As boring as - curtains...

There are not that many things my mother and Pappa Kas’ mother has in common, it is the love of their childen of course and the unhealthy obsession with Little H, but otherwise, my mum is blond, my mother-in-law dark, my mum cooks as little as possible (sorry mum), while my mother in-law never stops . But there is one thing they both agree on – curtains!

When we moved into our house four years ago, we did a lot of redecoration, tearing down walls, building new walls in other places –you get the point. The couple who lived here before was in their 60-ies, very traditional, mature, and proper… so you might get an idea of what the house looked like.
We fell in love with the view and the location; we saw potential for a happy family life in the green house on the hill with apple trees in the garden and enough bedrooms both for visitors from Spain and a handful of kids.

View to the left

View to the right

After having done massive renovations on the top floor, we were proud of our new living room and kitchen and very eager to show it off to the families. We invited my parents for an inspection. As soon as my mum stepped into the living room she uttered: “It will be nice in here when you get some curtains…” Pappa Kas’ mum said almost the same the first time she entered the same living room, but it was more in a surprised way: “Where are the curtains?”


And here they are:

Curtains made by me! (sorry for crap photo)

Every time I tell Sergio that I want curtains or blinds for a room and that I am going to make them myself, he politely asks if it’s not easier if we buy them. What he really means is that then he will get them this week and not in six months.

Well, if I found curtains that I liked I would certainly buy them. But the curtains I see in my mind or in interior magazines are never to be found anywhere. So I buy meters and meters of fabric and put it in the cupboard with the other meters and meters of fabric I have stored and am planning to make all sorts of lovely stuff from.

This time I only spent a month making them, they did not cost an arm and a leg and I am quite proud of the result (hence a blog entry on the topic).

It was only beginners luck

I should have known that I wrote too soon when I wrote about how great Little H’s first days at the nursery had been.
We’re now at the start of week three, another fresh start and a spot of sunshine, but the nursery is not all fun and games anymore. Not for Little H, neither for her parents.


Snuggling with Pappa Kas



This week started as last week ended. Like this...

Friday morning everything was fine, Little H drank her milk, changed from her pajamas into clothes that I dared send her out of the house with, and got ready without major tantrums. The only delay, but I’m getting used to this by now, was that she took everything out of the bathroom drawers when I was putting on my make-up adding the finishing touches before leaving the house. She might be thinking that I spend too long...

So far so good, when we got to the nursery she seemed exited by the prospect of spending another day with her newfound pals and the abundance of bright plastic toys with bite-marks. Smoooth I thought, I might even catch an earlier train. So I took of her jacket, then shoes, put on indoor-shoes, got her breakfast box out of her back-pack. By that point Little H was being rather clingy, clingy in the way she normally hangs on to Pappa Kas when he is around. This was a new experience for me, but I would rather that her desperate need to be with her mum came at another more convenient time, as I was going to catch my train and therefore no time for long-lasting cuddles.

It is not all that bad (for me at least)I am being a little comforted by seeing Little H crying and waving her arms, kicking her legs and crying big crocodile tears when I leave her at the nursery. At least she is showing that she is attached to her mother and wants to be with her, I am thinking happy with my mothering skills.




Sad little H - This breaks my heart


So on Friday I stood behind a corner outside the nursery for a couple of minutes trying to listen for my Little H’s desperate cries for help, but I heard nothing so I took a peak through the window. She was then sitting happily on one of the assistants’ laps, eating her breakfast sandwich and giving one of her performances: talking enthusiastically with her whole body, smiling and stroking her ears with fingers full of mackerel in tomato sauce.

So much for missing her mum….

Little H has just shown her mum the sailboat she has bought her parents...

What's the hassle?



Little H takes a taxi to the nursery



This week I thought I would have several hilarious blog entries on how Little H refused to stay at the nursery, having wild tantrums, crying crocodile tears and so on when me and Pappa Kas wanted to leave her in "toddler heaven" - a house full of friends to play with, exciting new toys and entertaining grown-ups who spontaneously starts singing. I was wrong.

There is nothing to report! No trouble so far what-so-ever. What does that say about her parents, when we can wave goodbye, leave her in the hands of strangers to get back seven hours later and Little H refuses to come home with us?



Well, as a friend put it (when I expressed my concern that the staff must think that we are bad parents when Little H doesn't cry (not so much as a little gulp and sad eyes) when her parents leave and does not want to go home when we come to pick her up: "they are used to all sort of parents at the nurseries..." 

Thanks!

A(nother) geek in the house

When I met Pappa Kas towards the end of my final year at university, my friends called him the Geek. Was it due to his studies in computer science, his glasses or the fact that he spent a lot of time helping me in the computer lab? Or all of the above? Well, he got me fooled, I fell in love with a computer geek over long hours in the lab, but his efforts were not in vain . As a reward for his hard work I invited him home for tea. A cup of tea must mean something very different in Spain, as I think he was really disappointed when he only got a cup of chamomile (without sugar).

In the end tea and web-design led to almost 10 years together, a marriage and little H. You look through tinted glasses when in love, but I guess that we both have our flaws that only came out after living together for a while. Mine might have been a surprise, but with a boyfriend nicknamed the Geek, I should have known what I was getting into.
Well, It could have been worse. His incureable virus is a fascination for PC’s, game consoles,electronic boxes of various sorts, wires and gadgets and other stuff that I do not have the faintest idea of what is / how it works. I am not saying that I don’t like my Iphone, my laptop and my Ipad, but not so much that I take them to bed with me…

I guess that I should have seen it coming, that Little H is very much like her father. She might look like me with her blue eyes, round face, Buddha belly and blond hair, but she must have her father’s geek genes.

So far she has deleted several apps on my phone and she knows how to use various remote controls. Yesterday while Granny B was babysitting, she turned off the TV after the children’s program (good girl), to show that that was enough telly for one day. She turns on the stereo and signals when she wants to change the CD. She knows how to show off when on Skype with her Spanish relatives (plays shy, claps, dances all depending on the mood of the day) while she does not when “normal” TV is on.

She gets stroppy when she cannot play with our laptops. Her fingers run over a keyboard as soon as she gets a chance. And she knows how to browse pictures on our phones. The other day I found the following apps on my Ipad: My first puzzles, Phone for Kids, Paint sparkles, and a really annoying one which plays animal sounds when you tap the picture of the animal.

I certainly did not install these, I'm blaming little H (with good assistance by Pappa Kas).

Little H the fish face

It’s a week today since the terror attacks and despite its terrible consequences we are trying to return to our day-to-day business. That is what everything is about now, to show that despite what happened we are strong, stand together and will not let one person’s cruel actions stop us. (Let’s stop before this is labeled propaganda).

Little H is untouched by the events and she “is up to no good” as usual as these pictures show.

How did you get fish in your face?



I have no idea mummy





I was just hiding



Just like that!



Applause please



Don't let terror silence us

I remember the history books we had in school. They all had extensive chapters about World War two. A chapter had the heading “The day the war came to Norway” (9th of April 1940).

I believe that in our children’s history books there will be chapters with similar captions such as: “The day terror came to Norway”. And it happened only two days ago. The 22nd of July 2011 is now a day every Norwegian and people from all over the world will remember, and that will be spoken about for generations to come.

I was not sure whether to write anything about this horrible event on the blog, as its content is mainly lighthearted and about trivial things such as Little H’s shenanigans and how I strive to be a good mother.

But this cannot go unnoticed. Norway, the country I have always felt safe in, suffered a terror attack. It just shows that terror can happen anywhere at any time, but we must not let this change the way we live.

I believe in an open multicultural society, where we all are entitled to our own opinions and where we can discuss these openly. I believe in a society where people of all nationalities and religions can live side by side with tolerance and respect for each other. I believe in a society where people are talking and sharing beliefs and experiences without being afraid of the consequences.

Let us all stand together and not let one person destroy the goodness of Norway and the people living here.

The Language Barrier

Pappa Kas and I normally manage pretty well language-wise with each other’s parents, but today was a day where it all got mixed up.

I speak terrible Spanish. Aitxite Sebas once said that I speak like Tarzan. I actually took that as a compliment; I thought he would say that I spoke like a monkey. Despite attending a couple of different courses my progress is slow. It comes down to mainly one thing- I do not practice enough. At home we have fallen into the trap of mainly speaking English between each other. It has always been that way. However we’re trying to raising Little H as bi-lingual, Pappa Kas speaking Spanish and me Norwegian with her. Of course that makes us pick up a word here and there but the vocabulary is somewhat limited and not very usable when not talking to someone older than two (or another monkey).

Today we had a hitch.
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Grumpf and Gran

 It was a lovely day and I had taken some time off to spend quality time with the little “Lady” (she’s very stroppy these days, and I think that Lady is a suitable nickname for someone as fuzzy and determined as her).



Grandma B was suffering from Little H withdrawal syndrome, not having seen her “Little Princess” for about a week. We agreed to meet in the city centre of our lovely town -Drammen, for a stroll and a picnic by the beach (- yes, we have a beach in the city centre, and it is rather nice for the little ones. I would not be seen dead sunbathing there, but for the young, fit and hip ones it is a place to show off, and good for the kiddies when they get tired of shopping with their parents).

Before leaving the house I had spoken with Amama and aitxite about the possibility of meeting up in the town centre around 4 pm. What I thought I said was that I would call Pappa Kas (at work) and ask him to call his mum IF we were going to meet to avoid misunderstandings due to the language barrier… Apparently, what I said was something like: if I do not call, we will meet on the square around 4 pm.

So when me and her Royal (pain) Highness returned home and disturbed Aitxite in the middle of “the Tour” he got confused. After stuttering, pointing and playing pantomime (you should have seen it) I understood that Amama had gone to the square to meet Little Lady Stroppy and myself. Crap! When these things happen I go completely off my hinges, I called Pappa Kas and demanded that he sorted the situation, as if it was his fault... Then I got really really sorry and wanted to go and fetch Amama with the car, as she must be getting tired of staring at the pigeons and the pensioners on the square.


Amama and Little Lady H



But Little Miss Totally-Unreasonable was overdue her snack and would rather be placed in her bed (as if) than back in the car seat. There was no way I could take the car to go and get Amama. After calling Pappa Kas a hundred times whereby he called Amama for then to speak with Aitxite (standing next to me, but we were unable to go into details of what to do due to my Tarzan-Spanish and his limited Spanglish).



After countless telephone calls while trying to feed Little Miss Grumpf, we all agreed (I think) that Aitxite and Little (now) Miss Sunshine (funny how the mood changes as soon as she sees her grandparents) would walk to meet Amama. So now they’ve hopefully met somewhere, and what am I doing? In true Lady B style I am baking Amama’s favorite chocolate cake and practicing my Spanish verbs as to try to make up for all the trouble caused and to avoid similar misunderstandings in the future. ..

Grandparents and Little Miss Stroppy

Fieldtrip - Little H goes rural

Mmmmmm Waffles

On Saturday the weather was fantastic. You would not believe it the way it was raining yesterday and how it is pouring down today. I guess that this is the typical Norwegian weather in July; unpredictable, often wet and clammy, with a dash of sunshine now and then. I think that I have read somewhere that the most profitable month for the sun-bed studios is July. I do not doubt it.


To make the most out of the little sunshine we had, we packed the car and drove to Blaafarvevaerket approximately 40 minutes drive from our house. The reason for picking exactly this place was easy: A children’s farm with animals, a small beach, nice walking paths, a spectacular waterfall and home-made waffles, in other words: something for everyone.


Pappa Kas and Little H



I was very excited to put little H next to a chicken, a goat, a piglet, and other foul smelling small creatures for wonderful photos of the grinning child and stroking the fur of friendly animals. Those photos would be this year’s Christmas presents already sorted. Good plan!

As soon as we entered the gate of the little farm little H’s sleepy eyes got wide open upon the sight of cows, goats, hens and a couple of pigs, all in more or less miniature sizes. It was just like in her book of animals, but smellier… We pointed and made animal sounds and behaved like idiots, all to Little H’s amusement. I think that we were more entertaining than the animals, for both Hanna and the other visitors.



Touching smelly animals



We tried to approach a small goat, no luck. We tried to approach a little rabbit, then a monster one, no luck. Little H was clinging fearfully to either Pappa Kas’ legs or her mums hair. After a while when Amama, Aitxitxe, Pappa Kas and myself had petted various sticky farm animals, Little H got a bit more confident and put a finger on the fur at the back of a goat. That is probably the closest she got to pet a farm animal that day, and none of the photos taken were suitable as Christmas presents.



We did not only visit the little farm, but we walked up a very steep hill, saw a beautiful waterfall, had waffles, walked down a very steep hill on the opposite side of the waterfall, realized that we had to turn around as the path ended. We then went up the very same steep hill past the waffle place and down the first hill we climbed up and to the car. I think that Pappa Kas was the only person who did not sleep in the car on the way home, and that was lucky as he was driving…

She's not reading the map for us again!

The working week is coming to an end and it’s time for a re-cap of a rather eventful week.

I do not know whether it was all the positive energy I was channeling by wearing all my favorite items this week (not all at once, I would have looked like a mix of a Christmas tree, a school teacher and a bag lady). But a drip here and there.

On Tuesday, while using my favorite black leather fits-absolutely-everything bag I became an Auntie. Auntie T, it has a certain ring to it hasn’t it? Little Laia was born, perfect, small, dark and healthy at a hospital in Northern Spain. Congratulations to Tia Eli and Tio Inigo, the proud parents.
Little H is now a big cousin and I am sure that she's proud. She looks and points at the baby photos on our phones and says (in true H style) - det det det det (“it” in Norwegian) which is how she express her likings of people, food, tractors and pigeons a. o. So she is definitely pleased with another family member on her own age.

Little Laia

My initial thought when I heard the news was: Hurraaaa! My second was: Oh Crap! My babysitters, Amama Socco and Aixixte Sebas might want to go back to Spain to spend time with their newborn granddaughter as soon as possible.
We knew that this could happen, but had our fingers crossed and hoped Laia would come on the calculated day of arrival . The Castro’s had had a family meeting before this summer was planned, and fully flexible tickets were bought and all eventualities were discussed.

Little H hard at work

I started toying with the idea of bringing Little H to work and lock her in one of the glass cubicles next to my desk or have her rumble around in the open landscape while singing and dancing (screaming and babbling at the top of her lungs while swaying back and forward and/or wiggling her bum). Pappa Kas would have to endure the same for a day or two. We share the responsibilities 50/50, in bad times and in good ones. Next week looked like a challenging one for us and especially for our colleagues.







I am sure that there was a Castro emergency conference call where an agreement was reached. The conditions were tough: If Amama & Aixitxe could be in telephone contact at least twice a day with the new parents and getting photos of the little angel (she sleeps all the time), and as soon as they got out of the hospital be available on Skype 24/7 they would stay with Little H for another week.
It’s all fine by me :-)

Monday and mood-lifting jeans

Yesterday was Sunday, a rather bleak, rainy and boring Sunday. Dark clouds and blue skies were constantly fighting but the threatening clouds definitely had the upper hand.

There was nothing else to do than to make sweet buns, snuggle and play with Little H, watch “So you think you can dance” (I love it!) on TV and knit ferociously on a present for Little Cousin L due to arrive in a few weeks. As if I am going to complete my “knit-work” it in time. Poor time-management yet again.
Brought the knitting on the train this morning, and I’m sure the ladies around were scrutinizing every knot and thinking what an amateur, and the young trendies thinking what a sad almost-middle -aged housewife. Tomorrow it is back to reading books with impressive titles (important for the image amongst the fellow commuters).
Well, this week I am going to wear and write about some of my favorite items. Yesterday, as I did not leave the house and was constantly close to snot, spit, spaghetti and other stain-makers I lounged around in my comfy trousers, t-shirt and cardigan. Nothing worth mentioning here really.

So today it was back to business, but since my carefully beloved item of clothing required extensive ironing, it was never going to happen. I had to opt for a newly acquired favorite. My dark, even suitable for work jeans got worn patches on their knees after my maternity leave, where I spent a lot of time crawling around on the floor. Good fitting jeans are not easy to find, especially if you do not want / can afford to spend an arm and a leg on them.

THE jeans (on a model of course)

The jeans should not be too tight fitting,but have a little bit of stretch for comfort, not too low on the waist, not too tight around the tummy as not to leave too much flab “hanging over”. The fabric should be soft, but still firm. They should fit nicely, but again not too tight over the bum. The list of requirements are endless.

Well, I have found (until now), the most perfect jeans I have ever owned. They tick most of the boxes above and has cool pockets at the back too.

These jeans are another item I love and they certainly cheered me up on a grey Monday. I even got a compliment from one of my colleagues, so those jeans made my day!

Do you have an item of clothing that makes you happy?