Tag Archives: one week

Ten years of spring

I love spring.

We’ve said goodbye to frosty fingers and I don’t yet have to smother my pasty, pale skin in factor one million. It’s when the year really starts to begin and we have a wonderful summer to look forward to followed by the melancholy of autumn and the magic of Christmas.

I really love spring.

But it’s also a nice time for rebirth and reflection. Saying hello to the new but also remembering what once was.

So today I give you ten years of spring; ten years of my spring.

2004 to 20072008 to 20112012 to 2013
In 2004, Paul and I went on our first holiday as a couple. We went to the beautiful Isle of Capri. We loved it so much that we went back in 2005. In 2006, we both turned 30 and had many days and nights away with friends and family to celebrate. Spring 2007 saw us attend the best wedding I have ever been to in Zell am See in Austria. I’m not a fan of weddings but this one truly wonderful and hugely entertaining – and check out how green everything is there.

We took a trip to London to visit school friends in 2008 and as you can see had a fun time in the ice bar. But my god those cocktails were disgusting. In 2009, we moved in to the apartment that we live in now and in typical Swiss fashion got the Nespresso machine up and running before anything else. The springtime of 2010 was a very special time as I was pregnant with CK and we spent a week in New York on our last pre-baby holiday. And there’s the little man pictured with me in 2011.

This time last year, in 2012, I was carrying a very small BB inside me – just 3.65 mm long. And now, in 2013, our family is complete.

My wonderful ten years of spring.

one week

Winters of content

Two winters. Two boys. So very alike. So very different.

Both my boys are winter babies. Granted CK was born at the end of October 2010 but it felt so very cold, and by the time we were out of the first-month haze, Christmas was already looming on the horizon. BB was a January 2013 baby. Born when the snow was falling outside the delivery room.

Winter babies mean layers upon layers of clothing to tightly wrap their tiny bodies and keep them protected from the cold, frost and snow. Little ears become the source of many a worry. Does that hat cover them fully? Oh no, a lobe has escaped. God forbid, the slightest puff of wind encircle them. That’ll mean an ear infection for sure!

As with any second child, hand me downs feature prominently in BB’s life. Yesterday, I took a photograph of him wearing the exact same snowsuit that I had taken a snap of CK wearing during his very first winter. Yes, I know they share the same genes but the similarities between them are uncanny. So much so, that CK is getting confused regarding who is who in each photo (he has the chubbier cheeks).
My BoysBut their features seem to be the only thing they have in common. Personality-wise, they couldn’t be more different.

CK was probably what most people would call a difficult baby. He was alert and looking round from the moment he was born. Sleeping was boring. Eating needed to be done as quickly and as noisily as possible – but every 90 minutes. The only thing that mattered was sitting in his bouncy chair in the middle of the living room watching what was going on and being admired. He hated, and still hates, missing out on anything. He simply can’t rest unless he is in the middle of things.

BB on the other hand sleeps well, eats calmly and is in no rush to be anywhere or do anything. He has no wish to be in the bouncy chair, little inclination to fully open his eyes and see what’s going on around him and certainly doesn’t want to be in the middle of anything. He is a truly calm and contented baby.

Two winters. Two boys. So very alike. So very different.

I’m linking this post to Older Mum’s One Week in Winter project.

one week

Räbeliechtli Schnitzen und Umzug

Yes, when I received the invitation from CK’s nursery to the annual Räbeliechtli Schnitzen und Umzug, I hadn’t got a clue what it meant either. A quick online search threw up images of intricately carved turnips forming little lanterns for small hands to carry. Turns out, our presence had been requested to create turnip-marvels and then parade them around the local neighbourhood for all to admire (a yearly event for lots of young people across Switzerland).

Now my crafting skills are somewhat limited. In fact, dire would be a more appropriate word. Poor CK, only two years old and already facing embarrassment amongst his peers due to his mother’s lack of turnip-carving skills. And where was my husband in all of this? Laughing behind the camera, documenting my uselessness.

My attempts really were pathetic. So much so, that a mere 5 metres in to the walk, CK dropped-kicked his abomination, trod on it and then refused to walk any further. I had hoped to bring you wonderfully heart-warming images of his face full of delight and admiration for his mother at crafting him something so beautiful. Hmmm, wishful thinking. Here he is, absolutely disgusted, holding on to remains of my abysmal attempt:

My-Swiss-Memories

The perfect Autumn hangout? The Recyclinghof, of course!

Autumn. Conjuring up images of fallen leaves of red, gold and brown. Early nights and twinkling lights. Hearty suppers in front of a roaring fire. Woolly jumpers and body-hugging dressing gowns. Saturday mornings at the local skip recyclinghof. Oh yes, you read that correctly. Where better to spend a cold, crisp Autumn morning than the centre of the rubbishverse.

Truth be told, September is my month for clearing, sorting, discarding and generally getting rid of everything that has made its way to the bunker during the course of the year. Come October, I’ve completely decluttered and am ready to banish all our unwanted items forever from my sight.

So, last weekend, I bullied my husband in to loading up the car with his our junk and off to the skip we went. I now have a nice, clean, stuff-free apartment ready to be decorated with glitz and sparkle to celebrate the Christmas season.

Where’s your perfect Autumn hangout? Anywhere unusual?

My-Swiss-Memories