Sunday, 29 August 2010

En helt vanlig dag på jobben

Da jeg ble gravid tenkte jeg: åhhh, så bra dette skal bli! Tid til å gjøre hva jeg aldri ellers har tid til. Nurket kommer til å bli eksemplarisk, sove hele dagen, spise til de samme tidene uten magevondt og ellers ligge drømmende i vuggen sin. Lite visste jeg om hva som ventet.

10 måneder senere med en liten kolikkbaby som sjelden sover på dagtid, er jeg heldig om jeg får strikket tre rader, snoket litt på Facebook og redd opp sengen før Pappa Kas kommer hjem fra jobb i 18-tiden.

En helt vanlig dag:

Våkner litt før åtte av at Lille H grynter og sparker vilt rundt seg. Tid for frokost. Pysjbukse og kardigan på. Tusler trøtt opp på kjøkkenet med en ganske så sint Lille H i armene. Hun er sulten, jeg er tørst. Varmer melken i mikroen mens jeg lager en kopp kaffe. Vi drikker i stillhet.

45 minutter og tre rap senere rulles yogamatten ut. Rekker nesten å komme igjennom en nyoppdaget morgenrutine (sjekk:morgenyoga) før lille H vil ha oppmerksomhet. Deretter er det morgenstell for mor og datter og vips så er det tid for formiddagsmat. Ambisjonene er definitivt senket fra pre-preggers stadiet, og dersom vi er ute og triller før kl 13 så har vi en god dag.
Vi triller ned mot Drammen sentrum. Går langs elven og spionerer på andre mammaer. Hvordan barnevogn har de? Hvor slitne ser de ut? Har de finere joggesko enn meg? Er været dårlig så er selvsagt gummistøvlene på, hvilken farge og merke? Passer de til barnevognen?

Ofte ender vi opp på kafé. Soya Mokka er obligatorisk. Vi henger med andre mummies i samme ærend - påfyll av koffein og voksenstimuli. Vi bytter kafé fra dag til dag slik at de ansatte ikke tror at vi ikke har andre aktiviteter. En yummy mummy fyller jo dagene med babysang, babysvømming, babymassasje og bootcamp / trilletur med personlig trener. Full pakke.
Arbeidsdagen avsluttes med trilling oppover bakkene hjem, men om vi er heldige plukker Pappa Kas oss opp med bilen(etter litt masing). Så venter enten en haug stryketøy, en løpetur eller et glass vin. Noen ganger rekker jeg alle tre før jeg sovner mens jeg gir lille H dagens siste flaske og stålsetter meg for nattskiftet.


Kjapp hoderegning viser at det er ca. 175 dager igjen til permisjonen er over…

Trude

Wednesday, 25 August 2010

Stuck in a moment....

Once upon a long long time ago, let’s be honest and say in my youth, I swore that I was not going to be one of those sad grown-ups who live in the past, one of those frequently referring to how good everything was 10 years ago, sighing and saying that everything was much better before and they do not make the same quality films, music, festivals, etcetera any more.

But for a while now I have been noticing that I am living in the past, something last weekend’s activities surely proved. The Saturday had been marked in my calendar long before the summer began and Pappa Kas had agreed to spend quality time with little H, while Slummy Mummy T was drinking wine, catching up with colleagues and dancing to popular music, ehrmm…. I was going to see A-HA in concert, hardly the band of the moment, more the band of yore.


I remember it as clear as if it was yesterday watching MTV via satellite waiting for the synthesizer to play the catching first keys and the cool rotoscope video for “Take on me” start rolling. I wore brown and black strings of leather as wristbands, white sport socks, pale jeans shirts and slightly ripped stonewashed jeans (wops, while writing this I am still wearing stonewashed jeans… well, the fashion moves in cycles, and denim is still hot this autumn/ winter).


Last Saturday I wanted to be taken back to the magic moments of my youth and to relive my first experiences with popular music, fashion and male worshipping. Sadly it was not as expected. What failed?

Instead of having dressed up for a night out, I wore comfy jeans, a sequined cardigan and sensible (yet “funky” )trainers, a typical slummy mummy outfit, and a crime the fashion police might have arrested me for. Luckily the rest of the concert goers were other mummies on a ladies club night out fuelled by red wine and or couples in their early forties re-living their honeymoon days.

When Morten, Magne and Paal entered the stage I truly believed I was in for a magic couple of hours. They stilled looked the part. Magne, the cool synth player, now turned graphic artist, still rock star handsome. Paal still slightly reminded me of a young namesake from the Beatles, and the band member with the most “cred”. While Morten, well he was Morten, the most narcissistic singer I have ever come across, dressed in a shiny tight (bronze coloured) shirt.

I was back in 86’; the songs, the band, their image and all it made me feel was bored and uncomfortable. Bored because I had forgotten how monotonous the music was, and that I never really was that much of a fan. Uncomfortable standing behind some tall farting (yes) middle aged guys, I had no decent toilet to go to, and no bottle of water to quench my thirst. Thank god for my comfy trainers.

When the final song started playing I was already sneaking out from the stadium, longing back home to Little H, Pappa Kas and my CD collection.


Nostalgia is a beautiful thing – as long as you don’t try to re-live it live….

Trude

Monday, 16 August 2010

The name game….

There are times when Pappa Kas and I recognize that the cultural differences between Spain/ The Basque Country and Norway are bigger than what we originally thought.
It is not necessarily a bad thing, we are able to pick the best from both worlds and add some Scottish customs for good measure (from our time there). This means we can drink wine at lunchtime while eating deep fried mars bars – if we choose to. There list of benefits are inextinguishable.

Growing up in a small family I am now happy being part of a typical Latin extended family. It seems like the whole population over 70 in the Basque town of Elorrio has become my tio, tia or abouela (granny) regardless of family ties. Can you have too many nice aunties? They feed you and pinch your cheek no matter if you are three or thirty. I also find some of their customs rather amusing. Before we became pregnant with Little H, one of our tia’s insisted on always feeding me crusts as it supposedly is good for the fertility. My friends back home found it hilarious. Does it work? Who knows?

Back to the point: When choosing a name for Little H we felt challenged. The list of criteria’s were long and we had to chose a name which could easily be spelt, pronounced and recognized as a girl’s name in most parts of the world (European and Latin countries at least).

Hanna was on the shortlist and got chosen unanimously by the family board (Papa Kas and myself) although it presented some challenges with pronunciation for the Castro’s, Uribarren’s and the Reta’s. They have all been practicing and it now sounds a lot more like Hanna, than Anna, as their H at the start of a word, usually is silent.
When it came to surnames I understood that a family name is serious business in Spain and you cannot mix and match the way you prefer. It is set in stone and cannot be changed. What do they do if their name means something offensive in let’s say Norwegian? Or is unaware of who is their dad and will then be shamed to only having one surname? … I see many difficulties here….

So when it comes to surnames in the Basque region the rule is that upon your birth you get two surnames, your mums and your dads. Easy peasy with our little H then, Hanna Castro (as her dad) Nyhus (as her mum). Hanna Castro Nyhus, not bad at all we agreed.

Then came the form from the public registrar to fill in so that Little H would become “official” with her own personnel number and all. Here we got in trouble. As the two surnames are equally significant in Spain, there is no middle name. Here in Norway, Castro would be Hanna’s middle name to her dad’s despair if we did not link the two surnames together. So officially we now have a daughter with the name Hanna Castro-(hyphen)Nyhus. And we like it! It gives her an extra flair when we have to give her name, doesn’t it?

Trude

Wednesday, 11 August 2010

Monday, 9 August 2010

Family Fever!

This summer has been all about family, no romantic couples holidays, no spontaneous activities, no binge drinking… BUT the arrival of Little H and the constant stream of family visits wanting to admire the newcomer has been equally satisfying.

On Saturday Tia Eli and Tio Inigo came from Elorrio to Lier to spend their holiday with the Castro Nyhus clan. They did of course not come to admire the apple trees and the view, or to catch up with their grown-up relatives, but to hold, cuddle and fall in love with Hanna.

So now when she has another fraction of her fan club here, I might be able to do some work on my blog… Watch this space!


Trude
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