Its been years that I have considered writing a blog. Six to be exact. I am living so so far away from friends and family and now with a wee one on the scene, well I figure why not document our daily mundane like so many others in the internet world of online existence? I’ve been keeping a journal for years with the intention/hope that someone would eventually read it, so why not just put it all out there for the world to see now? So here we go, on y va…
Like most mornings I am up drinking my extra milky coffee listening to the ‘clang clang clang’ of the cowbells on the hill just on the other side of the creek from our house. Nash is upstairs chatting away as he does most mornings, gibbering himself out of his sleepy fog into one of playdates, creche, snackies, booms, snuggles, etc. Mieussy the cat perches herself on the ledge of the door frame in daily contemplation of ‘outside or inside,’ as delighted that she has the option now as she was when we moved in a month ago.
Geneva to Nyon. It was a rather simple move and yet one that caused more stress than I have experienced thus far in my 32 years. Not sure if it was a result of moving with an 18 month old, or if it was more about moving into an older less closet-equipped space where we have had to be more ‘creative’ with our storage? I am certain that moving day and the death of my husband’s father coinciding at the exact same moment didn’t help, but it is what it is. Stressful and very very sad.
But here we are now, and I am still getting used to the whole doors flung wide open onto the garden, listening to the cowbells, feeling the cool Swiss morning rustle up autumnal sentiments as the summer wanes its final days… not too difficult a task at all. We moved out to the ‘countryside’ for our little guy. Needed more outside-open-air-green-space-for-him-to-grow-all-the-better in our lives. I loved Geneva (at least grew to love it after a few years), but it was time for a change. We were in a gorgeous modern apartment, but one which had neither balcony nor garden. So as lovely and modern as it was, for Nash to get fresh air we had to make an ‘official’ sortie out the front door. Now its rain boots over jammies and he’s off…
So yeah, pretty sure my boy likes it here, too, rambling on in his crib. Downtown he would never have done this, but something about these tranquil mornings has him slow rising these days. A few minutes ago he started on with ‘Papa, Papa, Papa,’ but he has now moved on to other subjects. Probably talking about how frustrating it is to be 18 months is what I would guess as emotionally tumultuous as things are at the moment. One extreme to the next, let me tell ya. Okay, so that’s not entirely true, yesterday he did sit still for almost an entire hour to Skype with Jamjam (Gramma). Pas mal. Something about the computer just transfixes the child, its unbelievable (though not uncommon I am aware.) Pingu, Yo Gabba Gabba, Jamjam… top three things he will sit still for. Much else? Nope. He is a super-charged battery these days, most especially wriggly when it comes time to eat something. It unravels me.
Shoe-shoes. Or Chaussures? Not sure which, but Nash is beckoning me with the command as I type. He was content a good 10 minutes doing laps around the living room/kitchen waving the cat’s fluffy feather duster on a string, her watching him in dismay never having seen such a performance with one of her toys prior to this.
And so, I cease my own ramblings as my day is kicking into full gear. Nesting, teaching, nurturing, those are my gigs today, though not in any particular order of quantity or importance. The sun is glinting off of the blond head of my child as he runs around in our garden outside and I cannot help but think that documenting this at this very moment is necessary, mundane as it all may be.
And now he has managed to squeeze himself through the bush in pursuit of the cat and into the neighbor’s yard. Yes, retrieving? Did I mention retrieving as a gig, because if I didn’t and if I were to rank events in order of occurence, that would most certainly be at the tippity top.