea instead of a nutritionally-balanced meal that includes all the food groups. All those little tools and nozzles and attachments look so neat and shiny in their special little drawer. Im not perfect. Fer-lump! Jy crois pas mais, attend - imagine my chagrin, when my German teacher informed me very recently that there is also no Deutsche word for bully? Unlike this stale, crusty old mother who always seems to be saying come on, come on, we cant stay here, we have to go there unless Im trying to get their shoes on to leave the house, in which case Ill be saying come away from there, just come over here. As this guy, Phillip Lopate, says "You can't just get a certificate saying you're a writer now". Not to mention the pink drink. Thats much too agrarian. *deep breaths* No grown-ups! No, it just didn't seem that bad because this shit happens to us ALL THE BLESSED TIME. Not being able to devote oneself entirely to Child Two because of the presence of Child One. And then, when Tiger Mother scaled the heights of the grasshopper to rescue her cub, stood jeering at her too: Them: Nigh! Except that, for an English speaker in a Swiss German-speaking supermarket, its much worse because no-one has a clue what the angry, shrill woman is saying to the weeping, gulping child. The stockings were slung In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out! I realised the Zen-ness of the Curly Girlie on Friday at the wonderful farmers market in Winterthur. No clay, clothes or watering can roses. dragged from my slumber Or States.
It started with firstborn Curly Girlie, actually a pretty good sleeper all things considered, but as much a sleep thief as any baby. Yeah? I prodded for reassurance, what did you think of waldspielgruppe?. And then we tried to go home: one flight delay, two toddlers and an eleven-hour wait at the airport. The Muki Singen class is a bit slow. *fiddle* No, volume is on full. She should carry spare knickers, socks and another set of long-sleeved trouser and top, all of which must be in a water-tight plastic bag. There, Ive said it again. The clock showed 04.30 I know Switzerland is supposed to be safe, but this is ridiculous. Hm. How did I get so dependent so quickly? I leave the car by the cemetery and set up my iPhone as I do my walking warm-up: Run Keeper on, select playlist and shuffle, wait for the GPS to engage and Start Activity *nothing* I bet that ones frickin headphone socket doesnt disengage.
*fiddle fiddle* Plugged in. When the other kids are sitting on their Mums laps in a circle, Alpha Blondie is off hitting a snare drum with his forehead; when the other kids are dancing about with scarves, he is sweeping the floor with a dustpan and brush; when the other kids are curled up on a blanket being sleeping hedgehogs, he is shouting Me NOT, opening the door and buggering off down the corridor. Motherhood isimpossible to get right. No babies!
In my personal experience, the Swiss (especially my neighbours) are extremely welcoming, but naturally enough people always prick up their ears when they hear a foreign language being spoken in the vegetable section of Migros. She should also have an appropriate hat, a picture of her entire family (I kid you not) and a jolly good time. And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, the cat. Well, first, because Im grown up enough to realise what children do not: there was enough space at the table, a slide is not a bench and the grasshopper ladder is no place for a toddler to be stranded while a trio of little bullies-in-the-making explore the nastier side of their nature. 1 sorted, Im guilt-prone, not stoopid - that I never once set foot in the pool. Creatures were stirring Come away from the bin! God! While I sat in bed
Its half the fun. Leaving child in care in order to go to work. Me: Hey, ladies! Hes never been a snorer: it was a significant factor in my decision to marry him. La Blanche!, which translates as hey, White Woman!. Needless to say, you cant show toddlers a small plastic cup of pink drink and not expect them to shin their way up the equipment to reach it. NIGH!
Im vegetarian!. Again thinking I had plenty of time (this could be my personal motto), I embarked on applying the outer rain clothes. And who can blame that poor, ancient creature, who simply did not have the wherewithal to cope with the overpowering deluge of Crap that swept into her life along with the sudden arrival of two children? Bloody stupid old iPhone - itll be rolling in the deep part of this frickin river in a minute. Then, in the space of one week, I left my job, got married and moved to Cameroon. In fact we are pretty lazy in the morning altogether. Total falsch, ja? I mean, I dont want the Curly Girlie to reach 18 and I still have to carry her into a room and walk around with her on my hip for the first five minutes because shes feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the Big People. Im not running without music, its just annoying. We're off to Florida in a few weeks. People of various religious denominations seem to vie for the guilty crown (of thorns) but I would hesitantly raise my hand and stake a claim on the title: what about only child? or being unemployed? or, goodness knows, motherhood?.
Theres only a little bit of dancing about pretending to be the wind or banging drums or doing the conga. NIGH! Look at our joy at adopting the German word schadenfreude, which describes the pleasure we take in someone elses misfortune.
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