Ouch - again...

You might be bored of me writing about kids being ill, Pappa Kas being ill, Malo, the goldfish, dying. So much misery, I’ll make this short and sweet.

Brave smile from our little H(ero)

So when I now write about H having high fever and put on antibiotics, there’s nothing new there. She was at the hospital for a couple of days, but when she started getting her energy back, eating, drinking and taking her medicine we could go home.

Doing laundry - and loving it! 

It’s been sad having her on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, with her dummy, security blanket and Lagontxu, bit it has also given us time for snuggling.

Baby M got to have her first ever sleepover at her grandparents so that Little H could get all the attention from her parents and Baby M all the attention from her grandparents. It’s been a win-win for everyone.

But what to do with a girl whose energy-levels are down to 1 (from 100)? Well, get her involved in some easy housekeeping between watching The Lion King, Sleeping Beauty and Peppa Pig. 

P.S want to know what happened to Malo, here’s my FB update:

Missing Malo, the goldfish was miraculously found at a pet-shop yesterday. 
We have no idea how he managed to get that far. 
But we are thinking he was kidnapped as we had to pay a ransom...

R.I.P. Malo

Little H loves pink, Hello Kitty, feta cheese, swings, dogs - all animals in general and especially her own goldfish.

While Little H is recovering at the hospital after an urinary infection (I will give no details), a tragedy has taken place at Casa Castro-Nyhus. 

H has two goldfish in a bowl .With its pink pebbles the bowl is the centerpiece of our living room. Not nice, but what do you not do for your children? You certainly commit interior design crimes. 

The fish are called Pinky and Malo. The fish were given to H as a present from Amama Socco and Aixite Sebas. Amama Socco has had plenty of goldfish during the years and apparently all of them have been called Pinky. 

First they were both called Pinky and Pinky, but after Pinky tried to "escape" several times (slip through H's fingers whenever she tried to catch the poor fish), it was re-named Malo (xxx in Spanish. 

Pappa Kas has noticed that Malo has not been his active self over the past week or so. Yesterday he barely moved and Kas anticipated that Malo did not have long left to live. He was right. This afternoon I found him belly up in the bowl. Poor poor fishy fish.

I have been told that the most common cause of death for gold fish is overeating, but for skinny Malo it must have been something else. 

I panicked a little bit and asked Kas what to do. “Easy peasy” he said. “Malo being Malo. He just escaped”.

Aha, brilliant.

So upon visiting H at the hospital we had to break the news. 

Pappa Kas told her that Malo escaped during the night. This came as no surprise for Little H, she had not been at home to look after the goldfish and Malo had seen the opportunity to make a run (swim) for it. 

Sad to say Malo took his last swim in our toilet and down the drains this afternoon.

RIP Malo. 

H & M - partners in crime

Such a happy wee one

You might think that baby M should overshadow little H, but it is impossible to out-stage her cheeky big sister. Little H fills the house with her presence and her little sister comes in the background. But baby M is here, it’s just that she is too nice for her own good.

She sleeps well, all through the night if we want her to. But with skinny arms and legs and a bit below average on the scales, we wake her up to feed her once a night. When she is awake, she laughs, smiles, makes cooing noises and is the nicest baby on earth.  

Not so innocent as they look

But there is a tingling at the back of my head. I know that these two will be partners in crime sometime in the future. It is just a question of time before they will gang up against us. 

Monkey no more

It’s carnival -time and last year we had such fun of dressing Little H like a monkey. We thought she was the cutest little cheeky monkey we had ever seen. It is bad to laugh at your daughters expense but, it was impossible not to. The costume proved a great success, but that was last year.

This year we thought that the monkey costume was an easy choice, but no. 

When asking Little H what she wanted to wear for the carnival she promptly said: “Princess, Pink Princess”. Oh, nooooo.

I tried: “What about a cool and scary lion?”

“Pink?” She said

“What about a ladybird?” I asked

“Princess?”  She answered

“What about Pippi Longstocking?”  I was running out of options

“Pippi with Hello Kitty?” she answered enthusiastic

Now we were getting somewhere

I tried: “Pippi with Pink Hello Kitty elastic bands and hairclips? And Pink nail-polish?”

I was negotiating with a two and a half year old!

“Ja ja ja!” She shouted and we had finally reached a conclusion we both could live with.

So here she is:

Pippi Kitty Longstocking with pink and purple nail-polish and at least seven Hello Kitty hairclips to keep her pigtails - with pink Kitty rubber bands, in place. 

Cousins - tough love

As you could read in the previous post, we have recently spent some time with our family in the North of Spain. I always want to highlight the North, as whenever I say Spain, everyone sighs with envy and says: heat and sun - just what you need this time of year.
I hate to disappoint you - rain and max 10 C is more like it in December and January.

Little H (and Baby M) has a cousin  in Spain. Her name is Laia and she is cute as a button. She was born in July 2011, and is a year younger than H. They have met several times, and Saturday mornings are Skype play-date-time, so they are no strangers to each other.

The whole family was very excited for the two of them to meet again, as they now both has become little ladies- with tempers, and their own sets of habits.

It was wonderful seeing them together and they clearly enjoyed each others company. Although tugging hair, pushing, yelling and stealing toys from each other they always said sorry and hugged after.

See for yourself:

I'm splashing soap in you face Laia and I like it!

Idyllic - before the balloon- fight

Laia with a cheeky grin and up to no good

United in the name of Hello Kitty

Our parents are forcing us to hold hands and act natural

The excuses

Oj, no entries since December. What’s the excuse?

Not entirely sure, but I can think of a few:

• Forgetting my IPhone in the car when flying to Spain on the 30^th of December.
• Deciding to go off-line for the two weeks we were in Spain
• Me being ill with Stomach-flu for almost a week
• Pappa Kas being ill with Stomach-flu for two weeks
• Baby M being ill with stomach-flu for 4 days
• Little H going bananas in quarantine while her family was ill and no one was allowed to visit.
• Knitting woolly trousers for Baby M (yet to be completed)
• Reading: Margaret Attwood – A handmaids tale (brilliant).
• Hanging out with friends and family when not in quarantine

I am boooored

Now we’ve been back home for two weeks, slowly adapting to normal. This means kids with the flu, plenty of housework, various DIY projects, planning new time-management strategies, lunching with fellow mothers on maternity leave and generally spending time on…

What really?

What are you spending your time on these days? 

Just chillin

Christmas came early

As last year, and the year before that and... (you get the point) Christmas came early this year as well. My plans are there from early November, baking the seven kinds of cookies required for being a proper housewife and mother, knitting presents for everyone, make my own candles of beeswax, sew new curtains in subtle but Christmassy colours, scrub the fllors and ceilings and so on.

At least we got a tree

What did I manage to do? Well, I made ginger-bread cookies - twice. I made it to a cookie-and-sweetie making date with a friend. But arrived two hours late and with a baby M who would not sleep. We ended up chatting, cuddling the wee ones and eating sushi instead. 

I managed to order Christmas cards about a week before Christmas Eve, but wrote snd posted them the day after they arrived from the printers,and due to a fantastic address list saved from last year, I do not think that I missed anyone. See- I am organized sometimes.

With ligths...

Christmas Eve came and went without any hatches, so I guess I had nothing to stress about, but next year I will be having a project plan in Excel starting late October, and be so organised that even Pappa Kas-the perfect planner proud.

 That is if I can get started in time.Perhaps best to put a reminder in my calendar already now, as to not forget my perfect plan for a perfect Christmas 

and it was decorated before the 24th

Merry Christmas to you all- a week late. 

Baby it's cold outside

Well, not anymore. We’re up to minus 3 Celsius, which is 15 degrees warmer than last week. 

We’ve just had exotic visitors from far far away. Amama Socco and Aixite Sebas came from the warm south to inspect their new granddaughter, Baby M and to catch up with their “oldest” one Little H( which is two and a half).

Mmmmm, chocolate

Amama and Aixite had eagerly followed the weather forecast for Norway on various websites and had become a bit concerned when the temperature started falling below zero and snow was starting to fall.  We tried to hide these minor details for them, as we thought they might postpone their visit if they knew the truth about the December weather. 

Before they came we prepared by buying spikes to attach to their shoes so not to slip on the ice. We stocked up on firewood, and found extra hats, gloves and other necessities.

When they arrived I was impressed by their good spirits, they dressed in layers and went out on walks and played with Little H in the snow.

I was extra happy that we could show them some of our Christmas preparations and they both had Christmas porridge (boiled rice and milk with a bit of vanilla). A tradition is to hide and almond in the porridge and whoever finds it gets a small pig (!?!) made of marzipan.

See and Learn Little H

Aixite Sebas also decorated gingerbread cookies with a precision I have never seen. Every M&M was placed carefully on the cookie in the desired pattern before glazing was applied as to test the symmetry and color coordination of the small chocolates before they got glued on the cookie. I started to understand where Pappa Kas’ sense of detail and thoroughness comes from…

After a week of cooing over Baby M and running after Little H they went back south with tales of cookies shaped like pigs and reindeer, almonds hidden in porridge, kids playing outside in minus 8 C, and real pine trees with lights outside everywhere.

They must think that Norwegians are mad about Christmas. And I guess we are…

Proud Amama and Baby M

Ginger Galore

It’s the time of the year when you can make and eat cookies, drink mulled wine and watch soppy Christmas films all you want. 

I love this time of year and all the preparations. Not to say that I am keeping on top of things, but every year the planning, the illusion of the home-made presents makes me tingle with joy.  This year is not any different, but with two small girls I should lower my expectations.

On Friday we made Ginger bread cookies together with the “Skinheads”, who are not so hairless anymore. I guess I should go back to calling them Hanna’s post-natal group. 

This was the start of a weekend of gingerbread cookies. We baked and tasted on Friday, we ate at least a kilo of cookies on Saturday and then we made some more on Sunday.

Christmas is all about traditions and we have now managed to make a tradition of baking gingerbread cookies together with Sergio’s Senoritas (Ashley, Audrey and Adriana). We operate by the rule of when something is done three years in a row, becomes a tradition.  So now it is. 

Little H is not the most patient of girls, and she got really disappointed when we were not going to bake something she could roll into small or large buns. She was however good at handling the rolling pin, and extremely good at eating the Smarties and the other sweeties we had to decorate the cookies with.

So now our cake-jars are filled with hearts, stars, reindeer and small gnomes, all with a more than healthy tan  and dressed in icing, sprinkles and Smarties (most of them pink).

So what to bake next? 

Rather tanned, but I love the colour scheme 

Pappa Kas, Ashley and Little H in full concentration

Enjoy the silence

We’re slowly but surely getting to know Baby M. She loves milk, she likes a bath (with a couple of drops of nice baby oil. She prefers purple to pink, but is not really fussed about her clothing (yet).

She does her business regularly, she grasps and pulls Little H’s hair when it is dangled in front of her. She loves kisses and cuddles and is not a fan of sleeping alone. She likes her dummy and finds comfort in it when times are tough.

But perhaps the most important trait inherited from her mum is: She loves to sleep! Last week I phoned my mum worried that Little H had given Baby M a concussion, as M had been sleeping for 6 hours straight.

This weekend she slept through five hours in Ikea, a man playing bagpipes close to her pram and a pre-Christmas dinner with eight grown-ups and seven kids.

How long will it last?

I don't care what I wear

Going for a drive

Having coffee with the girls

Passport problems

When I was a toddler it was enough that my name was listed in one of my parents passport and then I was free to travel abroad (not alone of course). Now even dogs and new-born babies need their own passport.  I have been told that the one for dogs does not have a picture on it, how is it a proper passport then? Does it have Paw-prints?  

The criteria’s for a valid passport photo are: White background, open eyes, no hat or other head-wear, no specs, but otherwise I think you can pretty much get away with a murderous glint in your eye and a wry smile as long as it is not seen as making a grimace.

Not valid

So since we’re an international frequent-flying family we had to get Baby M a passport. As you might know Pappa Kas is not one to wait until the last minute, like myself, but rather carry out boring tasks immediately. Which I agree on is the way to do it, but as the queen of procrastination, I postpone or forget 50% of the things on my “to-do” list.

Off we went to the passport office with Baby M’s birth certificate and her highness herself. She behaved all the way. She was in deep sleep, like her mum in front of the TV at 10 pm, and could not care where she went as long as she could be cuddled up inside a soft sleeping bag at the bottom of her pram.

At the police station we picked a number, went to the photo booth and thought easy peasy. We’ll just wake her up, take the photo, sign the papers and be out of here in no-time.

Then we went to work. Baby M was still asleep and so we had to wake her. We opened her warm and comfy “sleeping bag”, we took off her hat, and we spoke softly, whispered in her ear: “Please wake up, if you do we’ll reward you with warm milk and a dry diaper”.We pinched her cheeks slightly and blew her softly in the face- all to no response.

So we lifted her up, tried to tickle her, speak a bit louder, cuddled her toes and resorted to more drastic measures such as taking a cloth soaked in cold water and dampen her cheeks and neck with it, praying that she would not get a cold.

Again no response. Then our number was called and we took sleeping M to the lady at the desk. We tried to explain the situation, but with closed eyes, no passport photo was to be taken, and no passport issued.

The lady gave us well-meaning advice: blow the baby in the face, speak to her, rub her toes, lift her arms and so forth. It did not work the first time so it did not work now either.

Our parking ticket was about to expire, we had tried very hard to wake her ladyship, and had almost given up, when the little queen glanced at us and clearly signaled: “give me milk now, or I’ll never open my eyes again”.

By then everyone in the queue, both the ones to register their weapon(s) and  the ones there to renew their passports or both, had commented rather loud on how “the boy” (ARGHHHH, it’s a girl!!!) was sleeping so well and how mean it was mean her parents to wake her up for just a photo.

Just as the parking was about to expire we finally managed to get Baby M to open her eyes, and after much struggle get her photo taken:

This is what she will look like on her passport, poor little thing.

Valid

I have to add that no baby was harmed in the process and she is now in deep sleep again for only to emerge from her coma when milk is served. 

Have a nice weekend! 

Lady B 

And then they were four

Time flies when you’re being pregnant, and it has been flying even faster after baby Maya arrived.

She came at supersonic speed on Monday the 22^nd of October, just as her mummy had ordered. The due date was the 31^st, but there was no way I could wait for that long. I did everything I could to speed up “the delivery” (Other mums know what those tricks entails…).

What more can I say? We're still in a daze, getting to know the little one, adjusting to a new little Lady's preferences. And of course Big Sis, H (she's still our Little H) has had her world radically changed, with all the challenges that present.  

We are all delighted and I will make sure to share highlights and lowlights from our life in the future.

We’re now a happy family of four, two Castro-Nyhus girl, one Nyhus mum and a Castro dad,  a spicy mix with a lot of temper, tantrums and happy blissful moments. 

Lady B

Very skeptical when seeing her mum for the first time... 

Happiness 1

Happiness 2

Happiness 3

Little H takes a road trip

I think I have been writing about Little H the animal lover a few times, but it is amazing to see her connect with manky, smelly pigs, sticky goats, dogs with bad breath and so forth. We try to have activities on her terms and when the opportunity of visiting a zoo and amusement park (Kristiansand) came up, we thought why not? We packed the car with enough clothes to last us a week, and drove the 3 ½ hour to get to Kristiansand. Well, since Pappa Kas drives the Spanish way, we barely spent 3.

At the hotel in Kristiansand the only thing we did, was to sleep and have a fantastic breakfast. The badly behaved H (where does she get it from?) sang out loud and clear in the breakfast room: “Naranjas de la Chinana, Chinana, Chinana” (Oranges from China) with a rather loud voice, to her mums despair.

I do not mind her singing this song every time she gets orange juice at home, but in a breakfast room at a hotel with a high percentage of exactly Chinese and Japanese guests, this was NOT funny. I tried to hush on both Loud H and Pappa Kas, but I think that both of them found it equally funny and continued singing. Kids…

The lions

We got to the zoo park by opening time and decided to prioritize the animals rather than the other activities. Little H was so excited! We saw giraffes, zebras, chimpanzees, lions and tigers to name a few. But H was forever on the search of the crocodiles. I do not know where she had gotten this strong wish to see a live crocodile, but eventually we found at least four and she was happy.

We wondered around to see the animals until it started raining cats and dogs. Basque / Spanish people do not handle rain very well, and I must admit that it was rather sad walking around with a sleeping H in the pram, getting soaked despite rain jackets, so we made our way back to the car and drove home.

I do hope that we were not caught in a speed camera or two as we made it home in 2 ½ hours.

Self portrait in Arendal

Sceptically watching the lions

Touching sticky and smelly goats (as usual)

I can hear your heart beat

Being pregnant second time around has not been a breeze, but as it is coming to an end (well, I am still 10 weeks or so away from D-day),and I have notices that I have started to appreciating the strangest things, such as that I can still see my toes.

I went to see a friend the other day, which I had not seen in a month or two and the words that met me were: “Wow, you’re huge”, quickly (almost) saved by: “In a pregnant sort of way”. The fact is that I feel huge and heavy and spotty and old (my back aches). I want to sleep all the time and crave orange juice with a dash of tonic, which is very refreshing by the way. You should try it.

On Monday Little H came with me to the doctor for a check-up, and I explained her that we were going to check that Little M was fine. Every time I asked her why we were going to the doctor she said: “Baby M OK/baby M ha bra”.

At the doctors Little H got to lie down beside me on the bench, and the doctor confirmed that she did not have a baby in her belly, which H nodded to and agreed upon. Then the doc asked where the baby was. Little H immediately bent over and gave my bellybutton a kiss saying; “there / der”. Ah, a mother’s heart could melt.

The doctor then wanted to check for the heartbeat and both Little H and I could hear it clearly; the fast rhythmic beats. H thought that the sound came from the belly itself and put her head carefully down on my tummy as to listen better.

My heart melted. I cannot wait until these two girls meet in person.

Orange juice and tonic- seriously addictive

Life is a Musical

Do you remember how it was to start school after the summer holidays? One year you were new and the youngest, the next you were older, wiser and more confident.


It seems like the same happens at a nursery. Little H is suddenly one of the oldest in her group and has taken charge from what we hear. Oh, dear…

Apparently she is bossing the younger ones about, taking their toys, occupying the swings (a recurring theme), but also taking their hands and showing them the ropes of the place. Showing leadership skills at the age of two? Or is she just being mean?

But it is not all bad. We have always known that she is a show girl, but for the past week or so she has totally let her talents for musicals come through. Life with Little H has always been like a musical, filled with spontaneously singing and dancing.

We can sit around the dinner table when she takes our hands, sings and kicks her feet in tap-dancing steps. We can sit together reading a book and she suddenly jumps up in the sofa to start singing and going into a head stand. She is never shy of doing a bit of ballet on the bathroom floor, standing in downward facing dog in the kitchen or doing some sort of tribal dancing while using the bin as a drum.

So it comes as no surprise that the staff at the nursery and a few of the parents have started commenting on Little H’s rock ’n’ roll moves when they play music and her eagerness to sing loud and clear both when encouraged and in inappropriate situations as when the others are taking a nap or she is having her diaper changed.

Where does she take it from? And where will this end? Do I have to start making dresses out of old curtains and run down grassy hills? Or will she develop red curly hair and freckles and adopt a smelly dog?

Daddy come home!

Lady B and Little H had the house to themselves last week. Pappa Kas travelled far far away last Sunday only to come home this Saturday afternoon. That was almost a whole week away from his girls. It is not like he went on an exotic safari, but rather working away in the South of Spain – Granada.

Poor pappa Kas. The heat, the tapas, the wine, the swimming pool – it must have been hard for him to enjoy when he knew that Little H and I was sitting with our noses pressed towards the window looking out on the rain singing “Daddy come home!” – NOT.

Putting on mummys make-up

We had such a good girlie time. We painted our nails, we had discos where we danced ourselves silly. We had long lazy mornings with home-made smoothies for breakfast before walking to the nursery. Our dinners were quick and easy with lots of ketchup. When we went grocery shopping we bought everything we wanted, mainly all types of fruit, so do not worry about sweetie overload.

In order to tire out Little H, I arranged some afternoon activities. As Pappa Kas could do nothing to prevent H smooching her favorite boys I arranged some dates:

On Sunday we went to see Funny O, where we had burgers and the kids were giggling and tickling each other and behaving like the funny monkeys they are. There was a lot of hugging when we left, and I had to drag Little H away from Funny O in order to get home.


We went to play with Cool J, which H had not seen for weeks. There were some jealous banter over some toys, but you know Love starts with …. And there were plenty of hugging as well.

I decided that we could not hang with handsome boys the whole week, so we met up with cutie Anna and her mischievous sister Julia towards the end of the week. Anna and Hanna are very similar in age and they had a super time with each other while the mummies could catch up on gossip and have a good chat.

Little H is definitively having fun with Anna

The week ended on a high with half a day at the local playground where Little H did not want to get her cute little bottom out of the swing, making other kids and parents rather annoyed for not letting others kids use it.

By the time we got Pappa Kas from the train H had had such an exciting week that she had developed a fever. Oh dear, a whole week of fun can be too much.

Please Pappa Kas, when you go away next time, do not stay away for a week, BUT bring back as nice presents as you did this time.

How do you activate your kids when you are alone with them?

At the playground, dressed to the nines to impress the boys

Malo, malo!

That Little H is no stranger to bruises and scratches is nothing new. For a time we were so worried that she had poor eyesight since she kept falling over and running into things. The nursery staff and the doctor told us calmly that that was not uncommon in very active, curious 2-year olds.

So when we come to pick up H at the nursery and a member of staff takes us aside and needs to tell us what has happened before we see Little H, we’re calm as cucumbers. What is the worst that can happen? As long as she is not pulling other kids hair or giving them bruises, a bit of “self-harming” can only make her stronger.

Little H is now an expert (she thinks) at walking the stairs, and since her mantra these days are “I can do it myself / klare selv”, and due to her robust nature we let her climb up and down while we watch her with ice in our tummies.

The other day she fell down the front door stairs. It is only two steps down, but they’re made of concrete and stone with gravel at the bottom. I did not see it happen, but heard Little H cry, and it was not a pretend-to-be-hurt cry as it usually is. It was more of an I-am-in-pain-and -shock cry.

I was the first on the scene and swiftly picked her up from the ground. I started scanning her body for outwards injuries and what I found was some scratches from the stones and a rather nasty cut on her temple.  She was bleeding, but rather quickly soothed by all the attention she got from myself and her grandparents.

I cleansed her cut with cottonwool and water and soon she was very into cleaning it herself and the cries of pain had transferred into the moany sniffering she can be so good at. All clear.

Ouch, ouch 

When we got back out in the drive-way, Amama Socco was stamping her ballerina shoe clad feet on the place where H fell and saying: “Malo, malo, malo, malo (malo = bad/ naughty)” to the gravel.  It was rather like a native American  rain-dance for me unknown to such a ritual. Little H quickly got into the game of blaming the stairs and the gravel by shouting the same: Malo, malo over and over again. 

So apparently it was not H’s clumsy feet which caused her to fall, but the stairs and the gravel. It now gives her great satisfaction of stamping her feet and repeating malo every time she enters or leaves the  house. 

  

Malo gravel and nasty stairs

The in-laws are here

Every summer (the last three) since Little H arrived, we have been getting visitors / helpers in July. Amama Socco and Aixite Sebas flies from sunny Spain in the middle of the holiday season to visit for a couple of weeks.

The first summer they helped us tend the garden and carry around a colic-suffering little baby. Last year, they were life-savers when the nursery was closed for two weeks in July, taking H to the playground, to the beach, to feed the ducks etc. etc. etc. while Pappa Kas and I were working. Plus that they were helping around the house. And not to forget that Amama Socco also took charge of the kitchen and my tasks were solely to bake cakes for desserts.

Telling secrets with Aixite

This year they are here again and so far they have: planted in our garden, sanded and painted garden furniture, helped paint the hall and been to Ikea to get more stuff for Little H’s bed. In addition they have of course spent a lot of time with Little H.: walks, visits to various playgrounds, strawberry picking in the garden, playing football, preventing her from eating green tomatoes from the tomato plants, watching Sesame Street in Spanish with her (Pappa Kas has episodes from 1984 and they are a pain to watch – at least after the 20^th time)- basically they have joined in on many of Little H’s favorite things to do.

Having fun

So what if she gets a lollipop, once in a while, an ice-cream a day (we did not think that she even liked ice-cream), a sweetie for breakfast with her milk and goes to bed an hour later than usual?

It is a granparents priviledge to spoil their grandchildren and when it only happens a couple of times a year, we are only happy to see how she enjoys being with her Spanish/Basque grandparents who lives far far away.

As for me, I am just hoping that they will come back next year, but they might not be so eager with two little Castro-Nyhus ladies on their hands. 


How do you survive July? 

From 3 to 4

Little H will no longer be the littlest member of the Castro-Nyhus clan from October onward. She is getting a little sister, and we’re all excited and a bit scared.

Like my mum said: “another baby, this will be interesting…”

I am sure it will. So far we have not really started thinking about the everyday life with two kids, we just know that it will be stressful with two toddlers, but if others can manage, so can we. A positive attitude, that’s important.

I do not really think that Little H understands what is going on. She can see her mums belly getting bigger, she is fond of babies and likes to stroke their hair and hold their tiny hands. And when we ask her where the baby is she points to my tummy and often hugs it. She has also taken to feed the baby by placing strawberries on my bellybutton. It can become quite messy.

What we are doing is to prepare Little H for being a big girl. She is getting a new and bigger room, just now it is just a room with white walls and a window, but she knows that it is hers, runs in there every day, turns on and off the lights and pretends to go to sleep in one of the corners.

We’d better get a move on and buy that bed. 

Thanks to Pappa Kas and Aixite Sebas for the wallpapering job

You know you’re a grown-up when…

You are invited to a concert and you ask “Where will we go for dinner before the concert?”

You arrive early at the airport to enjoy a glass of Chablis before departure

You have hand-cream in your handbag

You wear flat shoes (or trainers) on your way to work, for then to change into heels just outside the door

You don’t leave the house without wearing mascara

You start sentences with “When I was young...”, or “I remember the time…”

You switch from reading Elle Magazine to Red or KK

These are a few of my examples, and I am sure that some of you have others.

Do you have some to share?

PS: I love this blog: http://crabbyoldfart.wordpress.com/ The problem with young people today