Archive | June, 2012

Mother knows breast

29 Jun

Jeesh. My Friday morning was far more nipply than I’m used to.

Asher is growing and changing and not nearly as interested in breastfeeding as he used to be. I never had any intention of breastfeeding until he’s 30, or even 3, as is a trend. But I assumed we would continue until he is at least 1, since that seems to be best for babies. The way things are going, though, this may not happen. As any parents knows – If baby don’t wanna et, baby ain’t gonna et. I contacted La Leche League International with a few questions and was put into contact with a very helpful lady who lives right in our neighboring village. She addressed my questions and invited me to her monthly LLL meeting. I accepted her invitation and went this morning.  I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been around many people, so I forgot how awkward some moms can be.

As soon as I got there I realized that Asher and I were over-dressed, since we were dressed. I was greeted at the door by a half-undressed woman who was cradling a naked suckling toddler.

…Okay. Not my thing, but okay. Let me just throw out there that I’m not “weird” about breastfeeding. I’m really not. I could care less when I see a woman bf-ing in public or when I do it. It ain’t no thang, right? Well… to be quite honest, it is a bit more awkward for me when the toddler (not infant) who is bf-ing is completely nude and stretching that little a-cup into a bendy, pencil-wide straw so she can look around while feeding. (Seriously. Have you ever seen a boob with a right angle? As of this morning, I have.) The little girl climbed down after a while for some naked rocking horse time (no Asher, no turn for you… don’t touch it… that seat was in a buttcrack taco 15  seconds ago), followed up by some naked scone-eating and tea-drinking. Then she followed that up with a nice naked walk outside to  play, naked, with her the guinea pigs. The child’s mother (the LLL representative) had shorts and a semi-sleeveless shirt on aaaaaaaand apparently doesn’t believe in shaving. I know this is true because of the crazy things I saw happening on her legs and in her pits (thank goodness the shorts were long, I was thankful not to see the furry condition of her upper thi…oh jeez. I just imagined it on accident).

So we talked about breastfeeding for a while. We talked about La Leche League and how it came to Switzerland. And “we” were sure to mention every attachment-parenting cliche, just so we were all on the same self-righteous page. I was surprised to learn that Asher sleeping in his own bed is a disadvantage. I guess if I were a good mother I would kick Phil out of the bed until I am ready to make another baby… ? Silly me!

So much for that. I wonder what they thought about Asher’s little collared shirt and wallaby shoes. Is it weird that I put clothes on him? Is it weird that I wore clothes? If I stop shaving now and drink lots of hair-growing espresso, I may be ready to bare all to next month’s meeting.

Okay, okay – I feel the need to mention that I am not complaining. I’m just laughing to myself as I write this stuff – my attempt to share some of the odd details of my morning. Though it was not my typical idea of “fun,” it was nice to get out and converse with people a bit (even if I did have to hold back a laugh now and then, hahahaha). The lady was very nice and I may go again next month in an attempt to meet more people (most of the ladies who usually go were home with sick babies).

…or maybe I’ll be busy.

Our sweet baby boy

24 Jun

Asher is just… just… I don’t know. He’s just too much. I am so quickly overwhelmed by trying to put into words how amazing he has made our life. “Precious” does not even scratch the surface. :’)

He has started singing when we sing around the house and in church. This morning he sang so loudly that people several rows ahead of us were turning around to see where his adorable little “ahhhhhhhhhh” was coming from. Here is a little taste of his singing from yesterday. Be sure to watch his facial expressions – you can’t fake that emotion! haha We turn music on our tv a lot when we are hanging out at home, so the music is coming from the tv here. Though I know this sounds like the Little Mermaid soundtrack, this is Asher singing with Radiohead:

 

And this is his reaction to us asking him if he wants to take a bath after dinner. This crazyhuge excitement lasts basically from the moment we ask him if he wants to take a bath until he is in the bath. Seriously! He goes crazy laughing and smiling and kicking his legs and waving his arms until he is put into the water. hehehe

The evolution of my love-hate relationship with laundry, and my newly-made commitment to Thursdays.

19 Jun

Something you may or may not know about me: I love clean laundry. I love drawers stocked with fresh undies, socks, and every shirt I own. Clean clothes are homey. I look forward to going to bed in clean sheets and tip-toeing out of the shower and into a clean towel. Just the thought of having everything I own being ‘clean’ relaxes me. I LOVE clean laundry.

That being said, I must now confess that laundry and I have had a rocky relationship for a while. I honestly don’t remember how I did laundry at ‘home’ before I was out on my own. I remember doing laundry, I just don’t remember if I kept up with it, or if my Mom (or someone else) kept up with it, or what. I do remember my gradual decline into being gross during my college years. I remember starting my freshman year fresh-faced and with a closet full of crisp, clean clothes. Then things start getting fuzzy as my sleep declined and a steady diet of junk-food induced a weird sleeping/awake coma. My memories blur… I remember laundry all over the floor. I remember wads of clothes spilling out of suitcases between Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. I remember the pain of gathering unidentifiable pieces of cloth and then spending $20 worth of quarters and several hours in the laundry mat… at most twice a semester. Then I remember becoming more responsible when I had my own room and laundry machines in my dorm. I remember cleaning my room every night and doing laundry every week or two. I also remember spitting in the face of my feminist sympathies and doing Phil’s laundry for him, even though I swore to myself I would never be “that” girlfriend. After Phil and I got married, we had to go to the campus laundrymat, but we did laundry basically every week or two. Then in Richmond, when we were so busy all the time, it was not uncommon for our hamper to be stacked two to three feet above it’s brim, before spilling out onto the floor… and yet we would still neglect it. It’s lucky for us that we both own an insane number of underwear (seriously. We recently thinned out our stock, but we each had 60+ pairs of panties/manties), or we would have been in trouble. Both in Searcy and in Richmond we did not have access to our own laundry machines, which, in Richmond especially, played a large part in our battle with that pesky never-ending pile of dirty clothes. It’s a pain to have to set aside time to use public machines (assuming that they are open for use) and to have enough quarters to wash and dry everything. Indeed, laundry is a hassle.

So that’s my history with laundry. I love having clean laundry, but it’s difficult for me to make time to make it.

All of this is to say that laundry is a whole different animal here in Switzerland. We had 24/7 access to a washer and a dryer in our temporary place in Immensee, but we shared the machines with the old couple that lived below us and some random single guy who lived in what I thought was a garage (It seriously took us about 4 months to realize there was a guy living there). We had to go outside to get to the machines, and we couldn’t leave laundry there for very long because the other people needed access to the machines too. That setup was actually fairly uncommon for this area. Since most people live in apartments, most people share washrooms with their building-neighbors. Some people do buy small personal washers so that they have access to them all the time, but space is limited around these parts, and I assume hooking a machine up to the bathtub every time you want to do some laundry can get old. Here we have 1 day a week that is “our” day to use the washroom. We have a weird little key thing that we have to plug into the wall to turn on the room and everything in it. So I have officially declared Thursday (our laundry day) my day to get things done around the house every week… until I die. I vowed, nay, made a holy covenant with Thursday to honor it above all other days as my day for chores. I am holding to my commitment strongly — every Thursday I have made both made this place spotless and done tons of laundry. I dare say I am doing more laundry per week than I ever have before (don’t judge me!). I was nervous about moving into a place where we only had access to laundry machines 1 day each week, but I am absolutely loving the freedom that I get the other 6 days of the week. I don’t even have to think about laundry Friday-Wednesday, and so I don’t. I have never felt so alive! I am not living in a constant state of guilt and stress over piles of sweaty clothes that linger in the back of my mind. Instead, I am living my life in a clean home and getting to wear my favorite underwear once a week! Life is good cannah git a’ aye-MEN?! 

So there you have it. I love clean clothes and I am working this housewife gig extra hard on Thursdays.

Here are some pics of our laundry room, just to show you what it’s like. Many Europeans don’t see the need for dryers, so I have to plan what to wash and when in order for it all to have time to dry before the end of the day. There is a giant fan on one of the walls (the huge blue box thing) that actually works well to dry things fairly quickly, but position on the lines and in the room certainly matters. I’m still working out the best order in which to wash things and the best way to organize slow-drying things (i.e. jeans, diapers, towels, etc.) in the room. I’m getting there!

This is a (bad) pic of what the key to turn on the room looks like. It is a rectangle with gold lines on it… very fancy and technological, I think. Since I don’t know much about technology, I will henceforth refer to the key simply as “my little piece of science.”

My little piece of science in the slot. As soon as it is in, the room comes alive! And as soon as I remove my little piece of science, the room gets quiet and dark and creepy.

My precious, but not-so-helpful-helper. It takes a while to hang clothes on a line. Asher can only watch the washer for so long before he takes to playing with the echo of his extremely loud whine. 😉

It’s kind of hard to tell how many lines there are, but know that there are a lot.

A pic of the entire washroom. The washer is probably the most efficient machine we have used in years. It’s awesome. You can see the giant blue monster fan over to the left on the wall. It is SUPER loud and kind of scary, so I turn it on right as I’m leaving and off right when I come back. For Asher, I mean… I don’t want him to be scared. It doesn’t scare me. Nope. Noooo way. I’m not scared. I do that when I go down by myself too, but that’s just in case Asher decides to scamper down the stairs to join me. I don’t want him to be scared. Because he’s a baby. Babies are scaredy cats. Not me. Bre brave!

What would a post be without videos of my funny boy? 🙂

Here is one of Asher wiping off his Dad’s kisses. He does this if ever we try to love on him when he is feeling grouchy. I wonder how long this attitude will be funny and cute?

After we finish a meal, we wipe down Asher’s tray. If any crumbs are left, Asher finishes the job.

Love!

12 Jun

Busy baby

8 Jun

 

He got naughty!

1 Jun

Per my mother-in-law’s request, here are some new Asher videos! The first is just kind of funny of his drinking some water, coughing a little bit, and then trying to keep his cough going because he seems to think that coughing is cool. He’s a fun guy!

*sigh* This next video was all-too-easy to capture, since he was in a MOOD for about 2 days straight. He more or less whined like this without taking breaks no matter where he was or what he was doing. Neither Phil nor I think anything was “wrong” with him, we think he was just perhaps experimenting with moods and naughty faces and ugly sounds. You can tell on this video that he was very deliberately making angry faces. What do you do with a whiney 9 month old? Just laugh, I guess. Naughty little man!