snuffling

I (atchoo!)
have
a
bad cold. (sniff. gulp. parrrrrrrrppppppp.)

Thanks for all the gravy suggestions, guys!
Knowledge is power.

It's f-f-f-f-f-f-reeezing here. Today, after 3 months of to-ing and fro-ing I thought, We Must Buy A Car. There's nothing like schlepping an infant around on a drizzling, dark afternoon to focus the mind. We have even seen a suitable vehicle; reasonable price, low mileage, goes from a to b, what's not to like?

It's heartstoppingly ugly, that's what. The colour of yesterday's tikka masala, with an interior to match. Really, it makes me weep. Do I need to get over it?

PS The Chubby One's first tooth is coming through

fruitless dithering

(sigh) does anyone know how to make gravy?
We roasted a chicken today. In a moment of joie de vivre, I said I'll make the gravy, I know how to make gravy!
I don't know how to make gravy.
I 'threw' in a little wine and 'tossed' in a little flour (I mean how hard can it be) to the pan juices and got a grey, congealed mass of boiling lumpiness.
We had Bisto.

I also wrote a Christmas Newsletter. I mean, we've had quite a year, we've moved country and had a baby, people want to know about this sort of thing, don't they? But I re-read it and by the third paragraph I was overcome with the cheesiness of the whole exercise. And this is partly the point of the blog, to avoid such a cheese mountain.
The letter was deleted.

Not a productive day.

My friend Pete with The Chubby Queen (a.k.a. the Pink Terror) 

Sirupwaffeln strike again

Someone asked me tonight if I was expecting my second child.

Followed by

"It's difficult to lose the weight isn't it?"

Toytown News

DUCK MAULED IN BATHTIME HORROR!

Yesterday a rubber duck was brutally savaged during an early evening swim.

Headless!

A Lego witness from the Jolly Roger described the scene as "frightening..i just saw this giant beast's pink paw descend and grab the little fella, then put him straight into its mouth! He could have had his head bitten off! He's lucky to be alive."

Spokesduck!

A spokesduck told this newspaper "He's shaken, but his injuries are minor, thank God."

Toys are urged to be vigilant.

In other news
Serially Abused! Monkey speaks out.. (p4)
Action Man: "I'm No Sex Pest! I Don't Even Have Gen...(p5)
WIN! Barbie's bestseller 'Grin Yourself Slim' (p6)

like a giant lard cake

When last in the UK, imagine my suprise when the scales told me I'd lost a stone. I put this down to a) hoiking a 7?8?kg sack of potatoes, sorry, Emma, from pillar to post b) not driving and c) living somewhere hilly, nay, mountainous. And breastfeeding.

However just setting foot on Swiss soil has made it all pile on again within a week. (Shurely not the shirupwafeeeln? Ed)

Must abort post. Child is wailing.

PS was probably getting a bit too Bridget Jones anyway

clarification

Gouda Gilde's Siroopwafeeln, pronounced "yiaoda yildas siroopwafelln(?)" - the g in Dutch is always silent, so I'm told - are cinammon waffle biscuits with syrupy filling. They are about 7cm in diametre, i.e. just big enough to sit atop your cup of tea so the filling melts and softens a bit through the steam action, turning into a round, brown, chequered piece of heaven.

During my last post I scoffed two.

Dear Ms Gilde:
I would be delighted to offer you advertising space on my blog. No, no - no payment necessary. What, a lifetime's supply of siroopwafelen plus postage and packaging (the box with the windmills and bonny-faced Dutch girl)? You're too kind.
Gratefully,
Lil

morphing

Mood is still average to low today. I seem to have mislaid the energy to accost strangers in the park and ask them to be friends with me. And I'm frightened I myself am turning Swiss. I tut-tut if people wander round the flat with outdoor shoes on and I now regularly buy UHT milk despite the freshest, highest-quality dairy produce in every corner shop.

Soon it will be winter and people might expect me to interact athletically with snow.

Fat chance.

I'll sit it out swaddled in a giant duvet surfing for I'm a Celebrity*

*I cracked yesterday. I think I'd like Nancy to win. She has a kind face.

de blues

Hey ho. It had to happen. A good chum comes to visit: big mood crash afterwards.

C'est le ex pat vie.

It's at moments like these I start questioning my No TV policy.

Gouda Gildes Siroopwafeln

My friend Peter is staying with us from Holland. Let's interview him!

Lil: Hello, Peter. Welcome to Switzerland. Tell us, how did you find the bath?
Peter: Thank you for having me. I loved easing my considerable frame in there. I had issues with sud removal, but these were easily resolved. As in life generally, it was lovely once you're in.

Lil: How have you found the Swiss and their land?
Peter: Friendly though requiring encouragement. The land is stunning.

Lil: Are the hills a refreshing change?
Peter: That is a particular thrill living as I do below sea level. At 500m altitude sickness was a concern.

Lil: Describe what we have done today.
Peter: I woke up at 8am to discover that the rest of the household - beaming, healthy and rightly proud parents plus delicious bundle of baby joy - had already been hard at breakfast and bathing rituals for some time. I was impressed. We decided to go on a day trip to Neuchatel, the Swiss Newcastle. After a lovely train journey we arrived in a beautiful little town; we went to a cafe and wandered around. Then we had a good meal in a lovely restaurant before wandering some more and heading home. It was a super day trip.

Lil: Describe my chubby queen in a sentence. (Only compliments are acceptable, I am sensitive.)
Peter: Charming, cherubic, flirtatious, engaging, playful...and chubby
Lil: yes yes yes..
Lil: One last thing. Are the oysters making you ill yet?
Peter: Not at all, but then I am highfalutin'

She loves her monkey 

What I think of Mummyhood, 6 months in*

I err on the side of negligence.
Breastfeeding is overrated.
Burping (the baby, though generally) is underrated.
Baby books are ok, but your instincts do just as well.
It is a lot more fun than people make out.
It is also a lot more toil.
I will never tire of seeing a naked baby bum.
My daughter is the funniest person I know.
I miss her when she's asleep.
But I would rather be asleep myself.


*inspired by JoJo, a fine figure of a mama if ever there was

She does her own thing

7 til 7 last night, like a dream. Was I right all along, or is the Chubby Queen just playing games? After all she is very advanced. She can even chew her own foot.

Sunny day today en Suisse. They do cold weather really well, here. There is nothing like a chocolat chaud to wrap your paws around on a day like this, and then shovel up the chocolatey dregs with one of those freakishly long spoons you only seem to get on the continent.

Pride cometh before an fall

She woke up twice.

I shall eat humble pie.


(Mashed potato humble pie.)

Rejoicing?

I think we have cracked the sleep thing, and it was oh so simple. I might write a book about my method. I might call it 'The No-Cry Mashed Potato Sleep Solution.'

Step One: Give your baby lots and lots of mashed potato for his supper. Use toys to distract, alternate mouthfuls with chocolate pudding - whatever it takes to get the spud down.

Step Two: Put baby to bed for 12 hours unnterrupted kip as mash settles like a concrete elephant in his tiny insides.

The End.

(Obviously it needs padding out a bit.)

I might still be wrong, of course, but after 2 full nights' sleep, I am buoyant.

Well there you are

Other things I miss about home (apart from Heat magazine):

Bacon - can't get it anywhere, not the real thing
Sausages - the kind you fry in a pan and not made of horse
Weetabix - Emma's breakfast, although today I gave her scrambled eggs
Chips - proper, fat chip-shop-chips: not limp, salty rubbish frites
Fish and chips, now I think about it
I've already talked about builder's tea, so I won't bang that drum again (at least give it a couple of days)
Newspapers that both / either a) contain fish and chips b) contain news
Hello!, OK, Closer all the appalling goss mags there are because I am a sick, sick addict to this trash so help me God. I was hoping my new life might have cured me but the minute I got to Gatwick I was all over the glossies like necrotising fascitis (that's a gag for all my PMU colleagues out there.)

I was upset to hear about both Chris and Billie and Bryan and Kerry. They all seemed very happy. And it has put me off Bryan's single, which I quite liked.
Nor can Boris Johnson keep it in his trousers, apparently. What is the world coming to?

Voila! 

I've been in bed all day

Two firsts today: I gave my child liver and put her in a playpen. She liked both, I think, which is most suprising in the case of the liver. Apparently it is very good for you.

The playpen is OK, but it looks like baby prison.

I am missing Heat magazine.

I'm back I'm back I'm back

Sorry about the absence, gang. I've been in Blighty for a week or so, and although access to a 'puter was possible I guess I was just not in the blogzone. The good news is I got to see lots of lovely people, their arms and legs and everything: this is healthy after too much virtual Internet living. Poke yourself. You have limbs, too! Is it time you went out, sniffed the air, leapt about a bit?

First things first: joint first prize to Becca and Strugglingauthor for your captions! Your prize will be either a) a picture of my funny bathroom or b) a picture of my broken washing machine, posted right here right now. You -vous -decide.

I am feeling odd about being back in the land of the white cross. It's not home, but nor is London. Also my language brain is malfunctioning; "Je voudrais un packet of crisps bitte," and so on.

The chubby one is fine. She's huge, like a plum pudding. The sitting is going well, and so is the troughing, but in the sleep competition she gets null points. Every other night there is intermittent wailing that only my bosoms will placate. This is not a good look as I wish to stop breastfeeding one day, preferably before she can say "Can you get that white cushiony thing out of my face please, Mum?" Nor will she take a bottle. Apparently the way forward is those brown teats that are meant to look like nipples. I meant to buy one the other day, but came over all coy in the chemist.