Portrait Series: The Great Battle

Dear Beanie,

Why is it that you only reach the stage of hating clothes as the temperature drops to the minuses? Why?

It is very very tough for me to get any pants on you. And although you can now say 'shoes', 'cardi', 'jacket', 'scarf' and 'hat', you run away or throw your body on the floor, head back screaming, if any of those things come near you. Let's not even mention the mittens. (To be honest, it's not like that every time. Sometimes you want to try on every pair of shoes in the house. But without pants, of course.)

A portrait of my son, once a week, every week.
The Great Battle: This is your reaction to the rooster. Every time.

I have many naked pictures of you from the past week or two, but I wanted to show you what things have come to. This morning, I decided that I would give you my phone. I tried so long to keep you screen-free, what with all the evidence everywhere of television and screen time being detrimental to under-twos. But... well... sometimes you have to choose your battles. And if getting you to poke at farm animals on my phone that then moo, baa or cockadoodledo means that you will get dressed? Maybe I just have to swallow my pride.

The biggest thing I have learnt on this parenting journey so far? Motherhood is all about eating humble pie. :)

At least you are happy!

I love you so much, my little monster!

Love, Mummy.

Oops... Our first winter accident.

Hello my gorgeous sausage!

I just want to say sorry for zipping your beautiful little round belly into your snow suit today... Yowsers, that would have really hurt, little one! And I must admit that it hurt my pride a little too... All those old ladies staring at me at the supermarket entrance... I wish I had a little "I'm an Australian! I don't know anything about snow!" flag that I could wave about in such situations. 

I suppose that's the first accident of this winter... I'm on my way to getting as prepared as possible to prevent last winter's accident, where I slipped in the snow, used your pram to hold me up and ended up pulling you on top of me. Of course that was literally the only time where I hadn't strapped you in while walking you up and down for your nap, and you proceeded to fall out, get trapped in the plastic rain cover while I was like someone from a cartoon, my feet sliding all over the place in the panic to rescue you, but not getting anywhere... Needless to say, you didn't die and, from what I can tell, there was no lasting brain injury, but I now have boots with the thickest, deepest grip ever. They would rival the boots of a soccer player. In fact, maybe I could get your daddy to hammer in some big nails into the soles for good measure...

For now, you just have a bruised belly. Fingers crossed...

Love you!
Love Mummy.

Portrait Series: SNOW!

Dear Beanie,

SNOW! The snow has arrived!

A portrait of my son, once a week, every week.
SNOW!
(though you're yet to really make up your mind as to how you feel about it...)

It began falling as I was walking to collect you from daycare yesterday evening... the flakes were the best kind, about the diameter of an apricot (why did I immediately think apricot when trying to come up with something of that size?), and so so fluffy. I took you to the window and showed you the beauty that you were about to step into, and you proclaimed them to be 'bubbles' coming from the sky.

Nothing beats the wonder of toddlerhood

I nearly collapsed from the cuteness as we walked home in the snow, my darling. You were in such awe, spinning around with your face up, saying, 'Bubbles! Bubbles! WOW! Bubbles! WOW!' I still swoon thinking about it! By the time we got home, you had learnt the word 'snow'. I forget that I have an Australian accent until I hear you immitate my 'O' sound... it makes me laugh.

Oh how I love you, little one! The winter has begun!

Love, Mummy.

The Death Trap (or... the playground and the overprotective parent)

Hello my little one!

It's time we talked about the playground.

The day before you popped out

When you were in my belly, your daddy and I spoke about our biggest fears about parenthood... the things that we wished with all our might that we would not be. My biggest fear was that I would be too overprotective. You'd end up socially inept, lacking in confidence and vitamin D deficient because I'd keep you inside, wrapped in a snowsuit (solely for its padded properties) for the first ten years of your life. On the plus side, you'd probably be great at your seventeen times-tables. Being overprotective is something that I can see would be very easy to fall into, and something that my anxiety-ridden, catastrophising mind kind of leans itself towards... so it is constantly a part of my consciousness to give you freedom, to let you fall, to get frustrated so that you can feel the elation at solving a problem yourself. I wonder if you will laugh at this later on when you read this... I wonder what kind of parent I will be when you are sixteen years old...

Ok. So onto the playground.

The deadly stones

There are two playgrounds that we frequent. One of them is just gorgeous, in the middle of the beautiful gardens of a grand villa on the lake, with lots of fun things for you: A big scary slide, some swings, a climbing frame, some wooden houses to play in, a dirt-pit (people in Switzerland don't know sand, it seems!), some bouncy animals and a merry-go-round style rope swing (hmm that's hard to explain). Not too much wrong here, but then you take into account the fact that the ground is not grass or sand, but stones. I wasn't able to take you here for the first 14 months of your life, because the most fun thing in the world was to attempt to choke yourself on these stones. If you did get one in your mouth and I discovered it, you'd throw your head back, open your mouth and start laughing hysterically.... and you were obviously only a moment away from death by playground.

Now, that's the best playground! Because the other one? Yowsers.

You, starting to get worried about being stuck... about to climb up further...

The other playground, next the where the ferry leaves, is more of an adventure playground. It has woodchips, sand or grass on the ground (better!), has a fun set of channels with a fountain so you can make dams, float sticks, experiment with floating and sinking objects, and splash about in the water. In the winter, it's turned off, so you are left with the pirate ship to explore, along with lots of rope ladders and climbing frames. The pirate ship is very high, at least two metres, and has big open edges for you to topple over when you are looking behind you, or when another child gets annoyed and shoves you. It has benches for you to climb on and topple over the top when you lose your footing. And worse? It is impossible for me to get up there too. I currently can't lift one arm, so when you recently got stuck up the bench and couldn't get down, I gave you a while to figure it out and then, when it looked like it was just not going to happen and you became more and more scared, when you began to consider the option of falling over the edge instead, I just had to get up there. I scrambled up the side, scratching my elbows, bruising my hips and knees, bashing my head, envisioning your little neck snapping as it hit the ground... and then, of course, when I finally got up there, there you were, having rescued yourself.

The super-fun water channels 

Playground politics are tough. There are these terms that float about: The 'helicopter parent', who is always there, ready to 'help', never allowing their children to struggle. There is the 'couch parent', who just sits by and watches as their kids struggle and never gets involved to play with them or help when they really need. There is the 'free-range parent', who allows their children to explore independently, while hopefully raising them to know that they are capable, while also being able to ask for help from mum or dad. Everything has a label now. I try to be a free-range kind of parent, but I also just love actively playing with you, so I suppose you're more of a corn-fed child than a free-range one...

Leaving you to be a free-range boy.

Now lets wait for some black ice to throw itself into the mix... yikes! Deep breath, Mummy... :)

I love you soooo much, Possum!

Love, Mummy.

Portrait Series: Stealing a snuggle

Dear Beanie,

I heard something recently about the vast number of changes that come about once a child stops breast or bottle feeding. Not only are there the obvious changes in food consumption, but there is a significant drop in snuggle time and intimacy. This is one thing that I have always loved about feeding you a bottle, no matter what time of day or night -- it is where we snuggle. I have never encouraged you to hold it yourself (though I didn't actively yank it out of your hands, or anything!), because then I knew my time would be over.

It turns out that isn't true. Now you are very capable of holding your bottle, but you still sometimes need me to do it for you. I can't snuggle you the way I would really love to because of my stupid stupid shoulder, so our makeshift snuggles are where the side of the couch is my other arm.

A portrait of my son (with me, this week!), once a week, every week.
Stealing a Snuggle (with 6.30am bed hair)

I love these moments, although they only last around one minute now, because you are one hell of an active little boy. You rarely stop bouncing around all over the place, running laps around the kitchen island, pulling your wooden caterpillar around the house, throwing and kicking your big foam ball, and zooming your cars under chairs. Moments like these... I breathe them in deeply. I know they are nearly over.

I hope you'll still give me big big hugs even when you are forty.

I love you, Bean.

Love Mummy.

P.S. You said 'animal' and 'calculator' today! Wowsers, my big boy!

Nature versus Nurture: Being a BOY!

Hello my gorgeous boy!

I've been thinking a lot lately about parenthood, and about how I always thought that nurture had more of an impact that it seems to. Gender neutrality has been important to me from the moment that I found out you were inside my belly, growing away. I didn't want to ever make you feel pressured into being something that you didn't feel you naturally were... if you want to spend your days wearing princess costumes, going to dance class, colouring in using only the pinks and purples, putting clips in your hair, then go for it. I wasn't going to actively encourage this, either, but just leave everything accessible to you to choose what you want.

Mummy, when will I be old enough to do that?

When you were very very very little, I got into a conversation with a friend about how I have no great desires for you to become a doctor or an engineer or an architect; in fact, I joked, I'd love it if you became a hairdresser. To me, this is a kind of profession that you would choose to make yourself happy, doing something that you love. That is what I care most about. Plus you'd save me a packet on hairdressing costs ;) Maybe you'll become a construction worker though... that's probably your dream job right now!

You at 9 weeks with your big blue eyes. 

I often dressed you in baby blues, little one, which surprised me, until I realised that even if you were a girl, I would still dress you in blues. You looked so cute in that colour with your big blue eyes! And although you had cute wooden cars as toys, you also had dolls. But you know what? You couldn't care less about your doll. From the moment you wake up, for the last couple of days, you say, 'Cars! Cars! Cars! Cars!' or 'Digger! Digger! Digger! Digger!' and you are desperate to go and play with your boy toys. You like building things, knocking them down, watching construction, playing with and watching cars, trucks, tractors, buses and trains, kicking and throwing balls and playing dress-ups in your daddy's clothes and shoes. 

DIGGER!!

You are a little boy, there's no doubt about it. I hope that I will never hear the words, 'Boys will be boys' come out of my mouth though, as some kind of an excuse for something that you do. But I doubt it will. Along with being interested in all those typically boyish things, you remain one of the most gentle and sensitive little people that I've ever met. You still go all smiley and squeaky whenever you see a little baby, and want to very very gently tough its hand, but only with permission. You still get upset whenever another child is upset. You still seem to intently want to make other children happy, which makes me so so proud to be your mummy. Writing these things out now, it makes me realise that you are like your daddy. He is also a very gentle and caring man. Wow, I'm a lucky lady to have you both in my life! 

Alright, it's corny. But we love you! 

I love you, my little boy! I couldn't love you more! 

Love Mummy. 

Portrait Series: On a Ledge

Dear Beanie,

I'm sick again, my darling, so I'm sorry that I've neglected to write to you this week. You are achieving mountains, and I'm spending my quiet time sleeping on the couch instead of writing.

This week's portrait isn't the one I had originally intended to use, but your nanny went back to Australia with her camera today before I remembered to steal it! So we'll save it for later.

A portrait of my son, once a week, every week.
On a ledge

This portrait just shows something very little, really, but it's still very exciting for you! Now when we go walking, you attempt to find any ledge of any description to practice your tightrope walking. However long the gutter, railing, decorative stone edging or border, that is how long you will practice. So... looking at your photo above, you can see how long it takes us to go for a morning stroll nowadays! That is one long ledge! It's super cute watching you carefully pop one foot in front of the other,  teeter a little and push away any helping hand with indignation.

I love you, little bean!

Love Mummy.

Guest letter from Nanny

Your Nanny wrote you a letter, little one! She wants me to type it out for you, so here goes:

* * *

Nanny makes you giggle!

Darling little Ruben, what a lovely time we are having together. I love getting to know your own little personality, it has been such a joy for me. You are a thinker, that's for sure. The little mind ticks away quickly and your facial expressions show that you are soaking up information at the speed of lightening.

You love wheels and 'Diggers' - yes, diggers. When I was in Perth, Skyping with you, I had a little book to read you that was not only about diggers, but also had a wheel you could turn. "Wow" for the 'Wow Boy' - You love that book! And what a lucky boy you are to have a digger outside your apartment digging up the driverway, how exciting for you! We both sit on the steps and watch together as it digs up the dirt and puts it into the truck. We wave and laugh at the lazy man leaning on his shovel, watching. Haha! Happens in Swizz too!

Opening your first digger, a
'just because' present from Nanny

Tired cuddles

You are so soft and gooey and very gentle with the little babies that are your friends, at playgroup and at krippe. You are sooo funny when you see animals like dogs or chooks, the sheep, cows, donkeys etc. We go to the farm to buy eggs and pears and you squeal, laugh and do spinnies!


You love stomping in puddles and taking your shoes off to paddle at the lake's edge. We feed old bread to the ducks and you make your nanny nervous that you will jump into the lake with them! And sometimes you at the bread too. I love the way we are learning to count using the Playdoh balls, you in English, me in German. You are doing much better then me! Eight is your favourite number. In the evening we sit on the floor and you snuggle against me as we read books. It almost makes me cry with joy. You pick the books out yourself.

One, two, three, einz, zwei, drei,

You have grown up so much since I came to your house three weeks ago. You are talking so much and putting words together, like, "Bye-bye digger!", and even speaking some German, like 'Nein" (no) and "Heiss" (hot). A very clever little boy! You are sleeping almost every night without a bottle now, and you don't sit down and cry if you can't have what you want -- ie. crossing the busy streets yourself. Now you hold onto Mummy, Daddy or Nanny's hand. All of this rapid progress is obviously attributed to my being with you!!! :)

Ruben, I know you are very happy living, growing and learning in Zurich, and I'm happy your parents have chosen to bring you up in Switzerland, the country they have chosen to live in. I'm glad I visited while you are at such a fantastic age. Keep laughing, dancing and enjoying life, my darling boy. I won't miss you so much now because I know that you have a wonderful life here with lots of friends and the most fantastic parents you could ever wish for.

Lots of love,
Nanny.